But fate’s die had already been cast, and there would be no ceasing to this fight until one side was broken. A shrill, ululating cry came from Tarkhan that invigorated his men and defied the order. The vicious horsemen did not cease circling the ring of wagons, and they kept shooting barrages from their deadly bows. Hate, a bitter hot thing, filled me - at these people who had come for me. Who sought to punish me for the temerity of wanting to be free.

Hate was subsumed by a new emotion. A line of dark power joined me to yet another being, and even more euphoria filled me, along with a feeling of invincibility. With this magic, I had transcended the realms of mortals. Fueled by my burgeoning confidence, I smashed the shafts of the arrows embedded into my shield with the haft of my Tsengelt-tum, my heavy mace-flail. Advancing alone out of the protective ring, I went to smite my enemies. Death was not a thing to be avoided, but an enemy to be fought and defeated. I did not need to hide behind the protection of the wagons like the womenfolk. I was a god of war.

Or at least I thought I was.

Something blindsided me with the fury of a landslide. A charging horse had bowled me over and knocked me to the ground. From the corner of my eye, I saw a heavy cavalry saber flicking down, only to skid across my helm with a shriek of metal, before the rider wheeled away. Though failing to brain me, the impact rattled me to my core, as the force of the blow was wedded to the speed and mass of his mount. Despite all of this, I had lost only around ten percent of my Health, a considerable, but not lethal, amount of damage. Even as I began to pick myself up, I noticed that my own health was ticking back up. Laughing with battle madness, I realized it would take more than a horse at full charge to take me out of the fight.

Then the gods decided to punish me again for my hubris, as my latest curse came to haunt me. The damnable half-elven child Larynda decided to enter the fray. Eyes closed and standing between two of the wagons, she held one of her magic seals in front of her face. With a look of grim determination, she began chanting in an ethereal and alien voice that spoke of more than just a simple invocation. Her unruly mop of yellow hair rose, fluttering in rhythm to an unseen power. I simply had to know the words that she spoke. It pulled at me, this hungering curiosity, making me let loose an Identify. The questing tendrils of insight found her voice and sated this new and strange hunger.

“I ask the seal, who are you?” Larynda asked of her magic, in a voice that came to me as a bare whisper.

Mana, the source of all magic of this world, answered in a booming voice that held no sound but could be heard by all with the gift-spark, “I am the spears of the Deep Places. Wrath made shining crystal…”

This was the last I heard of the voice. Something sharp pierced through the back of my leg and erupted out of the meat of my upper thigh, impaling my limb. A lance of pain punched through the mental protection of my Pain Nullification skill. I screamed in agony and saw that a jagged crystal shaft had sprouted from the ground and had gone straight through my leg. The glassy material was slowly filling with crimson, its surface growing opaque and misty.

All around me chaos roared in triumph, as a forest of spears sprung out from around the wagons, targeting everything indiscriminately. Men and horses were impaled upon thick crystal lances, their screams of pain echoing around as the fighting ceased for a few moments. Some, however, had been silenced instantly.

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The spell had brought Sergeant Mistevan’s formation into disarray as the magical spears wounded and killed men. For a few moments, silence reigned supreme. For the first time, I saw the true disaster that magic could sow. What on earth was that? Surely, with Larynda at only level five, such a display was impossible? Shock, hate, and yes, even envy whirled about in me as I looked upon the small girl who had unleashed the storm. The child was now the object of every combatant’s attention.

A cry of pain cut through the silence, followed by a horse’s scream. Then a barked order, followed by another, as the cacophony of conflict took up arms once more. For these were no new recruits, but hardened men, well versed in the ways of war. Magic was a rare, but not completely unheard of weapon in this world.

And against such a powerful display of magic, the only option was to charge or to retreat. It was a credit to their discipline and devotion that they chose to charge, zealous fire in their eyes as they smashed against the caravan defenders’ thin line.

Larynda looked at the devastation she had wrought, trapped and frozen in shock.

An arrow flew from a lethal compound bow at her, its song of promised death a whistle on the wind. Kidu, stout of heart and a better man than me by far, threw himself in front of her. His great bulk shielded the child from a hail of arrows let loose by the remaining riders who had escaped the newly-grown crystal forest.

Again and again, feathered shafts sprouted from his back, and I feared for his life. The great warrior Kidu lay still upon the ground. In a rare moment of selflessness, I thought only to go to my friend’s side. Urgently, I called upon a Power Strike, which barely drained my prodigious Stamina, using the force of the skill to smash the crystal trapping me to the ground. My shield raised above me, I painfully hobbled over.

Something inside of me, a whisper of an angelic voice, told me that even Greater Heal would not be enough. More was needed. I had to rely more on the light than the darkness of the void. With great regret, like a drunk who had to let go of his favorite bottle, I forced the unwilling Entropic Aura back inside me, binding it to my will with a feral howl.

In counterpoint to the dark spell, I cast Holy Aura. My fingers wove strange patterns in the air and called the spell into existence. An air of righteousness filled me, and the symphony of Heaven’s power became visible for all to see as motes of light played about me. Time seemed to cease its endless march for a moment, and I focused on what I had to do next. I called upon the power of Greater Heal and the golden song of angels echoed with my own. The energies from the spell harmonized and entwined with the notes from my Aura, building up with celestial power. Then the flood came—the release of all of that power. I laid my hands on my friend, and the surge of righteous healing poured into the massive form of Kidu. All thoughts of battle left me. All that was important was for this character to live. With gritted teeth, I mentally pushed away the notifications that clouded my vision.

You have learned Holy Aura (lvl.2)

While Heaven’s gold infused me, the chittering of the dark voices abided. No whispers clouded my thoughts, only a need to do what was right urging me to action.

The rush of healing energy caused the wild man’s body to glow brightly, and the deadly shafts that had nearly ended his life were expelled from his body as the spell closed his wounds with its auric light. As his chest rose and fell, I knew that he was safe for the moment, and so too was the life that he protected.