The Battle (17 page)

Fifty portal arches opened with a deafening roar. Their glow was like the Northern Lights in the skies of a mid-latitude kingdom. The space around them gave off horrid sounds as it became deformed, succumbing to a new anomaly with the properties of the Bermuda Triangle.

The fifteen-thousand-strong enemy army waiting in ambush came down on us like a ton of steel. A sudden attack is always costly. But when you’re outnumbered ten to one, it is certain death.

"Keep your positions! Close the ranks around the flags! Ryazanists – get back behind the walls!"

But what positions?!
I thought. The radar showed a continuous sea of red drowning the scarce patches of green.

"Save the machines! Give the wizards time for gate spells!"

But it was no use. Those of us who’d managed to form a pitiful line or merely stand back to back were now simply hoping to make a great last stand or to see another miracle from the First Priest.

Our golem escort was being wasted crazy fast. Dozens of blanket spells cast over them prevented any and all evacuation attempts. Poisonous clouds of different hues, magic and alchemy flames, and meteorite and ice showers rained down on their heads. The casters must have thought themselves raid bosses right then.

The number one goal of the ambush was to wipe out our main attack force – our precious storm and siege golems which had been gleaned from all over the world, and whom Durin had so skillfully upgraded.

"SOS! Calling the whole Alliance! Suicide mission – golem rescue! Analyst, relay golem coordinates. Golems: get into groups, retreat to the dome’s protection! Ryazan – max out dome shield radius!"

One of our wizzies had managed a cast: a lonely portal popped shut as it dragged a beaten golem home. What an epic win! Outstanding concentration, medal-worthy.

Personal immunities had nothing to do with it: most of individual shields helped only to flee for one’s life or engage in short-range combat. No magic could have gone unpunished, we were so out of balance.

I struggled to perform the much-needed miracle. Drawing up a hotchpotch of forces in my soul, I felt my spine freeze until it felt like a wooden post. I fired a stream of black flame at the thousand Chinese who clung like ants to the languidly moving golems.

The flame punched quite a hole in the wave of attackers, but it failed to reach the golems. A hundred Chinese were reduced to ashes – a change that was hardly noticed. I groaned as I straightened up with a creak. A fifteen-foot-tall steel body hit the ground far away. The ground shook. A huge ball of flame exploded – Gimmick’s goodbye – a non-emergency self-destruction of the Power Crystal.

After that, I could no longer steer my troops. The enemy had found our headquarters. More portals opened, showering us with their elite invasion army and an odd-looking surprise: a giant ark carried by two mighty ogres.

These 300-level warriors of immense proportions barely noticed the vain attack attempts of our guards, trampling right over them. Clenching my fists so hard that my skin almost popped, I grudgingly gave the hostages permission to commit suicide.

In a second, a great wave of panicked messages flooded the staff channel. It turned out that none of the divine abilities were working.

A hundred of our guards melted away like butter in a frying pan. Most of them were taken alive, their limbs brutally broken as they were tied up and tossed into bags around the weird ark.

Voice commands were not an option: the multi-layered poison cloud resulting from dozens of variegated spells burned my lungs and stung my eyes. Weakness, freezing, and stun auras whirled around my legs like smoke.

The she-elves formed a tight circle around me. These assassins weren’t great in open combat. Their strength was their stealth and the enemy’s weakest casters.

Snowie stood by me like an indestructible mountain. Being outnumbered by 300-level foes didn’t diminish his sense of duty, and certainly didn’t take away his armor from Aulë and his tank gun blessed with the power of three gods. But the whole Fortress of War scenario was just a matter of time and the enemy’s desire to take us alive.

We had to defend our men no matter what. We had more pragmatic reasons for this besides friendship and clan honor: the senior officers knew too much. Overpowered by the unknown ark and incapable of suicide, they could give the enemy way too much valuable intel.

But what could I do?! My Divine Spark was nearly depleted. But I did have a decent supply of Faith Points to fall back on. I activated the spell and
willed
with all my might to help my captured fighters in any way I could.

Quest alert! New quest created: Brotherhood of War. Faith Point Expenditure: 1700 points.

Save the captive clanmates.

Time limit: none. Quest status: ongoing, active.

Rewards vary:

Gold: 0.05% from the Priest treasury. Limit: 1000 coins.

Faith points: random, determined by difficulty. Limit: 500 points.

XP: 0.5% of the rescued player’s XP. Limit: one level.

Bonus modifiers:

Rescue at the Cost of Life: death within 60 seconds after mission completion.

Hope restored: prisoner held captive for more than 1 week.

Combo-rescuer: 2+ players rescued per hour.

I growled, irritated by the spell’s uselessness, and waved away the elongated quest interface, ignoring the blinking "modify mission" option.

And just in time: behind the she-elves, I saw the Chinese dragging away the Analyst’s oddly short body.

Meeting my glance, he instantly caught on and challenged me to a duel. He always was a quick thinker.

I accepted and quickly fired my Destructive Touch at his legless form. Minus over 3000 HP – more than enough for my wounded mate.

Respawn in the Crypt, smartass!
I thought.
Like hell I’ll let you fight!

Quest completion alert! The Brotherhood of War quest completed!

Children of the Night stick together! Senior clan officer saved!

Reward: 1000 gold, 500 Faith Points, XP.

Well, anything you want done well you should do yourself. The idea was to stay alive: what was a mere unpleasantry for most meant a meeting with Lloth for me. Her one-year term hadn’t yet passed, and I had already abused her gift, having broken the Spider Dagger and bringing my factious relationship with her down to Hated Bastard status.

Whipping out my staff, I produced the ever-hungry blade, its demonic emanations making those around me shudder.

