Chapter 127 - Bandit Warlock (Patreon)

“Get it together, Alisha,” the spearman snapped. The boy whimpered in his grip as he dragged him back toward the woman. “Come on, woman!”

She didn’t respond though. She stood huddled, leaning heavily against her staff, her spine curled. Hump could sense the essence coming from her. He could feel it on his skin—dark and wrong—it made the hairs along his spine stand on end.

“Shit,” Hump muttered. “I’m almost certain she’s a warlock.”

“What?” Celaine hissed. “What do we do? Shall I shoot?”

“No!” Bud snapped. “He’ll kill the kid.”

“He’s going to kill the kid anyway,” Celaine said.

“We can negotiate,” Dylan said. “Our priority should be to save lives, not take them.”

The encampment had come to an unnatural pause. Many of the women and children had fled into the forest in the chaos, and those that hadn’t were hiding. The screaming of those Hump had hit with Burning Wisps had stopped, but two men were still groaning, Celaine’s arrows in their chests. The other bandits were hesitant, seemingly as afraid of the female wizard as the party of adventurers. Hump recognised that fear in their eyes. They looked ready to bolt. But for every second they gave them, it was time for them to gather their wits. They had to act quickly. They had to…

Hump felt a tugging sensation on his soul from the struggling warlock. It wasn’t an attack— more like a new sense. He staggered, catching his balance on his staff, then stared at her. He went cold as he heard a familiar voice, so quiet, it was barely a whisper.

“You can’t just stand there.” Lucille’s voice.

“We can’t just stand here,” Hump said, refraining from looking around for her. She’s not really there, he reassured himself.

“Stop your whispering,” the spearman shouted, his voice frantic. He shook the boy by the collar. “Don’t try anything funny.” He tilted his head around slightly and addressed the other bandits. “The rest of you, stop acting like wenches and get yourselves together. There’s only four of ‘em.”

The bandits didn’t listen, stepping further back from the woman. Hump could sense her essence thickening.

“Something’s wrong, Carl,” one of them said. “She’s not right.”

Hump could see the spearman starting to panic.

“What did you do?” he shouted. “What’s happening to her?”

“You know what she is, don’t you, Carl?” Hump said to the man. “A warlock. A soul consuming user of dark magic.” Hump thought of the three men that had been tied up and tortured. The reason now seemed obvious. “You must all know what she is. What she feeds on.”

“Shut up,” Carl shouted, pressing the spear harder against the boy’s throat, making him cry out. “All of you shut up and back up.”

“Easy there,” Dylan said. “Let the kid go and we can talk.”

Celaine circled around to the left, but Carl acted quickly, turning and planting the boy between him and Celaine.

“Nuh-uh.” He pressed the spear into the boy’s throat until blood trickled. “Stop there missy, and put your weapons down or the kid gets it.”

“Let him go and I may still let you live,” Bud growled.

The woman dropped to the ground, groaning in pain. Essence rose from her in a visible mist, blue and laced with red, like blood in water. She was losing control, and it only took Hump a second to realise what had caused it. Celaine hadn’t just shot her with an arrow; she’d poisoned her, and it was draining her essence and attacking her soul. Hump could imagine what that was like. Warlocks drained essence from others to empower themselves, but that had a cost. Her soul would be damaged and fragmented, and right now it was being torn at.

The spearman shook his head frantically. “No. You’re bluffing. Drop them or he’s dead!”

“Not going to happen,” Hump said. He started to gather his essence, readying a spell for when the opportune moment came. There was more than just one life at stake, and this might be the kid’s best bet anyway. “You’re about a minute away from that woman losing any control she had.”

“He’ll die,” the spearman snarled.

“You kill him, and this arrow will go through your throat,” Celaine said. “You won’t die quick, but you will die.”

“I’m fast.”

“I’m a third circle Chosen. Do you really want to test your luck?”

His eyes flickered to one of the other metal rods planted around the encampment, as if he was calculating the odds of getting away in time. He glanced at the woman on the ground beside him, then to the other bandits.

It was all the distraction Hump needed. With a thought, he launched his essence at the ground beneath both the spearman and the boy. “Explode Earth.”

The ground erupted in a burst of bronze light and dust, sending both flying. Celaine shot an arrow, and he heard the man scream before vanishing in a flash of white. Bud gave chase, while Dylan tended to the boy.

Bud’s sword blazed and he roared as the spearman appeared at a nearby rod. Their weapons came together with a heavy thud, and Bud hammered again, using all his Chosen strength. He’d lost his usual composure, and with the spearman wounded, he drove him back easily with every blow, hounding him. This time, he was out for more than just blood. Hump had never seen his friend so angry.

Those with bows raised to shoot, but Celaine brought two of them down before they had the chance. As for the others, Hump blocked their volley with a Shield.

And then the warlock screamed, so loud and shrill it reminded Hump of the shades. He felt his soul tugged, her essence seeking his. Hungry. Bloody misty splurged from her arrow wound—not just essence, but lifeforce, and it filled the aura around her. Around her, the closest handful of bandits dropped to their knees, their faces pale as if all their energy had been drained from them. Others stepped back, their stances unsure. They glanced at each other, and at Hump and they others. Hump could guess what they were thinking—they hadn’t signed up for this.

