390 days until the Arkon Shield falls

The morning stillness was shattered as, all along the line, sergeants and captains shouted out orders and spearmen rose to their feet.

The water’s frothing intensified and more murluks surfaced. A lot more. Soon it seemed as if the entire river was coated by a carpet of living blue. The horde made no move to advance though, seemingly content to wait until their numbers built.

“Bloody hell,” Tara swore, eyeing the enemy.

I looked at her in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“There are a damn sight more today than yesterday,” Tara said. Her eyes never left the amassing enemy as she kept pace beside me. “Or any other day,” she added after a moment’s reflection.

I swallowed and quickened my pace. It did not bode well for the Outpost. Or me. Will we survive today’s confrontation?

Despite our renewed urgency though, Tara and I were still out of position—racing along the back of the human line—when the murluks swept forward in a tide of angry slurps and bobbing spears.

“Hurry, Jamie!” Tara urged.

I tried to, but I was already going as fast as I could. For the umpteenth time I cursed my crippled foot and the circumstances that had led to it.

We were still dozens of yards from the northern end of the line when the tide of blue crashed into the spearmen braced to meet them. Unconsciously, both Tara and I had skidded to a halt to watch the moment of impact.

The murluks outnumbered the thin wall of humans many times over, and it seemed impossible that soldiers would be able to weather the flood. Heart in my throat, I watched the horde break against the spearmen.

The line bowed, but did not buckle. Men fell, but did not falter. No one ran. No one broke. Unflinchingly, the spearmen faced their enemy and held. Relief whipped through me as, unbelievably, the murluks were stopped.

But not without cost.

In places, the spear wall looked to be in near tatters. Already, reinforcements were racing to plug the gaping holes that threatened. Tara unclipped her shield and drew out her spear as she made to join the line.

I flung out a hand and clutched her arm. “No, Tara,” I said. “Let’s stick to the plan. Help me and you will better help them.” I hope.

Tara looked torn. Her desire to race to her companions’ aid was naked on her face, but equally visible was her hope.

Hope that my magic could do the impossible.

I made sure my own face was impassive and let no hint of doubt cloud my expression. How did I end up in this situation? I wondered. I was gambling far too much—everything, really—on the slim chance that my yet-untried magic could work miracles. I knew it wasn’t smart, but I was already committed. I couldn’t let Tara or the Outpost’s people down.

Whatever Tara saw in my face, it convinced her. She wrapped her own arm around mine and yanked. “Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s go get it done.”

I let her pull me along. No matter how graceless the manoeuvre, or how embarrassing it was to be dragged by the small captain, I did not attempt to hinder her efforts. Right then, haste was more important than my dignity.

We reached the northern edge of the spear wall. At my request, we moved beyond, until the closest of the battling humans and murluks were more than two dozen yards south of us. “This is far enough, I think,” I said.

Tara dropped my arm and readied her weapons again. “Alright, Jamie, what now?” she asked. Her eyes skipped left to the lines of struggling men. I could see she was eager to join them.

I left my own shield and club in place across my back. If things went as planned, I would not need them. “We need to go beyond the line—”

I broke off as a slew of Trials alerts flooded my vision.

“Ignore that,” ordered the black-haired captain. Her impatience was growing. “It is just the old lady casting her auras. Now finish what you were about to say.”

I turned back to Tara. “We need to advance beyond our lines, right up to the water’s edge, and then close on the murluks from the north—”

“What?” asked Tara in both disbelief and outrage. “Are you mad? You want us to flank the murluks? Just you and me, all on our lonesome? What are you thinking, Jamie!”

“Tara, listen—”

She paid me no attention. Her ire growing with every word, Tara spoke over me. “The moment we are spotted, the creatures will swarm all over us. We will be overwhelmed in no time! Not even your invincible will save you. And don’t be hoping for rescue from the fighters. The commander will not let the spearmen break formation.” Tara glared at me as she paused for breath.

