Chapter 113 - Breakthing Through (Patreon)

Using the lightning storm as a distraction, Zeke barreled into the nearest Jotun, his shield connecting with the giant’s waist. He moved with such momentum that he knocked the creature from his feet, flipping him over as he pushed forward. Even as the giant landed with a sickening crunch, Zeke’s mace was already descending upon another surprised frost giant’s forearm. The moment Voromir connected, Zeke was rewarded with a loud crack of the Jotun’s forearm shattering under the blow. He didn’t stop; instead, he let his momentum carry him forward and into his opponent’s leg. His shield hit just above the giant’s knee, which bent backwards under the forceful blow. The giant howled in agony and rage, but Zeke didn’t pause for even a second. The Jotun fell as Zeke dashed toward his next victim, who succumbed to a similar fate; she collapsed to the snow- and mud-covered ground, bones jutting through her skin.

Meanwhile, Pudge progressed apace. However, instead of cracked bones, his attacks ripped through the frost giants’ flesh like it was nothing. Blood, gore, and other viscera splattered the ground with every swipe of his mighty claws and snapping jaws.

It wasn’t enough, though. There were far too many giants, and slowly, the surprise that had allowed Zeke to take the group of Jotun warriors unawares fell by the wayside. As one, the towering creatures turned towards him, bloodlust dancing in their eyes. Thankfully, Zeke didn’t need to fight them all. He couldn’t. He just needed to punch through their battle line so he could give his allies a chance to escape. And with one last push, his mace singing with momentum and force, he accomplished his goal. When he reached his friends, he skidded to a stop on the snow-covered ground.

“You were supposed to get in and out without making a fuss,” he panted, eyeing Abby. She was unhurt, but she bore the markings of battle in the form of a few splatters of blood. By contrast, Talia’s pale skin and leather armor were covered in blue gore. Her claw-tipped hands were dripping a mixture of green fluid and blue giant’s blood. Tucker was the only one who looked even remotely clean, though he’d lost his clothing along the way. Wearing only a crude loincloth, the man looked distinctly out of place in the frozen courtyard.

“Do you really want to do this right now?” asked Abby, who was steadily firing arrows. Even with Zeke’s surprise assault, none of the Jotuns had actually died. In fact, even the ones he’d managed to bring down were already beginning to rise.

“What’s the situation?” Zeke asked.

“Undead zombies coming up behind us,” she said. “You see what’s in front of us. And why didn’t you attack the healer in the back? You had a perfect chance.”

Zeke was about to respond, but then his jaw dropped. He hadn’t even realized that there was a healer in the group, but now that he looked, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d missed him. Robed, tall, and thin, the giant in question raised his staff to the sky, and a split second later, golden light enveloped the injured giants. Before Zeke’s eyes, their bones and flesh knitted back together, reforming as if he’d never even attacked.

“Crap,” he muttered. “Should’ve seen that.”

In addition to the realization about the healer, Zeke finally recognized the runes on the gates. Before, they’d seemed familiar, but now, he saw them for what they were. “Those runes are going to be a problem,” he said, glancing back at the gatehouse. “They’re really similar to the ones I saw back at Micayne’s estate.”

Tucker interjected, “They’re intended to start the conversion process when something dies. Micayne put them all over the Farindale Forest, but I didn’t know about any of this. If I had…”

“Of course, it just had to get worse,” Abby sighed, her tone betraying her exhaustion. They had obviously had a difficult time in Hvitgard, and now, it seemed as if they still had a long way to go yet.

“What do we do?” Zeke asked, seeing the giants regrouping. “Do you want me to go for the healer?”

Abby shook her head. “No,” she said. “You and Pudge hit the big one. Well, the extra big one. Talia, go for the healer. I’ll cover everyone.”

“What about me?” asked Tucker, rolling one of those liquid-filled glass globes in his hand. The others Zeke had seen were the size of a softball, but this one was no bigger than a golf ball. It glowed with intermixed red and green light.

“Uh…I’m really not sure what you can do,” Abby admitted. “You have any more of those fireballs?”

“Conflagration grenades,” he corrected. “And no. They’re kind of difficult to create.”

“Okay, so, you have anything that won’t –”

“Just point me at what you want dead,” he said. “I’ll figure it out.”

Abby let out a long-suffering sigh, then said, “Fine. Just stick to the edges, away from where the others are attacking. Keep an eye on this gate, too. Those zombies are still coming, and we don’t want them sneaking up on us.”

“Right,” he said with a nod.

“Let’s do it, then,” Abby said.

Zeke didn’t wait another second before stepping forward. He pointed his mace at the biggest Jotun and yelled, “You want some of this, big boy? Come on, then. Show me that the frost giants’ reputation isn’t all talk!”

The big Jotun gave an inarticulate rumble, then stepped away from the battle line. “Honorless insect,” he spat. “You stand with the Dark One, and yet, you speak of reputation? I will give you the same offer I extended to your friends. Surrender the alchemist, and your death will be quick. Continue to resist, and before it is done, you will beg for a death that will not come. I, Brynjar Mountain-Tongue, swear this!”

