Rampage, page 22
part #1 of Land of the Elementals Series
They continued hiking through the snow all day and partway into the night before Arbor called a halt. They had reached relatively flat ground at this point, and the snow was mostly gone from the area. It had only taken a day to reach the tunnel entrance from the border of the Flatlands when he’d come here with Grak. This time, it had taken them all day and part of the night just to reach the bottom of the mountain. Going down the steep and icy slopes with the horses had been tricky, and they’d had a few near disasters when one of their horses lost their footing.
“We should be able to ride in the morning,” Hord said as he pulled an odd-looking metal cylinder from one of his packs.
He placed it on the ground and fiddled with it for a moment before standing back with a satisfied nod. It then began to glow a dull orange, and the area around them became noticeably warmer.
“Oh, wow! This is amazing, Hord!” Grak said as she moved closer to the heating cylinder.
She had been handling the cold worst of the three, and Arbor could tell she was more worn out than she was letting on.
“Why don’t you sit down and rest, Grak?” Arbor offered as he fetched the last of their raw meat from his pack. “Hord and I will get supper ready.”
She smiled gratefully at him and settled with her back to a rock. Her skin had begun to take on a blueish tinge while they were traveling, and Arbor had begun to worry about the gremlin woman. Now he could see her usual red coloring coming back as she thawed by the fire. He found it odd that an ice elemental Mage would deal so badly with the cold.
Hord took out a large frying pan, and Arbor handed over the large slab of meat. He had taken over as cook, much to everyone’s relief. Arbor’s cooking wasn’t the greatest, and Grak had no idea how to cook at all.
He walked to the glowing cylinder and placed the pan on top. Then, greasing the pan with some oil, he placed the meat to sizzle and pop over the heat source. He sprinkled some herbs onto it and flipped it a few times before placing it on a stone plate. Arbor had taken out some bread and dried fruit, and the three of them enjoyed the hot food as it warmed their bellies.
After everyone was finished eating, Arbor said he’d take the first watch. No one argued with him, and he soon heard the deep rumbling snores of the dwarf and the light breathing of the gremlin woman. He looked out over the wide-open space, interspersed with rocky outcroppings. His stomach began growling, and he sighed.
He was still quite hungry, but he wouldn’t go eating extra when their rations were limited. His mind soon began to wander.
He wondered where his sister might be now. Had she already been sold? What if they reached Fivora, only to discover she’d been sold to someone in a distant land? Or worse- that she was dead.
Arbor didn’t want to contemplate that line of thought any further, so he instead turned his thoughts to his magic.
He’d definitely begun to notice some changes over the last few weeks. His body, for one. He’d never been overweight, but he had always had a small layer of fat covering his frame. Now, he seemed to have a lot more muscle and his clothes had started becoming tighter in the shoulders and chest. He figured that the constant magic use must be altering his body somehow. Or maybe this was how his body conditioned itself to be able to handle more magic.
When he’d mentioned these things to Grak, she said, blushing furiously, that she’d definitely noticed some differences as well. She told him jokingly that if his shirts got any tighter, he’d be tearing through them whenever he moved.
It may have been a joke, but he had to agree with her.
Another thing his magic had done, aside from making him more muscular, was make him stronger and faster. Even when he wasn’t actively channeling his magic, he’d noticed that all physical activity was somehow easier. He could carry greater loads than before, his reflexes were better, and even his sight and hearing were sharper. He was also much better with his weapon than he had any right to be. Nothing had ever felt more natural to him, but he’d only started learning to use it two months ago.
How could it be that he was only at Tier 2? Then again, he’d yet to come across any other Mages, so for all he knew, this was normal.
His mind wandered back to his sister then. He could hardly bear the thought of her locked up in some dungeon, waiting to be sold like some kind of animal. He felt his blood begin to boil at that and had to actively work to calm himself down.
It would do him no good to get worked up about it now.
Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on trying to soothe his anger. He counted to one hundred, taking deep breaths, filling his chest with air and feeling the material of his shirt straining every time he did so.
Grak was definitely right. He did need new clothes.
Hord took over the watch at some point, and Arbor was finally able to roll up in his bedroll. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. The day had been a long one and he was quite tired.
They set out early the next morning. Arbor couldn’t maintain the flow of magic while sleeping, so he felt well-rested as they set out. The air was bitingly cold, but Hord said that a good few hours riding would see them out of the Jagged Peaks and into the much warmer Flatlands.
Arbor noticed that his new magical training seemed to be working. As they rode, he could feel that the five main streams seemed to be expanding, albeit at a slow rate, and more smaller streams seemed to be diverging further and further each day. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when the magic permeated his entire body.