“Trust me, Tara,” I said, speaking more urgently now. If I didn’t convince her soon, I was going to lose her. “I don’t intend for us to be overwhelmed. Once I cast my spell, I’m pretty sure the murluks won’t stay to face us.”

“Pretty sure?” asked Tara, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Unfortunate choice of words,” I replied hastily. She still didn’t look convinced. “I will do this alone if I have to,” I added.

Tara’s brows drew down as she scowled at me, doubt warring with duty. The commander had ordered her to guard me. Finally reaching a decision, Tara grabbed my arm abruptly and hauled me forward towards the river.

“Don’t disappoint me, Jamie,” Tara growled. “If this madcap plan of yours gets more of our people slain, I will kill you myself.”

I stayed silent, but inwardly I agreed with the fierce green-eyed woman. If my plan failed, I would let her.

As we hurried to the river’s edge, I cast an anxious gaze south. The human line had not crumpled yet. Despite the preposterous weight of numbers bearing down against them, they still stood firm.

There is still time to enact my plan. I ran my eyes over the nearest murluks. Fully engaged in their battle against the spearmen, none of the creatures had spotted us yet.

That would change soon.

We made it to the water’s edge without mishap. I kept going and waded a few steps into the river before swinging to face southwards. Standing knee deep in the sloshing waves, I took a moment to prepare myself.

The northern edge of the murluk horde was less than thirty yards away, and the creatures were throwing themselves with reckless abandon directly against the spearmen. Curiously, the murluks made no attempt to encircle or flank their foes. They surely had the numbers to do it. Not only that, but with the river to conceal their movements, they could easily pull off the manoeuvre.

But such cunning seemed beyond the murluks. Brute force appeared the only tactic the creatures understood.

They are primitive, I told myself, hoping to reassure my jangling nerves. My entire plan—such as it was—hinged on the murluks’ seeming primitiveness. I was hoping, perhaps foolishly, that the creatures shared the same instinctive fear of fire that all beasts did.

I paused, struck by a sudden and worrying thought. Surely the commander must have tried using fire against the murluks already?

Idiot! Why didn’t you consider that earlier?

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask Tara, when I glimpsed her expression. Her patience was wearing thin. I suspected she would drag me away if I gave her further reason to doubt the soundness of my plan.

Nothing for it, then.

“Right, let’s advance,” I said before Tara could hurry me along again. Following my own command, I shuffled forward through the thick river mud. “Whatever happens, Tara, stay behind me.”

“Got it,” she replied curtly.

I shaped the spellform of flare in my mind as we advanced. Keeping a careful eye on the murluks, I held the spell at the ready, but uninfused.

Ten yards away from the battling lines, the first of the murluks finally noticed us. Slurping excitedly, eight of the creatures veered away from the spearmen and headed our way.

“Jamie,” Tara called out in warning.

“I see them,” I said. Drawing on my lifeblood and mana, I charged the construct in my mind. I winced at the split-second of pain the spell caused as it roared to life inside me and set my blood alight.

The dragonfire immediately set itself against my will and attempted to spew forth in an uncontrolled burst. With effort, I kept the raging torrent within me at bay and continued my advance, drawing closer to the murluks still.

Confident, bunched together, and betraying not the slightest hint of suspicion, the creatures charged, racing each other to be the first to get to us.

“Jamie! Do—”

I blocked out Tara’s shouting. Narrowing my eyes, I peered intently at my oncoming foes. When the closest was little more than two yards away, I flung up both my arms, palms facing outwards, and unleashed my dragonfire.

Impatient to escape my clutches, twin jets of flame roared out of my hands and exploded into cones of heat and burning light that attempted to incinerate everything in a six-foot radius.

The murluks were caught squarely in between. The scorching flames licked eagerly at their unprotected skin, and in an instant the creatures’ slurps transformed into shrieks. Betrayed by their own momentum, even the murluks in the rear fell into the dragonfire’s hungry embrace, despite their frantic efforts to turn and flee.

Unbidden, a Trials message popped open in my vision.