They were wrong. They were all accomplices. He could forgive stealing, but murdering and kidnapping was a whole other matter. He felt his anger building like a fire in his core.

“They don’t deserve your mercy.” Lucile’s voice was hard and bitter in his ears.

Hump levelled his staff at the woman. He had no intention of containing his attack, he wanted it as widespread as he could make it. “Fire Blast.”

A cone of fire erupted before him. The woman held up her hand, water and blood surging to meet his attack. Where they struck, steam exploded, misting the air, but the fire rolled over her and into the three men at her back. They tried to shield themselves but there was no escaping an attack like that, not for ordinary people. They fell screaming. The smell of burning meat filled the air. And the remaining bandits ran for the trees, chased by Celaine’s arrows.

The woman had raised a hand, shielding herself with a wall of blood and water. She took a vial from her robes and pulled the cork out, then brought it up to her hound-like nose and breathed deeply. Hump felt a change in her essence. He felt her power growing. Before he’d placed her at a similar level to him, but now she felt stronger, as if strengthened by Wizardfire.

Celaine shot another arrow and she waved her staff, blocking it with some sort of water variant of Parry Shield. Dylan charged in, his Aspect of the Ape allowing him to close the distance swiftly, slamming his staff down at her. She barely raised her shield in time and was slammed backward, falling to the ground. She clawed her way to all fours, fingers extending, clawed toes growing until they protruded from her boots. Power still building. She leapt at Dylan, abandoning her staff, howling ferociously. Essence was surging from her even more now, her mind seemingly gone.

Dylan slammed his staff into the side of her head with enough force to shatter a skull. She hit the ground and rolled, climbing back to all fours before charging again. This time, she managed to grab his staff and force him back, snapping at him.

Dylan shouted something, and Celaine let her arrow loose. The silver bolt zipped forward, faster than Hump could follow. As if driven by instinct, the warlock tilted her head to the side, just in time to avoid the bolt with her head. Instead, it drove down into her shoulder, an explosion of power sending flesh and bone splattering and the woman flying to the dirt.

She screamed with pain, and barely managed to get back to her feet. Water rose around her, mixing with either blood or her lifeforce. She shot it forward in spikes of ice, forcing Dylan back. The ice shattered, and with a blast of force, a thousand shards were flying in their direction. Celaine dashed behind Hump as he rose a shield, absorbing the blows. With his free hand, he took out a handful of sharpened stones from his pouch and infused them with essence.

“Rockshot.”

The warlock was too wounded to dodge, and they send her back to the ground. Her limbs were failing her now. She snarled and struggled on the ground, trying to stand, but she couldn’t. Dylan rushed in, sharpening his spear to a point, and driving it through her heart. She went still.

Dylan staggered back, staring at the blood on his spear, shocked at what he’d just done. Meanwhile, Hump and Celaine turned to Bud.

The knight stormed forward. The spearman was on the ground, and arrow through his side, and sword wounds across his torso.

Bud hammered a blow down. “Surrender!” he roared, striking again. “Surrender.”

“I surrender,” the man gasped. “Please… please, I surrender.”

Bud stared down at him, furious rage in his eyes, his sword gripped in two hands over his head, ready to deliver the final blow. But he didn’t. And in that moment of hesitation, the spearman’s hand went to his belt. Something blurred through the air.

Hump felt an impact against his chest like a fist. It drove the air from him. There was an explosion of pain. His vision blurred, and the world spun. He felt the ground come up beneath him and he gasped. He stared up at the canopy, blinking, mind struggling to process what had just happened.

Somewhere nearby a bowstring hummed and somebody screamed.

“You idiot!” Celaine shouted. “You hypocritical arse. You’re no knight, you’re a coward.”

He could hear Bud’s mumbling, but couldn’t make out the words.

Hump tried to shift to see what was going on, but then Dylan appeared over him, searching him with frantic eyes. He felt the druids hands on his chest, searching for a wound. Hump tried to sit up but the man pressed him back.

“Slow down, Hump,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

“How bad?” Hump managed. He took it as a good sign he could speak.

Dylan continued to inspect, and then sat back, sighing. “Gods mercy, you’re alright.” He raised his voice to the others. “He’s alright. His robes prevented the knife from penetrating.” He looked back at Hump. “You’ll have a nasty bruise for sure. I’ll need to check for cracked ribs once we’re finished here.”

Hump lay his head back against the ground and groaned. “Yep, definitely feels nasty.”

Dylan clasped his shoulder. “Just take a few minutes. We’ll see to the prisoners.”

Hump nodded, closing his eyes and wheezing. “I’ll do that.”

As the others left, his heart raced. He forced himself into a half-sitting position and looked around, relieved when he didn’t spot Lucile anywhere nearby. Gods, he’d thought he was past it. Celaine was cutting the three men free with Kassius’ dagger, while Bud and Dylan started to gather the other prisoners together, helping where they could. The suffering here was beyond simple healing though. For today, Hump suspected they could do little more than get them to safety. They’d need to decide what to do with the remaining bandits after that.