Chapter 31

I was awoken abruptly by the sounds of yelling and screaming from the direction of the walls. An enormous impact briefly interrupted the screaming, before it returned at a higher pitch. I pulled myself standing, a weary soreness dragging at my movements. I smoothed out my robes, grateful that the self-repair function also seemed self-cleaning, though there was nothing I could do for the soot stains that still marked my hands and face. I jogged toward the sounds of fighting, arriving at the same time as Lyrella and her squad of fighters. This time, instead of engaging directly, I hopped up onto the wall to watch the others fight. Another giant Boarfiend fought defensively against the dozen or so warriors, slowly retreating back toward the forest. I threw a couple of firebolts whenever I saw an opening, but something struck me about the situation as wrong. I had never seen a Boarfiend fight defensively before; normally they were unthinking monsters that used extreme aggression to wipe out their prey. This one was behaving strangely, almost as if luring them back toward the treeline. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck slowly stand, and a chill trickled down my spine. Something was very wrong about the way the fight was going, and by the time I figured out what, the ambush had already been sprung.

A Serpanther dropped from the treetops onto one of the trailing archers, enormous fangs sinking into their upper back like a pair of daggers. There was no time for screaming, the body dropping limp as soon as it was struck, and the enormous Serpanther coiled itself around the body and dragged it out of sight behind a tree. I vaulted over the top of the wall and charged toward the tree that concealed its’ bulk and pushed my new staff ahead of me. I drew in a deep breath, and pushed my energy into it. At first it felt like trying to fill a bathtub from a watering can, a reserve deeper than I expected soaking up the energy pouring into it. Once it reached some unknown threshold, however, the brazier at the tip ignited, crimson flames pouring out from the steel cage at the top. I pointed it toward the tree concealing the Serpanther and its’ prey and began to conjure a firebolt to pierce through it. The bolt formed as a needle-like shape, tapered at the tip and thickening toward the base. I pushed it forward with my will, and it seemed to launch forward as if fired from a rifle, punching through the tree with ease and drawing a startled, hissing scream from the other side. The Serpanther clawed its’ way around the trunk, mouth opened wide for a sibilant yowl. Suddenly made aware of the new threat, a handful of the people attacking the Boarfiend split away to attack the Serpanther, the others a little too slow in covering their retreat. The Boarfiend, sensing that its’ attackers were distracted, launched into an attack, nearly goring one of the warriors before Lyrella’s punch threw it off-target, tearing up a furrow in the dirt instead.

In an instant, the fighters changed from cautious to aggressive, pouring attacks into the staggered Boarfiend. It shook off their strikes and turned to strike directly at Lyrella, repeated attacks gouging into her arms, encountering decisive and powerful blocks and jabs at every movement. The handful moving between fights wavered, uncertain whether to assist their leader or focus their attention on the Serpanther ambusher, and it capitalized on their indecision. Incredibly quick, it coiled and launched itself, claws tearing up the ground as it came, powerful lashes of its’ lengthy tail propelling it like a missile. The team hesitated for a critical instant, and before they could put up a proper defense, one of their number had fallen, raking claws tearing into them like a woodchipper. A spear-wielding warrior sunk the tip into its’ shoulder, and it snapped at him in return, only the bulky crossguard keeping it from pushing close enough to attack him directly.

Momentarily pinned in place, it made an easy target. I made a cutting motion with my new staff, and a laser-like lance of flame reached out, carving a furrow from its’ upper back down and across its’ thickly muscled tail. Burnt fur and blackened flesh crackled from the force of the flames, and I widened the spray into a narrow cone of fire, wreathing its’ back in flames and setting nearby branches alight. Despite the immense damage wracking its’ body, the Serpanther continued its’ desperate attack against the downed warrior, finally pushing in to bite down on their head. When it reared up to turn its’ focus to another target, hood flaring open like a lion’s mane, I thrust the staff forward and focused the beam back down, an awl of white-hot flame thrusting into its’ open mouth and out the back of its’ head.

The serpentine body thrashed, cracking the trunk of a nearby tree with a careless swipe, and staggered back into the brambles, locked in vicious death throes. I grabbed onto the flames consuming the branches of the tree, and pulled them downward, bathing its’ body in a brief but powerful cascade of flames, before the tree itself toppled under the damage and crashed atop the writhing cat-snake.

The Boarfiend fell at almost the same moment, one of its’ own broken tusks sunk into its’ eye nearly up to the jagged base. Lyrella wavered, blood pouring from numerous wounds on her arms and chest; most of her warriors seemed to be doing little better, the beasts’ wild strikes difficult to avoid and harder to block. This time, a couple of healers went running toward them, hands already alight with the warm sunshine glow of healing magic. I drank down one of my healing potions, and tossed another to the spear-wielding man who had been caught a couple of times by the Serpanther’s claws. He gratefully drank it down, collapsing where he stood, exhausted by the fight.

