“I’ve seen you on the news before.” Seth said, “And my kids’ve seen you on YouTube.”
He hopped down from the carved divot of the dead waterfall, and I followed after him. The light was considerably more dim now. Night had fully fallen over Efra.
“Really? I was on the news?”
Seth’s curly hair bobbed as he nodded.
“They showed a distant video of the fight you had with that army on the hilltop, then interviewed the kid who took it.”
“William?”
“Yeah, that was his name. Said he had come up with the strategy to hold the hill, set up traps, and have you fight. Seemed rather smug about it all.”
“Really? Why bring this up right now?”
“After all this is done, I’m wondering if I could work with you. Close more of these doors. Really admired the way you fought, and I believe we’d work well together. A lot better than that attention-hungry bastard.”
I was going to press Seth on that issue before Nyt, who was still at the top of the waterfall shushed up. She hopped down next and crept over to the edge right before the scramble.
“Shit…” She mutters before she kneels down and plucks out a strand of grass poking through some cracks in the stone and tossing it in the air.
The blade of grass exploded and a green bow formed in the air in front of her. She snatched it out of the air, and drew it; an ethereal green string formed as her fingers pulled back the invisible string. Wind mana forms into an arrow at the tip of her fingers, and flies forth as she releases it. The wind-formed mana howls forth and explodes into a ball; scattering a patrol of ten satyrs at the very edge of the rows of hovels as it slams and punctures a hole through the chest of the one it had hit.
“Hold that thought,” Seth says as he springs down the boulder scramble, and lands on the stony soil and brush at the beneath.
One of the satyrs wielding a long pike rushes and stabs forward. Seth knocks aside the point of the spear with the flat of his long sword and stabs forward into the creature’s throat. It staggers for a moment after the man pulls the now bloody blade out of the creature’s throat. A falchion wielded by a gray-furred satyr sliced through the air toward Seth’s head, but an arrow loosed by Nyt explodes its head, as Seth parries a mace blow from another. A pair of satyrs manage to push themselves off the ground and spring forward; weapons in hand.
“Bombard my enemies, O’ thou servants of Gob, the magnomious.”
A part of the stone plateau rips off and slams into the head of one of them; splitting it like a pumpkin. Its body crumbles onto the ground, and Seth steps back just in time to dodge a blow from the war pick that embeds itself into the ground. Seth cuts the air with his blade and an arc of white ice forms at its trail and hisses through the air as it collides against both. The pick wielder’s arm fell to the ground, and a gushing flow of blood flowed from the throat of the other as it fell backward. Blood sprayed out from the severed limb, and before its bleating could grow any longer, Seth cleaves its skull in two.
Despite the quick death, the screams drew the attention of those further in the town, and soon a great commotion came out from the town as a trumpet blared out warning. There were still at least a hundred satyrs, dogmen, minotaurs, and assorted beasts that hadn’t set sail, and it looked as if all of them were rushing towards us as two more loud trumpet calls responded to the first.
“Well, fuck.” Seth muttered.
“You that bind them all, protect him from all that would cause him harm.”
A shimmering shell forms around Seth’s body as the remnants of the first patrol that had come across us charge forth; five in total. Thoughts go through my head; images of Nyt cleaved in two, and Seth; the one who I had been charged with rescuing and protecting; the man who had a wife and kids waiting for him back home, pierced through — his ruby blood staining the gray stones. What would I tell his wife and kids? They needed him now more than anything, with the things they’ve been through.
Images of the light leaving my father’s eyes ring through my mind like a gunshot. I can still feel his hot blood washing over me like baptismal waters. Images of my mother’s eyeless corpse looking down at me. I swear that I could. The screams of those that I had promised to save ring out in my ears like the screaming of a bell, and I make my decision. I couldn’t let anything happen to either of them. Nyt was the closest thing I’ve had to a friend since this whole thing started, and Seth was a man whose life actually mattered outside of the war.
I cast Repel on Nyt as well, and ready myself for a large battle. I would have to make sure to kill a majority of them, so I was not responsible for another death. Just as I finish casting Repel on myself, I set my bag down, and hop down the side of the cliff. The sound of the approaching horde was split in two; one heading down each of the streets that stretched down to port from here. I jump onto the nearest hovel and raise a wall of Earthen Spikes to effectively block off the path closest to Seth, and sprint off through the town; heading off to intercept the approaching group.
“Lawrence, where are you going? You’re more than capable of doing damage at a distance.” Nyt calls as she fires off another arrow of light into the body of one of the creatures still standing.
“But then one of you might get hurt.”
“Hold up, we’ll come with y-” Nyt calls as a riposte from Seth finished off one of the others.
I don’t hear the rest as I cast Lightning Step; collapsing the building I had just been standing on as I rocket forward at break-neck speeds. The rolling of wheels draws my attention to the road to my left, I step off the roof, and intercept the pair of chariots; drawn by the brier horses, and the other drawn by a pair of large, brier dogs; what had looked like a pair of Irish Wolfhounds. Two satyrs; one drawing the chariot, and one wielding a weapon — a glaive for the horse-drawn, and a sling for the hound drawn, man each of the chariots, and a minotaur stands a couple of feet away; the large tattoo on its chest glowing a deep green.