“Wait, so you won’t kill me?”

“Eventually, yes, but –”

“Then it will come, right? Death, I mean,” Zeke said.

The Jotun blinked in confusion before saying, “I do not…you…you twist my words, demon!”

“Demon? Insect? Make up your mind. No wonder they call you ‘mountain-tongue,’ right? Not exactly subtle,” Zeke said. Then, he rolled his shoulders. “We doing this, then? You and me. None of your flunkies.”

The big giant tilted his head back and laughed. “I will not surrender my advantage just because you want a fair fight, human,” he bellowed.

“Oh, it wasn’t for me,” Zeke said. “I was trying to help you out. Plus, I’ll admit, I’ve been itching to fight a frost giant ever since I heard how strong you were. And you’re the biggest one here, so I just figured putting you down would be a good measuring stick. Whatever, though. Let’s get to it.”

Before Brynjar could respond, Zeke sprinted forward, his booted feet churning the mud and snow. However, despite the treacherous terrain, his enchanted greaves kept his footing sure. With a thought, he activated [Leech Strike]; while he expected to win the fight, he had no illusions about whether or not he could do so unscathed. [Leech Strike] would see him through, though, just like it had in every other situation.

As Zeke drew close, he lengthened his stride, dropping the head of his mace and twisting his hips. Then, like a coiled serpent, he struck with more force than he’d ever managed to harness. The speed of his attack surprised the huge Jotun, and though he reacted with surprising quickness, he was too late to stymie Zeke’s attack. Voromir clanged against the giant’s chainmail-clad hip, sending a shockwave of air and dust out in a circle.

Brynjar staggered back an entire inch.

“Insect,” the giant rumbled, looking down on Zeke. “For all your race’s deficiencies, you have quite the stinger on you. In the end, you are only human, though.”

Then, Brynjar reached down with an enormous hand, wrapping his thick fingers around Zeke’s shoulders and squeezed. Zeke let out a scream of pure agony as his bones strained against the mountainous force. His armor creaked worryingly, and his mind clawed at the something – anything – that might let him overcome the Jotun’s overwhelming strength.

He only had one option, though. And as loathe as he was to use it so early in a battle, there wasn’t much else in the way of choices. So, he activated [Heart of the Berserker]and, with a roar, pried the Jotun’s fingers loose. He fell to muddy courtyard, gasping for breath. However, he couldn’t allow himself long to collect himself, because the stunned giant was quick to recover. And this time, he didn’t just want to squeeze Zeke to death.

Brynjar yanked his enormous, single-bladed axe from its resting place on his shoulder. An instant later, and it was screaming toward Zeke, propelled by the giant’s considerable strength. Zeke leapt to the side, but with the clarity of Reflection enveloping him, he knew he wouldn’t make it. So, moving almost by instinct, he slammed his shield out, deflecting the blow just enough that it wouldn’t bisect him. The force of the attack left his arm numb and shaking, but he didn’t have time to dwell on his discomfort. He had a fight to win.

With [Heart of the Berserker] surging through him, Zeke went on the offensive. Moving with a surety he’d never felt before, Zeke’s shield once again met the giant’s axe, pushing it aside before he lashed out with his own weapon. Voromir connected with Brynjar’s knee, thudding home and shattering the giant’s kneecap. The looming Jotun stumbled and fell, his knee bending in a direction no knee ever should. Zeke took advantage of it, advancing cautiously.

Brynjar swung his axe in a backhanded attack that caught Zeke between steps, but he barely managed to get his shield in the way. But unlike his previous deflections, it was a direct hit, and with the giant’s considerable strength behind it, the blow sent Zeke staggering backward. His feet dug into the mud, and he skidded to a stop fifteen feet away.

Reminded of his encounters with the drachnid queen and her champion, Zeke was pleased with his progress. With them, he’d been sent flying. But the giant had only managed to push him back a little. That was a step in the right direction, but this wasn’t the time to revel in his progress.

Around him, the battle had begun to rage. To Zeke’s left, Pudge was engaged in a fight against three of the smaller Jotuns, and he was giving as good as he got. Every second, silvery arrows would slam into the giants, usually in or around their most vulnerable areas. Far to the right, one small explosion after another erupted from Tucker’s shattered grenades. And briefly, Zeke saw Talia skirting around the edge of the courtyard and stalking ever closer to the Jotun healer.

Golden light washed over the prone Brynjar, and his knee snapped back into place. A second later, the huge Jotun was pushing himself back to his feet as if nothing had ever happened. Zeke cursed under his breath, silently willing Talia to go faster. As if she heard his unspoken plea, she redoubled her pace, darting between giants, dodging axes, clubs, and oversized swords until, finally, she reached the healer. A huge wave of dark energy erupted out from her, then she crashed into the robed figure, her claws and feet blurring as she eviscerated the stunned Jotun. It screamed, weakly trying to fend her off with its staff, but Talia was too fast, her claws too sharp. The giant fell after only a couple of seconds.