Spontaneous analyse triggered by attack. You have uncovered a murluk Trait: Vulnerability to Fire. Your skill in anatomy has advanced to: level 1.

“Now isn’t the time,” I growled. Dismissing the alert, I returned my attention to the burning murluks. All eight writhed in agony. Some rolled in the mud, trying to put out the flames, while others attempted to crawl feebly away. They were no threat. Not anymore.

But they aren’t dead either.

Hardening my heart against the murluks’ whimpers, I kept my dragonfire centred on them. It took five seconds. Five long seconds, during which I wished I could close my ears just as easily. Five endless seconds before the last of their cries was silenced entirely.

When it was done, nothing remained of the murluks but smoking trails of ash.

Lowering my hands, I stared in horror at the destruction I had unleashed. I had thought I’d known what to expect. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. Flare had burned hotter and brighter than any normal fire. Lingering until it had consumed everything in its path, the dragonfire had left nothing behind, not even bones.

“Jamie?” asked Tara.

I could hear the uncertainty in her voice—in Tara, whom I had seen betray very little anxiety before this. I broke off my contemplation of the smouldering piles of ash. Reaching out to her, I began, “Tara—”

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She stepped back, eyes widening in alarm.

I dropped my hands quickly, thinking it was the gesture she was fearful of. “Don’t be scared, Tara. I won’t hurt you!”

She scowled. “I am not afraid, you fool. It’s your eyes!”

“My eyes?” I asked, confused.

“They’re gold,” Tara said, regaining her composure. “And glowing.”

“Oh,” I said, not sure what else to say. Focusing my magesight inwards, I realised my blood was still singing with dragonfire. Even though I had cut off its outward flames, the flare spellform was still active within me.

After cutting off the flows of mana and my lifeblood, I soothed the fire within me. “Better?” I asked.

“They’re back to normal now,” Tara said. Leaning forward, she gazed searchingly into my eyes. “What was that spell?

“A rare fire magic spell,” I replied. My voice was smooth with no betraying hitch as I lied—I had been prepared for the question. “I was fortunate to discover it.”

Tara grunted. Her eyes flicked beyond me. Turning around, I followed her gaze. The rest of the battle continued unabated, but my skirmish with the eight murluks had not gone unnoticed.

The scorching flames had attracted the attention of dozens more of the creatures. Breaking away from their attack on the spear wall, the murluks gathered in an unruly crowd a few yards away from Tara and me.

Yet they did not approach any closer.

Hopping about in agitation, the murluks seemed torn between attacking—and fleeing. I had been right. The murluks were afraid of fire.

“Advance down the river, eh?” said Tara, looking from me to the murluks. “How long can you keep those flames going?”

Tara glanced down at piles of ash and smiled. “I dare say you are right, fish.”

✽✽✽

A few moments later, Tara and I were advancing south again.

With much slurping and hissing at each other, the gathered murluks backed away.

That’s it. Run. You don’t want to face me, I thought, hoping the threat of dragonfire alone would be enough to carry the day.

But it was not to be.

More of the creatures slipped away from their attack on the lines to join the mass of bobbing shapes facing Tara and me. As the numbers of murluks barring our way south grew, their retreat also slowed.

They find safety in numbers, I realised. It fuels their courage. I licked my lips. There were at least fifty murluks in the bunch facing off against us. Will my dragonfire be enough to stop them? I wondered.

“They’re going to charge soon,” I called to Tara over my shoulder. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she affirmed, her voice grim.

I raised my arms and prepared to flare.

At the gesture, the murluks rushed forward, splashing through the churned-up water in a mad dash. I didn’t wait for them to close. Spreading my arms wide, I unleashed dragonfire. White-hot flames spewed forth, and this time I made no attempt to control it.

I let the fire rage free and watched with a steely gaze as the flames fanned outwards in a semicircle three yards around me—the limit of my spellpower’s reach.

At the last instant, courage abandoned the murluks. Or sense prevailed. The ones at the fore tried to halt their reckless dash. But it was too late. The tide could not be stemmed and, inexorably, the creatures fell into the clasp of the waiting flames.

