Chapter 49: Ice Ice Baby

Harvey had wrapped up his discussion with the drivers, while I was preoccupied with the System. Each of them were heading back to their respective carriages, climbing back into blankets and sleeping bags to snatch what sleep they could. On one hand, that was a reasonable course of action, since the sun would be rising before long, and sleeping in the daytime was always harder. On the other hand, this meant we were ignoring the issue of the horses, which had sprinted off into the distance after the fireball fiasco, and our caravan wasn’t going anywhere without them. Wonderful.

“It’s not safe to go looking for them at night,” Harvey remarked, seeing me stare off into the distance and drawing the correct conclusion. “Not with two sets of attacks already, each bearing hallmarks of manipulation. Splitting the party is the last thing we want to do, in this situation, so we’ll wait until sunrise, and send a large party out to gather the horses. They won’t have gotten too far away, they’re trained to retreat only short distances, before settling down to wait for retrieval. It’ll still take some time, but we should be able to get moving again by midday.”

“I take it that being attacked by ghosts isn’t normal?” I joked, leaving any mention of time aside, as I knew better than to jinx our travelling timetable; British public transport had taught me that much at least.

“The odd apparition? That’s normal enough, especially if the road takes you near any burial grounds.. But a massive swarm like that, appearing suddenly and chasing us down for no apparent reason?” Harvey shook his head ruefully at that.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I sighed. “Any idea who’s out to get us?”

“Not so much who’s behind it, but I do have some ideas as to what. We never got to examine the animal ambushers in a peaceful setting, so keep in mind this is just speculation, but given what’s happened tonight, I have reason to suspect that the packs attacking us were already dead on arrival, and had to be helped along after the fact.”

“A Necromancer, then,” I concluded, having read enough to know they were real, albeit rarely seen in civilised lands.

“Aye, that would be the most likely culprit. A Necromancer can raise and command both animals and ghosts, and forming them into large hordes is a common tactic, using sheer weight of numbers to compensate for the relatively mindless nature of the undead. A dangerous Class, that one, capable of punching well above its Level when given time and bodies to prepare. Add on the strange fog, which would require a magical class to create, and I’m fairly certain that’s what we’re up against. As for why they’re after us, who can tell? It could be someone with a grudge against me, of which there are no few people, or it could simply be an opportunist, who found our small caravan and thought of us as easy targets.”

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Neither was a particularly appealing prospect, but there was little any of us could do about it. Our enemy had taken care not to appear in person, which meant we were stuck playing defence, as much as I’d have loved to find him, and take a little off the top with my knife. Grimacing, I put the thought of mad mages aside, and turned my mind towards what we could control. Most of the Archers had recovered themselves, though none headed for the carriage, preferring to maintain a strengthened perimeter; I didn’t blame them, as I doubted I’d get much sleep either under such circumstances. The ninth Archer was still on the ground however, twisting and turning as if caught in a nightmare, and heedless of one of his comrades trying to shake him awake.

“Is he going to be alright?” I pointed the stricken man out to Harvey, because it didn’t resemble any medical condition I was familiar with.

“He’ll live,” Harvey shrugged. “We got the Wispen off of him in time. As for why it happens, well, ghosts are intangible, so they can’t inflict any physical harm, you know what I mean?”

I nodded at that, to show I understood.

“Instead, if they touch you, they inflict the Chill of the Grave. Brief contact saps your strength and will to fight, and if that becomes prolonged, or multiple ghosts get involved, it can cause you to fall unconscious, with some awful nightmares to boot. He’ll wake up though, because that’s as far as it got; but if you’re unconscious and give a bunch of ghosts time to work you over? Then your body freezes to death, and that’s all she wrote.”

One of the other Archers had returned, a small bundle of wood in his arms, while a third carried a dozen small stones in a bucket. As I watched, they assembled wood and stone into a crude fireplace, setting it alight just a few feet from their unconscious comrade. Then, both of them took a seat to either side of him, their bows relaxed in their hands, but still ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

“To counter the chill, warmth is required. Warmth from a fire, whilst they sleep, and warm broth once they awake, and are able to feed themselves.”

“Speaking of food,” I interrupted, as that brought another question to mind. “What happened there, at the end of the battle? My System said something about a Last Stand.”

I didn’t elaborate, because I didn’t need to; not with so many of the convoy affected at the same time.

“Last Stand is an active ability, belonging to Classes suited to commanding. It lets the affected break their limits, fighting beyond what they’re capable of, at a great cost in stamina once it runs out. It’s a dangerous ability to use, since the aftermath can leave you unable to fight, hence the name. Used correctly though, it can turn the tide of battle, it’s all in the timing.”

Harvey left after that, going to speak to the Archers by the fireside. I, for my part, headed back to my carriage to catch up on some sleep; with so many people out and about, it wasn’t as if I was still needed on duty.