Chapter Thirty-Three – Optional Objective

“There you are,” said Wenrik, his wolfish smile glinting down at his friends’ faces in the gloom. “You just can’t take a step without me, can you?”

“Wenrik,” gaped Horon, astonished. “What are you doing here?”

“A better question would be, ‘How are we going to get out?’” the Borzerk replied. “You can’t climb out, Horon? I thought your strength was the boast of the Fens.”

Horon could grasp the edge of the pit, but struggled to raise himself. “It’s not as easy as it looks,” he complained. “Besides, those necromanced used their filthy magic on me. I feel like my arms are made of billow weeds.”

“Excuses, Horon,” said Wenrick, dismissing him. “Don’t worry, I never believed you were half the mighty man you pretend to be. Hold on. I’ll find a way to get you out.”

“Insolent pup,” complained Horon under his breath, but Tara could see the Fenman’s eyes shining with eagerness.

Horon wasn’t the only one affected by Wenrik’s arrival. The other captives, including Berga’s husband, had begun to show new signs of life. Their faces seemed to radiate new life.

“Can he really get us out?” asked Berga’s husband.

Tara nodded. “I know he can,” she said. “Wenrik is pretty resourceful.”

Although she sounded confident, she was as amazed as anyone when a rough rope was thrown into the pit.

“These bastards must climb in and out to drag out the corpses,” grunted Wenrik somewhere beyond their sight. “The rope is fixed to a pulley. Get hold of that rope, one at a time, and I’ll try to haul you out.”

“Take Elita,” said Horon, holding the gnome out. “The rest of us will use the rope.”

Wenrik lifted the gnome out of the pit like a baby. “Well now,” he said fondly. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“You’re insufferable,” huffed Elita, and Tara found herself smiling at the gnome’s familiar chide. “Stop hanging around grinning and let’s get the rest of these poor souls out.”

Wenrik was about to go back to the pulley when the sound of voices from the outer hall made his expression sharpen.

“Necromanced,” he said. “Their master must have finally caught on to what’s happening down here.”

“Why didn’t he see you coming before?” asked Horon.

“No doubt he was distracted by something else,” said the Borzerk. “The Hero of Allerion, perhaps. Come here, Tara. You look steady on your feet, and I could use your help up here.”

Tara caught Wenrik’s hands as the Borzerk bent to raise her from the pit. She scrambled over.

“They took our weapons,” she said, and was surprised by how Wenrik’s usual reckless smile enlivened her.

“Well, take theirs,” he said, motioning to the dead necromanced. “I’ll manage the pulley. You keep the necromanced away from us.”

Tara picked up one of the necromanced people’s swords. The blade was intended for one-handed combat, and she regretted that none of the necromanced seemed to carry shields. Clearly they didn’t worry about being damaged as much as their living opponents.

“You know how to deal with necromanced, don’t you?” said Wenrik, grunting at the pulley. “They don’t die from just a sword thrust or two. You’ll have to take off a head, maybe a few arms and legs, too. It’s cutting wounds, not straight thrusts, that hurt them the most. That’s because they’re not interested in protecting their internal parts like we are.”

“Stop talking and keep that pulley moving!” protested Horon from inside the pit. Tara had the impression the Fenman was determined to wait until the last of the other prisoners had been taken up. Some of the captives were too weak to hold on to the rope without extra help.

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But there wasn’t much time to think about that. The snarls and howls of the approaching necromanced were louder with every second. Looking around the pit in the glow of the necromancer’s eerie orbs, Tara saw there wasn’t a lot of space to fight in. But the mouth of the tunnel that led to the pit was narrow, and probably only two or three necromanced would be able to enter at a time.

Her eye fell on a shelf of alchemical instruments nearby.

“Wenrik!” she shouted. “Help me!”

The Borzerk saw what she meant to do at once. He joined her, and the two heaved the shelf in front of the entrance.

“It won’t hold,” grunted the Borzerk, “but it may make things more difficult. The necromanced aren’t exactly known for their brains. Good thinking, Tara!”

Tara didn’t have a chance to reply. A solid thud sounded from the other side of the shelf. At the continued pounding, a bony hand ripped through the wooden boards, flailing wildly. The shelf tipped forward under the weight of bodies and fell with a crash.

