He felt something shift and knew that his little wind armor spell had expired. There was no time to think of anything else before he and his attacker both slammed into the ground, with Thequen taking the brunt of the blow along his left side. The wind was knocked out of him and he thought he felt one bone or another somewhere in his side crack. Probably a rib. He laid there with his opponent next to him, and for a moment, neither of them managed to do anything beyond scrambling back up to their feet. Thequen looked around. In the distance, two more enemy soldiers ran toward him. Or rather jogged, their heavy armor and weaponry slowing them down considerably.
The man in front of him drew his knife and set his footing. “Don’t suppose you’ll surrender, since you’re about to be outnumbered?”, he said with a thin grin as he stood about ten steps away.
Thequen moved his left arm experimentally. It hurt quite a lot, but seemed functional. With his right hand he reached into his pouch and withdrew the single green mana crystal. He held it up in his palm. The expression on his would-be opponent shifted from one of confidence to hesitation. “Surrender? Shouldn’t I be the one making that offer?”, he said.
The man with the knife turned toward the others. “Mage! Mage!”, he shouted as he pointed at Thequen. He turned back as Thequen took a step forward and closed his fist around the crystal. Power ran through him and pushed away all the sensations of pain. The crystal, its power expended, crumbled to powder in his hand. Both hands free, he rattled off the incantation and performed the required gestures in record time as the man with the knife started to run toward him.
Thequen kept his eyes on the knife as he felt his own spell take effect. His heart started to pound, even more than before. There was a brief, sudden pain throughout his body as he felt his muscles and bones shift, swell, and grow. Suddenly he was half a head taller than before, and his clothes and armor all felt just a bit too small. He ignored the swipe of the knife as it skittered across his breastplate with a metal screech as he cocked his arm back.
His fist slammed square into the chest of his attack. Beneath the chainmail Thequen felt the crack of bones breaking. The man dropped the knife, a look of dull shock mixed with horror on his face as he let out a nasty burbling noise, and then crumpled to the ground clutching at his chest. The two that had been running toward him slowed down, but more were on the way. Thequen walked toward them as he pulled off his helmet and breastplate. The armor would only get in his way. Three steps later his spell had taken full effect and the pain of growth had faded. He stood about a head taller than before, his body rippling with muscle. His loose tabard now barely fit him around the shoulders. He kept that on, in hopes that the color would at least let his allies know not to stab him in the back.
The two spearmen pointed their weapons at him. One glanced over his shoulder. Thequen sprinted toward them. What they didn’t realize was that he only had one gem. One big spell. One trick. This one spell was his only big combat spell. If he didn’t make it back to some of his allies before it wore off and the fatigue of casting it hit him, he was probably as good as dead here on the inside of the wall, inside enemy territory. His dagger felt far too tiny in his hand as he pulled it from his belt. He hurled it toward one spearman as he ran directly at the other.
Struck by the dagger one spearman stumbled back. The other took a stab at him. He winced as the blade of the spear grazed the palm of his hand as he reached out and grabbed the shaft just below the head. He yanked the spear out of his opponent’s grip, and barely felt the resistance as the enemy soldier tried to hold on. Holding it in one clenched fist, he pushed the point through the other, still-armed soldier then let it go. Another one down.
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The disarmed soldier held up his hands. “Mercy?”, he said uncertainly. About a hundred steps behind him a whole troop of soldiers marched forward in an organized fashion. They wore heavy armor, and were led by a man on horseback who wore a full black helmet, his chest and legs also covered in plate. Thequen did the only logical thing. Tactical retreat. He turned and ran along the edge of the wall. Despite his sheer strength and energy while under the effects of his Growth spell, his chances against a large number of armed and armored foes were slim. Injuries would add up and once surrounded, it would be easy enough for any regular person to deal him a lethal blow.
Luckily, unarmored and with longer, enhanced legs than his pursuers, it was easy enough to put distance between him and them. He pushed into an area where the town’s wooden buildings pressed close to the wall, and then it was a simple matter to brace himself against the wall or the building as necessary and climb upward. The wood of the little house he’d chosen as his ‘ladder’ creaked under his weight, but in just a few moments he was up, with his feet on the roof and his hands gripping the edge of the wall. He pulled himself up and over the edge. Something sharp slid across his ribs. “Augh!”, he groaned in pain, his voice a bit deeper than normal as he turned, still laying on his side, to confront yet another assailant. He didn’t look up-- he simply grabbed the man, one hand on each ankle, and pulled him off his feet and down to the ground. His opponent’s sword clattered to the stone as Thequen got on top of him, then grabbed and pushed. Thequen closed his eyes and looked away as he felt something give beneath the man’s leather armor, where he’d grabbed him about the neck and shoulders.
He retrieved the sword and moved on further along the wall, back toward the center of the fight. Some saw him coming and ran away. Those that didn’t he bowled past, stabbed, or bodily from the wall. He rejoined men in blue who he didn’t quite recognize and let them lead while he towered slightly over them. They advanced quickly, which was good because Thequen didn’t know how long his spell effect would last, exactly. Minutes more, at most. He and his two allies stopped only when more ladders were laid alongside the wall-- the inside, and a handful of heavily armored defenders climbed up in unison. From somewhere further along an arrow zipped through the air and stuck into Thequen’s shoulder. He barely felt it, but he did bleed.
The heavy infantry pulled shields from their backs and formed a wall. Thequen glanced behind him. Reinforcements for his side were not on the way. There was nothing but a line of bodies along the wall, dead fighters from both sides among them. “Fuck.”, Thequen groaned.
“Do you have any spells left in you?”, one of his allies asked. Thequen shook his head. Outside the wall it seemed as though Lord Ghol and the 3rd Arcane had won. Barely any arrows were fired down into them from the wall, and they worked the main gate with the battering ram. That was good, at least. Ghol’s archers took position in the field and knocked arrows. Judging by their angle, they were aiming for the wall.
“That’s less good. Down!”, Thequen said as he grabbed his two companions and pulled them to the ground as he crouched behind the parapet.
What happened next was not what Thequen expected. No arrows flew through the sky. For a brief moment, the sound of fighting-- all sound, stopped. Thequen felt the psychic pressure of an extreme amount of mana being consumed before he saw any further effects. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. In theory, he knew what it was, as he’d felt such a thing in smaller doses when the teachers at the Academy had cast higher tier spells.
A faint black pulse of mana washed over the entire battlefield, rippling through like a spring breeze, seen and felt, but not heard. As quick as it came, it was gone, but everyone on the field, on the walls, elsewhere, had taken notice of it. Fighting had stopped completely, if only for a moment. Everyone muttered to one another and looked around. Then one person on the wall shot an arrow. A man below screamed.
In the space of half a minute, the battle raged once more. The heavy infantry atop the wall rallied and advanced toward Thequen and his two companions. “We can’t fight all of that. Leg it!”, Thequen shouted as he turned. Another tactical retreat. Thequen felt the fatigue in his muscles and stumbled as he shrank back down to normal size, his Growth spell exhausted.