Tens of thousands of feet march toward the hill, and I glance frantically at the sky. The distant silhouette of the thrashing bird let me know that Monica was still fighting it. William clutches his head and frantically digs around his bag for another potion.
“We’re out.” He said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t slow them when they come. I haven’t really been upping my magic stat, so it’ll take some time for me to recover.”
I swallow hard. The only reason we’ve been able to hold out as long as we have was because of William’s slow.
“It’s okay.” I tell him, “I’ll hold them off. Stay down, they probably’ll have new archers with them.”
I tap my head with the cane as William ducks behind the remains of the wall and pulls Shadow up into his lap.
““By the light of Yahweh, God of Gods, and King of Kings.”
I heal the stinging in my shoulder, and then let the residual mana scab the cuts on my back. The four remaining heavy infantry units were falling back into the ranks of the climbing masses. The larger army of tens of thousands approaching from the distance was closing ground quickly; the dust these marching feet kick up rivals the fogwall in its obscuring fashion. What was this? This couldn’t be a sub-30 door. No. It couldn’t. There was something else at work here. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. For now, however, I’d just leave it to eat away at the back of my mind.
I raise my cane in front and recite the incantation for Earth Spike, and split the mana stream to chase after the descending dogmen. Four hard-packed pikes pierce through the back of the throats of the retreating heavy infantry, and quickly crumble as they fall back onto them. The column of climbing dogmen was already a little over halfway up the hill, and with each second ticking by, they moved a little bit quicker as William’s Slow released its grip little by little. I better start whittling away at their numbers while I can...wait, maybe...
“Oh, thou invisible beings that dwell within all, slow the steps of all those before me.”
I utter. A kind of heat pours out of my heart, and into my raised cane, and emits in a lightless beam that split through the air. The beam strikes the centermost dogman’s shield, and he slows down considerably as if he were mired in a bog.
“Why didn’t it work like yours?” I turn to William and ask.
“It has to be done with a pendant.” He says, “It has a wider effect that way.”
I click my tongue.
“Can I see your pendant?”
“Well...” he coughs, “It’s bound to me.”
“What do you mean?”
He pulls the pendant off his neck and passes it over to me. I reach for it, and my hands pass right through it as if it were a mirage.
“I got it as a reward from my patron.”
“Yeah? My patron only insults me.” I click my tongue again.
I suppose whittling down their numbers is all I have at the moment. I have another idea, but pulling it off would leave our position much, much more vulnerable. I just had to rely on Monica. Once again, I raise my cane.
Streaks of red flames, and orange arrows of fire and wind. Earthen spikes and flying stones crash against the front ranks of the climbing brigade; streaks of blue lightning send the dogmen reeling to the ground. Dozens die, yet their climb does not abate. It was a battle of attrition at this point. A battle that we could not win Our only condition for victory was Monica bringing down the godbeast. I toss another bombarding volley of stones into the crowd. Three more fall and die as a result.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
William had pulled a hunting crossbow out of his apparently never-ending bag, along with a quiver of about 30 brightly colored bolts. About ten of them now lay in the bodies of fallen dogmen. Anything to slow their advance, and to not worsen our position. The only advantage we had, at the moment, was the field of traps laid out beforehand that kept the approaching army caged in.
A loud growling bark draws my attention back to the horizon. Approaching from the front of the oncoming mass was a force of about a hundred dogmen. Leading them from the front was a figure so large that it seems to rival the largest of the wind-bent trees that it passes by. Its fur is a bright white, and glimmers like opal. The hilt of a large blade sticks out from behind its hunched back and pointed ears. It looks like a great wolf among a pack of dogs.
All of the armies stop and turns around to look at this massive dogman as the 100-strong force it leads comes to a stop. The hulking monster of a dogman approaches the army we had been holding at bay. It glances at the army, then up the hill. Even from this distance, I could feel the power behind its bright blue eyes as it locks onto me. It snarls and barks an order.
One of the dogmen from the army steps out of formation and approaches. A short, heated conversation of barks, growls, and apologetic mewls erupts as everything seems to come to a still. Neither William nor I could move a muscle, and Shadow took to trembling.
In the time it takes to blink, the White Wolf drew its large two-handed falchion and swung downward with so much force that the air howled in protest. The dogman commander of the army that had been facing us stood perfectly still for a second, before its bisected body split and fell to either side.
Once the seizing trembles leave my body I raise my cane and chant as quickly as possible.
“An arrow, o’ Djinn.”
William seems to have a similar idea. He takes aim through the scope of his crossbow and lets loose a bolt at about the same time my spell goes off. There’s no way we could face this thing. No way in hell. We had to get rid of it now while it was still barking orders at the army. The White Wolf spins on its heel, puffs its chest, and lets out a stream of air from its long muzzle. The pure force of the wind knocks William to the ground and forces me to steady myself. The flaming arrow I had let off dies in the torrent and the bolt that William had let loose flips and falls to the ground. It smirks as it raises its massive paw and brings it forward.
All at once, both the force of 100 or so that he had led here and the 500 or so force that had first come here charged up the hill. Stepping through the stakes; though some died as the poisoned barbs bit into bits of exposed flesh at their flanks, most of them made it through. With the same callous indifference to their own lives, twenty or so dogmen on either side of the path dove into the ash-filled trenches one after another until their bodies formed a bridge for the others to cross. Those that fell to the poisoned caltrops strewn among the upturned earth were likewise used as stepping stones to their rapid ascent.
In the middle of all these was the towering visage of the White Wolf, barking orders. Our position was already lost. I could only think of one thing to do to further slow the climb. It was the second to last thing I wanted to do; this was only to buy us time. With that small amount of time, I could only pray to the gods that Monica finishes off the godbeast.
In the booklet that I had listened to on my walk back to the home, I remember hearing something about how some natural disasters were caused by conflicts between the elementals. “Storms and upheavals.” The second part is what comes to mind right now.
I stick the point of my cane into the ground and think on my feet. Make it as poetic as possible, Lawrence. I close my eyes.
“Oh you Gnomes; faithful servants of Gob the Glorious, and you Undines; thou warrior-maidens of Necksa the Beautiful; I call upon you for conflict...”
Water and Earth mana pull up my feet and begin to mingle with one another. It was a similar feeling to when I first combined air and fire; only it was like cold water and mud flowing through my veins.
“At my feet. Conflict with one another and move the very earth itself.”
The ground shakes, and all the oncoming army stops as they try to find footing. A few fall over as they cross over the bridge of corpses, and sink into the ash. I concentrate, however. Not letting the moving earth distract me. Mana pulls up my feet, and I let it loose through the tip of my wand. All the mana I could muster until my entire body feels wound in webs and bound by thread. Until I feel the trickle of blood pouring down from my nostrils. Until the very hill itself breaks apart. This was the only thing I can do now. No amount of attrition will hold back this tide. No. I need something equally as powerful and large to push them back.
A great shelf of earth shifts as the very land breaks apart. Mud and soil mix as the first layer of ground of the hill roils and falls over those climbing. Burying them in an avalanche of muck and mud.