Fire rippled through the murluks, eating hungrily through skin, blood, and bone. And in shockingly little time, their charge crumpled, transformed in an instant into swirling ash and charred remains.

Sudden dizziness assailed me. I staggered, then fell to my knees. My pulse beat erratically and stars danced before my eyes.

I had attempted too much, I realised. The spell had consumed a huge chunk of my mana, and an even larger portion of my health. My life dangled on a slender thread. Fighting nausea, I deactivated flare.

What happened to being careful? I chided myself.

“Jamie! Jamie, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I gasped. “I just need a moment to gather my breath. The murluks?”

“Gone,” Tara pronounced with savage satisfaction. She paused. “That was some spell.”

I laughed weakly. “Yeah, it was.” Remaining with hands on knees, I cast lay hands. Mana slipped into my hands and suffused them with a gentle blue radiance. The spell’s light lasted only an instant before its energy was siphoned away by my body. I sighed, breathing easier as new life flowed through me.

“What was that?” asked Tara. Her sharp-eyed gaze had not missed the tell-tale glow that had surrounded my hands.

“A healing spell, lay hands,” I replied. “I injured myself when I fell,” I lied. To distract her from further questioning, I raised one arm. “Help me up, please.”

With Tara’s help, I staggered to my feet and surveyed the river shore. The battle’s fury had not diminished. The murluks still attacked in a frenzy, although their numbers on the northern side had substantially dwindled. It seemed that more than a few of the nearby murluks had fled once they’d witnessed their companions’ fate.

“Things have eased on the right,” Tara said, echoing my thoughts. “That section of the line will hold.”

I nodded. Farther south, however, matters were still in doubt. Turning my gaze inwards, I studied my reserves of stamina, health, and mana. My mana pool was still more than half full, and my health had been fully restored.

My stamina was another matter entirely.

Given the disparity between my Might and Magic Potentials, my reserve of stamina was much smaller than my mana. And after my flagrant use of dragonfire, my stamina had been drained to less than a quarter.

I still had enough for a few more uses of flare, but I wouldn’t be able to pull off another uncontrolled burst. “Let’s keep advancing,” I said.

“You sure?” asked Tara. She scrutinised my face. “Can you keep going?”

“I can,” I said. I must. “But I won’t be able to pull off the stunt I just did again,” I admitted. “My mana is running low.”

Once more, I was forced to lie. I couldn’t tell Tara it was actually my stamina that was low. That would invite too many questions. I said, “I should be able to keep casting long enough to scare off the murluks, though.”

“Alright,” said Tara. “Let’s do it.”

✽✽✽

We resumed our plod through the mud. None of the remaining murluks turned to face us. Instead, steadfastly ignoring Tara and me, the creatures threw themselves with abandon against the spearmen. But as we closed to within flare range, the murluks finally reacted to our presence.

As one, they turned and fled.

Peeling away from the right flank, the creatures dove for the safety of the water. I heaved a relieved sigh. It appeared that the murluks had learned their lesson.

Ragged cheers and yells rose from the spear wall. Turning that way, I saw that some of the spearmen had raised aloft their weapons and were saluting us. I raised my own arm in tentative acknowledgement.

“Let’s keep going, Jamie,” Tara said. “There is still more work to be done.”

Following the direction of Tara’s gaze, I saw she was right. Not all the murluks had abandoned their assault. While the immediate area around us was free of enemies, farther south the murluks still pressed the attack.

“Right,” I said, stepping forward again.

Behind me, Tara beckoned a spearman from the lines. In response to her summons, a large red-haired man jogged towards us. It was the lieutenant, John.

The big man clamped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Good job, fish,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, drawing to a stop.

“Keep going, Jamie,” Tara said. “I just need a few words with John here. I’ll catch up.”

With a shrug, I did as she asked, surveying the spear wall as I went. Thousands of murluks were still on the field, the closest about a hundred yards away. All along the centre and left, the creatures pressed hard against the human lines. The commander, I saw, had been forced to fully commit her reserves. She and her guards had also joined the line.

