Chapter 263 - Cursed Victory

I was very pleased with how this one turned out!

Bard’s tales always glorified battles. Even in Hump’s more grounded knowledge, they had seemed different. What he’d always failed to realise was the lack of control he had amidst such chaos.

Swords and spears were everywhere. It wasn’t just his enemies he had to worry about. Wherever he moved, he bumped into a shoulder, a shield, and if he wasn’t careful, something sharp. At times, he could barely shift his staff without striking someone, but at the same time if he took more than a moment for himself, the line got away from him, and he found himself isolated. That was when you got killed.

Smoke was thick in the courtyard, dragged in from the walls that now smoked with dragon fire. Thea’s Protection of the Wilderness was the only thing that maintained some clarity to the air, filtering smoke and demonic miasma alike.

Bodies fell around him. The smell of blood, decay, and other foulness was thick in the air. Hump’s eyes were wide, his heart racing. Fear flooded through him while adrenaline and Owalyn’s boon kept him alert and fighting. This level of slaughter was something he could never get used to. It wasn’t right. People weren’t meant to see death on this scale.

It was hard, gruelling chaos. For the most part, Hump relied on his defensive spells and Rock Shot, only resorting to his larger offensive spells like Fire Blast and Lava Coils when given the space to allow it. Fighting amongst so many people made that a rare opportunity. Instead, he focused on keeping people alive.

More undead arrived from the rear of Highgaze Fort. Larger, more powerful creatures arrived to bolster the line. Flashes of magic and steel filled the air, and all Hump could do was react to what was before him and cross his fingers nothing found his back.

***

Celaine sheltered in the doorway of the wall tower, just above the main gate. Along the walls to either side of her, hunters rained arrows down upon the courtyard and opposing walls. Most importantly, they controlled the skies. The giants were dead, and any flame throwing spirits were slain the instant they appeared. Dragons rules the air, and there was nothing a few skeletons could do about it, so long as Yunillia did not falter.

Celaine had forced herself to slow down. There were more efficient methods of dealing with the undead horde than her shadow arrows, and she was getting tired. The pool of Owalyn’s power was drying up, and it would take time for it to be restored. Instead, she tried to be effective with what she had left.

Necromancers, skeletal lords, and all sorts of monstrosities arrived through the rear gate that led around to the keep gates. They rushed forward without fear, and that arrogance was their end. Her arrows found them. Further to the left, two necromancers held the top of a wall tower, unleashing spells. They didn’t notice the dragon as it landed on them, tearing them to pieces.

Celaine ducked back as another flight of arrows hissed through the air, splattering the tower and walls like a hundred hailstones. To the right, someone screamed. Celaine rushed over, grabbing his shoulder and dragging the hunter into the shelter of the tunnel. He screamed from an arrow to the stomach. She knelt, reaching into a pouch at his belt and pulling out a healing potion.

“Drink,” she told him. She recognised him—one of the smithy’s apprentices, at least, a year ago he was.

He drunk greedily, falling back against the stone floor afterward and appearing more relaxed. The potion wouldn’t heal him, but it should keep him alive long enough for them to win this battle.

A bone troll charged through the gates, roaring and swinging around a club through both allies and enemies alike. Celaine drew another arrow, fuelling it with her essence. Most of its body showed no signs of weakness but a glint of red shone in its eye. She waited, watching for her moment. When it drew back its club, she loosed. The arrow pierced the creature’s skull, blasting it to pieces, sending it to the ground with only half a head. Dead, at least for now. Given time, it would rise again beneath the lich’s magic like the others. Like her friends and companions dying all around her.

All the more reason to win quickly.

The wind howled to her side as a shadow covered the wall. Elder Ashera landed atop Fendrir, the ancient, giant beast lurching forward and bellowing a thunderous roar.

“Make space for the dragons!” Elder Ashera roared. “Clear the gates! Bonded warriors, to Yunillia! To the Stormcaller!”

