(Path of The Dragon Mage: Nomad) 54. Vs. Ratkin (Patreon)

"That's the signal, boys!" The lead guard called over the sounds of fighting and ratkin squealing. "Back undercover! And remember, don't let that rain touch you unless you want your balls melted off!"

The retreat back from the balcony was supposed to be orderly, but some of the men, and a few of the fearsome women who had been called up to replace those who had fallen, all had bite and scratch wounds. No one moved quickly, and every living soul was suffering from deep exhaustion.

And still, the damnable ratkin were climbing up the sides of the walls to pour in over the top of the balcony. They hadn't had a break from fighting the things in hours.

Roan hadn't been privy to this so-called plan. But, if he knew Corvus, it was likely unnecessarily convoluted and relied on magic when a straight blade would do.

Somehow, he had managed to avoid serious injury. His arms burned with fatigue after swinging his war hammer back and forth, and the head of the hammer was crusted in fur and ratkin blood.

It wasn't enough. There seemed to be no end to the demons. And even though these were the smaller ones — the lower levels — they were vicious enough to take advantage of a lucky opportunity.

One guard had been gutted right in front of Roan. The man had to be dragged back into the tower, holding in his own stomach.

Roan hoped that when he went down, his death would be a lot easier.

The ratkin, sensing their retreat, advanced en masse. They poured over the sides of the balcony, like a reverse waterfall.

Suddenly, Roan and the others were hard-pressed not to let any of them pass the lines and into the tower beyond.

Once Roan reached the inside of the tower, he turned, lifting his hammer.

"Give me room!" he snarled, pushing a slow guard to the side to bring his hammer down on the body of a ratkin. The creature smashed like a rotten melon.

Gwen and Corvus grew stronger with every enemy they killed.

Roan just felt more tired.

Suddenly, there was the patter of rain on the exterior walls. The ratkin stuck out on the exposed portion of the wide balcony squealed with pain as the water landed on them. Patches of hair melted off their backs, and the unlucky ones who'd been doused had flesh melt off their bones. A greenish haze rose from them all, knee-high to a man, but choking the vicious little animals.

Within the space of a few moments, more ratkin died than he had managed to kill all night long.

It's not fair, he thought bleakly.

A tiny seed of thought that had taken root in his shattered heart.

I want that power for myself.

The deadly rain stopped within a few minutes, but the lingering low poisonous haze kept the ratkin back and gave the men time to rest.

Suddenly, one of the guards cried out and pointed as great wings swept by overhead.

"Is that the prince’s dragon?" one asked.

"No, you dolt. His is a white one," said another.

"It's been growing. I saw it with my own eyes. Only as big as a cart today, now twice that tonight. Maybe it can change colors, too.”

"It's not Corvus's dragon," Roan said. "That's the son of a bitch that brought the demons here."

A couple of the towners snorted, and more than a few looked down their noses. But Roan and his hammer had earned enough respect that no one outright challenged him.

Roan didn't care. He stood ready.

And then… Every damn green thing started to grow. And grow.

Taking a chance that no more deadly rain was going to fall, Roan peaked his head out and looked down. What he saw made him swallow. Hard.

He turned to see every eye on him. Men and women, some three times his age, who'd fought shoulder to shoulder with him over the last few hours.

The guard captain said, "Report, soldier."

Soldier. He kind of liked the sound of that.

"Get every able hand up here, send the non-combatants and the children to the middle of the towers. A whole damn forest is sprouting down there and the ratkin are riding the trees and vines up. We're about to be overwhelmed." Roan added a belated, "Sir."

To his shock, the man visibly swallowed and then, steeling himself, strode past Roan out to the open and looked out. He didn't seem to notice that the bottom of his shoes started to smoke from the acid rain.

He looked down, saw exactly what Roan reported, and turned to bellow orders.

I could do that, Roan thought.

Then, in the next few minutes, he was too busy to think of anything else other than survival.

* * *

The vines arrived minutes later — barely enough time for the captain to get everyone organized. Men surged forward with axes to try to cut them down, but the branches suckered onto the railings and walls like they had suckers attached to them... some of them did, Roan saw. These were not normal trees.

The ratkin flooded up the new pathways straight onto the balconies. Some managed to break into windows and make the leaps into towers. The foliage protected them from acid rain — and from the sound of dragon bellows, Corvus was too occupied to bring any more — and the tree-lined pathways kept them off the poisonous ground.

Roan and the rest of the defenders found themselves pushed back. The charging ratkin was every bit as bad as the alleyway had been. Roan brought down his hammer and found ratkin clinging to it on the way more. Some swarmed up his legs — one went up his pants until he smacked it away.

Men were pulled out of the defending line by larger beasts and swarmed, torn to pieces within moments.

There were shouts from behind them. Roan had no illusion that they'd stopped every ratkin from getting past. No doubt some of the civilians were fighting too—

"Stand aside!" screamed a cultured voice.

A blast of air accompanied the voice, knocking Roan into the guard captain. They both fell to the ground.

A man in fine robes of a noble stepped past and pushed out his hands. Another blast of air picked up dozens of ratkin and sent them, screaming, down the long drop outside.

Behind the nobleman was a tiny woman in a sapphire blue dress. She swept an arm and bits of rock detached itself from stone masonry to pelt and bash the larger ratkin.

Behind her was another man who bade the acidic water to wash the remaining balcony clean.

The nobles had arrived. They wielded the elements every bit as ruthlessly as in the stories Roan had heard as a child.

Outside there he heard the battle scream of a stallion. NightShade flashed past the open window, galloping on moonbeams. Gwen, on his back, loosed arrow after arrow on the rat queens below.

People gasped and headed to the window to look out and point. Roan stayed in place, leaning on his hammer.

"The yellow dragon's flying away!" one yelled. "He's running!"

That sent up a general cheer, and the nobles renewed their efforts to defend the towers. Exhausted, the rest of the guard stayed back to defend in case any of the rats broke through.

It didn't seem likely. Roan and the rest of the guards had done the bulk of the work, but the magic users had saved the day.

He started in place as the captain clapped him on the shoulder. "You did good today, kid. Say, you ever thought of joining the guard?"