The mist before the trestle only seemed to get thicker as they approached. Tarn suspected the increase in wind and frozen vapor was a sign of the wolves, but his interface claimed no enemies were present. Still, he found his unease growing with each crunch of his boots into the snow.
The canyon had broken, and now the great form of the bridge could finally be seen. A towering construction of wooden beams thicker than Bog and three times as tall, it seemed like a mountain carved out of trees as it slowly stretched before them.
Twenty feet wide, the width was the only dimension Tarn could be sure of. Attempting to see into the ravine, he lost sight of the wooden spans in the mists below. Looking forward the bridge seemed to continue for a mile before becoming lost in the clouds.
The single train track ran down its center like a vein, leaving about five feet clearance on either side. The implications of another run in with one of the vehicles was obvious.
“Not much room if one of those hellish … trains… comes through?” Isca looked to Lash to see if she were using the right term. “We’d have to move out of the way quickly.”
“Trains, wing-girl. You listen to Lash, you smart.”
“They would be a problem for the wolves as well.” Urthin nodded. “Yet our enemies seem to have left this location. This entrance to the bridge is where I saw them congregated, but they seem to have vacated. No doubt noises alerted the pack to our presence.”
He shot Bog a frustrated glare. In response, Tarn could see the orc inhale deeply, preparing to make another boastful shout.
“Maybe don’t do that, Bog.” Tarn said. “I doubt they heard you before over all the wind, but at this point let’s not give them any help.”
“Gotta be an ambush.” Aryo looked back and forth nervously, before turning to Tarn. “Right? They’re waiting for us on the bridge. I can barely see anything through all this wind and snow.”
He wasn’t wrong. They weren’t in a complete white out, but the visibility was dropping as they got closer. Tarn checked his interface, moving to the temperature statistics. He watched as their numbers slowly crept down, even with the light wind.
The clock is always ticking.
“I’m sure you’re right, kid.” He shot Aryo a smile. “But an ambush you know is coming is better than one you don’t. We can’t afford to wait. In clearer weather, Smiley said he saw a structure in the middle. That’s our goal.”
“And when the wolves attack?” Jental seemed to be walking on the balls of her feet, as if she were ready to jump into combat at any moment. “After they eat Aryo, what do we do?”
Tarn shook his head.
“When they attack, we have a plan. That’s our advantage, Aryo. No need to panic, that’s not going to help anyone. Just remember to have any attack that does fire damage slotted as your action.”
Still walking towards the first set of wooden slats, he watched several of their eyes take an unfocused look as they checked interfaces and abilities.
“Get some torches lit, all of you.” Pulling one of the long wooden sticks out of his pack, he brought it over to Bog’s and lit his off of her flaming brand. The fire caught instantly, but dropped down to a flicker against the wind. Still, it gave him a slight warmth bonus as he kept it close and sheltered from the gale.
As they pushed onto the bridge, the feeling of solidity under their feet seemed to wane. Tarn thought he could feel a give to some of the wood, a slight compression under his steps. The creaks and groans of the structure could be heard among the ever-growing wind, raising his nerves.
They were over some chasm now, the bottom of which was lost in the mist. If it even exists at all, he reminded himself. All of this was their minds taking the impossibility of the gray space between dungeon, trying to understand it.
“Focus on the wolf pack’s morale,” he continued. His first boot stepped onto the bridge proper, feeling its solid construction under his feet. “Worry less about killing, more about taking that bar down. Keep an eye on your temperature, and let the front line deal with the melee.”
“Speaking of,” Narsol said, coming to walk next to Tarn. “Who shall comprise the front line of your strategy?”
“I have the most reserve left.” Jental walked swiftly, her path dangerously close to the left edge of the trestle, fearless of the drop below. “This is why I am here.”
Tarn didn’t want to reinforce those bad habits of hers, but she was right. Quick actions would be critical in this fight, and he needed all the reserve he could get.
“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re in Jental, just make sure to keep yourself away from the rest of us. That goes for all the team. Remember when she’s in combat, her abilities work best if she’s alone.”
There was a series of nods and murmurs from the rest of the group. He knew they all wanted to be picked, that was the beauty of having them here. A collection of brave fools who ran toward danger rather than away from it.
“Isca, Lash.” Tarn heard Bog’s groan instantly. “You’re with me as well. Lash, I know you were in the last fight, but you’re the best healing option we have.”
