Dragon Mage 013 - The Second Wave (Patreon)

391 days until the Arkon Shield falls

Magesight is a Technique granted by the Trials to all players with Magic Potential. It is the foundation of both magic and sorcery, and without it, any would-be mage is blind. Truly, without the gift of magesight, magic itself is not be possible. —Cale Ames, elven spellweaver.

I don’t know how long Tara and I spent killing.

The bodies around the warrior kept piling up, and protected by her prowess, I was untouchable.

But eventually the battle took its toll. My arms began to burn and the spear grew heavy in my hands. Despite my exhaustion, however, I kept going, following Tara’s lead religiously. Step forward, then back. Lunge and withdraw.

Until there were no more foes to kill.

I staggered, suddenly dizzy in the moment of stillness, and would have fallen if not for Tara’s steadying hand on my arm. “Whoa there, fish. Don’t you fall now. Not when you’ve been doing so well.”

I wiped away the dripping sweat from my brow. “What happened?” I gasped, leaning onto my spear for support.

“We’ve beaten this wave. The murluks are falling back to regroup.”

“It’s over? We’ve won?” I asked as I bent forward and panted for air.

Tara laughed. “No, fish. Not by a longshot. There are more waves to come.” She tapped my shoulder, forcing me to look up. “You did well, Jamie,” she said softly. “Far better than I expected. But sit down and rest, before you collapse. We have a few minutes at least before the next assault.”

I sagged to the ground in gratitude, not caring about the mud that spattered my face and arms.

“Michael!” Tara called over her shoulder.

The ginger-haired warrior appeared next to her, looking no worse himself from the day’s efforts. “Tara?” he asked.

“You have some jerky? Our budding warrior here looks like he is about to die of exhaustion. Give him some.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Michael said. Pulling something from inside his armour, Michael handed it to me. “Eat,” he said, “it will make you feel better.”

Obediently, I ate.

Tara and Michael were right. After a few mouthfuls of the jerky, I felt somewhat restored and began to look around with renewed interest. The river shore was strewn with dead murluks. With a pleased grin, I noticed that the pile in front of us was quite sizeable.

Up and down the line, soldiers were kicking the corpses back into the river. I watched the bodies float away in the bloodied waters.

My gaze swung to the right and the grin slipped off my face. The rest of the line had not fared as well as we had.

More gaps—many more gaps—had appeared. I swallowed. I had been fortunate. Unlike most, I had a guardian angel. Without Tara, I never would have survived as I long as I did. There was no doubt in my mind of that.

“How have you endured this long if every fight is this hard?” I asked.

Tara turned away from her inspection of the murluk lines to stare at me.

I pointed to the dozens of fallen soldiers. “If you’ve been taking that many causalities every wave, how have any of you managed to survive for more than a week?” Running the cold, hard numbers through my head, by even the most conservative calculations, the human forces here should have died out long ago.

Tara pursed her lips. “You think too much, fish.” But as I continued to stare at her, not letting the matter go, she sighed. “To be honest, we would all be dead already if not for new recruits like you replenishing our numbers every day.”

“So we’re what… cannon fodder?” I asked, studying the dead with new eyes, aghast at the implications. Were they all ‘fresh meat’ like me?

“No!” said Tara fiercely. “Not that, never that. On their first day here, all new players are paired with one of our old hands, just like you were with me. It’s our job to keep the new fishes alive and teach them all we can in the day.”

She sighed, then added reluctantly, “But there aren’t enough experienced fighters and too many new players. Tomorrow, you will be left to sink or swim on your own merit. If you survive your second day, the next, and the next after that, eventually you’ll graduate to an old hand yourself, and will pass on your experience to others. Do you understand?”

“Is that why you pushed me into battle so quickly?”

Tara grimaced. “Partly,” she said. “There are no exceptions to the pairing rules.” She glanced down at my crippled foot. “Regardless of the circumstances. There are just too many new players to baby anyone. No one will mentor you tomorrow. You need to make the most of your first day.”

I chewed on her words. As strange as it seemed, Tara had driven me into battle out of pity. I glanced down at my hobbled foot. What she had left unsaid was that my limp would make surviving here without help difficult—if not impossible. “You said partly. What’s the rest of the reason?”

“The other half of the answer is the newcomer blessing,” Tara said. “It accelerates your learning far beyond the norm. And battle, we have learned the hard way, is the fastest way to improve a player. When you combine the two—combat and blessing—the growth a soldier can see in their first day is phenomenal.” She shrugged. “So we push new arrivals into battle—those that are willing, anyway. It’s counterintuitive I know, but it works.”

I nodded slowly. It was a brutal system. But looking around at the mud-and-gore-spattered battlefield, I could understand the need. “Then I only have your protection for the rest of the day?”