***

Shield, Fire Blast, Shield, Blast, Lava Coil, Shield… It was a constant rotation. Death was all around Hump, and he fought to stave it off with every fibre of his being. An arrow caught his cheek but he hardly flinched. Warm blood flowed from the wound as the cold of essence use became more pronounced. It was hardly his first wound. A skeleton had managed to club him in the chest with its rusty sword. The weapon had failed to piece his battle robes but he was fairly sure he’d broken a rib. Nothing a little Second Life couldn’t keep at bay, but the pain still throbbed with every breath.

“Make space!” Leif roared. “Hump, take out those archers to the left flank! Clear the area for dragons.”

Hump turned, taking careful aim with his staff. He clenched his jaw, struggling to find a moment. There was too much going on. He could barely even hold his place in the line amidst the mayhem.

“Move aside!” Hump roared.

“Forward!” Another hunter shouted.

The line shifted, space opening before him. Hump unleashed a raging blast of fire.

Wings beat the air as dragons landed behind him, swiftly taking their bonded and rising into the sky where they ascended toward the storm clouds above where Yunillia still fought. Hump gazed after them and sighed. He didn’t feel brilliant about the keepers leaving them alone on the ground—they were their strongest fighters—but he was just one part in a mass of people now. What he wanted didn’t matter, and only by taking out the leaders could this fight end.

Something blurred in Hump’s vision. There came a loud crash, like a mountain falling. The world spun as sounds drifted apart, become distorted echoes. Hump stumbled back, searching around in confusion, trying to find what had happened but only seeing blurred figures all around him. Something warm trickled down the side of his head and he rubbed at it with a hand. His fingers came away bloody.

“…Hump… You…” A familiar voice. Celaine was calling him?

He strained to hear it. The clammer of shields and swords surrounded him. Sound returned to him like waking from a dream. Banging metal, screaming men and women, pained howls and furious roars—

“Hump, behind you!” Celaine shouted.

Hump whirled around as a ghoul leapt at him. Without even thinking Hump swept his staff up, wielding it as a quarterstaff as he’d practiced with Dylan. He channelled Parry Shield into the end as he battered the creature aside, tossing it across the courtyard with his new dragon blooded strength.

The creature scrambled for its feet but Celaine was there, the green trail of Spring Step following her. She had Bloodshadow in hand. It wrapped her in a fog of darkness as she jammed it into the ghoul’s chest, piercing its heartstone before coming to Hump’s side.

“You alright?” she asked as she cradled the wound on his face with her off hand. “That was a nasty hit.”

Hump touched his head again and their fingers brushed momentarily as she pulled away. Pain swelled up from a fleshy, tender lump. “I’ll be okay. What you doing down here?”

“Out of arrows,” she said.

“Shadow arrows?” Hump said.

Celaine shook her head. “Too tired. This is all I’ve got left in me.”

Hump nodded. “Then we’ll stay together.”

He was nearing his limit too. He’d restricted himself to his most efficient spells, relying on Rock Shot and the surrounding scraps of rubble to take down individuals while focusing on defence. His body replenished its reserved far faster than normal, but he could still sense cold seeping into him.

“Watch out!” came terrified screams.

The green demon, Pestilus, fell into the courtyard amidst a hail of arrows. They riddled him like quills of a porcupine, and it squealed in pain as it writhed amongst the line of Drakalyn’s hunters. Slime leaked from its body, miasma filled the air sending men and women scrambling back in coughing fits. Before Hump’s eyes, disease transformed them. Angry black boils formed on their faces and exposed skin, bulging and contorting flesh. They fell to the ground groaning in agony.

In seconds, the arrows were pushed from Pestilus’ skin, its flesh reforming with the aid of powerful regeneration magic. It cackled gleefully at the death it had caused.

Fortunately, Hump had something just for a creature like it.

As the crowd retreated, Hump levelled his staff and called upon his essence. Tendrils of bronze burst from his staff, condensing into a ball before him. A dark shard formed there, smaller than before. A sliver of its usual size, but every bit of essence and intent he could fit was crammed in there.