OBJECTIVE UPDATED: PROTECT WENRIK

Tara saw the letters flash above her. She heard the gasps and wonder from the prisoners, seconds before she raised her sword to block an attack, and felt the jarring contact of steel against steel.

Tara might not have known exactly what she was doing or why she was here. She knew she was in over her head. When she had first found herself in Allerion, she had expected all the events to unfold exactly as they did in the game. But this was nothing, and everything, like the game. Even if she continued to be surprised by how events deviated from the gameplay she had memorized, one thing was certain.

She loved to fight.

That first boss fight with Ikor the Skorge had been a learning curve. She had struggled. Now she knew what to expect. And if she were forced to name her favorite part of Swords of Allerion, she would have said without a second thought that she loved the PVE, the confidence that came with knowing the right block at the right moment, and how to follow-up with a precise attack.

Tara felt some of that thrill now. Her character might have been low level, but she knew how to boost her advantages. And she certainly wasn’t forgetting the skills she had unlocked that she had looked forward to trying out.

Assassin I – A one-handed attack from behind, dealing extra damage to enemies

Tara was glad, now, that she had invested her first skill set in one-handed combat. Getting behind a necromanced was tricky, but she was quick on her feet. And as soon as the opportunity arose, she felt in her mind exactly what she had to do. It wasn’t as simple as pressing the “X” on her game controller. But it was just as satisfying when her blade took off the head of the necromanced with one sure swipe.

Tara made sure to follow-up with taking off the startled enemies arms. The necromanced had brittle arms, but it was still tough, and she had to watch out for more than one attacker. She found herself on constant motion, dodging, side-stepping, struggling to get behind. At one point, confused by her constant feinting and ducking, one of the necromanced killed another with a sloppy attack it had meant for Tara.

“Almost there,” grunted Wenrik. “Hold them off a little longer, Hero.”

Tara didn’t have the breath to reply. Now that other prisoners were out of the pit, some of them picked up weapons from the fallen necromanced to join her.

“How many of them are there?” asked Berga’s husband in astonishment as another head was kicked past him.

Tara laughed. For the first time, she felt like she was truly enjoying herself. The necromanced in Wanderer’s Bane were a challenge, but they weren’t too far from her own level. And the new skill she could use was devastating in close combat.

“That’s got it!” said Wenrik. “Alright. Let me help you with the rest of these dry bones.”

OBJECTIVE COMPLETE: PROTECT WENRIK

ESCAPE WANDERER’S BANE

OPTIONAL OBJECTIVE: DEFEAT NARION NIGHTSONG

OPTIONAL OBJECTIVE: FIND THE BATTLE HORN

“What is this?” Berga’s husband was openly amazed. “Battle horn?”

“Your battle horn,” said Tara, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She couldn’t believe they had survived that fight with the first try.

Glancing back, she saw that all the prisoners were out of the pit by now. She was glad to see that Kell was safe.

“My battle horn?” repeated the old man, astonished.

“That’s right,” said Tara.

“They took it from me when I was captured,” said the man. “It could be anywhere.”

“How is everyone?” asked Tara. She turned to Horon. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” said the Fenman. He was looking stronger by the moment, and seemed surer of himself now that he was armed again. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I know where that battle horn is,” said Tara. “It’s in the same place as Narion Nightsong.”

“You’re not actually going to fight him?” protested a young woman. “He has spells that could tear you apart. He’ll kill us all.”

“Wanderer’s Bane is crawling with necromanced,” Tara told her. “It will be a miracle if we get out alive as we are. But one thing is certain. The necromanced only survive because of Narion Nightsong. If he dies, they die. Killing him is our best chance for escape.”

“If you are going to face Narion Nightsong, we’re coming with you,” said Elita. The gnome raised her arms to be lifted onto Horon’s shoulders. “I’m sure he has my bag of provisions as well, that nasty elf. And my knives. Those were forged in dragon fire, no small gift, mind you. I want them back.”

“And this time,” said Wenrik, his eyes gleaming, “you won’t leave me behind.”

Tara’s nod was certain. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, “but I’m glad you made it. We’re in this together. All of us.”

The Borzerk’s wolfish smile was immediate. This time as they walked forward, no invisible magic held them from leaving together.