by TJ Reynolds
A growl escaped my lips as I ducked back into town to wait for the next desperate fight. I looked around me and saw that our defenders were panting, wounded, and many already dead. And though I’d never give up before a fight was over, it was obvious that we’d need a miracle to survive the day.
5: “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”
— Forgotten son of Denethor
HANA
If not for the town’s preparation, I’d have run out of arrows long ago. My own quiver was empty, so I pulled from the barrel nearby. Madi shouted below and the small group of players, Tejón and Pachi behind them, ran away from the carnage at the gate.
I scanned below to see if any of the injured ratkin or trow were well enough to recover and become a problem. No target presented itself, so I considered running down to speak with Madi while I had a reprieve. And then I saw the group of wyverns flying toward us. A sick part of my mind considered if there was a word for a group of wyverns. Crows were lucky. Nobody wanted to mess with a murder of anything. But what I saw coming toward me appeared to be more like a slaughter.
They weren’t flying high, and considering the great mass of their bodies, I doubted they could fly long. But the beasts were all thirty to fifty feet off the ground and coming in fast. They would either fly right over the gate or crash through it.
My body wanted to shut down, drop the arrows, and curl into a ball. The steely voice of Marshal Dandre reminded me that we had planned for this, though. “Archers! Pull out your kill arrows! Prepare to volley!”
A few seconds ticked by as I pulled out one of the three barbed arrows I had leaning against the wall before me. I drew and waited. Liam stood beside me, the kind ranger giving me a look of encouragement as he fitted an arrow to his bow and took aim.
“Hold!” Dandre screamed, and the wyverns came closer still. The trees that clustered to either side of the road made a natural choke point, forcing the wyverns to come in two at a time, and even then, they had to stagger their flight. It was perhaps the only reason our plan would work.
When the first two were around fifty feet away, she commanded, “Group one, fire!”
Ten arrows, including my own, leapt out and found their targets. A couple clattered to the ground, but most found purchase in the beasts’ wings and bellies. Quinn was old and sweet, yet he knew how to fashion arrows specifically shaped to penetrate wyvern hide, slipping under the scales themselves.
The beasts roared in protest, and the first fell down hard, veering at the last minute and splashing in the pond. The second landed on its feet awkwardly and limped along.
“Group two, fire!”” Dandre shouted, and two more wyverns fell to the ground before the gate, one sliding into the pit and pushing up a dozen of the sharpened spikes.
The volleys continued. Four groups of our best archers had been assembled, the Doondane split up evenly among them, and we cycled easily as the wyverns roared in protest of their failed assault. The gate and the road leading to it became littered with dying beasts, the poisoned arrows acting swifter than any of us had anticipated.
I fired my last arrow at one of the two final wyverns, these higher and larger than the rest. It sunk into the creature’s hind leg as it flew over the gate and landed in the courtyard behind us. Its fellow was less lucky and crashed on top of a building within the town. A quick glance told me that the armorers would need to build a new workshop.
Examining the wreckage before me, I winced as the proud wyverns tried to hobble forward, blood already leaking from their eyes and spewing from their mouths. One managed to reach the gate and sent out a sickly plume of fire, dousing the gate in flame. But the boards had all been soaked in water, so the fire it sparked was quickly put out again.
I counted no less than fifteen of the potent beasts writhing in death, and I felt my stomach churn. Feeling glad that I’d saved the Ichneumon’s poison glands, and that we’d fashioned arrows just for this moment was somehow not possible. It was good that the people of Taelman’s Pond might live, but to see the creatures die in bloody fits just made me want to vomit.
I heard the screech of the wyvern who’d made it over behind me, and then they went quiet, despite their bodies continuing to shudder with whatever nerve toxin was in the poison.
The archers murmered around me, and someone said in a low voice, “A fair deed most foul.” I turned and saw Liam, a few tears on his cheeks as he watched the wyverns with me.
I nodded, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. And though Liam was a far younger man, I thought of Alysand as I stood beside him. The gunsinger wasn’t even a part of the battle, not yet at least. Quinn was still vulnerable, so Alysand had decided to remain at his side as a personal guard. It meant not having his pistols in the battle, but it was worth the payoff.
We stood a moment and waited for the marching troops to catch up, another desperate fight waiting to happen. A squadron of trow monstrosities ran forward in pairs, one holding a shield nearly six feet tall and three wide, the other unarmed. They began systematically pulling the wyverns off the road, making room for more invaders. After perhaps ten minutes of this, the army sent forth another column of soldiers to attack the gate.
The trow monstrosities split up then, some moving to pick up the battering ram, the others running to the front of the column to hold their impossibly large shields up.
A few dozen arrows were shot out at the incoming attackers, but Dandre called them off. There was no use.
No, it was time for the second nasty surprise of the day. This one, at least, hadn’t been my own. One of the players had thought of it—a woman with a peryton as a pet, a fantastic beast straight out of lore. It was good that she’d been part of the first wave of players to come the day before, or else we wouldn’t have had time to pull it off.
Liam squeezed my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “It’s time now. I’m sorry, but it is time.”
