The clang of the alarm bell stabbed through Turgan’s dream, waking him from a sound sleep so suddenly that he sat up and smacked his forehead on the wooden slats of the bunk above him. Despite the pain, his body moved on auto-pilot, disentangling his limbs from his twisted bedding and shoving his feet into the boots he’d placed beside his bed before falling asleep.
Turgan’s heart pounded with adrenaline as his fingers laced the top of the boots with frantic speed. He wondered if his upcoming fourth year at the Mage Academy was going to be like this all the time. Around him, the room exploded into a frenzy of activity, experienced mage and warrior students all scrambling into action as the alarm clanged a desperate need for reinforcements on Salman’s wall.
Thoughts still muggy with sleep, Turgan was just glad he’d slept in his leathers as Elora had warned him to. In all his father’s stories about the mage academy, he’d only been called up once during a night of watch-call in his entire fourth year. Things were different now, the whole empire on the defensive. Turgan tried not to think too hard about things he couldn’t change.
“Section 22, now!” the clerk holding the door yelled, waving his clipboard as the students flew past him at a hectic run. “Up top, to the battlements!”
The battlements? Turgan’s mind ran over the instructions as he jogged and tightened the straps of his leather vambraces. The glint of his mage tattoos under the arm protectors steadied him, the swirls of indigo light twisting in three hard-earned waves that wrapped around each wrist and represented his repertoire of spells and abilities. At the thought, Turgan felt his water magic swell inside him, making his tattoos pulse with eagerness. Whatever monsters awaited them on the wall, he wouldn’t be helpless.
Confidence tightened his focus, and Turgan worked to keep his breathing steady. He ran on the heels of the armored warrior student in front of him. Her broad shoulders and shorter height could be any dwarf mix like him, but the dark hair that stuck out in all directions under the dull metal helm told him it had to be Janil, a younger warrior who, in his opinion, shouldn’t even be on the real walls yet, much less the dangerous upper battlements. No, Janil should be in the relative safety of the arrow slits in the lower hallways weaving through the thick walls. Not that he’d ever say that to her. But he resolved to keep an eye out for her, if possible, once they joined the fighting.
Boots slammed on well-worn stone floors and harsh breathing filled the narrow halls as they ran through the inner hallways finally cooling from the late summer’s daytime heat. Low level flame core lights did their best to banish the darkness, casting long shadows along the jagged walls as they ran past.
Their group shifted to the inner wall as they passed a row of arrow slits armed by archers launching arrows as fast as the apprentices racing back and forth could supply them. The distant roar of beasts bounced in through the open slits in a distorted echo of battle. Turgan managed to sneak a glimpse through one of the narrow cross-shaped slits in the thick stone as he ran by.
An involuntary shudder ran through him at the dark maelstrom of creatures far below, and he redoubled his efforts, charging forward with the mass of students. They ran up stairwells over and over, fighting to get to their assigned position in time to help.
Turgan knew he couldn’t be the only one wondering how bad it had to be tonight if they were calling on the students for reinforcements. Salman was the capital of the Astan Empire, after all. Positions for mages and warriors on the walls here were considered plum assignments for top performers. And any beasts had to not only get past the massive tower ring far out on the wild edges of the empire, but also past all the outlying cities before reaching the capital.
Rumor was, the on-call students were getting pulled onto the wall more and more often. Turgan had hoped they’d be assigned to man an arrow slit on his rotation, a nice safe spot to lob spells out onto the nightly hordes. But the battlements? The top of the towering walls, higher than five or six homes stacked atop each other, had to be impossible for monsters to reach. Even climbing over each other in swarms, the monsters shouldn’t threaten those heights.
Turgan had only been up there once himself, during an academy orientation tour. The view had been impressive while making his stomach churn a bit at the sheer height when he looked over the side.
Ahead of him, Janil stumbled on the top step of the most recent stairwell, and Turgan stutter-stepped in order to slip a hand out to grab her upper arm and steady her.
“Thanks,” she said before giving him a sheepish shrug. “Never enough Endurance.”
