NPCs (14 page)

“I was told to come find the captain of the Appleram guards, and to pass on a message,” Eric replied, eyes darting between the actual captain and the guard with the plume.

“Who sent you?”

“I don’t know,” Eric replied. “Tall man, dark hair, simple clothes. Grabbed me, gave me the message, told me it was a matter of life and death.” Based on those he’d seen walking around Appleram, that description fit around thirty percent of the men, more, if one had loose opinions on what constituted being tall.

The captain stared at him, scowl deepening. His training made him want to ask verification questions, but his choices were limited when Eric was stating outright how little he knew. “Why didn’t this man come himself?”

“I don’t know.”

“What made you so willing to do it, then?”

“Because the monsters were in the other direction,” Eric replied.

This was enough to satisfy the captain. If he’d claimed noble intent, Eric would still seem suspicious, but the captain knew that when danger came from nowhere, most folks were hell-bent on getting away.

“What’s this message, then?”

“He said these things were demons, that they were smart, and that they would work together. Said their claws can cut through armor with ease and that blessed weapons are your best bet.”

The captain nodded, no expression besides the scowl, which Eric was beginning to suspect was a permanent fixture on his face. “Anything else?”

Eric shook his head. “That was it.”

“Fine. Thank you for your service. Now get clear of this arena, quickly,” the captain ordered.

Eric nodded, slipped out of the circle, and ran toward the exit. Once there was enough room between him and the guards, Eric doubled back and made for an entrance to the main part of the arena. He’d nearly run away the first time and that knowledge still haunted him. This time, he wasn’t leaving without his friends.

* * *

The first dagger had taken a demon in the shoulder. There was a howl of pain, and the demon reeled on impact, revealing a blade sunk all the way to the hilt in its flesh. Definitely an effective blow, though it was not the explosion of bone and muscle that had come from the last time Thistle had thrown a dagger at one of these things. Well, Grumble had said the first one was a bit special.

Careful steps brought the demon closer to Thistle, the other three directly behind. Its red eyes stared at the other blade in Thistle’s hand, wary, but also able to do enough math to understand that one blade wouldn’t stop all of them. Logic told Thistle that as soon as he let the second fly, the demons would rush him. He really,
really
needed to start keeping more of these damned daggers on him. It was a mistake he was unlikely to get a chance to learn from.

The second dagger struck the demon just below its red throat, prompting a wet gurgle of pain. Left unremoved, Thistle was certain that dagger would force the demon to bleed out. He wished the kill had been cleaner, but hopefully, this would make a difference.

The group of monsters lurched forward now that he was unarmed, massive claws clacking in anticipation. Not that they’d need them; with their size they’d likely crush Thistle before he landed a strike.

An explosion of blue light erupted from the center of the group, engulfing all of them and washing a wall of cold over Thistle. When it cleared, each demon was coated in bits of ice, and none of them seemed as mobile or enthusiastic as before. It had been a cold spell, that was obvious, but it made Grumph’s seem like a brush with an ice block.

“Call the daggers,” said a familiar voice to his left. Sierva had appeared, though he had no idea when, and trace amounts of magical light still lingered about her.

“What?”

“Call the daggers. They’re enchanted to return to their sheaths,” she reminded him.

“I don’t know that I can do the whistle from memory,” Thistle admitted.

“The whistle was my signal. Just call them how you please. The magic will understand.”

A sharp sound rang out as the ice began cracking away, and the demons resumed their movements. Not having the luxury of time to doubt, Thistle did as he was told.

“Here, boys!”

Sure enough, the blades vanished from the demon’s hide and reappeared instantly in the sheaths at his side. This was a feature he could grow accustomed to. Thistle glanced back at his fellow competitor and noticed she was breathing hard.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a plan?”

“Hold them off until I can cast again,” she answered. “Spells like that still take a good bit out of me.”

“Aye,” Thistle replied. There was nothing more to be said. This was his duty, after all.

