A short while later, Bordan burst into the courtyard at the head of 9-1, almost tripping over a lifeless body as he took in the grisly vision. The guards protecting the inner fortress didn’t carry shields, as outside of large formations, the shield and spear combination was weaker than a spear on its own. Edwin’s fighting style was quite unique, however, so he had welcomed their decision. Enemies carrying shields often required two strikes to defeat, while those without one were usually cut down by a single swipe, sometimes even several at once. The fight in the courtyard had been brief and one-sided.
“Over here!” Edwin shouted, wiping away a droplet of blood that was running into his eye from an already-closing gash on his forehead. He was standing in the doorway leading into the command center proper, his threatening form and occasional swings of his deadly weapon preventing the defenders from closing it. Their first instinct had been to rush outside to help their comrades, only belatedly realizing that Edwin was moving towards them, not away from them, and throwing bodies at him did little to change that fact. By the time they tried to lock him out, he’d been close enough to kick one of the last defenders into the doors to keep them from closing. Now he stood under the lintel, facing off against a wall of spears as he waited for his allies to catch up.
A scream rang through the courtyard as a guard who’d finally made his way off the wall caught a crossbow bolt from one of the adventurers streaming into the courtyard, and the defending Marradi redoubled their efforts to push Edwin out of the doorway. Instead of falling back, Edwin moved forward, protecting his vulnerable face with his free arm until he was too close for them to bring their spears to bear, then started throwing hands liberally. Moments later he was joined by a handful of adventurers with swords and shields, and the remaining guards fled up the stairs to the second floor.
A quick check showed that the first floor mostly held storage for sensitive materials and a few empty offices, so the attackers quickly decided to follow the Marradi. Halfway up the stairs, they made an unwelcome discovery: The fortress guards had been joined by a number of Lindvar division soldiers who had been stationed within, and who now blocked the winding stairs with their shields. The stairwell was wide, but not enough that Edwin could properly wield his polearm. The soldiers’ spears were unaffected.
“We don’t have time for this,” Bordan grunted, stopping next to Edwin at the bottom of the stairs. “Salissa? Salissa!”
“Here!” the young mage answered, pushing her way through the crowded room. “What’s up?”
Edwin grinned and made his way up the stairs until he was back at the front, facing off against the defenders, just out of range of their spears. He stopped, casually leaning against the curved stone walls. When one of the Marradi fixed him with a murderous stare, he smiled and waved back.
“It’s nothing personal, you know?” Edwin said, raising his voice so that the Marradi could hear him over the noise. “We just really need to get up there.”
The soldier growled. “There’s no way you’ll get past us, Harvand scuAAAAAh!”
His insult turned into a surprised scream when a sharp telekinetic tug on his shield sent him tumbling down the steps, quickly followed by the two men beside him. Having waited for this exact moment, Edwin pushed off the wall and shot past them, slamming into the second rank before they had time to realize what was happening. His allies followed, and after a short scuffle, Edwin reached the second floor. The stairs spilled him out into a round room ringed by doors, but the remaining Marradi were once again retreating to the next set of stairs on the opposite side, which told him that their target wasn’t here. He went after them, pushing red-clothed soldiers out of the way or throwing them to the ground with quick punches.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed the last of the running guards and held him in front of his body like a shield, then rushed up the stairs taking three steps at a time. The soldiers had already created another blockade much like the first one, but stairs were notoriously bad footing. When Edwin crashed into them, wielding the panicked soldier like a battering ram, their formation broke. The following melee netted Edwin several painful wounds including a hole in his cheek, but by now, small wounds like that closed so quickly that Edwin had stopped caring about them. His assailants were decidedly worse off than him, and once the adventurers caught up, the third landing was theirs.
Floor number three was much like the second: A round room with doors along the outside. The only real difference was that there were fewer doors, and one of them was a double door, which the remaining soldiers were formed up in front of. Without the narrow stairs to funnel the attackers, they were easily surrounded and overwhelmed. The door was locked, so Edwin used his glaive like a woodcutter’s axe to break it off its hinges.
As expected, the doorway led to the main room of the building, the command center that controlled the entire fort. Maps of the fort itself and the surrounding area adorned the walls, including a fairly detailed one of the Harvand camp. In front of the entrance, a table had been knocked over to provide cover for the twenty or so people inside. A handful were heavily armed and armored, likely bodyguards, but the rest clearly hadn’t expected to get into a fight today, most wielding ceremonial-looking swords, and some of them not even that.
Bordan stepped in front of the doorway and cleared his throat.
“Good evening! I am Bordan, first cohort, ninth battalion, 5th division of the ducal army of Harvand. If you truly believe you can defeat us, you are welcome to try, but considering we just fought our way through your entire defensive force with minimal losses, I don’t fancy your chances. I suggest you put down your weapons and surrender.”
“We are officers of the royal army of Marrad!” one of the men cowering behind the table shouted. “Each of us is worth five of yours!”
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“I don’t know who you are,” Bordan responded calmly, “but I know that nobody cares about your opinion, so why don’t you shut the hell up. I’m here to talk to Lord Lindvar, not some inconsequential bootlicker.”
The man shot to his feet, red in the face. “How dare you—”
“Then let us talk.” A middle-aged man walked into view from beside the door. He was a little chubby, though by no means fat, and his expensive clothes screamed ‘noble’. His brown hair was cropped short, which betrayed the fact that he was in the later stages of balding. His speech was stilted, though Edwin didn’t know if that was his natural way of speaking or if he was trying to cover up his nervousness. “If you have terms, I would hear them.”
“I do,” Bordan responded casually, “and they are simple. Surrender and order your men outside to stand down, and nobody else has to die.”
