Dragon Mage 076 - Well-Cooked (Patreon)

376 days until the Arkon Shield falls

Excellent news, Jhaven. Always a pleasure doing business with you. Now, if I could trouble you for more gear for my men, there is this… —Goron.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted, staring at the old lady in surprise.

Jolin’s gaze flitted between Marcus and me. “The orcs’ presence at the dungeon makes this mission even more critical.” Her lips tightened. “We cannot fail. I am here to ensure we do not.”

“But what about the village?” I asked.

“Sierra will be fine,” the commander said. “I mean to be gone for no more than a day. Since the murluk chieftain’s defeat, we’ve not experienced a major attack. The risk can be borne.” She paused. “Especially for this.”

I nodded slowly. I didn’t disagree, but it had been comforting to know that whatever happened in the forest, Sierra was safe in the old lady’s hands. That was no longer the case. Glimpsing another familiar figure beyond the commander, I glanced his way. It was Albert, the head gatherer. “You brought the loggers too?”

Jolin shrugged. “I figured there was no reason to send them out to a day camp today. They will join the expedition and remain based at the fort once we’ve established it. With the raw materials we need at hand, work on the fort can proceed even more rapidly.”

I exchanged a look with Marcus. What Jolin said made sense, but it raised the stakes. Failure was even less of an option now.

“It’s time we begin planning our attack,” Jolin said. “What can you tell me about the terrain hereabouts?”

Marcus inclined his head. “Let me get Petrov and the scouts. Then we can begin.”

✽✽✽

A few hours later, we were ready to begin our assault. Under the old lady’s guidance, our plans were swiftly drawn up, and our forces emplaced.

The commander’s presence had reinvigorated the troops. The miasma of despair that had laid hovered over us since the feral boars’ attack finally dissipated. The soldiers’ faith in their commander was absolute. Even the prospect of facing the orcs did not scare them, not with the commander present.

“We’re here,” Laura whispered, drawing me out of my thoughts.

I stopped short and surveyed the forest ahead but failed to see any change in the dense foliage. I glanced at the redheaded scout. “You’re sure?”

She pointed eastwards. “The glade with the red dungeon is just a hundred that way. You can’t make it out from here, the forest is too dense, but beyond those trees the woods opens up into a large clearing. The obelisk marking the dungeon’s entrance is there, and the orcs are camped around it.”

I nodded, taking her word for it. I glanced left and right as the rest of the scout squad accompanying us emerged from the surroundings.

We were the bait.

Whichever way you looked at it, the chances of four hundred soldiers successfully sneaking up on a bunch of orcs was low, so the commander had opted not to. Much better, she had decided, to lure the enemy into an ambush. Despite the weight of numbers on our side, no one relished the thought of facing the orcs across an open field. If we could trick them so much the better.

Laura glanced at me, her brows furrowed. “Are you sure about this, Jamie? You don’t have to do this, you know. We can lure the orcs well enough ourselves.”

I shook my head. “No, I have to be a part of it.” I wasn’t certain the orcs would send anyone to chase after the scouts if they showed themself, but after my encounter with Bultak, I was sure my presence would not be ignored. Correctly speaking, I was the bait. The scouts’ sole purpose was to slow down pursuit and keep me alive while I fled.

I met the gaze of the ten scouts in turn. “Let’s go,” I said and limped forward. Leading the way, I called upon my dragon magic and cast magma buckler.

When I reached the edge of the glade, I paused and peered carefully through the leaves. Sure enough, it was just as Laura had said. Two squads of orcs were camped around a large obelisk with glowing red runes in the clearing’s center.

The glade was nearly thirty yards in diameter— large enough that it would not trigger burning brightly—something I had taken pains to make certain of beforehand. Not hurrying, I studied the enemy. Four orc warriors were on watch, posted at equidistant intervals around the roughshod camp, which consisted of two large white tents, a bonfire, and little else.

