Chapter Thirty-Five – Wanderer’s Bane II

Tara searched through the provisions. As glad as she was to have access to her gear, she couldn’t help thinking the supply was woefully inadequate. The staggering poison would be useful, and she was glad to have her Wynterwood bow back. There were half a dozen of the red pinecones, but without the other ingredients she couldn’t make fire bombs. Their damage would be useful, but not significant.

“Is there anything here for health?” she asked, hoping no one noticed the weakness in her voice.

“Yes,” said Elita at once. She selected a small leather pouch from inside one of the sacks. “I stored several rejuvenating vials here. There should be enough to keep you on your feet a little longer, if you need them.”

Item

Properties

Health Solution

Restores 20 health

“Thanks,” said Tara, taking the pouch. “So I just—drink them?”

“That’s right,” said Elita.

“While I’m fighting, I suppose,” muttered Tara. “And there’s no pause button either to freeze combat.”

“What’s that?” asked Kell. The fey was gnawing his fingernails, staring at the items Tara was sorting through.

“Oh nothing,” said Tara, knowing better than to even try and explain. “Suffice it to say, this is going to be pretty awkward in real life.”

Wenrik helped her to her feet. For once, he didn’t make any sly remark about her peculiar choice of words.

“It’s not too late,” said the Borzerk warrior. “And I don’t think it’s wise, Tara MacQueen, taking on this necromancer alone.”

Tara threw a quick glance towards the imposing, high-backed throne where Narion Nightsong was waiting. She hoped the dark elf didn’t notice her looking, but he was watching them, as ready and silent as a statue.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” Tara whispered. “If I don’t do this, he’ll just kill us all. We’re seriously outnumbered.”

“But you could go, couldn’t you?”

The fey’s voice was muted. He was watching Tara with his overlarge eyes, his shoulders bent forward in a nervous stoop.

“You could go,” he murmured, “to wherever it is you disappeared to last time. Then you would be safe. Wouldn’t you?’

“Well…yes,” Tara acknowledged hesitantly. She frowned. “But…I can’t stay there forever.”

“Why not?” Tara wished she understood why Kell was so invested in this, the fey’s words still earnest and pressing. “At least then, one of us would survive. At least we would know that someone was able to escape Wanderer’s Bane alive.”

Tara hesitated, then placed her hand firmly on the fey’s shoulder. “Look. Even if I did disappear, if I reappeared it would just be here again. No time would pass. It would all be the same. And I’m not spending the rest of my life in that boring place. If you could see it, believe me, you’d agree.” She was glad to see some amusement spark in Kell’s eyes. “And besides, I’m not going to leave you all frozen here for eternity. I know for a fact that’s not why I’m here.”

Turning from the others, Tara was forced to consider, Why am I here? Some people spoke of a hero, or someone who would destroy the world. Since she had arrived, Tara could certainly believe that she had brought an element of chaos into an otherwise structured world.

She thought back to the moments before her arrival, sitting at her PC. She had been so unhappy that Swords of Allerion was scheduled to go offline at last. She couldn’t believe that just like that, a game that had been part of her life for years would just cease to exist. But when she had started playing a new character, she had never suspected that she would actually be sucked into the game as an actual player.

I don’t know how to go back, thought Tara. And even if I could would I?

She wasn’t sure. Narion Nightsong certainly was a daunting figure in real life. He wasn’t nervous at all about single combat with her. And as much as she wished she wasn’t, Tara was pretty nervous at the prospect of facing him alone.

“I can do this,” she muttered to herself under her breath.

“What’s that, Hero of Allerion?” said Narion Nightsong, and from the slight edge in his voice Tara suspected he had somehow overheard her. Maybe elf ears were good at hearing from a distance.

“Nothing,” said Tara more loudly, walking towards him. “Are you ready?”

The dark elf inclined his head. “There is still time to change your mind,” he said.

Tara shook her head. She wanted to say something clever, like “Having second thoughts?” or, “That’s right. You still have time to surrender.” But seeing the dark elf’s disturbingly lightless gaze, she just didn’t feel like being smart.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“No thanks,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Narion Nightsong didn’t speak out loud, or gesture to the hundreds of necromanced. But the withered husks of the bodies he had enchanted drew slowly but surely back, making room for Tara and the dark elf to fight. Elita, Horon, Wenrick, and Kell pulled back with them, standing at the farthest edge of the circle the necromanced formed.

Tara fitted an arrow to her bow. She tried to remember how she had been told to use it, wishing she had gone to more LARP gatherings.

Narion drew his sword. The weapon was two handed, the blade gleaming with blue, enchanted flame.

I forgot about the enchanted sword, thought Tara unhappily. She uncorked the staggering poison that Elita had stored in small vials not dissimilar to the health solutions’, and tried to get only a little bit on the tip of her arrow.

Potion Name

Damage

Staggering Poison

Costs the enemy +1 damage over 7 seconds.

Refitting the arrow, Tara barely had time to duck when Narion’s sword swept towards her. She felt the wind of the blade’s passage not far from her ear. Scrambling frantically, she tried to put more distance between her and the advancing elf.

“You should have yielded to me when you had the chance,” said Narion. “Now you will die like all the miserable invaders before you. Farewell, Hero of Allerion.”

Tara raised her bow. Her arms were shaking. The elf was so close, this should have been any easy shot—except she had never used a bow in actual combat before. When she fired, her aim was wide, and the poisoned arrow hit one of the necromanced instead. The creature gurgled and staggered.

“Is that the best you can do?” Narion stretched, reaching upwards. “Let’s see how you handle this.”

