I used Dodge to avoid getting hacked in two but tripped over a body in the road. I held up my axe to attack the hulking terror. Instead of swinging at me with the sword again, it reached down and grabbed me. I was lifted up into the air, so I freaked out and used Sunder, smashing my axe into the trow’s chest. The blow sunk in, cutting through flesh and bone, but stuck there. And, to my unending horror, the trow only spat blood in my face and began to pull against my arm, holding my body firm with the other.
I screamed, feeling the tendons in my shoulder slowly stretching. Unable to pull away, I kicked the trow in his chest, and though some of the skin split further, showing a glint of bloody sternum, the creature only grinned at me. Then an arrow struck the trow in the side of its head, snapping it to the side violently. It fell to the ground. I looked up at the tower above the gate and saw Hana nocking another arrow that glowed with an odd power, tendrils of green surrounding the tip.
She must have imbued her shot with Earth energy. It was a good thing that the trow were susceptible to the affinity. I raised a hand to her, then pulled my axe free of the monstrosity’s chest and attacked another of the brutes.
This time, I was rewarded as the beast’s head rolled from its shoulders and tumbled to the ground. I glanced around and saw an AOE spell forming above the kill zone, sparks of lightning beginning to lick down at the metal armor of the remaining attackers. The storm was going to wreak havoc on whoever was left standing. I used Quake Stomp again, the cooldown having recovered, and Oliver’s Paladin friend dropped a Holy Smite spell, which made a dozen hammers forged of light fall at once all around us.
Before I could indulge myself in a victory cry, another horn sounded, and I turned to see my hopes thoroughly crushed. A group of wyverns were flying toward the gate. At least a dozen of the beasts came, and I knew we had little chance exposed out here.
“Fall back!” I howled, and our small group pulled away just in time.
I looked behind me once before disappearing into the gate near the pond. The scaled horrors flapping madly toward us were closing in, just fifty feet away. Marching forward in ranks behind them was another wave of ratkin soldiers.
A growl escaped my lips as I ducked back into town to wait for the next desperate fight. I looked around me and saw that our defenders were panting, wounded, and many already dead. And though I’d never give up before a fight was over, it was obvious that we’d need a miracle to survive the day.
5: “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”
— Forgotten son of Denethor
HANA
If not for the town’s preparation, I’d have run out of arrows long ago. My own quiver was empty, so I pulled from the barrel nearby. Madi shouted below and the small group of players, Tejón and Pachi behind them, ran away from the carnage at the gate.
I scanned below to see if any of the injured ratkin or trow were well enough to recover and become a problem. No target presented itself, so I considered running down to speak with Madi while I had a reprieve. And then I saw the group of wyverns flying toward us. A sick part of my mind considered if there was a word for a group of wyverns. Crows were lucky. Nobody wanted to mess with a murder of anything. But what I saw coming toward me appeared to be more like a slaughter.
They weren’t flying high, and considering the great mass of their bodies, I doubted they could fly long. But the beasts were all thirty to fifty feet off the ground and coming in fast. They would either fly right over the gate or crash through it.
My body wanted to shut down, drop the arrows, and curl into a ball. The steely voice of Marshal Dandre reminded me that we had planned for this, though. “Archers! Pull out your kill arrows! Prepare to volley!”
A few seconds ticked by as I pulled out one of the three barbed arrows I had leaning against the wall before me. I drew and waited. Liam stood beside me, the kind ranger giving me a look of encouragement as he fitted an arrow to his bow and took aim.
“Hold!” Dandre screamed, and the wyverns came closer still. The trees that clustered to either side of the road made a natural choke point, forcing the wyverns to come in two at a time, and even then, they had to stagger their flight. It was perhaps the only reason our plan would work.
When the first two were around fifty feet away, she commanded, “Group one, fire!”
Ten arrows, including my own, leapt out and found their targets. A couple clattered to the ground, but most found purchase in the beasts’ wings and bellies. Quinn was old and sweet, yet he knew how to fashion arrows specifically shaped to penetrate wyvern hide, slipping under the scales themselves.
The beasts roared in protest, and the first fell down hard, veering at the last minute and splashing in the pond. The second landed on its feet awkwardly and limped along.
“Group two, fire!”” Dandre shouted, and two more wyverns fell to the ground before the gate, one sliding into the pit and pushing up a dozen of the sharpened spikes.
The volleys continued. Four groups of our best archers had been assembled, the Doondane split up evenly among them, and we cycled
