54 The Hunt II (2/2)
Only Jeanne stood at the front, beside Launcelot, as she clasped her hands together, readying to reinforce a magical barrier with her priestly powers.
Sylvie's eyes widened in surprise. The wyrm blinked in seeming understanding before it loosed an ordinary roar and contorted its body, generating massive amounts of rotational force as it whipped its heavy, muscle-padded battering ram of a tail straight into Launcelot.
\”What!?\” Launcelot managed to say before the tail struck his shield hard, sending him flying straight into the crowd of adventurers he was supposed to protect, toppling everyone over in a domino effect.
Sylvie's breath caught into her throat. The wyrm was smart. It had realized what the adventurers were expecting and subverted their expectations. Yet all the texts she had been forced to memorize in her guild training had told her that wyrms were dumb creatures incapable of complex thought. Only drakes and dragons had intelligence.
She heard as Azhar's spirit horse rushed forwards, crushing dead leaves underfoot in a mad pace.
\”What are you doing? Stay in position!\” shouted Sylvie.
\”Ain't nobody gonna' survive if that wyrm breathes now!\”
Sylvie froze up. The plan was shattered. Her breath felt heavy through her mask. She had to formulate another plan. She had to analyze the situation again, reassess, calculate. But she had to think quick, she had to move fast, or else it would be like last time, when she couldn't think hard enough, and Ragnar had died because of her. She had to-
\”Come with me, Sylv!\”
Sylvie looked down to see Azhar had stopped, shifting his body further up the horse so that there was space for her.
\”Stop thinkin' so hard. All's we gotta do is help them.\”
Sylvie swallowed in a calming breath and nodded, leaping off her tree branch and onto the horse. It felt light, like sitting on a cloud, but it was still warm, almost alive.
Azhar dug his heels into the horse and charged forwards, into the clearing.
Sylvie blinked. The wyrm wasn't using its breath. In fact, it was trying to run, its wings stretched out and flapping, drawing out gusts as it tried to generate momentum. Launcelot was still on the floor, groaning and shocked by the blow.
The rest of the adventurers were just starting to get up. There was just Jeanne left at the front, still trying to gauge whether she had to cast a barrier or not. She couldn't do anything here. She couldn't reach out and use her strength to hold the wyrm down, because if it used its breath then, everyone was dead.
She had to stay there, and Sylvie knew from how still her back was that a raging ocean of conflict was broiling within her. Did she grab the wyrm and open everyone behind her to die? Or did she stay here and let the creature escape?
No, only Sylvie and Azhar had the necessary skills for this situation.
\”Do you have a clean shot?\” she said to Azhar.
Azhar nocked his bow again. His eyes darted up and down, trying to follow the flapping wings. The wyrm was starting to float now.
\”Damn thing ain't movin' on instinct,\” said Azhar as his aimed arrow shifted up, then down, then from side to side. \”It's swervin', trynna' dodge me. Fucker's lookin' at me too, trackin' my eyes.\”
Sylvie bit her lip. None of her poisoned equipment worked on the venom wyrm, and she never would have thought she would have to use it. How could she have known the creature would even know how bows worked? She had no way of slowing it down.
The wyrm, with a swift, final push of its wings, swirled itself around so that its stomach faced Azhar. Now, it was even harder to hit. Optimally, Azhar would have sniped its shoulder joint where the wing connected to its back to disable its flight, but this frontal view concealed the joints. Just punching an arrow through the wing membrane wouldn't be enough to stop its flight.
Think. Think. Sylvie knew she had nothing for this situation. She knew Azhar, having just become a sniper, hadn't learned enough strong skills to deal with this. But she did have one resource left.
\”Jeanne!\” she shouted. \”Hold it down!\”
Jeanne wavered, but the grip on her priest's staff started to loosen.
\”If it hasn't used its poison by now, then it lacks the ability!\” Sylvie gritted her teeth. She had no idea if that was true or not. But she had to convince Jeanne to act somehow. If the wyrm did use its breath, then she would take responsibility. Yet she had to try nonetheless.
Jeanne cast aside her staff and leaped forwards, jumping several meters in the air as her hands grasped the tip of the wyrm's tail. With a roar, she pushed her arms down, and the wyrm stumbled in the air as heroic strength dragged it back to the earth.
Jeanne dug her heels into the dirt and pushed backwards. Her greaves shattered into the earth as the wyrm screamed while it flapped its wings, blasting out great winds as it tried desperately to pull free from Jeanne's grip, but she was like an anchor keeping it suspended in the air.
\”Azhar, aim for its venom pouch.\”
Azhar cast a frantic backwards glance at her, but he shifted his aim nonetheless. \”The hell? That'll make it explode, and then all hell's gonna' rain down on us. Ain't no barrier gonna save us then.\”
\”Aim, but don't shoot.\” Sylvie kept her eyes trained on the wyvern, on its eyes, and she noticed them flitting towards Azhar's bow, noticing its trajectory. She had reframed the wyrm in her mind and formulated new plans based on treating it less as a monster but more a sentient enemy. \”If it's smart, it'll know that the moment it tries to use its venom breath, we're going to pierce its throat. It won't risk it.\”
Like she predicted, the wyrm did not use its venom breath. Instead, it decided to use its wings to propel itself downwards, slamming into Jeanne with its back leg. Shattered shards of rock scattered through the air as it crushed Jeanne underfoot, but when the ploughed up dust started to settle, it was evident that the hero hadn't been crushed.
Jeanne still stood strong, her arms trembling over her head as they prevented the massive foot from grinding her into paste.
\”Never keep your aim off the pouch,\” said Sylvie as she leaped off the horse and called out to the rest of the adventurers behind her. She could see how to solve this problem now, how to use all the pieces around her. \”All of you, get up! Vahid and Launcelot, help Jeanne, crush that leg! And you, all of you mages at the back, fire at its wings!\”
Launcelot shook his head as he tried to stand on wobbling knees. The impact had done a number to his head. Vahid helped him up.
\”I can't see properly. Impact hit my head hard.\” muttered Launcelot as he put a gauntlet to his helm. \”I'm afraid I'm of no use.\”
Vahid shook Launcelot, rattling his armor. He positioned himself directly in front of the shieldbearer. \”Do ya see me?\”
Launcelot nodded. \”A blur.\”
\”That's all ya need!\” Vahid gripped his greatsword with both hands, his bull tattoo flashing again. \”Just follow my back, big man, and ya got this! Now raise that shield and let's show this lizard what real men are made of!\”
Vahid charged forwards, and Launcelot followed behind, his shield positioned ahead of him like a battering ram. Lancelot's steps were shaky, but they were still quick, only needing something to follow.
Behind them, Amelie twirled her staff, conjuring up magic circles that blasted forth piercing branches of lightning meant to shred as much as the wyrm's wings as possible. Launcelot's companions stood behind the more experienced mage, casting their powers in unison, wreathing the electricity with shards of razor-sharp wind, fireballs, and arrows that gleamed white with explosion magic.
Sylvie watched as her orchestration bore fruit. She put back her shuriken and instead unsheathed a wakizashi from her waist scabbard.
The final piece would be herself, and she had to be ready for the perfect moment, the killing instant, as it was called among assassins – that one perfect instant where everything was laid bare, all vulnerabilities maximized, where time constrained, leaving only but one fell strike to end it all.