Chapter Forty-Two - Revelation

Tara’s muscles protested as soon as Fenryx took flight, but it was too late to turn back. As reviving as the visits to the Shieldmistress’s Vale could be, all the effects of strenuous activity weren’t eased. Tara suspected that returning to the Vale reset her base stats, but there was a sleeping bonus in the game that she recalled boosting the experience she gained from quests.

Tara couldn’t help smiling at how ridiculous it would be to ask if they could go back and take a quick nap before answering the alarm. As nice as the thought of a bed was, what was happening in the hamlet below was impossible to ignore.

Swords of Allerion frequently had moments like these, when players could band together in defeating an unusually powerful enemy force. Usually, lower level characters weren’t encouraged to join this kind of skirmish, but if there were a few experienced players participating there was a chance of survival.

Tara was only Level 4, pretty low by the game’s standards. She was still ultimately a beginner. The blaring alarm had stopped, and Tara was alarmed to see that she and Acalon were flying alone.

“Where are the other riders?” she shouted over the wind.

If Acalon answered, she didn’t hear him over the wind. Tara’s stomach soared as they cut through the air, dipping downwards. It felt as if they were plummeting at the speed of a comet, and Tara was glad she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink recently. Fenryx must have taken special care during the flights before this, not risking the speed he was using now.

Below the cliffs, gray valleys dipped towards wide fields. Black smoke rose from burning thatches, and as Fenryx slowed to descend, Tara heard screams and the clashing of steel against steel.

Tara’s heart thudded in her chest. In the game, she always looked forward to battles. She liked the challenge and risk. But right now, the smoke stinging her eyes was dreadfully real, and the sounds of combat were dire.

Hawkstone Hamlet was a small community of hunters and laborers. In the shadow of the cliffs, the Skor who lived here were often considered of lesser status than the dragon riders in the mountains above, but in spite of their differences, the Skor were renowned for looking after their own. Tara couldn’t believe that no one but Acalon had come to the defense of the hamlet, but there were no other dragons in sight.

“What’s happening?” Tara cried. “Is it bandits?”

This time, there was no escaping the fact that Acalon wasn’t answering her. He unslung his bow, notching an arrow. From Fenryx’s back, it was difficult to see through the smoke. Tara could see the vague shaped of villagers running past them for safety.

Tara wished she had been able to practice archery with Wenrik, but at least she had unlocked the Ranger I skill that would improve her accuracy by 5%. That didn’t seem like a huge bonus when Tara considered that her current accuracy was probably zero.

Fenryx beat his wings, driving back the smoke and staggering several people who were too close to the dragon. In the clearer air, Tara saw that the people attacking wore heavy armor, possibly steel or iron.

Not Borzerk then, thought Tara with a twinge of relief. Borzerk rarely wore armor, no matter how practical it was. For that matter, neither did most bandits. This kind of defense was too expensive for robbers and thieves, and certainly not ideal for anyone looking for a quick getaway. Heavy armor provided better protection for the wearer, at the cost of flexibility and speed.

Tara almost lost her balance when Fenryx lunged forward, snapping at the armored attackers. The dragon’s mighty jaws closed on several of the invaders at once, while Acalon’s arrows found their mark as well.

Tara concentrated as she pulled her bowstring tight. Her eyes were still burning from the smoke as she released her shaft. The arrow bounced harmlessly off one of the invader’s horned helmets, and Tara notched another arrow quickly.

The sound of several, tremendous bellows made Tara jump with alarm.

“That wasn’t human,” she said to Acalon’s back.

This time, the dragon rider answered her. “Yes,” he agreed. “Nor are these ordinary bandits.”

“Where are the others?” Tara pressed him. “We may need help.”

“There are no others,” replied Acalon shortly. “There will only be a few riders at the cliffs themselves. Veraxyn sends most us out to the far corners of the world, wherever we are needed. And attacks like these on our villagers are not irregular.”

“This is not regular,” argued Tara. “You said so yourself.”

There was no need for her to push him. They could see at last the four massive figures thundering through the smoke towards them.

Tara had seen trolls before, but these were heavily armored and clearly trained for attack. Even their curved horns were plated in steel and silver, and the heavy maces they carried dragged on the ground, leaving deep furrows behind them.

Tara saw Acalon lean slightly forward, his hand light on Fenryx’s massive neck. She was sure the dragon rider was speaking to Fenryx, and braced at the slight swell in the dragon’s powerful muscles.

Fenryx unleashed a blaze of white hot flame. The force and rage of that fire made the flames on the thatched roofs seem harmless in comparison. The attackers on the ground were swallowed in that blaze, and Tara squeezed her eyes shut against the almost unbearable heat.

“Impossible.”

She forced her eyes open at Acalon’s breathless word. To her amazement, the four trolls were still standing, braced together. As soon as the dragon had finished, they moved forward as one.

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To Tara’s surprise, Acalon slid from Fenryx’s back. She followed him more clumsily.

“What are you doing?”

“Fenryx will not be able to breathe flame like that for some time,” said Acalon briefly, readying his bow. “I must help him.”

Tara remembered that fire-breathing did cost a lot of strength from dragons. She couldn’t recall what their standard abilities were, but she recalled that they only used their fire rarely, when a situation was most desperate.

Fenryx had seized one of the trolls in his teeth. The other trolls closed in, one brute swinging his mace at the dragon’s narrow head. Tara heard the dragon’s scream and saw him recoil, releasing the troll in his jaws who climbed once more to his feet. The dragon’s lashing tail threw the troll off-balance, but the others weren’t far behind him.

“Mountain guard,” hissed Acalon. “These trolls are the strongest I have ever seen.”

Tara understood what the dragon rider was talking about. Trolls were playable characters in Swords of Allerion, and she recalled the bonus that came from investing hours in these slow but natural tanks.