He grinned and nodded, his own lungs burning with effort as he kept pace beside her, trying to peer over the heads of those running ahead of them. Turgan needed to make time for his own physical improvements. It was easy to forget the basics while cramming and training for the start of his fourth year spell and ability training.
They rounded a corner, and the distant clang of weapons and yells of fighting suddenly echoed down from the stairwell ahead.
Flashes of light from spells lit up the dim hallway and made Turgan’s heart race even faster. He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat and pulled on his water mana. The raging eagerness of the power he’d nurtured and cultivated for exactly this kind of situation helped calm his nerves. If the beasts were threatening his city, he’d do everything in his power to stop them.
“For Astus!” someone ahead yelled out.
Eager yells responded in kind, and Turgan’s lips pulled back in a fierce grin as the battle fever flushed through him.
Beside him, Janil let out a roar, slamming her gauntlets against her chest as she ran for the stairs.
Whatever monsters had made it this high wouldn’t stand a chance against them.
Together, they raced up the last stairs and emerged onto the wall . . . and into complete chaos.
If he hadn’t been hemmed in from ahead and behind by a charging group, Turgan might have frozen at the sight.
All along the wall, fighters with shields, mana-based or enchanted, did their best to protect the ranged fighters who were pouring damage over the wall and directly down into the murder holes at their feet. Flame, water, earth and air spells lit up the night with so much energy, Turgan felt the wave of the mana slam into him and the other students, making more than one jaw drop in surprise.
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Warriors fired arrow after arrow, from bows, crossbows and even the huge mounted ballista that fired bolts big enough to tear a gaping hole through a monster horde. Some arrows and bolts pulsed with damage and speed enchantments, whoomphs of impact mixing in with the roar of the beasts from below. Warriors drew on bows with many times the strength Turgan would ever have, while others fired so fast, he saw more than one apprentice frantically feeding them more ammunition. Other apprentices refilled and dumped oils and noxious potions over the side, some being lit by attentive flame mages.
It was such an overwhelming display of force that Turgan couldn’t believe any horde of monsters could stand against it.
But they did.
Dark shapes flew up from below, limbs splayed and teeth bared as they landed amongst the defenders, each one causing chaos as the ordered defense reverted to a chaotic melee full of clanging weapons, exploding spells and screams of pain from both defenders and beasts.
“To the flame mage, second section down,” ordered a sharp voice from their side. “The five of you. Move it!”
Turgan caught a glimpse of a harried man in a guard uniform pointing ahead before giving Turgan a shove in the right direction. Before he could ask any questions, the guard’s attention had moved to the students coming out behind them.
“Thank Vitur,” gasped the flame mage as Turgan, Janil and three other students skidded to a stop near her, careful to avoid the flaming shield she held flush with the closest edge of the battlements. “You’re just in time.”
“Mage Bayle!” Janil said in surprise, making the other students turn and stare, as they recognized the academy’s lead flame mage.
A stout elf, she was usually impeccably dressed and composed. But now, Turgan hardly recognized Mage Bayle. With her expression severe and hair pulled back tightly under a leather helm, Turgan could tell the battle wasn’t going well. A jagged flap of her leather armor hung, torn from her side. She strained to hold a massive flame shield over the two archers focusing below. The sweating men rained down arrows through the murder holes at their feet. Behind them, a small crew manned a boiling oil pot, stoking the fire and working continuously to refill the oil.
Bayle’s shield suddenly sputtered as something the size of a small dog impacted it, letting out an ear-shattering shriek as it hit the raging flames. Turgan and the other students flinched as teeth flashed and claws scrambled against the shield without finding purchase. A half beat later, the creature fell back into the roiling darkness on the other side of the wall with a fading wail, leaving behind a stench of burning fur that just added to the reek of battle.
“If you’ve got a shield, magical or material, join me,” snapped Mage Bayle, her eyes tired but arms steady. “Everyone else, we have to hit the Void Matriarch with everything you have through the murder holes! And switch to melee against any of her spawn that make it to the wall.”
Turgan’s mind scrambled through his studies trying desperately to find any information on a Void Matriarch as he and Janil sprang into action. The others must have hesitated.