I drew back the arrow, invoking the Fire affinity and using Vital Aim. My vision improved as the skill counted down, and I aimed for the base of one of the trees that stood to the side of the road. As I released it, the fiery energy burst against the target and exploded the tree. Corell himself had hacked out a large wedge into the trunk, and we’d packed it with gunpowder.
The tree shuddered then fell forward. Alysand had showed us how to take the gunpowder, which he’d produced from his satchel, and wrap it in oiled leather to keep it dry.
And though a few of the troops were knocked down, some killed outright, it was the fruit we’d hung in the branches that did most of the damage. The archers all lit arrows wrapped in cloth, which had been soaked in the quick pitch, and fired into the fallen branches.
For a moment, little happened other than the shouts and fury of the ratkin soldiers. I was afraid our plan wouldn’t work, as the tree had fallen far enough away that the battering ram was being picked up again by the monstrosities who’d made it to the front. But then a whoosh of fire bloomed in the center of the tree, causing a chain reaction. In a matter of ten seconds, the dozens of waterskins we’d filled with quick pitch ignited, splashing fire in all directions.
A concert of screams made me cover my ears. The attack at the gate all but ceased as the enemy burned.
My head swam as I tried to ignore the smell of thousands of pounds of burning meat. It proved too much, and like so many other around me, I retched.
Whatever commander the ratkin had at their head was not so easily dissuaded, though. The cruel being knew how to expend lives casually. A larger force had been deployed at the same time, these mostly leather-clad fighters, quick on their feet.
Liam shook me, pointing to the woodline to the north of town. “Hana, pay attention. This is not over.” I looked where he pointed; hundreds of combatants were running out and crashing into the northern wall. We’d set up six small
towers to protect this area, a handful of archers in each, and a couple spearmen. Those forces were being quickly overwhelmed, and a few enemies were already dropping into the center of town. Our reserves ran over to meet them.
I bit my lip, not wanting what was to come next. But the ranger said simply, “It’s okay. It must be done.”
He raised his bow, lit another quick pitch arrow, and fired it high into the air, back over the town itself. Then we waited for Dandre.
The marshal screamed to the defenders of the northern barrier, “Fall back and guard the town center! Fall back.”
Most listened, but a few were fending off attackers or unable to hear the command. Liam only waited a few moments, though, before he jumped down the tower and touched a torch to the ground, lighting a trail of gunpowder. It hissed away, running along and entering each of the homes that were a part of the barrier. And each home, soaked in our quick pitch, ignited eagerly.
Within a minute, a few of our troops, and as much as a hundred of theirs, were caught in a raging inferno. Almost a third of the town was on fire at once, and the flames reached over forty feet high.
The forces that had gotten into the town were being engaged, perhaps fifty more fought on, and dozens still screamed as they burned to death. Those that didn’t make it in fell back in terror, some breaking away and abandoning the fight altogether, others heading back toward the army’s encampment for new orders.
For a short while, the fight paused while everything burned. Our plan had been a desperate one, but at least it had managed to take most of their army. The fight was not over, though, not yet. And as the flames slowly died down, more invaders could be seen outside, waiting for their chance to storm through once more. Even though the quick pitch burned off quickly, the northern ring of fire continued to roil, the logs in the houses too substantial to burn away so quickly. Instead, it seemed the fire would go on for hours.
Enemy troops began to march toward the gate again, and though our archers aimed true and dropped many of the trow monstrosities that wielded the maldrille tree battering ram so deftly, the sound of splintering wood soon told us that our main defense was gone.
Dandre screamed with mad intensity, “Fall back! Phase two! Phase two! Everyone to your positions.”
Though I was already exhausted, and I had had my fill of killing, I did as everyone else did. I listened to my orders. I only waited on the gate long enough to feel a modest gust of wind at my back. My final duty was to use one very nasty skill. Thankfully, a westerly wind had been blowing all day.
Cinders of the Past (Active): When invoked, a cloud of cinders envelopes the enemy, granting 100% chance of causing Blindness and Choke to all enemies in the Area of Effect. Choke saps enemies Stamina by 2% every 3 seconds and lasts for duration of spell. Area of Effect changes due to local wind conditions with a maximum area of 1000 square feet. Elemental attacks used on affected enemies increased by 25%. Duration: 2 minutes. Cooldown: 24 hours.
I watched as the plume of fell smoke and sparks extended from my hands like a plague. The heat was almost overwhelming, but my HP didn’t drop. The wind picked up the cloud and pulled it along through the crowd of enemies, all vying to push the broken gates open further.
The results were immediate. Trow and ratkin alike began rubbing at their eyes, and they clutched their throats in fits of hacking coughs. Some even fell to the ground and were trampled by their fellows.
It wouldn’t be enough to stop the invasion, not by a long shot, but the skill had just bought us two minutes to fall back to our secondary defenses. I hoped it would be enough.
A ring of archers was formed around the great tent in the middle of the town square, and I found my place facing the gate. All the best archers were to face the oncoming attackers, but we needed to protect against all sides now, as many of the enemies that were already storming through the gate were spreading out to flank us.