The camp guards were medium infantry. They were clothed from head to foot in chainmail armor and stood erect with their maces and shields resting at their feet. Despite the low murmur of conversation from their fellows, the guards were alert and wary. Not so overconfident, after all.

“How do you want to do this?” Laura whispered into my ear.

I bit my lip, thinking. I couldn’t spot the orcs’ commander. From the detailed description Laura and her fellows had provided of the orcs, I knew their commander was better armed and higher-leveled than his subordinates. Ideally, I wanted to eliminate him first—if I could.

He must be in one of the tents. I couldn’t wait for him to appear, though. Who knew how long that would take.

“We focus our attack on the closest guard,” I said finally. “On my cue, pepper him with arrows.”

Laura jerked her head in acknowledgment, and I rose to my feet.

Clearing my mind, I readied myself for the confrontation to come. I would have only a few seconds to wreak as much damage as I could. Then we would have to flee the glade, with hopefully all the orcs trailing behind us. Calling dragonfire into being, I set flames licking at the edges of my staff and stepped through the foliage.

I was spotted instantly.

The four guards’ heads whipped in my direction, but before they could cry out in alarm, I lowered my Focus and cast fire ray. A bar of flames burnt through the air to strike the closest orc. The warrior flinched, his gaze dropping to the new smear of black decorating his chest.

My lips turned down. The effect was less than I’d been hoping for. Despite me hitting the guard mid-center and melting the outer layer of his chainmail vest, my dragonfire had failed to entirely penetrate the orc’s armor. He was only lightly scorched, if that.

A flight of arrows burst out from the trees and homed in on the selfsame guard, striking him in the leg, arms, neck, and stomach. Most of the projectiles failed to bite, but one—whether by happenstance or skill—struck where I’d weakened his armor and caused the orc to fall to his knees. Blood spilled out of his mouth as he opened it in a wordless shout of pain.

Meanwhile, the rest of the guards had recovered from their surprise and sounded the alarm. “We’re under attack!” screamed one. “Humans!” another shouted.

Swapping targets, I sent a fire ray scorching towards the screamer. The scouts could finish our first victim on their own.

The second orc, though, was prepared for my attack. He dodged the incoming magical projectile with startling quickness, and the concentrated beam of dragonfire hit nothing but cooking pots and unoffending ground.

The rest of the orcs—a mix of fighters in chainmail and full plate—rose from where they’d been seated, but other than taking up their weapons, they took no further action. Snarling in frustration, I hurled more fire raging the orc’s way. The guard proved equal to the challenge and nimbly evaded the magical strikes.

About to target the orc fighter again, I paused as a resplendent figure, armored in full plate with a reddish sheen, emerged from one of the tents. This orc was larger than his fellows, and the tips of his sharpened tusks were capped with jeweled pendants. The bastard sword at his hip was gem-encrusted, and his armor, too, was elaborately decorated.

This must be the orc commander. Reaching out with my will, I analyzed the big orc.

The target is Zumen, a level 150 orcish player. He has no Magic, exceptional Might and Resilience, and has meager Craft.

Zumen’s eyes narrowed as he spotted me standing at the edge of the glade and in plain sight. Unconcerned about the arrows still raining down, he raised his arm. “Shields up, first and second squad.”

The orcs, who’d been standing around and waiting, raised their shields together with impressive discipline and repelled the next wave of arrows. Despite this success though, the fighters made no move to advance.

Urgh. The orcs were not cooperating. Perhaps, they needed a bit more encouragement. Focusing on the orc commander, I cast fire ray.

The lance of dragonfire burnt through the air towards my target but stopped short as Zumen—almost negligently—raised his left hand and blocked my attack. The commander’s gauntlet blackened at the point of impact but was otherwise undamaged.

I grimaced. So much for that. My dragonfire was proving less effective against the orcs than I’d hoped. I, too, was under-leveled for this fight. I felt a tingle ripple over me and a second later saw recognition spark in the orc commander’s eyes. He’d analyzed me.

“First squad, advance,” Zumen barked.

I smiled. The attack had done the trick. I stepped back into the foliage. “Let’s go,” I ordered.