The horse-drawn chariot speeds up, and the satyr swings forward with its glaive just as a steel bullet slams into my shoulder; falling off the invisible shield. I stop the swinging polearm yank the goatman out of the cradle of the chariot, and slam my elbow into the creature’s face. Its snout collapses at the force as the chariot rolls by. An Earthen Spike ruptures from the ground beneath each of the chariots; splintering the wooden hulls, and tossing its occupants into the air. One of the satyrs was crushed by the metallic rim. The brier horses and hounds writhe on the ground as they try to break free from their leather harnesses.
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The minotaur lowers its horn and charges forward and rams its forehead into me. One of its horns pushes through my Repel and barely punctures my pectoral muscle as I lean against it to try to stop its charge.
“By the order of Gob, king of the spirits of the earth, I command you, on gnomes, seize my enemy.”
An earthen hand reaches up and grabs hold of my waist to keep me from being pushed back and lifted off the ground. Its horn drove further into my chest, and I sent three spikes of earth into the creature’s chest. I feel each slam into it and push it a little away until, at last, its grayish horn is pulled free from my chest as the creature is lifted off of its feet. I grab hold of the staff with my left and press it against the creature’s clavicle as it tries to push forward once more.
“From thou children of earth and flame, that dwell within the cavernous underneath, I call upon thy to lend your blood.”
The minotaur screams as the smell of burnt flesh and hair nearly chokes me. It pulls away; the lava drips down from its collarbone, eating away at its flesh as it makes its way down its chest. It tries to pat the burning liquid off, but the lava melds his hands to its body. It falls to the ground, still bellowing out its scream, as the first platoon of infantry nears. Now’s as good of a time as any to try it.
“I allow the breath of the salamanders to flow through me.”
Like normal, the mana I draw in through my nose pulls towards my throat. Normally, when using this incantation, I have to push the mana toward my arm, but now I let it go its course. I feel Igni’s, the Salamander I had contracted, mana move toward my throat as I let loose a gout of flames from my mouth that washed over the closest of the approaching satyrs and the still billowing minotaur like a wave that died out about twenty feet away from me.
That was fun. Igni cooed in my head.
I can feel her move back toward my arm; like a match being pressed and moved against my skin.
Black scorch marks mar the once-gray stone and equally dark smoke billows to the skies from the remains of the smoldering creatures. The stink of burning hair and cooked flesh mingled with the salt in the air. The creatures that had been approaching stopped in their tracks as they witnessed the horrible display of power I had just shown as I stood resolute blocking their way up through the narrow streets. Fear and panic painted each of their faces. The brier horses and brier hounds still move despite half of their bodies not reduced to ash had been crushed by the chariots.
The closest Satyr retreats a step as I take one forward. Another one as I step forward once more. By the time I reached the body of the minotaur, it had backed up enough to begin to press against the first rank of the approaching mass. The once diverted horde had converged, it seemed as if drawn by the billowing smoke. Good. Less chance for anything to happen to those two. I bend down, pick up a spear of one of the fallen, and drive its point into the barely rising and falling chest of the minotaur. The mauled hounds and horses were finally still.
The satyr grits its teeth and bleats out a war cry as it rushes forward. Two large Earthen Spikes rupture from the ground to block off the narrow path; one catches the creature in the middle and launches it skyward.
That seems to set off the horde as they rush forward. They climb the roofs of the buildings and make their way through the narrow alleys between the hovels, or clamor over the edge of the path, on the small stone ledge that separated it from the fogwall and the steep climb up to the peaks of the mountains. They swarm like a colony of angry ants.
The first falls upon me with blade and fist. The blade scrapes against the invisible shell still around me, and his fist, I take, and respond with one of my own. It collapses as its jaws shatter. I finish it off with a swift kick to its face. The next isn’t far behind, and the next. I’m forced to retreat a few steps, as smaller Earthen Spikes impale the first two before a warhammer slams into my head from the left. My head jerks forward and my head swims. The shell around me cracks like a mirror. The creature slams the pommel of its warhammer into my face, and slams its arm downward; knocking my staff from my grasp.
Quickly, I draw my dagger and jam it forward and into the ribs of the creature. It falls back, and I stab forward up through its underarm, pull it out, and slash across its face before a bullet from a sling catches me in the chest. I take a step back as a scimitar-wielding dogman who had been running across the rooftops falls upon me. Both of its silvery blades flash as they clash against my Repel, but the force of it pushes me back a step.
As it draws its arms back to slash forth with both blades and steps up into the air, I reach forward and grab hold of its throat before it gets too far up and slam it into the nearby hovel with such force that the building crumbles and buries it in thick gray stone. The satyr that had been running across its roof falls onto the new pile of rubble and dashes its head against the stone as it crashes to a stop.