In front of the archers, we had three squads of spearmen: one to guard the western approach toward the gate, one to the north, and one to the east. The Doondane rangers set down their bows at last and stood at the head of each column, swords or spears in their hands.
Quinn’s shop and the building beside provided sufficient cover for our southern side. A contingent of players had agreed to guard the alleyway between the two buildings.
The rest of the players formed smaller groups to act as reserves, running between the frontline troops to support them as needed.
We’d found our places and watched the few ratkin who were spilling through when, with a loud crack, the gate finally burst open. A mad rush of mindless trow charged first.
I aimed my bow and prepared to release when a presence behind me made me pause. I looked back to see Quinn tottering up to me, a smile on his weary face. “Look to your business, child.” Despite being confused, I looked back to the oncoming enemies and drew my bow again. “Continue to channel earth.” Quinn’s small hand pressed between my shoulder blades.
I did as he told me, the green energy surrounding my arrow again, but this time, the power was amplified. A stream of magic poured into me through Quinn’s touch, and when I released the arrow, it flew forward, slow but heavy as the green energy at its tip seemed to thicken and congeal until it was bigger than a fist. It fell among the first rank of trow and exploded like a meteor.
I shook off the sense of awe that touched me and focused on drawing and firing again. The hole in the oncoming enemies had already begun to fill in again, though at least five of the trow had fallen. My next arrow took out a clump of ratkin slinking forward behind shields. Only a few died, but their defense was ripped apart and the other archers quickly felled the rest.
The relative wall of arrows held back many of the attackers, my own explosive arrows doing much of the work. Yet there were too many, the shattered gates allowing in a veritable flood of the enemies.
Alysand stood beside me, and though he was aiming scant inches over the heads of the spearmen, did not hesitate to begin firing into the onslaught. His bullets almost seemed sentient, always finding foreheads or throats or, occasionally, an unarmored chest. But something was different than before. Despite his uncanny speed and accuracy, the man wasn’t singing. No warble or chant escaped his lips.
I ignored this observation and focused on imbuing more arrows and firing as fast as I could. I checked my Stamina, worried that my continued use of the elemental bow would deplete me too quickly. Each earthen arrow took a sliver away, but to my surprise, my Stamina was near full. The warmth and power suffusing me from Quinn’s touch was most likely the cause.
Without stopping, I checked to see what buff Quinn had placed on me.
Status Effect: Blessing of the Elder
Blessing of the Elder: You have been chosen as an elemental champion by one of the remaining Elders of this world. All elemental attacks increased in power by 300%. Mana or Stamina cost is reduced significantly for the duration of the buff. All skills used during this time are instant cast and have no cooldown. Duration: until the Elder’s mana is depleted. Must remain in physical contact with the Elder.
By matcha’s enduring might, Quinn was powerful!
Then I realized I could amplify my attacks further. Since the cooldowns had been removed, I used Lunar Flare on my next arrow, and a burning light surrounded the already-empowered shaft. When it struck, the explosion remained the same, but fiery shrapnel, like fragments of shattered stars, splashed out and burned a dozen more attackers.
Only a few more of the enemies fell from the burns, but a great many more had to approach our spearmen that much closer to death.
Despite my increased power, the enemies finally reached our front line, crunching into the shield wall like a trainwreck. I winced but drew another arrow and used the same combination of Earth to imbue it and charged it with Lunar Flare. Making sure to aim far enough away from our own troops, I fired relentlessly into the enemies.
Time moved by at a horrendous creep. The battle felt like sitti
ng inside a car crash that had no end. Enemy troops had finally flanked us and charged both other positions, and a few cries from the players to my left told me that they were busy, too, defending the alley. We were fighting desperately, but there were simply too many of the enemies for us to handle. A handful of armored trow monstrosities had joined the fray as well as a large platoon of orcs.
These last were terrifyingly effective. No mere berserkers without armor or caution, the orcs were all clad in a flexible mesh armor, like chainmail but woven with plate armor. I aimed an arrow in their midst, and though the one I’d hit seemed to simply collapse in his suit of armor and a few others lost their footing nearby, they recovered far too quickly.
When I made to aim again at them, Alysand spoke up. “It is not worth it. They wear enchanted mithril. Focus on the others, where your arrows will count more.”
I did as the gunsinger had asked, and I heard him begin his first song of the battle. It sounded strained, though, almost painful, and lacked much of the beauty I’d heard before. Then slowly, as if each shot had to accumulate power, he fired into the armored trow monstrosities and the mithril-clad orcs. Alysand’s bullet pierced through the warriors’ breastplates and left a small hole the size of a dime.
The killing continued on both sides. Spearmen fell far too quickly, the first rank already ground away like chaff.
Our Doondane allies fought on with the fervor of the insane and the grace of dancers. Only when the mithril-armored orcs met them did the rangers seem to struggle. They fought bravely, but I could tell they would not leave this fight unscathed.
Then, as if the crumbling strength of our forces and the irreplaceable NPC deaths around me weren’t bad enough, I heard a groan, and the small hand that had been providing me with a fountain of mana fell away. Alysand darted to catch Quinn as he collapsed. I looked down and saw his pale face covered with sweat. He was alive, but death lurked near enough to smell.