“Mana is in all living things, but only about one in a thousand can actively use it. Strengthening their bodies, channeling spells and controlling magical items, all can be performed by those blessed with Mana. The Blessed, The Fortunate, the Powerful.”

“The Ranked may someday reach divinity.”

On Rankings

Chapter 22

Wil watched while kneeling in the high brush on the edge of a field, as the attacking Goblins and Orcs poured in through the town gates. He could see that many of the archers on the walls had run out of arrows and were tossing rocks and debris at the goblins below. He could see others throwing down their bows, drawing swords and spears to engage the enemy below.

Wil could see large piles of small dead Goblins piled around the gate. The defenders had stopped them for a while, before the larger Orc troops pushed through the battered gates. The orcs had plunged through the exhausted defenders, making their way deeper into Whitewater.

A large portion of the southern section of Whitewater was now on fire, the raiders burning and looting after they entered the gate.

Wil knew that he needed to get into the city but entering through the gate would be suicide. Assessing his options, he stood and sprinted towards an unoccupied section of wall.

As he ran, he channeled his Mana through his legs, increasing his speed and spreading it out below his feet. Each step he took caused a slight ripple in the web of Mana. When he reached the base of the wall he leapt into the air, forcing the Mana to thrust him upwards.

Wil felt the wind whipping against him as he careened upwards. Before he could reach the top of the wall, his momentum slowed and his jump reached its peak, a few feet below the top of the wall.

Panicking, Wil desperately grabbed at the wall’s surface, trying to latch onto the lip of the fortification.

Grabbing onto one of the lower parts of the parapet with one hand, Wil dangled from the wall. Swinging his other arm upwards, Wil winced in pain as it aggravated his injured shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself up onto the wall and over the parapet.

He cautiously observed his surroundings, he was completely drained of mana. The escape from the underground cavern and leaping the wall had left him depleted. He would only be able to manage a few simple spells to defend himself. He didn’t trust his shoulder enough to use his sword, the injury would hinder his movements.

Wil found that he was alone on the top of the wall, the defenders had left to engage the enemy on the ground. A few discarded bows and empty quivers of arrows were the only evidence that anyone had been here.

Looking over the inside edge of the defenses, he could see that the nearby buildings were on fire. Humans and Orcs were locked in combat in small, isolated groups. It seemed that most of the fighting had broken off into small battles throughout the town.

Wil could see in the short time that he had spent climbing the wall, the gate had emptied. No Goblins or Orcs were left outside the walls and the humans had given chase through the streets.

Wil left the top of the wall through a nearby set of stairs, quickly rushing downwards and away from the wall. He hugged the nearby buildings for cover, carful to avoid the fires.

He ran down one of the main streets to the center square, where the sounds of fighting were the loudest. He came upon a small squad of legion soldiers in combat with four goblins, led by a large Orc.

The group of Humans were desperately defending. They gathered in a tight formation as the Goblins stabbed at the group with their spears. The Orc was attacking a smaller, lithe woman who was dancing around the larger opponents’ attacks.

The orc swung wildly with its large axe in an overhead chop, seeking to cut the woman in half. She easily side stepped the blow, stabbing forward with her sword. The Orc was heavily armored and barely felt the blow as the sword glanced of its chest.

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The Orc responded by backhanding the woman with its free arm, striking her in her helmeted head. The blow knocked her sideways, and the Orc lifted its axe to follow up the attack.

Wil came to a halt and quickly summoned a ball of fire. Gripping the flame tightly in his hand he took aim at the distracted Orc and hurled the flame. The small bolt of fire arced through the air, before hitting the Orc directly in the back.

With a startled scream, the Orc whirled around towards Wil. It yelled angry at the suddenly attack and moved to charge at him. The woman, who Wil now could see was Sergeant Gilman, the quartermaster. She ran the distracted Orc through from behind with her sword.

The Goblins, seeing their leader die, turned to flee from the legion fighters. They disappeared into the surrounding ruined structures before the soldiers could give chase.

“Thanks for the help.” Gilman said simply, nodding at Wil. “Come on! Orders are to regroup at the square.” She said, waving at Wil to join them. She quickly started moving down the street towards the main square.