Lord Lindvar nodded slowly. “I am willing to discuss our surrender, but the terms as you have laid them out will not do. I will need some assurances—”
Bordan interrupted him, raising a hand. “Let me stop you right there. Before you try to stall us, I should inform you that the rest of my battalion has taken control of the inner walls of this fortress. The reinforcements you’re expecting aren’t coming anytime soon. Still, every moment we waste by talking, more of our people die, so let’s skip the bullshit. You have two choices: Either you surrender within the next ten seconds, or we break in there and kill all of you. Pick one.”
“I have heard enough!” Another man joined Lindvar in front of the door, causing several of the adventurers to involuntarily take a step back. Edwin grimaced. The man may have been of similar age as the lord, but that’s where the similarities ended. Raven-black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. A sharp nose accentuating his avian features. A grey robe bearing the red and gold accents of a master spellweaver.
“You think you can just waltz in here and demand our surrender?”
While the mage monologued, Edwin looked around hectically. Hafarn was making his way to the front, but Gregory was nowhere to be seen.
Dammit! According to the plan, his only job had been to get them through the walls, so he must’ve stayed behind with the mages we captured!
“…you have chosen death!”
His speech over, the master took two steps forward and flicked a hand towards the door. A wave of fire sprang into existence right in front of the overturned table and rolled towards the adventurers, only to be stopped in its tracks by a glimmering shield blocking the doorway. The wave ebbed, revealing a scowling mage.
“So you brought a mage? Reveal yourself, traitor!”
Lord Lindvar took a step back, his eyes widened in fear. “Please, Master Trent, watch your flames!”
With its original path blocked, the wave had billowed to the sides, catching the cabinets and maps next to the door on fire. Trent gave no indication that he’d heard the Lord, his eyes narrowing when they fell on Hafarn who was peeking out from behind Edwin’s large frame.
“You’re but a child, and you dare challenge me?” He snorted. “Let me show you the folly of your decision!”
He waved his hand again, though this time there was no fire. The air in front of his finger flickered, then Hafarn’s shield flashed to life as the spell crashed into it. Edwin recognized the effect from stories.
Force blade! It must’ve been one of the spells in the codex!
Where the force spell had only caused a small area of the shield to light up in blue and orange, suddenly the entire shield blocking the door was awash in every color of the rainbow. Edwin cringed as Hafarn collapsed, loudly emptying his stomach onto the stone floor. Shields were the perfect defense, able to block any attack mages could throw at each other, but they were susceptible to disruptive mana. A duel between mages was a precarious dance, as the adversaries had to use shields long enough to block their opponent’s attacks but dispel them before they could in turn be targeted. If a mage failed to dispel their shield in time, a blast of disruptive mana could drain their mana within moments.
Hafarn hadn’t been fast enough, and now he was out of the fight.
Trent regarded Hafarn’s unconscious form with an arrogant smirk, then flicked his hand out again. Out of reflex, Edwin raised his glaive. An infernal screech filled the tight quarters as the force blade impacted Pioneer craftsmanship, and Edwin was pushed back a step, struggling to keep hold of his weapon. After a moment, the spell’s energy was spent, and Edwin met Trent’s surprised eyes.
“What in the—”
He never finished his thought. His head snapped forward, lifting him off his feet and into the air before he fell back down, tumbling over the overturned table until he came to rest in the small space between the tabletop and the door. His remaining eye was rolled up, the other one split in two by the sword that was buried in the back of his head to its hilt. Edwin took a careful step forward and nudged him with his foot.
Finally, Bordan cleared his throat to break the silence. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get back to the matter at hand. I think you were about to surrender…?”
Lord Lindvar closed his mouth and swallowed audibly, then nodded slowly. “Yes, I… I think that is a good idea. General, order your men to lay down their arms.”
Two minutes later the command room looked much more orderly. The fires had been put out, the table was the right way up, Trent’s corpse had been pulled to the side, and the Marradi were disarmed. Edwin was standing by the window. Now that there was nobody to kill, there was nothing for him to do. Salissa and Leodin joined him, looking out into the thick fog.
“Nice work,” Edwin told the young mage. “You just killed a master mage. Not many people can say that, especially not Apprentices.”
“It worked on the goblin; I figured it was worth a try.” Salissa sighed. “Sorry for not blocking his spell. I was so focused on looking past him to find something to throw, I only realized he’d cast another one when it hit you.”
Edwin waved off her apology. “No worries, I’m fine. The result is what counts: He’s dead, I’m not. I’d love to get my hands on the Codex though. That’s one mean spell.”
He held up his glaive to show it to his friends. The smooth surface of the magestone roots was marred by a small indent.
“He nicked it?” Leodin asked, eyebrows shooting up to meet his hairline. “Nothing’s ever damaged it before!”
Edwin nodded. “It’s not deep, but that it did any damage at all tells you how dangerous it is. This spell can probably cut a person straight in half, maybe several if they stand in a line. So far, I wasn’t impressed by the stuff they got from the codex, but maybe that’s because they were too focused on the fireball. If their mages join the fighting the same way ours have, we’re in for a world of hurt.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen then,” Leodin said, turning back to look out of the window. “The ones we met down there were happy enough to switch sides. Seems like their mages are seriously split.”
“Hopefully us conquering Artelby makes them want to fight less, not more,” Edwin sighed. “You can never tell how people are going to react.”
“Guys!” Bordan called, waving them over. “Enough chitchat, it’s not over yet. The leadership has surrendered, but there are always people too stubborn to know when they’ve lost. Let’s go, we need to meet up with the rest of the battalion. Once we’ve made sure the inner wall is still holding, we’ll head out and help the soldiers round up the defenders.”
Edwin joined the rest of the adventurers streaming back down the stairs, shouldering his glaive. It was going to be a long night.