That was the last thing Zeke saw before he was forced to jerk his attention back to his own battle, because Brynjar’s axe was screaming toward him. Flecks of foam and spittle flew from the Jotun’s mouth as he aimed that massive blade at Zeke’s torso, fully intending to cut him in half. Zeke knew that, as strong as his armor was, it wouldn’t protect him from such a blow. Nor would his shield fare any better – not in a direct conflict, at least.

Then, as if all of his practice had culminated into a single instant, Zeke knew what to do. Time seemed to slow down. The wicked axe moved at a crawl; Zeke could practically see the ripples in the air from its passage. With a move he’d practiced a thousand times, he crouched, raising his shield as he did so. The blade drew closer, and Zeke gritted his teeth.

It reached him, but just before it was set to bisect him, Zeke dipped an extra few inches, and slammed his shield up. He didn’t take the blow head-on. Instead, he pushed it just far enough off course that it skated past, scraping the barest sliver of carapace from his helm with its passage.

Brynjar had put everything he had into the blow, so when it met little resistance, he was thrown off balance. Zeke took advantage of that, slamming his mace into the monster’s knee once again. He followed that up with a leaping uppercut to Brynjar’s chin. And another to the Jotun’s other knee. It all happened in the space of an instant, and in that short span of time, Zeke knew he’d displayed more raw skill than in all of his other battles combined. And he wasn’t done yet. Climbing atop the Jotun’s writhing form, he dismissed his shield into his spatial storage, grasped his mace with both hands, and, like a sledgehammer, swung his weapon in an overhand arc that met its end in Brynjar’s face. Then, not trusting the job to a single blow, he swung again. And again.

The giant’s facial bones shattered. His flesh burst under the enormous pressure. And whatever life had been left in its eyes fled beneath Zeke’s continued onslaught. By the time Zeke finished, there was nothing left of the giant’s head but a bloody pile of blue viscera and bone. Zeke raised his head to the sky and roared his victory for all to hear.

Not to be upstaged, the surrounding giants responded in kind. Ignoring Zeke’s companions, they turned and rushed toward him. Before Zeke could even respond, there were dozens of weapons descending upon him. He dodged, and he blocked, but there was no avoiding every attack. His armor deflected the worst of them; thankfully, none were nearly as strong as Brynjar, so his armor was up to the task. However, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the sheer force of the blows turned his bones to jelly.

Zeke re-summoned his shield and sank into the battle, his mind going blank as his ceaseless training came to the forefront, taking over completely. For a few moments, he kept up, giving as good as he got. But it wasn’t long before sheer numbers overwhelmed him, driving him to the ground. He did what he could, but every man has limits. Zeke had finally met his.

A screech filled the air, soon answered by another of the same. It was somehow deep and high-pitched, both at the same time. The pressure lessened as the giants pulled back. Then, as if they’d forgotten all about him, the giants turned to face the Hvitgard’s gate. Zeke rose to his feet and looked past his attackers to see a horde of zombies pouring out of the mountain city.

“That’s our cue,” came a voice from behind him. Zeke turned to see Abby standing only a few yards behind the nearest giant, who’d already started moving toward the surging zombies. “We need to get out of here. I know you used that berserking skill, and you don’t have long before you’re spent.”

Zeke’s shoulders sagged as he realized just how beat up he was. During the melee, he’d ignored the hundred cuts and bruises he’d sustained under the giants’ onslaught, but now, he could feel them all weighing down on him. And it would only get worse the longer he kept [Heart of the Berserker] active. If they were going to run, if they were going to survive, they had to do so soon. Otherwise, they would never escape.

With a sigh, he saw that the giants had already abandoned him; the courtyard surrounding him was empty, save for a few still-bleeding corpses of the giants he’d slain. “The others?” he asked.

She pointed in the distance. “Already running,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Just then, Pudge shouldered into him, almost knocking him from his feet. “Pudge, I don’t think I’m going to get far on my own,” he said, climbing to his knees. “You think I could get a ride?”

Pudge chuffed in indignation, but he didn’t refuse. Zeke took that as his assent. So, after dismissing his armor, he climbed atop the bear, gripped his thick fur, and let [Heart of the Berserker] fall away. Immediately, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. It was all he could do to stop himself from tumbling off of Pudge’s broad back. But he managed to hold on, if only barely, as Pudge took off in his lumbering run. Abby followed, her own stride covering the ground with enviable ease.

Zeke glanced back at the battle raging behind them; the living giants had engaged their undead brethren, and they were holding their own. However, given the nature of the runes on the gates, he suspected that they’d eventually be overwhelmed and overrun. It was almost inevitable.

“I’ll be perfectly happy if I never see another zombie,” he muttered before burying his face in Pudge’s fur and losing track of his surroundings.