“Correct,” said Tara grimly. “Today, you must bend all your efforts into getting as strong as you can. How many levels did you gain in that wave?”

Tara’s words reminded me of the many unread notices waiting on my attention. After the first few messages at the start of the battle, I had been automatically dismissing further alerts. With the chaos of the battle, I hadn’t had time to spare for them or the occasional spurt of new knowledge and changes affected to my body by the Trials.

Reaching into the Trials core lying dormant in my mind, I recalled the messages and scrutinised each.

You have gained in experience and are now a: level 4 Neophyte.

Your skill with spears has advanced to: level 5.

Your strength and constitution have increased to: level 3.

Your vigour has increased to: level 2.

My stats, while nowhere near impressive, were much better. Now at least, I felt less outmatched by the murluks. “Three levels,” I replied. “I’m level four now.”

“Not bad,” Tara said. “Just remember, newcomer only applies to Neophyte Disciplines and Attributes—those below level ten. Once you attain the Trainee rank, your progress will slow down dramatically. Do your best to reach level ten today in as many Disciplines and Attributes as you can.”

“Got it.” I rose to my feet with newfound determination. Knowing what tomorrow would bring, I realised that I would have to start relying less on Tara’s protection and fend more for myself.

The slap of hopping feet pulled my attention back to the river. The murluks were charging again.

“Right, let’s get back in line,” Tara ordered.

I took my place a step behind her again just as our first opponent appeared. Tara parried, then thrusted. Following her attack, I jabbed out. The murluk fell dead and the next took its place.

Tara stepped forward. I advanced with her, but this time I did not wait for her to initiate. Lunging past my mentor, I used my longer reach to bury my spear into the murluk’s midriff before he could launch his own attack.

The creature staggered backwards, rocked temporarily off-balance. Tara exploited the opening I created. Dancing forward, she skewered the hapless murluk.

After the murluk fell, Tara glanced back at me and smiled in approval. “Think you can do that again?”

I nodded, elated by our success. That time, I had played more than a token role in the battle. That time, I had helped Tara cut down our foe quicker.

“Alright, then let’s do it again,” Tara said.

Advancing, she searched for our next victim. A murluk rushed past and attempted to flank one of our companions on the line. I reached out and jabbed my spear at its legs, tripping it up.

Before the luckless creature could heave itself back to its feet, Tara slammed her own spear through its back and killed it instantly. Pulling out her weapon with a spurt of blood, she turned a wry look upon me. “Let’s not get too creative just yet, fish. Keep it simple.”

I accepted her rebuke with good grace, and we moved on to hunt down more murluks.

We made a good team. Each time, I initiated combat and fouled the murluks’ attacks with my longer reach. After I did, Tara stepped in and finished our prey with a single, lethal strike. The murluks, for all the superiority of their numbers, were defenceless in the face of our coordinated attacks.

My crippled foot, despite my concerns, did not hamper me as much as I had feared. Tara had been right. The long spear was an easy weapon, and the simple attacks I was employing did not require complex footwork, nor was speed a factor in the thick mud of the lower bank.

Indeed, as my awareness of the battle expanded, I realised that teamwork and discipline was what differentiated the two forces. Glancing along our defensive line, I saw that where the murluks fought individually—many times getting in each other’s way—the human fighters moved together as a cohesive force. This, more than anything else, drove our success.

But eventually the weight of the murluks’ numbers began to tell and forty yards to our left the defensive line started to cave.

“Tara! I need your help! To me, quickly!” shouted John. “We need to reinforce the centre or the battle is lost.”

Tara’s head whipped around to stare in the direction John pointed. The green-eyed fighter ground her teeth in frustration. “Damn it,” she muttered. She swung back to me, throwing a quick assessing glance at my leg before resting her gaze on my face. “Sorry, Jamie, I have to go. Will you be—”

“Go,” I said, cutting her off with a lopsided smile. “I’ll be fine.”

I hoped.

Tara threw me a sharp nod, then took off sprinting south along the back of the line towards the hotspot. “Stay alive, fish. I’ll be back,” she called just before disappearing out of earshot.

I turned my attention back to the battle. None of the murluks were advancing towards me just yet. In fact, Tara and I had done so well at killing the creatures that a spot of emptiness had opened up in front of us. I licked suddenly dry lips. With Tara gone, I was sure that would not last.

Sooner or later, one of the creatures would spot me alone and vulnerable. “Why did you let her go, Jamie?” I muttered to myself, feeling a spurt of anxiety. “That was foolish. How are you going to survive now?”

A few feet to my right, Michael fought with his unit, and on my left, more human fighters battled together. Even though I was bracketed by my fellows on both ends, I felt alone.

I did not know how to fight with either group of men. Untrained and crippled as I was, I doubted they would welcome me within their formations.

None of them were Tara.

