An inferno erupted before me, unlike anything I had been expecting. Leaping from the wand's tip, a foot-tall horizontal line of fire crossed the short distance at the charging warriors with heat intense enough to instantly cause second and third-degree burns. Any flesh not covered by armor or magical wards bubbled before blackening to a crisp. The forward momentum of the dozen dwarves collapsed into a frenzy of waving hands as the warriors attempted to protect their vulnerable faces.

The power of the wand was astounding and I was left standing dumbfounded at the unbridled energy released with only a single use. None of the spells I was capable casting of contained this amount of pure destructive force. It would be like taking all the destructive potential of my specialized boil blood and compressing it down to a single burst of damage. A small part of me was glad we never encroached close enough to the wand’s former owner, the dwarf brimstone magus. He would have flayed us alive.

Lowki and Ripley were not spellbound by the force unleashed as I was. With a gleaming silver shield and curved blade held aggressively at the ready, Ripley charged the stunted enemy formation with lethal intensity smoldering behind her glowing eyes. Lowki was faster than her, already upon the furthest dwarf at the right end of the now unsteady formation of the enemy squad.

Already, Lowki’s target was buried beneath an onslaught of razor-sharp claws, crushing teeth, and barbed quills. The dwarf had been shielding his eyes from my spell meaning he was wholly unprepared to defend against the five-hundred-pound panther as he was bore to the ground. Shouts of panic rang out among their tumbling mass.

Tallos loosed arrow after arrow, seeking the narrow seams between armored plates. His bowstring humming, nearly every shot caused a shriek of pain as an arrowhead found tender flesh. The deadly eleven warden was aiming for the soldiers at either end of the once tight formation, leaving the center of the disjointed group my responsibility.

Though I desired greatly to discharge another devastating blast of the wand, I couldn’t risk harming my companions. The wand reminded me of the souped-up burning hands spell from Dungeons and Dragons, up-cast to the highest degree. The spell would undoubtedly harm Ripley, likely even through her solid magical resistances. Lowki, low to the ground as she sought to overwhelm his prey, would likely avoid most of the blast, but it was too much of a risk to make another attempt.

The dwarves not under assault by sword, projectile, or teeth and claws, were starting to shake off the effects of my first blast. Nearly every face was bright red, blistering boils and irregular sections of blackened skin dotting their features as if my spell had slipped through splayed fingers to mercilessly burn the flesh beneath. Thinking quickly, I swapped to another wand, this one unused as of yet. This wand was a foot long, held a deep shade of green, and was essentially a dozen twisting vines curling around one another from the handle to a narrow tip. At that tip was a bulbous bushy growth with sharp bright green spikes protruding throughout.

With a thought, I discharged the weapon. A small, vibrant ball of emerald energy streaked away. The spherical mass roiled and swelled as it cut towards the centermost dwarf. The orb grew in size, the diameter doubling in size every few feet as it careened onward. By the time it struck the target, the swollen cantankerous mass was wider than the shocked dwarf it impacted. Instantly, thorny vines blasted outwards to surround the back-peddling warrior like a bristling spider wrapping its prey. The dwarf was quickly lost from view as he was swathed in barbed green vines.

The warrior was not the only combatant unlucky enough to be entangled by the powerful evocation. Two companions to his left, and another on his right, were knotted by shooting undulating vines. The scene reminded me of leukocytes under a microscope snatching up dangerous bacteria and infectious viruses. Worse, once the four combatants were thoroughly ensnared, the barbed creepers constricted as if a powerful fist had clenched around the hapless victims.

Doubting the spell would be enough to slay any of the dwarves on its own, this single spell effectively cut the enemy force in half. Ripley was holding well on her own on the left flank, so I pocketed the crowd control wand and swapped to my masterwork battle axe. Azure lightning crackled along the axe's head, mirroring the pounding of my heart as my feet carried me near where Lowki was finishing off his initial foe.

Engaging the two dwarves, my arrival proved timely as my threatening presence saved Lowki from taking a savage swipe to his backside as the nearest warrior sighted on him. Lowki’s teeth were clamped down on his victim’s throat, light fading from the old fighter’s eye as his life force was crushed. Seeing me in the corner of his eye, the veteran soldier pivoted, bringing his sword to parry my downward slash. My axe was forced off target as the dwarf counter-attacked, forcing me to lean back to avoid the blow.

What skill I had with my battle axe left me unprepared for a fighting duo who likely had many years of hard combat experience. While I was avoiding the dwarf in front of me and his many swings, his brethren quickly positioned himself behind me. A weight crashed down on my back causing me to stumble forward slightly. My ever-present empowered aegis flared into existence right before the blade tore through my black robes thankfully. While the damage from the attack only cut into my mana pool, leaving my clothes and skin undamaged, it did almost nothing to hinder the force of the bladed weapon.

Realizing the need to keep the two skilled opponents in front of me, I shifted to the side. The pair were familiar with such a basic defensive maneuver and easily coordinated with one another to maintain their advantageous positions. Unless I was willing to break free of the melee, it was exceedingly difficult to keep the two from attacking me on two sides. Though I was able to deflect many of the attacks coming in front, I could offer little to impede the dwarf behind me as he continuously rained attacks on my back.