His dagger flew with unexpected precision, this time, taking the demon right in the center of its horrid throat. There was no death gurgle, for the blade had severed all the bits used to make sound. Instead, the beast merely flopped to the ground and shuddered uselessly as its blood muddied the dust around them.

Thistle whispered a few words under his breath and the first dagger was back in its sheath by the time the second took another demon in the stomach. Between the effects of the cold spell and the corpse of their friend, the remaining creatures were showing caution toward the gnome and the elf. It wouldn’t last forever, but at that moment, it was enough.

13.

The counterattack began with the adventurers, to the surprise of exactly no one who knew anything about them. The guards would have to make choices with the knowledge that their first job was defending the citizens of Appleram. Adventurers, however, were under no such moral obligations, and rushed into battle with the sort of enthusiasm one only finds in idiots, champions, and the unapologetically suicidal.

With a roar of excitement, they crossed the arena, arriving in time to lend Thistle and Sierva some much-needed support. Now, faced with targets that had to move in close to attack, the demons shifted their attention to this new prey, chopping and slicing with hellish glee. For a bit, it seemed like the beasts were hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched, the adventurers felling a second of the four in mere moments.

That was when the others arrived. From the stands burst four more of the large-clawed demons and nearly countless unfamiliar monsters scuttling along the ground. These low-slung, red-shelled creatures had eight legs, a nasty set of mandibles near the mouth, and three-foot-long tails with spear-like tips that nearly doubled their length. Unlike the clawed demons, these scuttlers drew less initial attention, moving beneath the feet of the adventurers and striking intermittently. Less than five minutes after the wave of scuttler demons emerged, the adventurers’ coordinated attack dissolved into a chaos of hacking, slashing, and stabbing amidst attacks from the ground coupled with the giant demons tearing through flesh. They continued to press on, injuring and eventually bringing down another clawed demon.

Without warning, four of the remaining large demons leapt into the air, landing on various sides of the mob and splitting the focus from a single melee to a multi-pronged attack. Had they not been ready for it, the adventurers might have taken too long to regroup, eventually costing them their lives. Thanks to Gabrielle and Grumph, though, they whirled on their attackers’ new positions, circling around the demons to split their attention. Bodies still fell at a faster rate than anyone wanted to see, but those left standing were bloodying the beasts right back.

A slight rumble was the only warning anyone received before the ground exploded upward, showering the arena in dirt, and hurling people and demons alike in various directions. From the gaping hole now at the center of the battle emerged a massive head that looked as though someone had merged a snake and a Minotaur, resulting in a reptilian, horned monstrosity. Dozens of thick, insect-like arms waved in the air from all sides of its armored body, each long enough to spear a human from twenty feet away and fling them to its waiting maw. This was a fact everyone learned firsthand as one unfortunate soul landed too close to it.

With that, all hope of strategy was gone, and the world dissolved into blood and chaos.

* * *

Grumph landed in a pile with four other humans. Two of the large demons came clattering down moments later, mere steps away from the adventurers. Few things will drive a man up from the ground faster than the prospect of certain death, and soon everyone was on their feet and as alert as if they were waiting for a nymph to walk by. Two of the humans, one wielding a set of small swords and one with a rapier, pressed a demon, while the other two, a pair so similar they might be brothers, attacked the other with axes in their hands. This left Grumph, the odd half-orc out, to determine which group to help.

The axe brothers were engaging their quarry directly, one drawing its attention while the other struck from behind. The rapier and dual-blade wielder were trying a different tactic, dancing out of the demon’s range, and only darting in for quick, shallow strikes. Both styles might keep them alive for a bit, but it would be hard to win with either.

So far, Grumph had cast four of the five spells. He’d learned that they conjured a blast of cold and ice, a small fireball, a glowing weapon that appeared in his hand and reshaped itself as he wished, and a pail of water. The ice would distract and annoy the demons, he’d seen that at the goblin camp, but fire was altogether worthless against anything from a fire-based realm. The weapon he could work with, but that spell took a lot out of him. He probably wouldn’t be able to cast much more if he tried that one.

