Chapter 40

The fight against the Stag seemed to be going well, all things considered, before we arrived. It looked like it was struggling to deal with attacks on multiple sides, taking great leaps from spot to spot to avoid the reaching strikes of the adventurers surrounding it. Arrows pelted its’ hide, long cuts marring its’ moss-green flesh in various places, weeping viscous sap. The troubles didn’t become clear until we had gotten much closer, where we could see how its’ great leaps carried it away from every significant attack, allowing only the weakest and most numerous strikes to land any mark against it.

The group seemed organized around an embattled Lightning mage who commanded a serpent of living lightning, and it coiled defensively around him every time the Stag pressed the attack. He moved in flickers and flashes of lightning, tiny thunderclaps sounding out every time he teleported away from an attack. The Stag lunged unexpectedly, slamming a hoof down toward him, but quickly dancing back as the mage’s lightning familiar tried to coil around its’ leg, landing only brief arcs of painfully bright lightning before it retreated out of reach. Judging by the other burns – one much larger than the rest – it was clear the Stag had learned this lesson the hard way.

The Stag’s evasion was not its’ only defense, however; where its’ sap fell, it formed glassy-looking pools that could ensnare and entrap, deeper than they appeared. Here and there other fighters struggled against the binding sap, even as it hardened around their limbs. A few others among the fighting group tried to get them out, chipping away at the sap with weapons or spells, only able to get a few strikes in before being forced to evade the stamping hooves and the ever-falling rain of golden-hued sap. A couple of those unfortunate enough were trapped head to toe in sap, their struggles clearly at an end, bodies limp within.

Cenna leapt into action, dancing around the edges of pools of sap, surgical cuts striking here and there to free those trapped within, her daggers finding little purchase on the hardened sap, but making large enough openings for a hand or a head to break free, hastening their own struggles. Her humanitarian streak was in full force, trying to save as many as she could while the battle raged onward; I couldn’t fault her logic entirely, as every person who actually managed to get free was another weapon back in the fight.

Lyrella’s approach was far more direct. She watched the Stag’s back and forth dance, and timed her approach, exploding into motion when a foot moved to set just a hair too close to her; she hopped up, launching off of a tree like a swimmer pushing off the wall, and slammed a punch into the Stag’s knee joint. I could see her about to make contact, fist practically distorting the air under the force of the strike; the distortion was not, however, her own effect at work. Her punch slowed for a strategic moment, a vision of multiple punches overlaid until only the last, the slowest was real; instead of an immense crunch of bone, there was a meaty thump as it glanced off the joint, the leg flinching forward just enough to turn a direct hit into a graze. She stumbled past, rolling to her feet, only to find one of the hooves waiting there; the glancing strike sent her tumbling backward with a grunt of pain, only a frantic block enough to turn aside a bone-breaking impact.

I watched the unfolding battle, my gaze now careful to spot the momentary distortions where the Stag could seemingly twist fate, evading the most telling blows with careful movements, turning powerful strikes into mosquito bites. Lyrella’s strategy of immensely powerful blows seemed to be having little effect, though the deer seemed to struggle a little to keep shifting away from two powerful attackers, as the Lightning mage took advantage of her attacks to strike from a different direction, making sure that the Stag couldn’t fully avoid every attack. Even so, progress seemed slow, the wounds only accruing gradually.

While they fought, I had been watching. And working.

I reached out, pressing my palm to the trunk of a tree, carving out the shape in my mind, before hammering down with my fire-imbued blacksmithing hammer. I wasn’t sure whether or not something like this would work; I had no idea how big of a circle could possibly be used for spells, figuring at the very least that a ring of fire would keep the Stag from escaping too far. The crackling wall of flames that stretched out behind me wavered here and there as I tried to keep as close to a circle as possible with only my mental map and intuition to guide me. Progress wasn’t moving nearly as quickly as I would’ve liked, seeing how they struggled to keep the Stag at bay, but if this worked, it was going to be big.

I practically sprinted from tree to tree, by this point the runes familiar enough in my head to forge them in just a handful of swings. I could feel energy draining out of me like a sieve, but after nearly three full minutes of this, the end was in sight; I could see the thick billowing smoke pouring from the treetops ahead of me, and I hastened to close the ring before the Stag got any bright ideas about escaping it.

Every time Lyrella and the Lightning mage would seem to be just about to close it in, the Stag would vault away and open up the distance, forcing them to re-engage. The Lightning Familiar seemed to be struggling to remain coherent, flickering fitfully as it struggled to keep fighting, clearly losing whatever animating force the man had sunk into it. He didn’t look very well-off either, clearly struggling to maintain his footing. He landed a fierce strike across its’ flank as Lyrella slammed into its’ side, and it wavered for a moment, before something happened to it.

