Behind the ruins of the farmhouse, was a large hill that towered over the other hills of the rolling farmlands. My stronger body made the climb easier than before. I glance back as I make it to the top. Plumes of black smoke billowed to the sky like rising rain clouds from the still-burning farmhouse. Orange light blared into the dark as if I had just set up an, “I’m here,” sign.
“Shit,” I mutter, as I glance frantically around through the tall grass.
Elongated shadows cast in the distance, as the flicker of torchlight, approached the hill from the west; pouring out of a rather large farmhouse there. Four or five. I couldn’t quite count through the veil of grass and shadow. I pull the wand from my pocket and tap my temples. The world shifts into a greenish light as I peer down at the approaching group.
Equidistant to one another, in a military manner, they approached the hill and began the climb. The two carried spears in front of them; made of the same black, fluted metal. The two in the middle held recurved bows in one hand and carried a quiver on their back. One followed in the rear with a battle axe that shone like steel and hung off its hip. It was he who carried the torch.
Sour stink stains the air, as the wind blows past them as they crested the hill and hurried by. I held my breath. In part so I wouldn’t make any extra noise, and in part due to the stink or rotting meat that these creatures donned. They clinked loudly as they passed the crest. I squeeze my eyes shut as the one with the torch passed by so that its light didn’t catch in my eyes.
Chained fists clutched their weapons as they climb down the hill. They stop once they reached the edge of the undulating firelight and began to look around. Their barking language carried up the hill like an echo. They search around for something until they come across the corpse of the lionhart. They surround it.
The one with the torch continues to look around as the others examine it. It begins to climb the hill once again just as I’m beginning to back away. My movement must have stirred the grass around me, because its eyes — like two black pools, snapped toward me, and its canine face drew back in a grimace. It barked three loud warnings and the other four turned their heads as it approached slowly, I did nothing but track it with my wand aimed at the ground between its legs.
“An awl, O’ thou servants of Gob the Highest, to strike my enemies.”
Steel axe fell from its grasp and thudded against the ground as a thin spike of sharpened stone and soil burst from the ground and stabbed through the bottom of the Dogman, and pierced through the skin until the chain and tunic just above the curve of its hip bone bulged. Black blood flowed down the edge of the spike and pooled on the ground underneath.
“Holy shit,” I actually intoned out loud. “Thank you, Gob, you narcissistic bastard.”
I pushed myself off the ground as the Dogman tried to pull itself off the spike; its leg dangling dead by its side and holding the writhing creature in a place like an anchor. I draw the scimitar, rush forward as quickly as possible, and stab it through the creature’s throat. Its pained, panicked yelps silenced for a moment.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The whistle of an arrow causes me to duck behind the corpse. It jolts forward twice as two arrows thunk into it.
“I allow the Breath of the Salamanders to flow through me,” I finish the incantation just as I poke my head back out.
The flickering, curling bolt of flame leaps forward and strikes one of the spear-wielding Dogmen in the chest as it climbs the steep hill. It pats out the small bit of the cloth that caught fire.
Shit. Shitty salamanders.
An arrow whizzes by my head and sticks to the ground behind it. I duck my head back behind the corpse. An arrow sticks in the ground just where it had been. I plant my feet on the ground and push against the body. Blood soaks into my back as I grunt and push. After what seems like too long, the spike snaps, and the body falls backward. I catch myself, so as to not impale myself on the leftover spikes, and then push myself forward, already anticipating the flying arrows.
The Dogman’s body rolls down the hill, taking my scimitar — still buried in its throat, with it. It collides with the legs of the nearest spear-wielding, sending it careening to the ground, and slowing its ascent. I push myself forward off the ground up the hill and dive behind the crest of the hill just as a pair of arrows whistle through the air past me. I formulate a plan quickly, as I hear the second speared Dogman approach.
“I allow the blood of the Salamanders to flow through me.” I draw the rune right above the ground near the crest of the hill.
Ash pours out of the wand and forms a large pile. I cut the mana short, then stand just as the Dogman finishes the climb. It stabs forward with its spear, and I raise my thigh weave to the side to avoid fatal damage. The spear embeds itself into my flank and I wince. I grab hold of its arm to hold it in place and kick forward with all the force I could muster. It falls backward onto the pile of ash and whines in pain as it scrambles to stand, and I stomp on its chest. Bones break underneath my weight as I hold it in place on the ash.
“Dance for me, O’ daughters of the wind.” I incant quickly.
A gust of howling wind picks up around me. The mana flows in through my nose, much like the mana for my fire spells. I draw in more from whatever source it is and let it join in with the other. The gust becomes a gale. The gale picks up the smoldering ash not covered by the thrashing Dogman and casts it into the air all around me. The arrows shot at me in an attempt to stop me were repelled by the wall of wind and ash. Just as I had planned. My flesh tears as I yank the spear free from my body and stab it down into the snarling maw of the Dogman.
By that time, the other speared Dogman neared and began to press through the wind wall. I keep pulling mana from the air to maintain it longer, as it slowly pushes through; a hand over its face to stop the ash from blinding him forever.
“I allow the Breath of the Salamanders to flow through me.” I aim my wand, and the curling bolt enters into the wall of wind to strike the Dogman.
The light-feeling air mana and the heated mana of the firebolt mingle, and exits as a large ball of swirling flame. Like a match to gasoline, as the impromptu fireball enters the gale winds; the once dormant ash bursts to life in an explosive way. Bright orange flames spin and surround me. If I felt like I was being cooked alive, it was nothing to what the Dogman must have felt, in the middle of that spinning inferno. I cut the mana short just as I felt myself getting light-headed as the fire consumed the oxygen within the small wind shield I had created. The charred Dogman staggers forward and falls. Its flesh completely melded with its armor as black skin bubbled.
An arrow strikes me on the upper arm, and I duck behind the crest again. How am I going to deal with them, now? I press my back against the grass and catch my breath.