Tara recognized the start of the necromancer’s power attack. She backed up quickly as light formed in a blazing ball over Narion’s open hands. All dark elves were skilled in summoning light, but the use of light was generally harmless. Narion had twisted his gift with dark magic, and when he threw the light to the ground savage sparks flew in all directions. Tara cried out when one of the sparks hit her cheek.

“You are pathetic,” decided Narion, not moving from where he stood. “The Last Hero of Allerion? Is that what you’re supposed to be? Why don’t you stand and fight me instead of running like a coward.”

Tara flung her bow aside. As much as she wanted to use it, she knew she was better off with her one-handed swords.

This time when Narion swung his sword at her, when Tara ducked his attack she simultaneously moved forward. Her offense was unexpected, and the dark elf was actually surprised when she was able to land a blow on his arm, forcing him back a step. At once the health bar appeared over him in a red glare of light, and Tara was triumphant until she saw just how much health he had left.

“You will pay for your insolence,” said Narion Nightsong.

This time he brought the blade of his sword down to the ground, sending a shockwave of power towards Tara. She fell from the force of the attack.

Narion raised his sword over her. At the last minute, Tara fumbled one of the pinecones from her bag. She threw the red pinecone at Narion without thinking about her aim, her only goal to buy more time.

Thankfully, her desperate tactic worked. The red pinecone exploded when it came in contact with the dark elf, who was forced back several paces. His health was slightly lower, but still impressively high.

“You think pinecones will stop me?” mocked the elf.

Tara threw more of the red pinecones. Her desperation was rewarded by more health taken from Narion Nightsong’s bar, but the fact remained that he was still at eighty percent strength. Her efforts were just too small, and she was tiring.

Trying to avoid the necromancer’s next summoning of the False Sun power attack, Tara knew she was far too low level for this fight. Narion Nightsong was as difficult as she remembered, and more so, because now she was facing him alone. If that wasn’t bad enough, she was having real-world troubles too that didn’t bother her in game. Her legs and arms felt more tired as she tried to defend herself. It was getting harder to avoid the necromancer’s constant attacks.

I have to stop him somehow, thought Tara.

There was only one moment she could see when the dark elf was truly vulnerable. Sure, she could try to spend the rest of the fight ducking his sword and landing small blows. But Tara was sure she would be too exhausted by that method. Already she felt as if she were affected by staggering poison herself.

She gasped in pain when the necromancer’s sword cut her. Tara reached for one of her health solutions, aware of her own blood running from her shoulder, and dropped one of her swords as she drank.

“This will be the end of you,” said the necromancer, raising himself once more for the power attack.

That was Tara’s chance. As dangerous as it was, she saw no other opening. But if she could injure him in a vital place like his head or heart while he was summoning light, Tara was certain she could really do some damage.

Tara ran, her steps heavy and to her mind, slow. She threw herself upward, the muscles in her legs screaming at the new strain. When her sword hit the necromancer’s neck, the flare of light disappeared instantly. She was flung back so hard she almost lost consciousness.

When Tara raised her head, she saw that Narion Nightsong’s health was less than fifty percent. Her offense had worked, and she had managed to interrupt the elf’s power attack as well.

“You will suffer for that,” hissed Narion.

Tara tried to get to her feet. She didn’t think anything was broken, but she was struggling. Since she had dropped one sword earlier, she knew her attacks would deal less damage.

Narion, walking towards her, looked as strong as ever. Never mind what his health bar read. The dark elf wasn’t even limping.

Tara raised her sword to block the elf’s incoming attack. The force of the blow was jarring, and she was forced back, tripping over her feet. She couldn't help wondering how far back she would have to go in this scenario if she died, and how the others would be effected.

Narion caught her by the throat with one hand. He pulled her close to him, Tara choking and struggling to free herself.

“Die now, Hero of Allerion,” said the necromancer. “Whatever power is in you, if anything, I will bring to new life when you are dead. I believe my servants will make good use of it.”

“Let her go, Narion!”

Tara was surprised when she was suddenly released. She gasped for breath, her vision blurred from lack of oxygen.

“You are threatening me?” said the necromancer, the smile in his voice certain. “You are nothing, the last of a failed race. Go back to your story-telling and songs. You have no power to match mine.”

It was Kell who had limped forward. The fey continued to move towards them.

“You think much of yourself, don’t you?” rasped Kell. “But I have heard your story, Narion, and it is an old one. Would you like to hear it yourself?”

The sound the fey made was frightening, unearthly. It was no music Tara had ever heard, nothing any bard in a tavern would dare to sing. The sallow creature threw back his head and shrieked, and the force of that scream threw Narion Nightsong to his knees. The necromanced clapped their withered hands to their ears, reeling from their master’s agony.

When the sound stopped, Kell collapsed. Tara was not certain if he was alive, the fey limp and unmoving.

Narion wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I will kill him,” rasped the necromancer. “I should never have let that miserable fool into my service.”

He did not even notice Tara’s sword until it was too late.

Her thrust from behind was sure. A surprise attack from the rear dealt extra damage, and the fey’s shriek had already reduced Narion’s health significantly. This was the killing stroke.

Narion Nightsong sagged forward, dead.

Rushing wind filled the throne room. Tara crouched, shielding her face with her arm. When the wind passed, the necromanced had all fallen, the dust of their bodies scattered across the throne room.

She looked up with the rest at a flare of new light.

OPTIONAL OBJECTIVE COMPLETE: DEFEAT NARION NIGHTSONG