Let the fun begin,
I thought as I passed an order via clan chat,

"Silver Legion: portal your asses over here! Free the hostages, then seize or destroy the ark! Keep the portal open! Get the dragons and anyone else you can find to stand guard on our side!"

I counted down the seconds before the portal opened, nervously tapping my foot and frowning when I saw another enemy wave rushing at us from beneath the walls. It looked like my warriors had all been taken out.

My private channel gave a ping. Skimming through my inbox, I spat with irritation: when it rains, it pours.

A Tianlong fortress lookout was reporting to me.

About nine hundred feet from the dead dragon, a Chinese army of five thousand had deployed. Judging by their formations and machines, they were planning a full-fledged assault. Siege ladders and a giant ram to knock out the ancient skull’s teeth could be seen among their ranks.

Suddenly, our calculations of the enemy forces made sense. The Chinese put all their cards on the table.

"Respawned warriors to man Tianlong's fortress!"

Five thousand, pah!
I thought.
They’ll be eating dust.
Tianlong regeneration rates exceeded almost all one-time damage. The enemies could not fit through the gaps in the walls, so they were restricted to ladders and ropes. The bone walls would absorb any magic with great pleasure. At least any long-range magic.

So the battle would be like old times: brutal hand-to-hand combat on the castle walls. They’d try to climb up and we would hack them to pieces. Steel versus steel. The ancient techniques of the Middle Ages would work here: a hundred warriors hiding in the castle would be enough to hold off a thousand attackers. At least in theory.

The portal closed behind me. I grinned:
Let's play our trump cards!

Lifting my staff up to the gray skies, I opened my mouth and instantly had a fit of coughing, yet managed to cry out, "Slaughter them, guys! Follow me!"

I charged, becoming the tip of the blade aimed at the hostages. Behind me the Silver Legion unfolded its roaring wings.

The Chinese were impressed. They eased off and even backed up a bit to form a crooked wall before the hostages. The rear fighters fidgeted behind their backs: they began to transport the kicking hostages to the place where they thought a portal would open.

Hurry up!
I saved time by ducking under the spears, all of which missed me. Chopping someone’s leg off, I used my mass times velocity to knock a bulky guy out of the way. My armor cracked. Or my shoulder bones. That would explain the nasty sensations.

The enemy was fast. The deadly steel was already reaching for me.

Allegro!
I sped up again. A red web of popped eye vessels distorted my view. The dance of battle intoxicated me, entrancing. It shut off my mind, leaving me with only instincts and the tempo of the fight.

I spun and almost touched the ground as the pink blade drew a full circle. Severed legs kept piling up. Only Snowie, who was following right behind me, somehow managed to jump up out of the way every time.

The stumps had merely begun to spout fountains of blood. The enemy warriors bent over, losing balance as their losses slowly dawned on them.

The action made me twist in a funny way and threw me at the enemy blades. It was no easy task to stick to the course in a zone teeming with sharp steel.

My instincts told me to let my armor take a few blows, to slash in two a particularly aggressive katana, and to sacrifice my thigh, which I shamefully allowed to be pierced by a slowly approaching crossbow bolt.

At last, I broke through. I wished I could hit the enemy from behind. But the portal was already appearing up ahead. The bound hostages rolled on the grass, grappling with the enemy. These were quite a challenge, at least for those whose Strength hadn’t reached a few hundred yet.

I flung the staff at the blasted portal wiz. Missed. Fortunately the demonic nature of the artifact helped me out: the adamant blade sharply bent in midair and sliced off the wiz’s head as he stared in surprise.

Presto! Charge!
The battle dance tore my tendons. I had no need to speed up that much, but all self-control was lost. The drunkard drinks until he falls.

The Chinese hostage guards froze in awkward stances. The air felt so dense that it was hard to move. Ignoring it, I began to fight. I tried to deal lighter blows so as not to break my own bones.

My soccer-style kicks left spine-deep holes in my enemies’ bodies. Precise hooks and uppercuts broke their necks and knocked off their jaws.

I snatched up my staff, and with a surgeon’s precision slashed a few belts off. Then waved away the quest completed message.

This is taking too long,
I thought.
Over fifty hostages. I will drop before I get a third of them free.
And thousands are approaching from beneath the castle walls. A few hundred demons won’t stop them.

I froze for a second. My steaming armor made the air boil, distorting my view.
The ark!
I will destroy it. The boys will free themselves by suicide.

I glanced around, smiled insidiously, then charged at the ogres with the heavy load on their backs.

Suddenly, a hand-to-hand monk swiftly appeared from behind the massive slowpokes. A
Battle Master. Another speedy ass capable of insane acceleration to deal with. And I’m already exhausted.

I stuck out my chin defiantly and lifted up my staff. The pink blade reflected in the Chinese monk’s eyes. He instantly pictured all the likely outcomes of the upcoming fight and realized he would not get a clean victory – he knew the adamant would reach him no matter what.

The monk slightly bowed his head and stepped aside, admitting defeat and allowing me near the ark that he guarded.

I nodded gratefully, then wrung my soul out like wet laundry. My heart was beating to the blinking light of an "empty tank" alarm.

Slipping past the monk, I mentally apologized as I scraped his sole clad in a dragon skin sandal with the tip of my blade.

I will make it up to you. Forgive me, warrior, but my men are on my heels, and I know you will tear them up like blind kittens.

I kept running.

Parcours!
I hit the ogre’s knee, then I bounced off like a rubber ball. Several feet up in the air, I pushed myself off the second ogre’s back.

I landed on the ark. Ignoring the complex locks, I slashed right through the decorated roof like a can opener. I paused for a second, staring at the huge yellow skull of a three-eyed titanide within.
So they got their hands on the relics of an ancient god.