Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3) (44 page)

"No way, I've only got eyes for you," Tilly shook her head. "We'll get married as soon as I become a succubus!"

As if I didn't have enough problems,
I thought, spurring the razorback to a trot.
Then again, I wish my problems were limited to affairs of the heart,
I smiled, and held the black-haired demoness tighter.

Chapter 18

The rainclouds over our heads were of a dull-grayish color. As the wind picked up, it cleared the sky and raised clumsy waves over the surface of the lake. Far out west lightning streaked through the sky, followed by thunderous peals that drowned out the ringing of the alarm bells and the banging of metal-reinforced wood on Xantarra's gates. It was as if nature herself was objecting to the vulgar villainy she was bearing witness to.

Having lost its general, the undead army had predictably commenced with a head-on assault. The gray quadrants of infantry, each numbering five hundred skeletal warriors, stood perfectly still dangerously close to the city walls, ready to pour into the city as soon as those eighteen-foot iron-bound gates fell.

"Reece, three fireballs high into the air at five second intervals," I commanded, my eyes fixed on the fifty-foot battering ram that had crawled right up to the gates.

"Elnar, I need everyone at maximum readiness. The target are enemy mages and archers," I pointed at the four rows of skeletons hiding behind the main host, and chuckled.

Everything was a bit too neat. The enemy's ranged threat was waiting for us right where we'd put them. And Gorm wasn't being reckless. What was this, blind luck or the mysterious prophecy at work? Why had I been able to intercept the catapults? If that hadn't happened, the city would have taken heavy losses already. Truly, in a virtual reality, where luck was measured in digits and percentages, albeit hidden from the players, and even boasted a goddess as its patron, strange happenings and developments might not be quite so strange. I couldn't find any credible explanation other than that the silver fox, which was the goddess of fortune's favorite form when appearing before the local denizens, had favored me today. Yet again. I glanced askew at my third epic item, winked at the black wolf with menacing red eyes scowling back at me from its matte surface, and examined its stats. Yet again.

Granite Greatshield.

Left hand. Shield.

Durability: 3795/4000.

Epic.

Minimum level: 180.

Armor: 1000.

+100 to strength.

+250 to constitution.

+3.6% to critical hit chance with a physical attack.

95% absorption of blocked physical attacks.

80% absorption of blocked magic attacks.

97% absorption of impact from inertia of all blocked attacks.

Weight: 55 lbs.

Crafted by Master Drovlan for Prince Roudez.

Triangular in shape and roughly one yard in length, the shield came with comfortable leather straps on the inner side. The raised surface along the edges bore a silver engraving. Shields like this weren't especially rare even before the patch. Any decently-sized self-respecting clan had outfitted their main tank with something like this. And for good reason! The laws of physics in the game yielded only to magic, and with this monstrosity you had a decent chance of keeping your footing against almost any physical attack, even that of a god. All I needed now was to convince myself. Being not of this world, I might have a hard time blindly trusting binary code over primal instincts. After all, when a twelve-foot blade is flying right at you, it's only logical to want to get the hell out of the way.
Let's wait and see, I suppose,
I grunted.
I'm not ready to take on the gods just yet.
The shield wasn't scalable, but the absorption of impact from inertia made that irrelevant. Hell, I would carry it even if it were of common quality. And nearly four percent to crit was nothing to sneeze at either. All my previous shields blocked at most fifty percent magic, whereas this one blocked a whopping eighty percent! Good times!

Of the remaining seven epics, Aritor won a decent pair of tank gloves and helm, Reena got a staff, Reece a ring and a charm, Elnar a pair of boots, and Vaessa some shoulder pads. In a truly comical twist, the magus had initially refused to accept them because the pads broadened her shoulders, and—and these were her words, not mine—why would any woman would want to look like a man?! Unsurprisingly, Reece made sure to put in his two cents, suggesting that, in the interests of maintaining pleasing visual proportions, his beloved auntie should look into broadening her rear end to match her ample new shoulders. It took all of my command authority to save the reckless joker from the Mistress of Death's vengeance. In the end, reason prevailed and Vaessa grudgingly accepted the pads, while the mage hastened out of sight to escape the necromancer's righteous wrath.

Of the many rares dropped by the bosses, only two recipes merited special attention. One was an enchanting recipe for one-handed weapons with a two percent chance to freeze the target with a physical attack, and the other a blacksmithing recipe for horse plate armor. Unfortunately, my existing enchantment kept me from applying another one, and Gloom just wasn't a horse. It appeared that the poor bastard would have to endure until we reached elven or orcish lands. I'd already tried commissioning the local smiths to forge any kind of armor for my furry friend, but to no avail. The armor either fell off the boar or severely hindered his movement, and eventually I gave up. In theory, it should be possible for a blacksmith to deliver a customized order, especially one that was fairly simple. Sadly, a steel suit of armor for my oinking rhinoceros was anything but a simple order.

A typical suit of armor for a horse comprised five pieces: chanfron for the face, criniere for the neck, peytral for the chest, croupiere for the hind quarters, and flanchards for the flanks. But the razorback, according to Aritor, would need no less than eleven pieces, and it would probably take at least a week to design, tweak and ultimately produce one viable piece of armor. Just one of eleven. So, despite the fact that I had over fifty smiths at my disposal, this project was still out of reach for the time being; moreover, I sincerely doubted that demon smiths could pull it off for the simple reason that boars weren't native to Demon Grounds. Now, if I had a lizard for a mount, that would be a different matter. (By the way, the boss had actually dropped a rare quality five-piece horse armor set, and if only we had enough time, steel and mithril, I would have my entire half-legion of mounts rocking top grade armor.) Finally, Gloom wasn't just some ordinary hog, but an epic razorback for Hart's sake. His hide and bristle were twice as tough as a horse in plate armor, and the two of us were pretty good at tanking even without any armor on the boar.