It took a special skill, I realised, to do what Tara had done. To train an unskilled raw recruit, and at the same time integrate his unfocused attacks with your own. My appreciation for my mentor’s efforts grew.

But now I was without her, and I would have to fend for myself.

I took a cautious step back and waited. I knew my own limits. On my own I did not stand much chance against a murluk. So, I would fight defensively, and only when forced to.

Until Tara returned.

It did not take long for one of the murluks to spot me and mark me as easy prey. Loping forward, the murluk shoved his spear—almost lazily—towards me.

I swayed out of the way and thrust back, clipping the creature on the shoulder.

The murluk hopped away and slurped angrily before advancing again, this time with renewed vigour.

I tightened my grip on my weapon and waited.

The creature jabbed at my torso. I tried to dodge, but with my crippled foot, I was too slow. The murluk’s spear skidded off my armour and scored a line of fire along my side. I gasped but ignored the pain. The spear had failed to penetrate my leather vest, though it still knocked the wind out of me.

I staggered backwards and managed to retain my feet, but the murluk did not let up. He followed through with another attack and thrust upwards at my face. I swayed and barely avoided being skewered.

He stabbed again, aiming for heart. I angled my spear upwards and parried away the blow, my teeth clenched with the effort. Although half my size, the murluk was much stronger than me, and it took every ounce of my strength to push aside his blade.

I realised I had to change tactics. The murluk was the better fighter, and the longer our exchange went on, the more likely I was to die. I had to take to a risk and abandoned defence.

Stepping forward, I jabbed my elbow down into the shorter murluk’s face. He staggered back—mostly from shock, I think. Before the creature could recover, I shoved my spear between his legs and twisted, tripping him up.

With a surprised slurp, the murluk fell back.

I didn’t let up. Closing the distance to my downed foe, I straddled his body and pinned him to the ground under my weight.

I felt the murluk writhe beneath me. He was too strong. I would not be able to hold him down for long. In near panic, I raised my spear up high and thrust down. The murluk shrieked and tried to batter me away. I fended off his blows and jabbed into him again.

Blood spurted and clouded my vision. Ignoring the red haze, I brought my spear down once more. The murluk’s motions slowed.

I didn’t stop.

I thrust downwards again, blindly burying my weapon into his torso. Then I did it again. And again. Gore and guts drenched my hands, face, and neck. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I had to make sure he was dead. It was him or me. I couldn’t die here. If I did, who would avenge Mum? Crimson tears flowed down my cheeks. Oh Ma.

Ruthlessly, I shoved aside my grief and let fury consume me in its stead. The murluk was not just my enemy, he was an agent of the Trials. Another one responsible for my mum’s death. He had to die. With a tortured cry, I stabbed my spear down again.

The murluk had stopped moving. Was he dead? I couldn’t be certain. But I couldn’t let up. I had to—

Burning agony rippled across my back. Like a splash of cold, clarity returned and the cruel mix of rage, grief, and hysteria was banished. Shocked back to my senses, I stared down at my hands in horror.

What was I doing?

A second blow followed in the wake of the first. I arched my back in surprise and pain. A murluk was attacking me from behind. The creature’s spear had torn through my armour and now my own blood drenched me as well.

Abandoning my weapon—still stuck in my dead foe—I rolled away and by happenstance more than skill dodged my attacker’s next strike.

I wiped away the muck obscuring my vision and looked up to see the murluk’s looming advance. My breath quickened. I was in trouble. There was no way I could get to my feet in time to escape his attack. Choosing an unconventional tactic once more, I rolled—this time towards the murluk.

Caught off guard, the creature was slow in reacting. He thrust downwards but missed. I bowled him over and began to push myself upright. Even so, hampered by my crippled foot, I wasn’t quick enough, and the murluk beat me in the race to get up. Damn it, I thought as I stared at the creature bearing down on me again.

It was time to cast invincible.

Opening my magesight, I began to manifest my spirit.

A spear blossomed out of the murluk’s torso. Startled, I dropped my spellcasting.

A smiling Michael appeared from behind the slumped-over corpse. “Looked like you needed a hand.”

“Thanks,” I gasped. Clambering back to my feet, I picked up the dead murluk’s fallen spear.

Michael clasped a hand to my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get back in line. Things are about to get much worse.”

I looked to where Michael’s gaze rested. The murluks on the northern end of the line had pulled back and were regathering not thirty yards ahead of us. Their numbers were being reinforced by more of their fellows that emerged from the river.

I glanced down the line. The murluks had not pulled back everywhere. The southern flank was being pressed hard and matters in the centre still looked bleak. All was swirling chaos there.

Even with the help of Tara and John’s men, it didn’t seem a certainty they would hold. I swallowed. We would get no help from there, not yet.

We would have to fend off the next attack on our own.