Then, with a reflexive thrust, one of the demons managed to slash the rapier wielder across the gut, sending the thin man stumbling backwards. With a few whispered words and a quick gesture, Grumph cast his spell.

The pail of water materialized a few feet above the demon’s head, falling immediately and spilling its contents all over the monster. This distracted the demon so much that it was utterly unprepared when the metal pail landed upside down on its head, momentum wedging it in place. Its claws, horrible and deadly though they were, proved little help in yanking the pail free. Granted, with enough time, it surely would have pulled something off, but before it had a chance, Grumph finished casting his second spell.

A mighty
clang
filled the air as the glowing mallet clutched in Grumph’s meaty palms smashed into the pail and the head contained within. Metal bent inward with the blow, denting the pail and securing it to the monster’s head. With a few more blows and help from the dual-wielder, the demon was soon finished off, a slick slurry of blood dripping down from the still-stuck pail on what had once been a whole head.

Grumph adjusted his grip and turned to the next one. Magic was well and good, but only a fool ignored all the assets at their disposal. Besides, it was a magic weapon, so this counted as wizard’s work.

* * *

Gabrielle’s trajectory sent her into a large cluster of other adventurers, along with a sizable number of the clawed and scuttling demons. With no time to wonder just what she intended to do, Gabrielle whirled her axe around and charged a group of the smaller demons. Their long tail-blades clinked off her axe with a dull, tinkling sound, and they skittered away when she drew close. One was a bit too slow and she swung long, driving her own weapon’s blade through the thin carapace on its back. She heard a sickening splatter as the small demon was rent in two. With that, its legs ceased to scuttle.

“They’re weak,” Gabrielle called to her fellow warriors. “Fast but weak. They go down easy.”

The others nodded comprehension, some moving to assist her, while more dealt with what they perceived to be the greater threat: the clawed demons. One of her nearby assistants, an archer, judging from the confident way she held her bow, unleashed a flurry of arrows on the moving horde. Not every demon hit was killed, but they were at least slowed. Another at her aid was a dagger thrower, the man who’d made it to the final round with Thistle. Each blade he launched through the air pinned a scuttle demon to the ground. Their struggles stopped almost before the hilt finished quivering.

A different pair of adventurers joined Gabrielle in the melee, one wielding a halberd and the other, a staff. Halberd did ample damage, clearing the vermin away with pinpoint accuracy, while Staff laid down small spells that didn’t kill but certainly wounded. Gabrielle took up a defensive role, since her range was shorter. She kept the scuttle demons from swarming any of the others, often having to dash between spots in order to draw attention and keep the others safe.

The five of them worked seamlessly, teamwork fostered by the universal desire not to die. Within minutes, they’d cleared out over three-fourths of the scuttle demons and none of them had taken significant damage. That changed, not because of any failing on their part, but because of an ill-timed death on the other team.

A swordsman who had been part of flanking and containing the clawed demon missed his step, causing him to stumble. The demon pounced on this opportunity, cutting the man in half with a single motion, then racing forward to assist the Scuttles. Even if what was left got free, they would surely distract the adventurers fighting the Claws, allowing the demons to overtake the group.

This Claw was particularly smart: instead of attacking one of the people on the offensive, it opted to go for their only defensive member. Gabrielle, back turned as she swung her axe through another Scuttle’s body, never saw the monster coming. The only one who did was the dagger-thrower, momentarily turned around to grab more blades from his pack.

He moved on instinct, no time for consideration. With one hand, he whipped out a blade, aiming for the charging demon’s eye while his feet carried him forward to cut off the path to Gabrielle. Only one of his attempts succeeded.

A choked scream drew Gabrielle’s attention momentarily away and she swung around to see the dagger-thrower with a claw jutting out of his torso. The demon had impaled him and was now trying to shake the corpse loose. Its eyes glared at her as it swung its arm, flecks of blood flying all over the increasingly red ground.