The final and most interesting item to drop from Korg—not counting my shield, of course—was the Symbol of Suonu. The world really was changing if the raid boss of a city had chosen to depart from his domain. And I suspected I knew exactly who had forced him to do so. The only thing I found odd was that those bastards in gray robes weren't anywhere near his army. Was something keeping them in the city? I would know soon enough either way. Just as soon as we decimated some five thousand skeletons, I'd get right on it.

The besieged city responded to our signal with three fireballs loosed in the air. That made me chuckle, and I glanced askance at Elnar's tense face.

"There are fifteen hundred soldiers in the city! And of those, at least five hundred are soldiers!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"So?" I grunted.

"Why isn't there anyone on the walls?! They would be trading at least five enemy units for every one of theirs!"

"I told Gorm through the courier to remove his troops from the walls."

"But why? At this point Xantarra can repulse the assault on her own. Especially if we engage the undead, Gorm can take his troops outside the city and hit them in the rear!"

"First of all, I don't plan on trading any units—neither mine nor Gorm's, not one to five, not even one to one hundred. That's a terrible exchange rate in my book. Second of all, I want the attackers' mages and archers standing behind the main host so that we can take them out all at once."

"You've got another plan brewing?" James shook his head.

"Simple. In a few minutes the Xantarrians will open the gates. The square behind the gates is fully barricaded, so the skeletal infantry won't be able to harm the archers on top of the barricades without dismantling them. We'll wait for the first thousand warriors to enter the city before hitting their archers and mages."

"Why wait? Can you explain that to me? Why not hit them right away?! A good portion of the undead will break into the city anyway!"

"Not necessarily. And besides, if we attack right away, their ranged units will have time to turn around and fire off a salvo. I don't want to risk anyone, don't you understand? A dozen errant arrows can mean another life, and I've had enough losses already," I said.

"What makes you think this salvo won't happen if the undead burst into the city first?" James pressed, unrelenting.

I understood where he was coming from. The tifling was spoiling for a fight, and deemed a five to one exchange more than fair. But I didn't. Whether or not I would capture Craedia, when all was said and done Gilthor's three provinces—Suonu, Callehzia and Xantarra—would need to be rebuilt, repopulated and, if need be, defended against unwanted guests. And I had precious few troops with which to do all that. So no, I wasn't going to trade my demons for the bloody undead. And yes, this was yet another of many instances of my acting in ways unbecoming a proper leader, in addition to leaving La-Kharte unguarded, not bothering to inquire about Gilthor's problems or her coffers, and tasking a simple captain of the city guard with governing three whole provinces. Hell, I was too busy to worry about appearances. I was racing through the script like a skier down a giant slope, only I was a shitty skier. I cared more for the gear and morale of my fighters than sizes of estates and taxes. All that would come later. For now, I was focused on keeping every one of my demons alive. Recent history proved that my brains more than made up for my lack of gaming experience. As for James, he still couldn't fathom how we'd only lost ten soldiers up to this point. Surely he thought that the goddess of fortune herself visited me every night, and who was I to disappoint him?

Pointing at the battering ram, I said:

"Once in the city, that entire horde of undead will aggro on Gorm's archers, and won't bat an eye when we hit them from behind. Just wait and see."

"What does 'aggro' mean?"

"James, after we've finished our main battles, we will sit and have a long chat about the laws of this world. Until then, do your job and lead my army. The gates are about to part."

"Aye aye, commander," Elnar nodded, and spurred his horse back to our host.

"Don't forge to call me for that chat," Vaessa said with a smile, still standing to my left. "I've figured out some of these things by now, but I fear there are many more."

"I wouldn't dare to exclude you," I assured her, and motioned toward the city. "It begins."

After yet another blow of the battering ram, the eighteen-foot gate leaves shook and began to part with an ear-splitting screech. The next blow left one of the leaves hanging on a single hinge, or whatever they used for fastening devices in this world. The nearest infantry quadrants whipped out their weapons and began to move, congesting at the gates which were becoming a choke point.

"First we take out the archers and mages, then we regroup and finish off the rest!" Elnar shouted, standing up in his stirrups to my right. My colonel then turned to me, winked and lowered his visor with a clang. "Century! Lances ready! Prepare to gallop... Attack!"

Let's see what the undead peons are worth without their commanders. The death knights leading the divisions don't count,
I thought as I set Gloom into a gallop.
Get ready to bite the dust, bitches.

A familiar wolf's howl soared over the Xantarrian valley, as bone-chilling as ever. Feeling like my strength had doubled, I picked up the army's battle song while shifting into combat form, and activated Gloom's Charge. The beast gunned forward, pressing me into the back of the saddle, and easily skirted the getare ahead of us. My target was the mini boss—a lich at the head of the enemy squad. I didn't bother checking his HP bar—Infernal Rage made that irrelevant. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed my archers and mages fan out, and moments later the boar and I sliced through the ranks of enemy archers like a hot knife through butter, sending skeletal bodies flying in all directions. The undead officer spun around in time to face me, and the tip of my lance struck not at his back but at his chest, covered in leather armor. Crit! Gloom tossed the lich's broken body aside with his tusks, and the boar and I suddenly found ourselves out in the open, past the enemy ranks with nothing to do.

You have gained a level! Current level: 193.

You have 1 talent point to allocate.

Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

You have 3 stat points to allocate.