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It seemed to flicker in and out of existence for a moment, a dozen possible futures visibly splitting off of it; one fled toward the barrier, which I turned aside with a hail of firebolts. The others were attacked in various ways, every avenue of escape cut off at once; its’ immense rack shattered with a subdued explosion, fragments of horn and flesh splintering away as only a starry framework remained, the horns replaced by bright glowing lines that seemed fixed in place above the crown of its’ head. I could feel the stars rearranging their lines, and one of the phantoms became real; we were so occupied with the fleeing phantasms that we failed to catch the one who had stood still, biding its’ time to strike.

A single hoof lashed out and slapped down, and the Lightning Mage vanished beneath it, his familiar flickering out an instant later. This incarnation of the Stag was far more visibly strong, exchanging much of its’ dexterity and speed for pure striking power and endurance. The mossy hide glittered with the impression of fireflies within it, warm orange lights flickering and shifting within its’ flesh. Lyrella landed a solid strike against its’ ankle, trying to force the leg to buckle, and it trembled as it fought to remain standing, shifting to trample her in turn; its’ motion arrested suddenly as its’ head whipped around to face me, the last tree in the barrier marked. I slammed the hammer down once more, and felt an enormous amount of my energy whip outward, igniting the runes all the way around. There was a sensation like looking into a mirror as I felt my sense of self expand, the trees linking into my aura and spreading it over the circle, a membrane as thin as the skin of a bubble. I pulled the flames inward, the greediest of sparks and fat, crackling embers raining down from above as the ring of flames tried to form a dome overhead, raining fire and ash down around us.

Eyes swept upward, fearful, as the air began to heat, wary that it might be some trick of the Stag’s, uncertain what it could mean.

Cenna, on the other hand, knew exactly what it meant. “This better be good, David!” She shouted from where she crouched on the Stag’s immense flanks, one dagger buried in the muscle like a climbing piton, the other hand clutching a knot of the matted mossy hide.

I pulled in the flames around me, the air roiling with expectant violence, trembling with the force of energy sizzling through it. When I formed a firebolt, I didn’t push my power outward to create it, filling my hand with energy; instead I simply used my intent to encapsulate a chunk of the fire-attuned environment around me, turning the orb into a magnet. I watched it swell as fire poured into it, thrumming with building energy. The Stag took notice and simply darted past its’ attackers, coming toward me in a lightning attack. Despite the size of the circle, the size of the Stag made it claustrophobic; there wasn’t much of anywhere to dodge as it plowed toward me, starry crown leaving trailing phantasms of light in its’ wake. One immense hoof slammed down toward me, to crush me like a bug.

I drew the firebolt in my hand into a long sliver of flame, building a crossguard into its’ midpoint and drawing it outward into a dome. The hoof struck down on the flaming boar-spear, the crossguard and shield barely enough to turn aside the blow as it exploded, filling the softer center of the hoof with a torrent of flame and a deep wound. The Stag bellowed as it retreated a step, and fled in the other direction, only to strike against the edge of the circle, scorching its’ side as it deflected away. It stamped angrily, one hoof lifted from the ground, keeping it just a touch off-balance. It began lashing out at everyone around it, hammering at them with fast and forceful strikes that threatened to crush bones and turned trees into splinters. I powered up one attack after another, hurling fireballs like a trebuchet toward its’ immense sides; for every devastating hit, another three missed entirely, setting small patches of forest ablaze, turning them into burning traps that further limited the Stag’s movement, herding it toward the center of the barrier where the others harried and struck, blades and arrows and vicious impacts whittling away at it. Phantasms of the stag flickered fitfully this way and that, many of them striking out in rage as they encountered obstacles or attacks, its’ head tossing this way and that in frustration.

Bereft of an escape route, and weakened by the loss of one of its’ hooves, the starry Stag fell into a fury, stamping around itself in a dense hail of hoof-strikes, tearing up chunks of the ground with every forceful impact, only falling when Ella finally landed a solid punch against its’ other front leg, collapsing the knee and dropping it to the forest floor like a giant sci fi walker with its’ legs tied; just like that, Ella was on its’ back, pummeling into the base of its’ neck with a rapid series of powerful strikes, her fists moving like lightning.

With a keening that echoed through the ground, I felt the air begin to tremble, the starry branches of its’ horns shivering and frantically rearranging themselves. All at once, the stars went out, and all the little motes of light all over its’ body erupted outward into the form of dozens of deer and stags, small glowing lights that seemed to shine within hollow shapes. They sprinted away, scattering out in various directions; where they reached the circle of fire, some turned back, and some attempted to leap through it, only to disperse as it burned them away. Several others were struck down within moments, but many more escaped past them, spreading out to the other side of the circle, where they all ran together and merged, their lights reforming into one larger body…

The starry Stag.