The battle was by no means won yet.

I shifted my attention to the right. Here and there, gaps dotted the line, but by and large, the northern flank remained whole and unengaged.

Why haven’t they been redeployed to strengthen the centre? I wondered. My gaze slid to the whispering pair behind me. Was Tara giving John new orders?

Just then, the murluks attacking the centre noticed our approach. “Tara,” I called out in warning.

She glanced up and, after a last hurried exchange with John, rushed to my side. “Ready, Jamie?” she asked.

I looked at the two dozen murluks closing rapidly on us. “I am,” I said. “These I can handle, but if more of them attack—”

“Don’t worry,” Tara assured me. “I have a plan. Help is on its way.”

I glanced at her quizzically, but had no time to question her as the murluks surged into range. Raising my hands, I sent dragonfire into the nearest murluk. I made no effort to kill the creatures though, and instead turned off the flames after two seconds.

It was enough.

At the appearance of the scorching fire, the murluks broke off their attack and dashed for the river, many of them still aflame as they submerged themselves.

Though, even the water failed to douse the flames.

I shifted uneasily as I watched the murluks thrash in the river. Will the flames burn out eventually? I wondered. Or will the creatures be eaten alive by it?

I shuddered, a sick feeling in my stomach. It was not the sort of death I would wish upon anyone.

Leaving the dying murluks to their fate, I tore my gaze away from the sight and continued my advance. After another few dozen yards, and a second burst of flare, I sent even more of the creatures fleeing.

By this time, the commander and her captains, realising what I was about, adapted their tactics and the rhythm of the battle changed.

The spearmen, given fresh orders and renewed hope, waited in anticipation of my approach. When I neared, they used the chaos I caused to inflict as much damage as they could on the fleeing murluks. Some even went so far as to launch their spears at the retreating creatures. Behind me the north flank curled round, and followed in my wake, ready to provide support.

The tide of the battle had finally turned, and it seemed only a matter of time before the murluks were routed completely. But just as our advance reached the line’s centre, my stamina ran out.

“Tara,” I gasped, hands on knees, “I’m out of mana.” Her reply when it came back a moment later caught me by surprise.

“One moment, Jamie.”

I frowned. Now what did she mean by that? Turning around, I saw her signal to one of the men behind us. In response, the soldier lifted the makeshift flag he carried and waved it wildly. My frown deepened. What was going on?

A moment later, my magesight was nearly blinded as a rippling mass of spirit erupted outwards from the rear of the human lines and spilled over the surrounding spearmen, including myself.

You have been blessed by rejuvenation. Your health, stamina, and mana have been fully restored.

Shocked, I unbent from my hunched-over posture. My body thrummed with new energy. I felt revitalised. My aches had vanished and I brimmed with renewed vigour.

And it was not just me. All along the river shore, the human soldiers bounced on their feet as their own tiredness was banished.

Amazing, I thought. Blinking my eyes to clear my magesight of the blinding afterglow, I traced the spirit weaves back to their source—and was unsurprised to find they originated from the old lady.

I swung around to stare at Tara.

“Now what do you think of that buff?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“How is that not magic?” I murmured.

She tilted her head to the side. “Marcus calls it sorcery. Magic of the spirit, or some such.” She scratched her head. “But he also said it isn’t true magic, whatever that means.” Tara shrugged. “Regardless, the commander’s rejuvenation spell has saved us more times than I care to admit.”

I nodded slowly. There was no doubt the spell was incredible. It certainly explained why the commander had chosen to enter Overworld in her old skin.

“Sorcery,” I mused, thinking on my own trait-given Techniques. I recalled coming across mention of the subject in the wiki. Sorcery was not considered magic or a Discipline. Consequentially, I hadn’t taken the time to study up on it.

Now I wish I had.

Putting together what I had seen in my magesight and what Tara had just told me, I realised my own Techniques, invincible and mimic, were also sorcery.