“I appreciate your confidence, Tarn.” Isca looked concerned, though it was hard to tell in the blowing snow with her goggles on her face. “But I may not be able to stay airborne in this high wind. Perhaps you should select another.”
Tarn shook his head. Bog and Narsol were too hurt still, Aryo too untested. Urthin filled much of the same role in combat at Jental.
“I believe in you, grease monkey.” He shot her a smile he hoped conveyed his feelings. “You’re more than a set of wings.”
He stopped, turning to face the team. Looking past them, he was stunned he could no longer see the entrance to the Trestle behind them. It was as if they were floating on a wooden platform, adrift in a frozen sea of mist.
“I know all of you want to be in every fight.” He laughed, shaking a bit against the cold. “But the gem says otherwise, and it’s not giving me a vote. I have a feeling you’ll all get your chances.”
He looked across their faces, seeing either concentrated resolve or disappointment on each of them save Urthin.
“Lash, you focus on heals and crowd control. See if you can take a wolf or two out of the equation, but keep your eyes open. We cannot afford for you to be taken down.”
Leaping down from his place on Urthin’s shoulder, the gremlin hopped up and down with excitement. The action was made all the more comical by his size, the snow piling up to his waist.
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“Lash have big eyes.” He opened his saucer-sized orbs even wider, the effect comedic. “Wolfs no surprise him.”
“I know they won’t!” Tarn laughed, clouds of vapor pushing into the chilled air. “With Narsol and Bog out, I’ll take the center spot and try to keep the fight on me. Isca, you just hammer whatever I’m hitting with everything you have. Jental, I think you know what to do.”
“Find a straggler,” she said, baring her teeth. “And burn ‘em down!”
“Precisely correct, Jental.” Urthin came forward to walk in the middle of the group. “Though I doubt that specificity was intentional. Fire-based abilities are critical, as Tarn has said. I recommend you each check your selections.”
Nodding, Tarn made a quick check of his own abilities as they began to walk forward again. He kept
Tarn had not used the
Tarn wasn’t too interested in that aspect of the attack, but it did have another advantage. It added the [burned] status effect along with its base damage, which was fire element in nature. He was willing to bet the wolves wouldn’t be too happy with that.
“Hold!” Isca stopped suddenly, putting her hand up. All but Jental froze in the place, and after a moment she too came to a halt. Isca knelt a bit as she looked forward into the blinding snow, her left hand adjusting one of her goggle lenses.
“Lash,” she said as she pointed to a small spot in the snow about ten feet ahead, right on the edge of the bridge. “Do you see that indent?”
The gremlin padded forward, his eyes narrowing. Tarn looked where they were focused but saw nothing but the same wall of white that was all around them.
“Yes!” Lash cried and shot forward in a blur, faster than Isca’s failed attempt to stop in. Like a green streak, he ran towards the edge of the bridge and stopped just before the abyss. Snow flew everywhere as he dug into the snow.
“Get back here you foolish imp!” Bog cried as she lumbered forward, worry in her eyes. But Lash was already back, standing before Tarn in an eyeblink with a small box in his hands, his grin as wide as the moon.
“Big orc girl scared, but Lash not fall. You ever see Lash fall? No. No no no.”
“Thanks,” Tarn said with a laugh, taking the object from the gremlin. “You could be more careful though, at least for the rest of our sakes. And nice spotting Isca.”
Bog retreated back into the group, mumbling about gremlins and her heart.
Tarn examined the box. It was wooden, and about a foot wide and about six inches deep. There was no lock or markings, but the top was branded with the same sword pattern they had seen on the crates. Hands trembling a bit from the cold, he opened up the container.
Inside were several objects, lined up neatly. One was obviously a bandage, Tarn could see the roll of white gauzy cloth held together with twine. There were also a trio of long metallic tubes with what looked like a nail at the end, a series of red stripes running up the side.
The final item was so ridiculous Tarn laughed out loud at the sight, picking the heavy can up in his hand and grinning. Across the can was a label which pictured a smiling older man with thinning white hair and bushy eyebrows, holding a bowl of small pasta shapes in red sauce. Impossibly, the label pronounced these as “Rykin-Os”
His interface sprang to life, quickly identifying the three items.
STIM x 3
Single use. May be used off-pulse.
