Chapter Five: Hero of Allerion
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Tara was very conscious of the beat in her heart, the whistle of breath in her chest. She shouldn’t be afraid now. She had died several times and it wasn't as bad as it could be. It was disorienting and uncomfortable. There was pain and shock. But she was back, she always came back. If she survived this fight, the horrible cycle would end.
It didn’t occur to her, standing with the other slaves as Ikor the Skorge came tearing down from the main deck once more, that she wasn’t thinking about winning. That’s what would have been on her mind sitting in front of her desk, the game controller in both hands, eyes on the screen. “How do I beat this boss?” would have been foremost on her mind.
Being stuck in this incredibly lifelike scenario made her think not in terms of winning, but of survival.
“Have you fought a troll before?” she asked Wenrik.
The Borzerk swung the sword in his hand, a practicing motion. He was looking forward to the battle ahead. He didn’t know as she did that he had already fought this same foe several times.
“No,” he said. “But I’ve seen trolls fight. Brutish creatures. There’s nothing they like more than a challenge. They’re a people after my own heart.”
Tara wished she could share his humor. But as tiring as it was to be in this situation yet again, she was less worried than she had been before. She knew the troll was going to come straight for her. And she knew she had to rely on her speed, not her strength, to overcome him.
Slowly but surely, she was learning.
“Here,” she said, turning suddenly to a nearby slave. “I’ll trade you my sword for that torch.”
The slave was surprised but eager. “Of course, milady.”
Tara could have snorted at being called “milady” when she was dressed like the poorest beggar. This slave must have been taken from some rich family's mansion. Perhaps he had been kidnapped on an errand for his mistress.
“A torch?” grumbled Horon, watching Tara grasp the crude wooden handle. “What are you thinking, witch? Are you going to cast some kind of spell on Captain Ikor?”
The troll’s powerful roar vibrated through Tara. There was no time to explain.
When Ikor charged, Tara flung herself to one side as she had before. And like before, the troll surged past her, swatting aside slavers and slaves alike in his frenzy.
That was where the similarity between all the past attempts ended.
Tara’s feet skidded on the water-slick deck. She managed to keep her feet, balancing against the ship’s heavy motion. She forced herself to face the troll, taking advantage of his momentary disorientation to thrust the torch at him from behind.
Scorched, the troll roared in surprise. He whirled on her, insane with rage.
Tara was momentarily disoriented herself. After that first blow, a red bar appeared over the troll’s head. She recognized it immediately as his health level.
She guessed that she had never seen it before because she had never injured him before. Because she had never been able to successfully engage, she had never seen how much damage the troll was taking from the others as well.
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It wasn't just him, either. She could see everyone's health now. This fight wasn't strictly speaking timed, but the longer it went the more the slaves were at a disadvantage. They were weak, starved, and the slavers were trained for battle.
Even though this battle was far from finished, the knowledge that she was finally getting somewhere emboldened Tara. She ducked under the troll’s axe. The fire in his face made the troll stumble back, and Tara saw the red bar go farther down.
She was so relieved to be making any progress that she didn’t notice when the troll readied himself for his one-shot attack.
“Tara!”
It was Horon who shouted and pushed her aside. The Fen man was crushed under the troll’s attack.
“Horon!”
Wenrik’s cry was sharp. He joined his fallen friend, whose health bar had disappeared.
He was dead.
Wild with fury and grief, the Borzerk warror flung himself at the troll.
Ikor’s health bar was down to three-fourths of his full health level. Tara didn’t allow herself to think, joining Wenrik. This time, she picked up Horon’s sword in her other hand, wielding the blade and torch together. Instead of distancing herself, she moved into the troll’s attack, sliding under the brute’s trunk-like legs to bring fire and steel to him from behind.
The speed and force of the attack staggered Ikor. He was briefly stunned. Tara realized she must have executed a power attack, because the boss’s power was now less than half, a huge differences from before.
“Now!” shouted Wenrik. “Let’s show him what the Borzerk can do!”
Tara realized he was about to use his Bloodrage skill. Bloodrage was an ability special to all Borzerk, allowing them to fight with greater damage while reducing their stamina almost to nothing, making it more difficult for them to evade attacks. It was always dangerous to risk it, but sometimes there was no choice.
This was the moment in-game when Tara would be prompted to use her Bloodrage ability as well. Her heart pounding, Tara couldn’t figure out how. It was different when all she had to do was press “W” to use her special ability.
Wenrik didn’t seem to notice her confusion. He was already lost to battle madness, closing on the troll with the savageness of a wounded wolf. He wasn’t thinking or acting wisely. The death of his friend, the hardness they were all forced to endure, had made him too reckless.
Ikor managed to grasp the Borzerk in his powerful armored hands. He flung the human down savagely. When Wenrik tried to rise, Ikor hit him savagely with the shaft of his axe. The blow wasn’t meant to kill but torment. The Borzerk man spat blood at the troll’s feet. He was weaponless and about to die, but his contempt for Ikor the Skorge was clear.
Seeing him at the mercy of the troll, hearing the cries of the others, Tara felt a change come over her. It was a strange, almost frightening feeling. She felt simultaneously weakened and powerful, as she advanced on the troll. Her speed was greatly reduced, but when she stood in front of Wenrik she wasn’t afraid, even with the troll’s axe blade swinging towards her head.
Tara ducked the blade by inches. She thrust the torch at the troll, straight at his face, and he flung up his arms to protect his eyes. In that moment when he was vulnerable, she leaped and with all her might, drove her sword into the brute’s neck.
The troll fell heavily, thick blood staining the deck. He was still clutching the sword when he died.
Tara turned to the others, gasping for breath. She wasn't sure if she would be able to survive a struggle against anyone else, but the slavers were motionless, staring in shock. Their will to fight had left them as soon as their captain died.
Everyone flinched when a golden light flared above them. Tara tried to pull her sword from the troll’s neck, anticipating another enemy. But instead of a new monster she saw words clearly defined for everyone to read:
TROPHY EARNED: IKOR THE SKORGE
“What in all the realms…”
Tara turned with a thrill of delight at the sound of Horon’s groaning voice. She ran to the Fen man, smiling in spite of herself.
“You’re alright—you’re alive—”
“Of course I’m alive,” growled Horon. “Why wouldn’t I be?” His face changed slightly at Wenrik’s shock.”Wenrik? What is it?”
“You were dead, my friend,” said the Borzerk. “I saw you die.”
“Impossible!”
“It would be,” said Wenrik, “except this was no ordinary fight. Did you see the portent just now? Have you ever seen anything like it?”
The trophy notification had disappeared, but everyone had seen it. Tara struggled to understand. Was this the portent Wenrik was talking about?
“You—Tara MacQueen,” said the Borzerk. “You are no ordinary woman, are you?”
Tara felt everyone’s eyes on her. She was awkward and a little afraid.
“I—I’m…” Would it be okay to say she was a gamer? How would they respond? She didn’t want to frighten anyone or make them think they were any less alive than her. She didn’t really understand what was going on herself.
“You’re the one we’ve been waiting for,” said Wenrik. “You are the Hero of Allerion.”