Laura nodded curtly. Shouldering her bow, she and the other scouts broke off their attack and turned around. I glanced back at the orc commander. He was staring at his singed gauntlet, a slight frown marring his face.

A moment later, the orc looked up. Across the glade, our eyes met. Raising his right arm, he held it steadily pointed in my direction.

I frowned in turn. What’s he doing now? Some instinct made me unfurl my magesight. Weaves of magic were building around the orc’s right hand. My eyes widened in horror. That’s impossible. He doesn’t have—

It wasn’t magic. It was spirit. Spirit is rushing into his right gauntlet.

“Scatter!” I shouted, my face whitening as I guessed what was about to happen.

An expanding cloud of flames erupted from the commander’s gauntlet. Fireball! my mind screamed. The superheated gases bursting free from Zumen’s hand condensed into a radiant ball of fire and arced through the sky.

Retreating rapidly, I craned my head upwards to track the enormous magical projectile. It was ten yards across, larger than any magical attack I could launch myself, and it was sailing inexorably in our direction.

God, how do I stop that?

Swinging around, I stumbled through the forest, watching helplessly while our doom descended upon us. There was no way I was going to outrun the raging ball of fire.

The fireball descended, on a direct collision course for me.

Knowing the gesture to be useless, I raised my magma buckler anyway and braced myself. I glanced to my sides, expecting to find only empty forest, but saw the scout squad instead. They were clustered around me. Damnit, why hadn’t they listened to me? They were still trying to protect me. Too close, I realized in desperate horror. They’re too close. But there was nothing I could do for them now.

The fireball hit, smashing through my buckler with contemptuous ease. My world turned red, then white with the fury of the flames, and my skin scorched and blackened. Around me, I heard the screams and shrieks of my companions.

“No, no,” I cried.

The pain was too much, gut-wrenching and mounting by the moment. I was dying, as were the scouts around me. The entire stretch of forest around me, in a five-yard radius, had erupted in flame.

There was only one way I was going to survive. I had to cast invincible. But the notion of doing so filled me with despair. It would save me. But not the others.

I couldn’t do it.

You have to, Jamie.

Live so you may avenge them. Don’t die for nothing.

Instinct overrode guilt. The will to live was too strong. Feeling cowardly for doing so, I cast invincible and, between one heartbeat and the next, the scorching heat assailing me vanished. I collapsed to my knees and, gasping weakly, I cast lay hands.

Even as the world burnt around me, I healed myself. Again and again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the soothing flows of energy mend ripped muscles and scorched skin. While the magic worked, I dared not open my eyes. I knew what sight awaited me when I did.

You have to move, Jamie. You have to get up.

Soon the orc squad would be on me. At this point, it was likely only the burning forest that was holding at bay.

My eyes snapped open, and I glanced around, my attention not on the blistered trees and burning bushes but on the ten charred figures crisped to near-nothingness.

“Laura,” I croaked, chest heaving. I hadn’t known any of the other scouts nearly as well as I had the redheaded woman, yet each of their deaths felt like a stab to the heart. I plunged my staff into the ground and heaved myself to my feet. Thick black plumes of smoke hid the glade from my sight, but I knew the orcs were close by.

I have to go now.

My invincible spell would run out sooner or later, and there was no way I would survive a second fireball. Nor could I let our mission fail—not after the price it had claimed.

I still had to lure the orcs, but they had to believe I was dead by now. Raising my left hand, I cast flare and sent flames scorching outwards through the smoke. Dragonfire burnt a hole through the soot-filled air, clearing a path to the glade.

My gaze found the enemy commander again.

His eyes widened as he saw me alive and seemingly unharmed amid the ruin left by his spell. A moment later, his face contorted in fury, and I heard him bark further orders.

“You will die,” I whispered, my own face hard. Then I turned around and limped through the still-burning trees. The orcs would follow, but they would have to wait for the fire’s fury to subside before they could close on me.

And then I would wreak my own devastation in turn.