“Titan’s Wrath,” Hump snapped.

The obsidian spike burst forward in an explosion of bronze. It pierced Pestilus in its hideous chest, digging deep into the creature. It screamed at first, but then something changed. Its eyes widened until Hump thought they would fall out. An ear piercing, agonised scream erupted from its mouth. It flailed in panic as ripples of bronze essence surged through its body, gleaming beneath its translucent skin.

More arrows pierced it, but now, its regeneration failed. The creature died screaming, its body collapsing into green membrane and a puddle of goop. Cheers ran through the crowd and a smile broke Hump’s face.

Victory was close. He could sense it. One of the lich’s underlings was dead, and more would follow.

“Quickly,” Celaine said, hurrying to where the wounded lay.

Hump followed, forming a Shield before them as Celaine and other hunters helped to drag the wounded back. Their diseased faces only grew worse, but if anyone could save them, it would be the Chosen healers and shamans near the gate. People would die. People always died, but then the battle would be over. The fight would be won.

His mistake was clear to him in an instant. The Wizard’s Law: whatever you hope to happen, won’t happen. For just one moment, Hump had dared to hope.

Above, Yunillia’s domain vanished. The storm clouds faded, the lightening stopped, yet her pressure descended with even more weight than before. It pressed down upon Hump with such forced he had to summon his own will to resist.

Standing atop the keep, mounted upon her dragon, Itris, Yunillia was poised with her spear through the heart of the woman Tharnok had referred to as Aphella. Yet even as she gasped, the woman’s face shook from side to side in a blur. She did not scream out in pain, but in fear.

“No! Master, no! Not me!” she cried, even as blood oozed from her lips. “I am your loyal servant. I am your greatest student. You cannot. Pl—”

Her faced changed and so did her presence. A presence that sent chills down Hump’s spine. One he couldn’t fail to recognise.

Lich Queen Irila laughed upon Yunillia’s spear, somehow taking over the body of Aphella. The keeper stared at her in shock, unsure what had happened. She tried to pull her spear back but Irila gripped it, holding it in place.

“Why do you laugh?” Yunillia roared. “We have slain your soldiers. We have claimed our fort!”

“I have a hundred more armies. A million more soldiers. They do not tire, they do not sleep, and they will come. The bones of a thousand wars lies across these lands and they obey me! One day, you will too. For today, I leave you this gift.”

She convulsed, the pressure of her soul exploding with such force that Hump had to steady himself against his staff. Around him, others fell to the ground, collapsing defenceless before her aura alone. A deep, purple evil spread from Irila’s body and up Yunillia’s spear. The keeper tried to release it, but there was no escaping her now. She had her right where she wanted.

“I curse you with every fibre of this body, Yunillia Stormcaller, Chosen of Owalyn.” Her voice resonated with such force the entire world shook with it. “I look forward to the day that you are mine.”

The pressure vanished. The light disappeared. Itris lunged forward, snapping her jaws closed around the lich’s head, decapitating her, yet there was no need. Her body faded into dust, leaving just Yunillia and Itris atop the keep, surrounded by her dragons.

The keeper stared at the spot where the lich had just been for a moment longer, then turned Itris so that she faced the courtyard. She stared down at them with a confidence that spoke nothing of what had just happened. Her face was not pained, her body unharmed.

“Highgaze Fort is ours!” Yunillia roared. “The lich may send her armies, but they shall be met with our arrows, our spears, and our dragons!”

It was only then that Hump realised the undead throughout the fort had collapsed, their power faded.

“What was that?” Celaine whispered. “I’ve never felt power like that.”

“I don’t know,” Hump said. “But I’m willing to bet it’s nothing good.”

“The Stormcaller!” Leif roared.

All around the courtyard, others joined the cry. Ado, Vamir, Kelec, Eva—so many familiar faces that were still alive, yet somehow Hump did not feel like they’d achieved a victory. Many had died, and as Irila had said, they were just one army of many.

One day, would they be her minions too?