Wil followed closely behind the group as they walked, the sounds of intense fighting growing louder as they came nearer to the square. Taking a detour around a collapsed building into a side alley, they rushed through the street and into the square.

Wil entered a scene of complete chaos. The square was a confusing mass of fighting. A mixture of all three races were locked in combat, small groups of Goblins and Orcs attacking Humans.

A few of the surrounding buildings were aflame and several were nothing but smoldering ruins. Others appeared unharmed, but it looked like the fire would soon spread everywhere.

Wil spotted that his Inn was now a large pile of rubble. It had collapsed in on itself with the remains on fire.

Arrows flew overhead from all directions. Some hit Goblins while others struck the human defenders.

Wil witnessed a massive fireball streak overhead from the roof of a nearby building, exploding in the middle of a group of Goblins. The deafening roar struck Wil in the chest like a hammer and he could see bits and pieces of Goblin flying in all directions. The wave of flame spread out from the impact, engulfing more of the creatures as it did so.

Hundreds of people were fighting all around him. He could see legion and auxiliaries fighters gathered in small groups. Even residents, dressed in wool clothing and wielding pitch forks or kitchen knives were grappling with goblins in the streets.

Gilman, not waiting at all, led her group directly into the fray, her sword swinging wildly at any goblin that crossed her path. Wil followed them, protected on all sides by their group’s fighters, while he hurled motes of flame at his enemies.

Wil lost track of time in the battle. All his awareness was focused on the repeated bolts of flame he threw.

He channeled his Mana until he was so exhausted, he could barely move his arms and the spell matrix would dangerously bend and twist. Still, he continued forming the flames, tossing it at his enemies while the fighters surrounded and protected him.

He never learned their names, and in the confusion the faces would change as some died and were replaced with others.

He saw people crushed beneath Orc weapons or impaled by Goblin spears. He saw bodies riddled with arrows, human and Goblin.

The dying were replaced by the living as they fought, pushing the enemy back. Wil’s vision narrowed along the edges, a tunnel that could only see the enemy in front of him. He burned them all with his summoned flames.

Again and again, he created the fire. His limbs were like lead and his Mana went from swiftly flowing quicksilver to slow moving molasses in his veins.

He struggled to form the spell, his concentration completely focused on the flickering, unraveling spell matrix above in hand.

“..il….il…Wil!” He barely heard his name being repeated by his side, as a hand gripped his arm.

Shaken out of his focused concentration, he let the spell unravel. He looked quickly to the person calling out to him.

It was a young woman, beautiful, with her dark hair in a long braid that reached her lower back. The woman looked tired, her face smudged with soot and blood. She was wearing leather armor covered in mud, dirt and more soot and her bright green eyes were red rimmed, as if she had been crying.

“Erinn?” Wil asked, confused as to why she was standing next to him, stopping him from fighting. “What are you doing? We need to keep going!”

“The fights over Wil, we won.” She said, before wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “We thought you were dead.” She whispered as she held him tight.

As she embraced him, he felt as if a tense cord inside him snapped. He came back to reality, his extreme focus gone.

Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned his head against her as the exhaustion suddenly hit him. She was the only thing keeping him upright. He could smell her hair, wood smoke and a hint of flowers, he breathed in deeply.

“I’m alright. There was a river at the bottom of the chasm, I got carried back to the city.”

“I’m sorry I was late, I had to wait until the army moved out before I could escape.” He explained, speaking into her hair. He was so tired. He knew that if she let go of him, he would collapse on the ground.

“I’m just happy you’re alright, we both are.” She said, pulling back and looking behind him. Wil turned to look, as a large figure engulfed him in a bear hug.

“Glad you ok!” Gunther said, crushing Wil.

“I’m glad too!” Wil squeezed out with the little breath he had left. Gunther let go after slapping him on the shoulder. Wil stumbled and almost fell, but Gunther held him upright.

“Where are the others?” Wil asked, looking from Gunther to Erinn.

Erinn looked down, her face crumbled at the question. Wil could guess from her expression, but he looked to Gunther for confirmation.

Gunther shook his head slowly and Wil had his answer.