The weakness of my remarkable protection was laid bare as the two warriors sought to overwhelm my defenses. The barrier could stop nearly any attack, whether magical or benign in nature, but continually left me reeling from the heavy blows. The strength bound in the stout warrior’s physiques was impressive, to say the least. Without my aegis, the pair would have whittled me down in moments, regardless of my three thousand-plus health pool.

As it was, my magical protection kept me in one piece, though found it hard to injure either foe in retaliation. With the recent explosion in my intelligence and mana, it was likely I could continue this fight for many long minutes, if not indefinitely. My mana regeneration while in combat was over one thousand per minute, so unless the dwarves could inflict sustained damage higher than that, they would inevitably feel the sting of my weapon first.

Not content to continue receiving a painless beating, I decided to shift tactics. Weathering so many brutal physical attacks from the pair was garnering me some insight into how to brace effectively against the blows, allowing me to ignore most of the force trying to drive me to my knees. A blow cut into my shoulder, so I braced my back and pressed into the momentum with steady feet. With each new attack, I was developing a rhythm to remain composed against the hammering of blows.

The dwarf in front of me was visibly becoming frustrated as his sword continued to be unable to draw blood. He had no idea how long my magical shield would last, of course, but after a half minute of finding no purchase, his anger got the better of him. The dwarf’s scraggly bearded face screamed, “Just die!”

I was obliged not to heed his unspoken demand.

My opponent moved his long sword high over his head, intent on putting all of his strength into one mighty downward blow. No doubt he was hoping to force me to my knees with the staggering attack, or perhaps he hoped to finally bypass my seemingly impenetrable defensive barrier. His blatant attack allowed for an opportunity. While his comrade was steadily beating away at my back, that one confident they would be able to destroy my protection given enough time, the veteran had no more patience as I remained entirely unblemished.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Ignoring assault at my rear, I rushed forward. Trusting in my empowered aegis, I threw everything into a horizontal swing. Realizing my gambit, the warrior understood he would not be the quicker in our duel. I had been constantly moving my axe in attack patterns. With an axe, you needed to always keep the weapon moving, at least that’s what I remembered from my former life. So, while the dwarf was first arresting his weapon’s upward momentum, my weapon was already hurtling for a killing blow.

The stocky dwarf rocked back on his heels to get out of the way of my axe, the move unbalancing him. With a savage cry, Frostrend tore through my opponent’s chainmail coif, splitting links and sending blisteringly cold electricity arcing into his body. As if the armor was made of cloth, my weapon bit deeply, blood immediately welling from the wound. Instead of taking his head clean off, the dwarf’s defensive move only prevented his immediate demise.

Wide-eyed, the dwarf let go of his sword as he attempted to staunch the blood flow, his two fumbling hands clawing desperately at the wound. As the fighter's hand closed around cold, coagulating blood, he knew something was very wrong. Pulling one hand away, the dying fighter attempted to decipher what happened.

Panic set in fully when realization dawned upon the unfortunately soul. His throat was frozen solid. His trachea would never again allow air to reach his aching lungs, not without some supreme form of healing which seemed ill-suited at appearing in his darkest hour.

Frostrend lived up to its namesake, delivering its special effect called ‘blistering freeze’ into the struggling dwarf’s throat. Even besides the mortal wound inflicted by the enchanted mana-steel, his windpipe bisected, not one molecule of life-giving oxygen would ever pass through a flash frozen neck.

My gambit cost me, though thankfully only in mana points. Turning to face the remaining dwarf, Lowki’s hunkered form could be seen behind the fighter. Three pairs of legs cocked, ready to spring at the unsuspecting dwarf. Ignoring yet more impacts against my aegis, my gaze looked over the rest of our small battlefield.

Ripley had downed two of the armored guards, one lying motionless face down, blood pooling around his torso. The other was on his back, attempting to keep his guts from falling out. I winced reflexively at the brutal scene but ignored the dying dwarf’s plight. This war was brought to the city’s doorstep by the Silvern people, it was hard to not be callous as their warriors died in battle. About to order Ripley to finish the dying dwarf, Tallos beat me to it. We were alike in many ways. I was not surprised when an arrow whistled through the air taking the dwarf in the face. Going limp, his body flopped backward in the finality of death.

Ripley was exchanging attacks with the only dwarf left not impacted by my grasping roots spell. She had taken several blows, her dark tendons gouged in several places, though by the look of it, she was mostly unaffected. Wishing I could throw a regeneration spell her way, I turned to the entwined dwarves struggling futilely to break free of the sharp, living vines. They had little success other than causing far more cuts to form on their exposed flesh.

My current opponent landed only one more attack against my warded back before Lowki barreled him head over heels. As I stalked towards the mass of twisting plant life, I spied Lowki’s dastardly work in the corner of my eye, her black fur rippling over corded muscles and barbed tentacles lashing repeatedly against his target. In short order, Lowki’s maw would locate the warrior's neck and end his remaining struggle.

