378 days until the Arkon Shield falls

Supreme, we’ve identified a settlement in the mountains to serve as a base for our future operations. The orcs, however, are already sniffing about and will have to be dealt with first. Do we have your permission to begin counter operations? —Archmage Cxal.

The expedition took longer to navigate through the short stretch of grassy plains separating Sierra from the forest edge than I expected.

There were four truck-sized sleds in the convoy, and even though each had been outfitted with rollers to navigate the terrain, we had no draught animals to assist us, and the sleds had to be pulled by teams of men and women alone. It was slow-going and back-breaking work, but after weeks of practice hauling logs from the forest, Sierra’s people were well-used to the task and took to it without complaint.

I could only shake my head in admiration. Watching the sleds being dragged reminded me again that there was little human ingenuity could not accomplish. Earth’s long history was evidence of that, if nothing else. It gave me renewed hope that we would survive Overworld, no matter what the Trials threw at us.

The first hour of our journey passed uneventfully. The scouts checked back periodically with nothing to report, and I convinced Petrov and Marcus, both still weary from their night’s work, to rest on the sleds. They would be no good to the expedition if they were too exhausted to function.

The quiet and our enforced slowness gave me space to think, and I pondered how to protect the expedition tonight. What made nights in Overworld particularly dangerous was not just its nocturnal predators but the darkness that concealed them. I needed a means of either detecting the predators or keeping them away. However, given the convoy’s size and the openness of the terrain, neither of my warding spells would help. Frankly, warding four hundred people was beyond me.

I can’t shield the expedition entirely, but perhaps I can buff its soldiers enough to make a difference. I had tried learning buff spells once before and failed, but I’d increased my skill in my magic Disciplines since then.

Hopefully, I will have better luck this time.

Placing one foot mechanically in front of the other, I fell into a meditative state while I toyed with spellforms in my mind. I focused on the buffs I already knew of and, as the morning waned, tried to realize them one after the other.

I failed. Repeatedly.

Even now, my magical knowledge was insufficient. Ignoring my mounting frustration, I persisted at my task and near noon experienced my first bit of success.

You have spellcrafted a touch-based spell from the Discipline of air magic. The name assigned to this spell is gift of sight. This spell grants a non-hostile player night vision. Gift of sight is a long-lasting spell that is invoked with the aid of a Focus. Its casting time is average, and its rank is uncommon.

The accomplishment spurred me on, and I kept at my task but disappointingly failed to learn any further buffs. I didn’t underestimate the value of the single spell I’d learned, though. Night vision had served me well, and I was sure it would help the expedition too.

Just after noon, we entered the forest. Letting the weaves of magic I held in my mind fall away, I focused on my surroundings and scanned the overarching trees. Nothing attacked us though, and the hours passed by without incident. Traveling in convoy left much to be desired, I decided. Even I—no quick traveler by any means—could’ve managed a faster pace, and I had to work hard to stave off boredom.

The day was well advanced when my stomach began growling in hunger. I hadn’t eaten anything since awakening, but I’d been too queasy all morning to stomach the notion of food.

It was well past lunch, and the rest of the expedition had to be starving too. I swallowed guiltily. Marcus and Petrov had left me in charge in their absence, and I realized I should have called a halt hours ago.

Better late than never, I decided. We’d been marching long enough. I swung around, ready to order a stop, only to catch sight of a yawning Marcus approaching.

“Everything quiet?” the scout captain asked, covering his mouth with a hand.

I nodded. “Progress has been slow, though.”

Marcus scowled. “I see so. We’ve covered less distance than I hoped. It was a good call to keep us moving, by the way. We’re far enough behind as it is already.”

I blinked but didn’t comment. “Where’s Petrov?”

“Moving up and down the lines, ordering the squads to eat their rations on the go.” He pulled out two wrapped rations from his pack. “You’ve eaten?”

I shook my head.

Marcus handed me one of the packages. “Here you go.”

I unwrapped the ration gratefully and began to eat, and for a moment, we walked in silence.

“I wonder how Tara and Lance are doing,” Marcus said suddenly.

I peered at him sideways, wondering at his choice of topic. “Where exactly are they?”

Marcus shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He waved southwards. “Somewhere that way. The last time they made contact, they were a few miles east of our logging camps.”

Mid-bite, I paused. “The last time? When was that?”

Marcus scratched his head. “Two days ago, I think.”

I lowered the ration. Marcus,” I said slowly, “are you telling me Tara and Lance have been camped in the forest all this time?”

He nodded, his mouth full.

I frowned. The information surprised me, although it shouldn’t have. The old lady had told me the pair weren’t due back for days, and what else could that have meant, but they were camping overnight in the wilds? I shook my head. I just hadn’t thought through the implications. I bit my lip, wondering if they were both all right.

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“Don’t worry,” Marcus said, seeing my concern. “They have a company of two hundred spearmen with them. And you know Tara. She can take care of herself.”

I nodded, not entirely convinced, but Marcus was right. If anyone could survive the wilds of Overworld at night, it was Tara. Still, it was troubling. “How long have they been out for?”

“Four days so far.”

Three nights in the wilds. “And they haven’t been attacked?” I asked, disbelief naked in my voice.

“Oh, they have been,” Marcus replied, unconcerned. “On every night. But according to Tara’s reports, her company weathered the attacks easily enough, sustaining only minimal losses.” He paused. “It’s why I haven’t been too worried about our own chances. Granted, our company is larger than Tara’s, and she didn’t have two hundred noncombatants to protect, but we’re much closer to the forest edge than Tara’s people.”

I wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, but I didn’t think he was doing a good job of it.

He smiled reassuringly. “We’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t so sure.

✽✽✽

Marcus drove the expedition relentlessly forwards the entire afternoon, fearing that at the rate we traveled we wouldn’t reach our destination tomorrow either.

I shared the scout captain’s concern. The quicker we established the fort, the better it would be for Sierra, but in spite of Marcus’ efforts, progress slowed to a crawl. The men and women of the expedition had already been pushed to the brink and had little left to give.

After sunset, darkness set in quickly, and Marcus was forced to call a halt. Limping wearily into the clearing the scouts had chosen, I surveyed the snaking lines of men and women behind me. Many stumbled and staggered, either battling to see in the dark or too exhausted to walk straight anymore.

We must make for tempting prey.

Biting my lip to hold in my concern, I let my gaze rove over the forest. We had yet to be attacked or even spot a predator’s spoor, but that did not reassure me. Tonight would be our first real test.

“See anything?” Petrov asked, coming up beside me.

I shook my head. The darkness was no obstacle to my night vision, but the forest’s foliage was dense enough to conceal all manner of creatures. “Nothing,” I said, “just worried.”

Petrov grunted and scrutinized the surroundings himself. I’d cast gift of sight on the two captains and the scout squad already. Unfortunately, I did not have the mana necessary to bless every member of the convoy.

“There are a few more soldiers I’d like you to buff,” the bearded captain said at last. “I want every man on watch to be able to see in the dark.” He paused. “Better that we don’t light any fires tonight.”

I stifled a groan at the thought of another cold meal, but what the big man said made sense, and the moon was full tonight too. It would provide enough light for the rest of the company to get by without campfires.

“Of course,” I said. “Lead the way.”

Casting gift of sight on the two dozen soldiers Petrov had selected was easy. However, getting the four hundred men and women of the convoy settled for the night took longer than anticipated. Finally, though, everyone was fed, the perimeter guards posted, and the watch routine set.

I volunteered to stand guard, but both Petrov and Marcus had vetoed my suggestion. They wanted me well-rested in case my skills had to be called on, and too weary to argue, I let myself be dissuaded.

Finding an empty spot in the center of our camp, I rolled out my sleep pallet and lay down. I closed my eyes, but sleep did not come quickly. Typical, I groused. Now that I was ready to rest, my mind balked at the idea. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours.

Eventually though, sleep claimed me, and I fell into a deep slumber.

✽✽✽

“Rise! Rise!”

“Wake the camp!”

My eyes snapped open. The camp was in an uproar. We’re under attack, I thought, gaze darting upwards. The moon and stars shone brightly in the sky. It was still deep-night then.

Levering myself upright onto my elbows, I swiveled my head and tried to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. Soldiers ran about, most only half-dressed, and some all but naked except for the spears clutched in their grasps. Whatever was going on, it had the camp in a panic.

I tottered to my feet and flung out a hand to stop a passing spearman. “Soldier,” I barked, holding him still, “what’s happening?”

“We’re under attack!” he replied, his eyes round with fear.

That much was obvious. “I know that!” I snapped. “Where are they coming from?”

The soldier swung about to gesture at the eastern perimeter of the camp. “From there!”

My gaze tracked his pointing arm, but I couldn’t spot anything that confirmed his tale. There were too many rushing bodies blocking my line of sight.

“Thanks,” I called, letting the spearman go. With staff in hand, I hobbled east, drawing mana into my mind. The spell weaves formed with practiced ease, and soon I was filled to the bursting with dragonfire, eager and quivering for release.

I strode onwards, eyes aglow. Fleeing crafters swerved unthinkingly out of my way, letting me cut through their midst. Despite my limp, I made good time and was halfway to the eastern end of the camp when a resounding cry shook the air.

My gaze flew forward. What the hell is that?

Whatever it was, it sounded big. I forged onwards but had taken less than a dozen steps more when the ground heaved and bucked. I staggered backward. Planting the butt of my staff on the ground, I managed to stay on my feet.

Not so the crowd around me.

Like dominoes, the fighters and civilians around me fell. I paid them no mind, though, as I finally caught sight of our attackers. My mouth dropped open, and for a moment, my mind refused to work.

Less than a hundred yards away were two mammoth creatures. Both were over nine feet tall and towered over even the largest of our soldiers. Four-footed and armored, the beasts were half as wide as they were long. Two tusks of gleaming ivory curved upwards from snarling faces, and eyes red and angry glinted in the night.

They’re boars, I thought, shaken. Or at least Overworld’s version of boars. Larger than their Earthly kin, the creatures were meaner looking too. And definitely more dangerous.

I pushed forward again and, reaching out with my will towards the closer creature, cast analyze upon it.

The target is a level 63 feral boar. It has meager Magic, no Craft, is gifted with Resilience, and has exceptional Might. Additional information revealed by anatomy: this creature is undamaged.

The two creatures were a dozen yards from each other and surrounded by a small army of men. The expedition’s spearmen jabbed their weapons into the beasts, straining to bring the oversized boars down, or failing that, force them further apart. But their spears seemed unable to penetrate the creatures’ toughened hides.

In the distance, I spied Petrov, Marcus, and two fighters I didn’t know racing in from the northern end of the glade with enchanted blades drawn. Marcus’ sword crackled with lightning, Petrov’s warhammer was wreathed in fire, and the other two’s battleaxes were covered in ice.

I wondered where the four had been. Fighting off another threat, I suspected. I measured their approach and judged it would take them too long to reach the beleaguered spearmen.

I would have to act myself.