Even with all of the energy I had spent, I still had no trouble keeping my feet, and jogged over to the group of warriors gathered around the immense Boarfiend. Lyrella’s wounds were knitting slowly, her eyes half-lidded in pain. I waited until the worst of it had been healed before approaching her, a mixture of anger and concern on my features. “Why did you chase it? It was drawing you back toward the forest; you never should’ve left the clearing.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” She snapped back, pushing herself standing to confront me face-to-face.

“Then why did you chase it?”

“Because monsters are stupid. They don’t work together and they sure as Hell don’t lay ambushes like that.”

I looked at her, and snapped back, “Then what the Hell happened here, Lyrella?” I gestured to the Serpanther’s smoldering corpse, and the slain Boarfiend. My gesture encompassed the fallen archer that had been the cat-snake’s first victim, and the healer kneeling over the ruined body of its’ second victim, golden energy pouring from his hands. “It kinda looks like an ambush to me, don’t you think?”

She turned aside as if I’d struck her, and her tone was sullen. “They’ve never done that before.”

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“Clearly, that changed. ” I looked around at the others. “What level are you people? Generally?”

She looked at me for a moment as if deciding whether or not to answer, before she grudgingly responded. “Eight to ten, most of them. Cenna’s a little higher, I think, but she won’t admit it.”

“ Eight to ten? And these are the people you’re picking to go after monsters?”

“I’m not picking anyone. They’re all volunteers. Out of the whole damn camp, David , they’re the only ones who volunteered. We’re trying to keep everyone safe. Not everyone wants to fight.”

By this point the others had gathered closer, any who could stand on their feet around us, watching us with concern.

“They don’t get to make that choice anymore, Lyrella.” I stared her down. “This whole world is out to kill you, and hiding behind walls just means your enemies are getting stronger while you are staying the same. When was the last time you went out to hunt something instead of waiting for it to come to you?"

"They need us here. Without us, creatures like these would overrun the camp."

"They think they need you. Am I the only one who was given a class and the ability to fight?" I gestured to the walls. “Last I checked, all of us had that. Everyone. Anyone who won’t fight is just fodder for those who will. Do you think you’re doing them a favor by letting them sit here and pretend nothing’s changed?”

She didn’t speak for several long seconds, her warriors clearly growing uncomfortable and uncertain. “Fine,” she growled back. “Did you want to lead? Do you think you can do better?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to lead anyone, but I don’t want to lie to anyone either. My tutorial, my Shepherdess, taught me one thing: The nature of this world is strife. Your walls change nothing. ”

When I glanced around, I realized suddenly that there were people lining the wall, the volume of our argument having drawn those closest to the parapets, their expressions all touched with fear and uncertainty.

“See that?” Lyrella asked me, making a brief gesture toward the wall, her shoulders tense. “Now they’re afraid. What little peace we tried to give them is gone. Does that make you happy?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head, my voice low. “They should be afraid. They’re all weak. None of them could survive out here alone. Do you think any of them would be even the slightest help if one of those Guardians decided to attack the camp?” I pointed toward the center of the tutorial area, where the enormous form of the Greenwarden still waited. “Conscript them. Take a handful of them along with each of your people and patrol the forest nearby. Get them some levels, some fighting experience. If they don’t want to be afraid anymore, they should have the chance to fight back. Keeping them penned in is a good way to get them all killed. Teach them to defend themselves and they won’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“And a lot of them will die,” she answered, her voice soft, eyes downcast. Her fingers dug into her palms hard enough to draw a little blood, the desire to fight warring with her sense of helplessness.

“If you don’t, they all will. The old world is dead.”

“The old world is dead,” a couple of the others echoed, a sense of finality and dread in their tone. Resignation. There was something about that phrase that had an odd kind of depth, as if it were an old saying that we’d all heard before.

I set off into the forest, aiming to get a little space to clear my head. The few creatures I sensed in the area fled from my presence, the flame at the head of my staff burning brightly, defiantly, a warning flame. I sat down upon a fallen log, looking down at my hands, and the winding scars looping up my forearms. I touched them curiously, fingers tracing the knotted-looking strands of scar tissue. I wondered that they had not healed, losing myself in contemplation of the path that had brought me here. Strife. Conflict. Life and death. I thought to the people I had killed, directly and indirectly; somehow their deaths didn’t bother me, instead drawing a feeling of disgust; they had been so weak, they had barely managed to threaten me. Only that armored man, Marcus, had managed to beat me. Twice. Perhaps Lyrella could give me a challenge, or Cenna; beside them, none of the others even registered as a threat.

I hoped that they could change that. I hoped it was still early enough.

If it was too late, they would all die, sooner or later. The old world is dead.