The grasping root wand’s item description did not indicate how long the spell would keep the dwarves locked tight, so it was important to finish off this grisly business quickly before they were freed. These four individuals, along with the entire Silvern armada arrayed, had brought war of their own volition. They were responsible for their actions and, as such, so too the consequences. In war, the enemy can sometimes set the tone and rules of engagement. These warriors intended to kill, pillage, and plunder the human settlement without care or mercy.

With the battle still raging, I dismissed the notion of taking prisoners as I unhooked my flintlock pistol from my belt. Even if we wanted to, we had no means of detaining these trapped fighters. Once my spell broke, there would be little to do other than to continue the fight. With the sounds of battle thundering in my ears, I placed the barrel of my gun to the closest dwarf’s temple. The armored soldier was completely encased by twisting vines, so was unable to see what was coming. He would at least be granted a clean death.

Still, my finger hesitated on the trigger as the mass of thorny plant twisted tighter around its ill-fated prey. They would have killed us, given the chance. There’s nothing else you can do, I lamented internally. Actions have consequences.

I knew there was a possibility I would come to regret this decision, the moral dilemma of taking the life of a bound prisoner, but with the battle still in a heated contest we could ill afford to have more enemies roaming free.

The pistol bucked in my hand as I pulled the trigger. Like strings cut from a marionette, the mass of vegetation and the dwarf underneath dropped to the ground. The power of the grasping roots spell immediately released its hold before the strands lashed to strengthen the bonds of the other three warriors. I refused to look at the dwarf’s body. When everything was done, I would see his body properly buried. He died in battle and deserved to be honored in death regardless of his actions while living.

The remaining dwarves fell with one or two strikes of my keen battle axe. As soon as my first attack landed, I discovered the grasping roots would untangle of their own accord. It was a common property of crowd control spells, so was not unexpected. Still, even as the barbed vines released their hold, the fighters could offer no defense as I methodically finished the task.

As best as I could, their deaths were quick and as painless as possible. I doubted we would have been shown such mercy in defeat, but I was entirely unlike their vicious and abhorrent race. They preyed on the weak. We were helping save the lives of innocent people who would have fallen to dwarven blades. Still, a war like the one surging around us was something I hope to never experience again.

My eyes caught Stella hovering next to me. She wore the same grim expression I had, understanding my internal struggle. Her face relaxed as she spoke, her tone empathetic, “You did the right thing. They did this, they caused this.”

Nodding, I was soon standing next to Ripley as the last of the dwarves were vanquished. Tallos moved to retrieve what arrows he could as the battle wasn’t over. Lowki bounded over, brushing his shoulder into my hip. I slapped his fur appreciatively. Each of us was not proud of what needed to be done but would do it again if necessary.

This is who we were. Who we decided to be.

Turning to the catapults, nothing but charred husks remained. The living serpents of flame thoroughly destroyed three of the lumbering devices before swiftly turning their attention to the dwarven workers. Not being warriors themselves, they offered token resistance against the blazing creatures. As soon as anything hostile nearby was eliminated, the serpents winked out of existence as if they had never been, leaving only burnt mushroom stalks and smoldering bodies in their wake.

The two catapults devastated by my fireball wand were equally useless, though most of the workers were able to escape with their lives. From the look of it, those fortunate to not have been slain outright by the explosions were rushing towards a small knot of dwarves a hundred yards from our position. Three individuals sat atop what would best be described as grotesque salamanders. The creatures had tall legs like that of a horse but were thick and stocky. The creatures had a deeply green leathery hide that reflected torchlight as if the beasts were covered in some strange liquid.

What caught my attention the most was the black demon standing near one of the riders. The beast’s upper torso was swollen like a balloon, though its easy movements implied none of its mobility was sacrificed by the mounds of corded muscle heaving beneath its obsidian skin. The demon’s head looked little atop the massive body, yet in reality was likely no smaller than any of ours.

Orange eyes blazed in the creature’s eye sockets, reminding me of Ripley standing watch over us. Like the Terminator, I said before realizing. This thing was a minion. The saddled dwarf next to it was then undoubtedly its master, some type of demonologist. He was wearing nondescript robes with an unusual shade of purple. If the towering beast wasn’t standing next to him, the dwarf would seem no more threat than a pauper.

The remaining two dwarves wore the standard silvern plate armor the majority of their kin wore. Nothing of particular note could be seen at this distance, though I already felt confident who those three were. They were the army’s officers, their generals. From the look of their gear though, they likely would have been subservient to the dwarven commanders we eliminated down in the Silvern tunnels.

The trio were already looking our way, a palpable aura of hate and contempt reaching across even at this distance. The mismatched dwarven workers were shouting something to their leaders, fingers pointed back at us, though we could not make out their words. Unless they were speaking in the common tongue, which I doubted, we had no way of understanding what was said. Their intent, however, was clear. They wanted us dead.

With a flick of leather reigns, the three mounted figures galloped in our direction. Their intent, too, was obvious.