Restores 50 AP of damage to the user. User gains the status effect [stimmed]
[stimmed] – Lasts 2 pulses. User gain an additional pulse action per round while active. Once this status effect expires, user may perform only one action per pulse until end of battle.
BANDAGE
Note: Only usable on the Bridge. Single use.
Use one pulse to apply to any target within melee range (including self). Removes one random negative status effect.
”RYKIN-Os” RATONS
On use: restore 20% AP, Temperature, Gray Resistance. (40% if consumed in a partial camp)
Pasta circles in tomato-flavored sauce. Now with fun King’s Square shapes!
Either the dungeon has a sense of humor, or you are in there somewhere old man! Tarn grinned at the thought of Rykin designing little meals for him from somewhere beyond the grave.
Bog was by his side in an instant, letting out a bellowing laugh as she examined the can. Somewhere in the blowing snow he was sure Urthin was shaking his head at her lack of stealth, but in the moment he shared her happiness.
“The old man!” She grinned, a smile that almost radiated heat. “Is this from him, or?”
“I don’t know, Bog. I’m wondering the same thing. Either way, this is very helpful.”
He shook his head again, thinking of old Rykin. What would he say now, about this situation. Stuck between dungeons in the freezing cold, with a team that included a rookie, a rebel, and an orc none of them trusted.
Use the pieces ye’ve got, Rykin used to say over their endless games of King’s Squares. No point wishing for Calvary or Towers ye don’t have.
“Stow the rations with the rest of our gear,” Tarn said, handing both cans to Bog. “Take the … stims? As well. Lash, you grab this bandage. Can’t have you down during the fight.”
“You need these,” Bog said, pushing the trio of stims into Tarn’s pack. “You’re the one going into the fight, Tarny!”
Tarn opened his mouth to protest, then froze as a piercing howl spilt the wind like a sword cutting through cloth. It was a long and mournful sound, and it was soon joined by another. Then a third, and fourth. In the space of a few heartbeats, the air around them was filled with a chorus of wolf cries.
As a group they all turned toward the source of the sound. It came from before them, somewhere ahead on the trestle, but all Tarn could see was the same snow-covered wooden road, creaking in the wind.
Fortunately, he had someone with him who could see better.
“Isca?” He waited as the Kithikin came to stand next to him. “What do you see?”
“Mounds in the snow,” she said, her voice calm but concerned. “Four… no five. About a hundred feet ahead. Based on your descriptions of the wolves they are the right size, but they are unmoving. Hang on, let me change lenses.”
She tapped a button on the side of her goggles an amber glass circle fell in place of the right eye. Not speaking, she held her sputtering torch out to him. Tarn took the flame, as Isca stepped a few feet forward to escape its effects.
“Hmm.” She shook her head. “Whatever they are, they’re not giving off any heat. None at all.”
“The dire timbers were quite cold.” Narsol said. “When we fought them, they froze the air around them. I doubt they would give off any heat.”
“Are they all the same size?” Urthin asked. “When I scouted them, there were five plus the larger one.”
“All the same,” Isca nodded. “If there’s another one here, its hiding.”
Tarn took a deep breath, allowing the icy of the Trestle’s air to chill his lungs. The cold cut through him, but it helped him focus. There were in combat already, whether initiative had started or not. The wolves had got a surprise attack on him once, he was determined not to let it happen again.
“Isca.” Tarn dropped his voice to a tone he only used when giving instructions. “Lash. Jental. Up here with me. The rest of you, split up and go to either side of the Trestle. Get as close as you can to the edge safely, but don’t back up.”
“But you said to back up.” Aryo said. “So, we’d stay out of the still.”
“And now I am telling you something else.” Tarn didn’t look at the kid, he didn’t have time. “Please do as I ask.”
A hundred feet ahead. Five unmoving mounds of cold snow, right where he would be looking for them.
“Remember what I said.” Taking slow steps ahead, boots crunching into the snow, he spoke only loud enough for his three teammates to hear. “Lash and I fought them before. Watch the cold, watch each other, and stay on your jobs.”
The air seemed to get darker around them as they moved. Now Tarn could see the mounds of snow himself, five evenly marked hills about seventy feet before them. The wind continued to blow, sending the sound of freshly creaking wood into the air.
Tarn reached into his interface, conjuring up
They were being played, he could feel it. Maybe the shapes in the snow ahead were decoys, or maybe they truly were wolves. One thing was for sure, this time he was going to go first.
“Let’s hunt.”