I bend down and pull one of the scimitars out of the dead dogman’s grasp. The wider path allows more creatures to reach me as four satyrs, and a pair of dogmen bound over the rubble and assail me. I step back out of the arc of a swinging axe that collides against the soil and stone shelf beside, and I slash with the scimitar; parting the creature’s arm at the elbow.
Blood sprays out from the severed limb, and the creature falls back. Before I could finish it off, the stab of a spear bouncing off my Repel drew my attention. The dogman that held the pike pulled back its arm for another, and a spike stone and soil stabbed up out of the ground and into the creature’s head through the temple. I point forward with my dagger as more come pouring out of the streets rushing toward me, baying for my blood.
“A volley, oh djinn."
Ten arrows of braided orange flame and howling tendrils of wind form above me and fly forward; screeching through the damp air as they slam and splatter against the front ranks. Some of the more observant satyrs rushed forward with large shields and blocked a few of the arrows from crashing into the group. One that carried a smaller round shield had the two wind-flame arrows that he had intercepted splatter and splash into his face. The flames caught against the fur just above its eyes. It falls to the ground and rolls around as the magical fire spreads across its body.
Three lead bullets slam into me from sling wielders at my front. My shield falls apart at the third. I fought the urge to retreat in order to reapply the shield, but it was too risky. It could put Seth and Nyt in danger, after all. Their lives were much more valuable than mine, in the scheme of things. Nyt was going to help revive a world, and Seth was going to raise a family.
The ranged units climbed to the roofs of the buildings surrounding that narrow alley, as the melee units charged forward. A contingent of melee circles around me, cutting off my retreat. Archers nock their arrows, and slings whip around heads, as I draw a triangle and with a line through it with the blade of the dagger.
“Dance for me, oh daughters of the wind.”
A shell of whipping wind howls to life around me. Arrows fired at me scatter away, and lead bullets loosed by slings were diverted; slamming into the ground near my feet. One slams into my foot, and a great pain blossoms, I nearly fall over when I put pressure on it, so I fall back against the ledge beside me. The sound of approaching feet stirs me to action.
“Breathe through me, oh though airy daughters of the wind.”
When the rune was finished, all the air roared around me, and then some roared out in front of me and slammed into those approaching downhill. The first rank gets thrown into the ranks behind it, and all of them fall backward. I direct the stream of air to the rooftops. One arrow drives itself into my outstretched arm; pierced through my forearm. I keep my arms outstretched and knock the last of them out, hissing in pain, and blood drips down onto the ground.
The air is driven from my lungs as a heavy mace blow takes me from the left, and I nearly fall as a spear point is driven into my thigh. I grab hold of the spear shaft, and shift my foot; an earthen spike rips out of the ground and slams into the creature’s chin, and rips off the creature’s head. An arrow slams into my right shoulder as one of the archers I had knocked down, and I finally fall; my back pressed against the soil shelf.
Right...this is a level 80 dive. I should have been more careful. Ah, well. I’ll kill as many of them as I can before I die. At least I know that Clio and Shadow will be safe with Seth’s family…
The earth shifts overhead as a satyr; straddling the ledge, stabs downward with a wicked-looking dagger. An earthen spike catches it in its shoulder; tearing off its arm. It bleats out in pain as it rolls off the ledge and falls on top of me onto my lap. I stab my own dagger into its head. A lead bullet nails me in the forehead, and my head jerks back and slams into the soil. My vision blurs, and I glance toward the direction of the stone plateau. A minotaur raises its axe over its head to finish me off. I close my eyes. Sorry guys...this is all I can do.
The minotaur grunts and hot blood pours over me. The air grows cold around me, and I blink my eyes open. A white frost wall surrounds me.
“You alive in there, Lawrence?”
I let out a pained grunt. All I could see from my sitting position was the flash of white lights, the spraying of blood, and shadows stretching and shrinking through the white frost wall. While sitting there, I pull the arrow out of my shoulder and begin healing my wounds while the fight continues. I feel the earth depress overhead, and glance up to see Nyt standing on the ledge; her pawed feet curling over the edge. The mana sang around her as she let loose arrow after arrow. It wasn’t long before the sound of battle ended, and Nyt hopped down from the ledge.
Blood darkens her gray fur, and she tenderly holds her side. Her chest rose and fell.
“You’re hurt.”
I reached over and healed the gash on her side. She trembles and clenches her fist before knocking away my hand and slamming her fist into my cheek. My head jerks back into the soil wall.
“Me? Look at you, bastard.”
She spits on the ground and places her hand on one of my ribs. Mana flows into me, and the pain lessens. “Why did you do that? Can you not trust me? Do you think I’m too weak to stand beside? Huh?” She spits twice.
“I was confident I could take them.” I lie, and she grits her teeth. “My mistake.”
“Bullshit.” She grabs hold of my collar with both of her hands and shakes me. “You’re just a...a fucking coward.”
She hisses as she glares at me with her large, gray eyes. Her shoulders rise and fall, and her hands tremble. I don’t know how to respond. Why is she so upset?