“Now!” the flame mage yelled. “She’s water-based. Level 25 and weak to earth or anything powerful you can throw at her.”
Level 25! Turgan almost tripped in surprise. The high-powered mages and warriors at the tower ring were supposed to stop monsters that strong from making it inside the empire boundaries. No wonder he was drawing a blank on a Void Matriarch monster. He would have skimmed over anything that powerful, knowing he wouldn’t encounter one for years, if ever.
“We’ve got her down to a tenth health,” Bayle rattled off, ignoring their surprise. “But her last-ditch ability is generating more spawns than we can handle. And she’s launching them up here easily. We can’t let her recover. Hurry!”
Janil had her tower shield out, already positioning herself beside Mage Bayle, looking determined to protect their flame instructor with her life. Turgan skidded to a stop at the closest unmanned murder hole, a student air mage sliding in to the one just beside him. A gust of wind blew the reek of heated rancid oil over them as Turgan peered through the small gap in the stone for his first glimpse of the Void Matriarch.
She was a huge, glistening mass of black tentacles roiling in frenzied motion as attacks rained down on her in a veritable flood. Along her back, a seething mass of dark figures bulged out. To Turgan’s astonishment, her tentacles latched onto the balls, hurling them in a rapid-fire counterattack up the wall almost as numerous as the city’s defensive strikes.
Identify.
***
Identify attempt failed. Level difference is too significant.
Skill Boost: +14 to Identify Level 3 - 82/100
***
Turgan’s eyes widened, and he quickly spammed one more Identify to max out the points from the high-leveled beast. His breathing quickened as he pulled on his water mana, excitement flaring despite the danger. He also toggled off his notifications, knowing a distraction could be deadly. Identify wouldn’t be the only thing he’d be able to advance tonight.
Gain strength through facing danger. It wasn’t just a saying.
His basic water spells were unlikely to do anything against the water-based behemoth so far below. His Drain might have been an option to suck a critical part of the creature dry, but it required direct contact from him or his staff. Not happening.
Plus, Drain instigated a battle of wills and strength when used against creatures or sapient beings. Turgan didn’t fool himself that his spell had any kind of chance against the powerful beast below.
That left his most advanced mage ability, just learned a few months ago and barely a few unstable steps into level one: Spherical Spell. It allowed him to turn any of his offensive spells into something he could launch at an enemy, at the cost of a ton of mana.
He blew out a breath and drew on his focus, pushing the energy of his Drain spell out to manifest between his hands. A sudden scream from his left, followed by multiple shouts, shattered his concentration. The water mana, suddenly uncontrolled, exploded between his hands. Turgan quickly directed it outward over the wall, gritting his teeth against the pain as he berated himself. He couldn’t afford to waste mana.
A quick glance in the direction of the scream showed a cluster of defenders in a desperate fight with a waist-high creature with multiple midnight-black appendages. The beast had overwhelmed a warrior, stabbing down into the screaming man whose flailing knives seemed to glance off the powerful tentacles.
All along the wall, Turgan could see more shadowy shapes flying up from below, dark limbs grasping for targets. Forcing himself not to gawk, Turgan focused on his only chance at contributing to the battle. Eyes scrunched, he drew his Drain spell between his hands again, the power straining against his control as he insisted it condense itself and wait for his command to release.
Spherical Spell, he chanted, in his mind, as a viscous dark-blue ball formed between his hands, giving off a parched feel to his magic senses, despite being water-based. He pushed more mana into the ball, watching it grow to the size of a small fist. The memory of the huge monster below and the injured fighter just down the wall from them forced Turgan to push a bit more mana into the spell than he usually did. Too much, and he risked the whole mess exploding in his face, but too little, and he might as well have stayed in bed.
Turgan's hands shook as he felt bursts of air from the air mage beside him launching dart after dart down below.
Enough. Turgan cut the mana and, with a final push of will, sealed the ball of Drain. Before he could second-guess himself, Turgan peered down through the jagged murder hole, aimed at the center of the vast monster below, and let the Spherical Spell drop. His hopeful eyes followed the ball as it plummeted, the flares of burning oil and flame spells haphazardly lighting the scene below.