Enemy Class

Class Details

Stats

Armored Troll

Trolls are the massive cousins to the gnomes, and live in a generally symbiotic relationship with their smaller, more industrious relatives. Trolls are generally a solitary, divided people, forming camps of no more than a single family scattered across the Grayscape.

Armored trolls, employed by the Fell King, are particularly dangerous.

Stamina: 200

Strength: 300

Intelligence: 25

Dexterity: 30

Magic: 200

Special Skill: Mountain guard - trolls have the ability to become stone, giving them protection against even dragon attacks. This skill lowers dexterity to 0.

“Fenryx!” Acalon cried. “To the skies!”

The dragon seemed to resist his rider’s command. His massive wings beat, and at the savage current of wind the trolls were forced to brace themselves. Fenryx’s claws closed on the nearest as he took flight, the troll struggling in his grasp as they began to ascend.

“See if there is anyone in the houses,” Acalon said to Tara. “There must be no one left in this village. I will send Fenryx to bring them to the mountain.”

“I can’t let you fight alone!” Tara protested.

“You can and you will. Don’t you see what’s happening?” Acalon’s glance was searing. “This is not a raid—it is war. These creatures are not here to take, but destroy. I am certain these trolls and the people with them have been sent by the Fell King himself.”

The Fell King.

How could Tara have forgotten? The constant other threats in Allerion had seemed much larger in comparison to the looming disaster of the Fell King’s reign in the Northlands. Like Narion Nightsong, the Fell King was skilled in powerful magic. Unlike the elven necromancer, the Fell King was human, and his ability all the more remarkable and dangerous.

It seemed incredible that the Fell King would attack Skorcrest now. The cliffs were not far from the Northlands, true, and eventually in the game the Fell King would lay siege to the mountains, ideally when Tara was at Level 30 when she would be in a better position to help.

But this wasn’t like the siege Tara remembered, when the Fell King would send thousands of troops against the Grim Syr. This could be one of those randomized attacks, dangerous and never anticipated, when the Fell King’s monsters appeared unexpectedly to wreak havoc on the countryside. Instances like those were meant to remind the player that no matter what happened, the true threat was always in the Northlands where the Fell King was working to exert dominance over the free lands of Allerion.

Tara’s recollection of those challenging fights was very different from the desperation and destruction she saw here. It didn’t feel right to let Acalon face the trolls alone, not after they had proved challenging even for Fenryx, but the dragon rider was right. They needed to get as many people away from the danger as possible.

Tara ran to a group of terrified people struggling from the fire and rubble of their home.

“This way,” she urged them. “The dragon will protect you!”

It was difficult to see in the chaos around them, but Tara’s hearing was excellent. She heard Acalon’s bitten cry behind her and turned on a reflex, unable to dismiss it no matter what the dragon rider thought was best.

Acalon had not always been a dragon rider, and his years as a ranger had made him skilled in ground combat. He was a swift warrior, and his aim was sure. But even the swiftest of human warriors would be hard pressed to face a troll alone, and these were several, each of whom was evidently trained in combat.

At some point in the fighting, Acalon had been injured. He was still on his feet, but he was flagging, struggling to reach the forest at the edge of the hamlet. Tara realized, watching him, that he had never intended to defeat the trolls. He was trying to lead them away from the people here. He was buying them time.

Tara turned to Fenryx. The black drake was perfectly still as the villagers clambered onto his back, their progress slow with terror.

“Can’t you help him?” said Tara desperately.

Black smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils. She wasn’t even sure he heard her.

“They’re going to kill him!” shouted Tara. “There must be something we can do.”

But even as she spoke the words, she saw from the dragon’s fixed position that he was not going to disobey his rider’s command. The decision had been made between them. Their first priority was to see the villagers safe.

Tara whipped back to see what was happening to Acalon. He was never going to make it to the woods before the trolls reached him. The massive creatures weren’t even exerting themselves to keep up with their victim, toying with him like cats with their prey. Trolls were barbaric creatures at the best of times, and although some were reasonable and even communicative with other species, the worst of them were insatiably cruel.

Tara knew she shouldn’t trust her emotion. Acalon was an unkillable character, whose role was essential in the eventual war against the Fell King. He couldn’t die. He might be temporarily dead, like Horon during the battle with Ikor the Skorge, but he couldn’t be permanently killed.

Tara knew this had to be true, but her knowledge didn’t make the events before her any less horrific. Hadn’t she been wrong before about what was “supposed” to happen in Allerion? The presence of Kell the fey as one of her companions was in and of itself, an impossibility.

He was supposed to die, thought Tara, and Acalon is supposed to live.

None of those facts, at the moment, seemed likely to remain true.

Acalon had fallen. Knowing he could not escape, the dragon rider was still fighting. Even when one of the armored trolls stood over him, dropping its mace to smash with its fist instead, Acalon’s arrow found its mark past the slats in the creatures helmet and into its eyes.

The troll cried out in agony, staggering backwards. The other two brutes closed in on their victim with roars of outrage.

What happened next, Tara wasn’t sure. She knew it must be over, that it was too late, but she stepped forward in a daze as if someone else were guiding her. She raised her hands to the glaring sun above without knowing why, and felt a surge in her soul like a calling, at once powerful, exhilarating, and agonizing.

She saw the blaze descend, brighter and more blazing than any dragon fire. It was like streaks of lightning raining from above. Tara’s saw the veins of light threading from her fingers and felt the surge in her heart. She directed all that power towards the trolls and saw the giant brutes stagger, blinded and amazed.

One of them tried to reach Tara. Tara felt another irrepressible surge and the troll dissolved in light that was not fire, yet as devouring.

Then Tara was enveloped in darkness.