It was clear that sorcery was powerful. Perhaps even more so than dragon magic. Could I learn the rejuvenation spell? I wondered. Or other sorcery Techniques?

I shook my head. It was a matter that demanded further consideration, but now was not the time. I turned back to face the murluks. I had another task to see to.

Casting flare once more, I set to work.

✽✽✽

You have gained in experience and are now a: level 12, Trainee.

Your spellpower has increased to: level 7.

Heaving a deep breath, I dismissed the Trials alerts. The battle was finally over. With both myself and the spearmen rejuvenated by the commander, it had not taken us long to rout the murluks.

I glanced up at the sky. The sun had barely moved position since Tara and I had arrived on the river shore. It’s barely been an hour, I thought, yet it had felt much longer. Like days, really. And while my reserves of stamina and mana were healthy, I still felt bone-weary.

How many did I kill today?

I brushed away the errant thought. It did not bear looking upon too closely. The murluks are our foes, I told myself. Their deaths were necessary.

A hand clamped down on my back. “Nice work, Jamie,” Tara said. “Magic is an even more potent weapon than I suspected. With a dozen more like you, we could likely vanquish the murluks once and for all.”

I offered her a quick—if somewhat forced—smile before changing the topic. “Do you know where the healers’ tents are? I am sure the medics can use my help.”

“Admirable, but not necessary,” Tara said, shaking her head. “Nic and the others will manage. Besides, there aren’t likely to be very many injured right now. The commander’s ability would have restored all but the dead. Come,” she said, tugging at me, “we should go report. The old lady is sure to want to see you.”

I didn’t fully agree with Tara’s reasoning, but I allowed myself to be led away. Swinging sharply left, Tara headed back towards the lines of spearmen, who were still standing in formation in case the murluks returned. The men were jubilant and chanting the commander’s name.

From what I gathered, today’s victory was one of the quickest in the Outpost’s short history. As we waded through the spearmen’s ranks, I jerked my head as I heard my own name called.

I was surprised. It seemed that my own role in the battle hadn’t gone unnoticed by the men. But it wasn’t for accolades that I had done what I had, and despite whatever role I played in today’s victory, the true architect behind the Outpost’s survival was undoubtedly the commander. It was her plans, her leadership, and her inspiration that had allowed humanity to establish a toehold in this Overworld location. My own part was small by comparison.

The commander was still with the reserves, overseeing the battle’s aftermath. At our approach, she held out her hands in welcome. “Jamie,” she said, her hands trembling slightly, “that was well done. Thank you.”

Taken aback at the sight of Jolin, I was left momentarily speechless. The commander today was a far cry from the one I had met yesterday. Weariness clung to her frame, and it looked like only Petrov, on whom she leaned heavily, was keeping her upright. In my magesight—which I had kept open—her spirit hung in tatters. Her battle castings had claimed a heavy toll, and today there was no disguising Jolin’s age. She looks ancient.

But despite the commander’s appearance, her eyes shone with fierce determination, and her expression was filled with gratitude. She genuinely cares for her people, I thought. She sacrifices so much for them.

I inclined my head. “Just doing my part, ma’am,” I replied.

She studied my bowed head for a moment. “It is more than that,” she said gently. “My men may accord today’s victory to me, but I know better. What you’ve done here, I will not forget. It’s given us the respite we so desperately need. And now,” she breathed, “we get on with the business of building the settlement.”

I looked up at her. “You don’t think the murluks will attack again, then?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “They might, but after today the course of any future contest is certain.” She paused. “Assuming you are staying, of course. You are not leaving us yet, I hope?”

“Not until the settlement is founded,” I confirmed, “and the walls built.”

She studied my face for a second longer. Satisfied with what she saw there, she said solemnly, “Thank you, Jamie. I—”

The commander broke off as Captain Marcus waved for her attention. “I am sorry, Jamie, other matters demand my attention,” Jolin said. “We will pick this up later. I have called a conference for this afternoon to decide the settlement’s future. You must join us.” She glanced behind me. “Tara, make sure he is there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tara replied.

And with that, we were dismissed.