45 Grave Encounters (1/2)
While the enemy continued their approach to what I designated was our kill-zone, my hand reached out for the handle of my new weapon which was strapped to my side.
Well, that wasn't completely right. It was still the same wooden sword-hilt with its twin falcon crossguard and beak pommel. There was only one difference. The handle felt lighter than it did as a bronze-tier weapon.
Zarz Mildew, the Foolhardies' artificer, explained to me when he gave me back my reforged falchion that it no longer had a tier because its new core wasn't among the list of metals officially used for weapon crafting. On the flip side of being essentially rankless, my sword now possessed new traits I was dying to try out. Tonight presented the perfect opportunity to do so.
I poured my killing intent into the formless shadow crystal encased in the iron arcane focus of the weapon's core. Immediately afterward, I felt the sword hilt shaking roughly in my hands like a Playstation controller with its vibration setting set to max.
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Coils of shadows shot out of the crossguard like arrows in flight and the blade formed from this roughness was blacker than any charred blade I'd ever seen. Gone too were the fiery veins common on the surface of shadowblades. In their place was a blurry blue line that traced the edge of the blade.
What I found most astonishing was how the vibration I'd previously felt from the sword-hilt had transferred to the shadowblade. I could even hear a soft humming noise emanate from its new blue edge.
”Damn... I think this thing's a vibroblade... cool,” I whispered to myself.
Although the falchion felt a little unwieldy because of this constant vibration traveling down to my sword-hilt weekend my grip on it, the lighter weight of the sword-hilt more than made up for the difficulty of maneuvering it.
The anticipation of trying out my falchion's new ability was building up inside me to the point where I wished the enemy would march faster. It overrode the worry and fear that had gripped me during the waiting. Thankfully, the enemy did not disappoint me. The time for planning was over. All that was left was the execution.
As the ten large covered wagons—each pulled by a fully grown elken with each wagon surrounded by a rectangular formation of soldiers—entered my kill-zone and passed the point of no return, I sent Qwipps the go signal.
Qwipps notched an arrow to his bow. Then he took aim toward the front of the lead wagon.
His actions were mirrored by the pixies and elves hiding in the bushes or behind the trees on my side of the road. I could only assume Aura's group was also in the middle of preparations.
The head of the supply caravan passed right below me.
A knotted tenstion became stuck in my lungs. The anticipation was unbearable, and I wanted to scream out the stress building inside me.
Then it happened like I feared it would—an unexpected problem arising from changing circumstances.
The elken mount of the enemy elf commander reared its head in agitation like it could sense what was about to go down. Noticing his mount's distress, the brown-haired elf was immediately wary of the surroundings. His eyes darted left and then right.
However, thanks to quick thinking on Qwipps' part, the elf wasn't able to warn his soldiers to be prepared because an arrow with midnight blue fletching suddenly sprouted out of his neck.
Shouts of ”Ambush!” could be heard among our targets. Their warning came too late.
Arrows flying from both their left and right sides pierced into hobgoblin and human flesh but bounced off elven steel plates.
Cries of pain and confusion reached my ears from below when I called for Donar to ”Start the fire!”
Seconds later, I felt the telltale heat of fire magic coming to life from close behind me. This was immediately followed by half a dozen flame arrows—each the size of spears—zooming past me and down to the enemy's supply caravan.
These flame arrows exploded on the ground beside the wagons, causing frightened elken to disregard the commands of their riders. they charged forward and wagons crashed into each other.
We all heard the cracking sound wood makes when it collides with something heavy.
Grinning at the success of the initial ambush, I glanced behind me and called to Donar, ”Get ready to launch another volley of flames arrows when we charge.”
The salamander magician jaunted to my side with a hop in his step. ”Ready to burn the flesh from their bones and boil their blood, Commander...”
This super dark comment made me want to step away from the fiery haired pyromaniac beside me.
”Uh, yeah, sure... Try not to kill the elken... we can make use of them later,” I ordered.
Donar nodded as if he understood, yet his eyes blazed with a kind of fanaticism while he glanced down at the fires he'd started below. I could only hope he'd show some restraint when our soldiers were down there too.
Enemy soldiers called out to each other. They were trying desperately to regroup, but a combination of fires and frightened elken made this difficult.
”Luca, get ready,” I ordered. ”We'll end this fight quickly...”
My brow creased. I worried that the sounds of battle would attract more enemies to our location.
”Soldiers trying to flee on our right.” Luca draped his new broadsword over his shoulder. ”Want me to take a few guys and go after them?”
I shook my head. ”Don't bother. Varda's got that area covered.”
Even though I said this confidently, it wasn't until I saw Varda jumping out of her spot northeast of our position that my worries subsided. Hold on. Something was wrong.
Varda was running down the hillside and heading straight for the enemy's rear. She wasn't supposed to do that. She was supposed to cast her Earth Wall spell from the safety of the hill.
”Muddamit! Something's wrong with the plan, Dean!” Qwipps asked while he launched another arrow from his bow. ”Varda's gone ad-lib... and she really sucks at improvising!”
”Focus on your job, Qwipps... I've got Varda,” I answered.
Unfortunately, Luca and I were parallel to the center of the supply caravan and were too far away to reach its rear before Varda would be swamped in desperate enemy soldiers. Luckily, I had a contingency plan for a similar situation happening.
A group of soldiers on my side of the ambush charged down from our hill with their bronze shields raised, and they actually reached the road before Varda's tiny legs could take her there.
It was a good thing I had Ashley's unit covering the rear in case we needed them to blockade it. It was especially good that Ashley was leading it. Her calm levelheadedness meant I could trust her to handle the situation without any micromanagement from me.
”Let's go, Luca!” I rose from my hiding place—and raising my falchion forward with one hand—charged down the hill. ”We are the Foolhardies!”
”Foolhardies!” As he ran to the right of me, Luca joined me in my rallying cry with his own wild yelling. ”Foolhardies!”
On my left, stomping through the downward sloping ground like a mini-tank, the troll, Shaqs, smashed through trees while he too yelled, ”Fo~~olhardies!”
Two dozen soldiers in total followed me down the hill. We were accompanied by a wave of flame arrows cast by the hands of Donar Firemonger.
Seeing our approach, the scattered enemies formed a line and braced themselves for impact. Unfortunately for them, Donar's spell reached them first.
I heard the pained screams of elf, human, and hobgoblin as our enemies tried desperately to avoid the fire. I smelled the scent of burnt skin as it wafted up to us. I felt the heat from the flames rise to meet us as we fell upon our enemies.
Usually, Luca was first to reach our enemies, but this time, my eagerness to test my weapon urged me past him and right into the path of a chain-mail wearing elf running toward me. In his desperation to avoid the fire, he ran headlong into my falchion's path which snaked forward and cut into the steel breastplate over his heart.