Would that trigger his breakthrough to Tier 3? Or, would it just stop expanding at some point? He mentally shrugged at this line of questioning. Only time would tell.
They stopped around midday to break for lunch. It wasn’t nearly as appetizing as last night’s dinner had been, but he wasn’t about to complain. Food was food, after all, and he would take all he could get.
They rode on until the sun was beginning to set, and the blue winter moon began its ascent. Arbor could already see the Flatlands up ahead and figured it would be better to camp somewhere warm for the night.
After a few more minutes of riding, the temperature noticeably jumped by a good degree. After five more minutes, they stopped and dismounted. Arbor and Hord stripped down to their underclothes, as the rapid change in temperature had caused them to break out in a heavy sweat.
Grak, after eyeing Arbor up and down for a few seconds, went behind the horses for a little privacy to change hers.
It only took a few minutes for them to dry, and they all put on new sets of lighter clothes more suited to the Flatlands. They had all decided to store their armor as they weren’t expecting any kind of trouble, and it was an extra layer that none of them needed. They ate in silence, watching the sky above and just enjoying the warm breeze that wafted across the open plains.
Arbor took out the map, and the three of them leaned over it.
“Here is where we are right now,” Hord said, pointing to the border of the mountains. “And here is where we’re headed.”
He traced a crooked line down to the marked location of the rebel base. The mark was right near a large blue patch which had been marked as the Great Salt Lake.
“So how far is it to the rebel camp from here?” Arbor asked.
“I’d say about a week by horseback, maybe ten days if we’re really unlucky,” he said with a shrug.
Arbor nodded and rolled up the map, stowing it in one of the saddlebags.
“Maybe we can speed up the journey if you buff up the horses with magic again?” Grak asked, hopefully. But Arbor shook his head.
“I’ve tried, but so far I haven’t been able to do it again. The last time was just an accident.”
Grak began to sigh, but after seeing his dejected face, gave him a reassuring smile instead.
“I guess it’s not really that important. Besides, I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”
She then wished them both a good night, telling them to wake her for her turn on watch.
They continued on for the next few days in similar fashion, stopping each night to camp on the open plains. It all looked the same to Arbor, but Grak and Hord both could pick out the landmarks shown on the map.
It was the nearing the end of the eighth day of their journey. Arbor was extremely sore as he’d pushed his magic until his body had begun steaming as they rode. He found that the steam didn’t actually hurt him. Quite the opposite, actually. When he used more magic than he could handle, his body temperature would rapidly increase. His body would then begin shedding steam in an attempt to get rid of all the excess heat. It was really quite fascinating to watch.
He winced as he dismounted and hobbled over to a small rise in the ground to sit down.
“You really shouldn’t push yourself so hard,” Grak said, giving him a stern look. “You could really hurt yourself, or worse.”
“Ah, leave him alone, lass,” Hord called out as he pulled the heating cylinder out to start dinner. “He’ll have to learn to control his magic, and practice is the best way to do it.”
Grak opened her mouth to give an angry retort, when Arbor interjected.
“There’s no need to worry about me,” he said in a soothing tone. “I’ll be a little sore for the night, but I should be fine, come morning.”
She gave him one more sideways glance that said she clearly didn’t believe him, but all the same, went off to tend the horses after a few moments.
“We should arrive at the rebel base sometime in the morning,” Hord said, walking over to him and laying a plate at his feet. “We’re actually only around twenty miles or so from the base.”
“Then why don’t we just continue on tonight?” Arbor asked.
He was eager to arrive at the rebel base and was even more eager to raid the slave city.
Hord gave him one of those looks, as if he questioned his sanity.
“No matter if they are allies or not, they are still a rebel force. So, coming up to them in the dead of night would probably not be the smartest thing to do.”
Grak made a very unladylike snort at this remark as she tried to cover a laugh. Arbor looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She tried to hold it in for a few more moments, but the look on his face was apparently too much for her.
Her laughter echoed out across the Flatlands and she was soon hunched over, wheezing for air. It didn’t take long for Hord to join as well, and Arbor just folded his arms, glowering at them. This just seemed to make them laugh even harder, and that annoyed him even more.
It took a few minutes, but the two finally calmed down, small chuckles still escaping as they both caught their breath. Arbor stood then, holding back a wince of pain as his sore muscles twinged.
“Just for that, you two will be keeping watch tonight,” he said sullenly.
Then he walked over to his bedroll and wrapped himself up in his blankets. He could still hear quiet laughter as he closed his eyes, and grumbled to himself about his so-called friends, but the long day’s ride, coupled with his sore muscles, soon had him sound asleep.
His peaceful slumber was disrupted just a few hours later by an urgent shaking on his shoulders.
“What is it?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Grak was standing over him, and she looked worried. He could also see Hord getting into his armor and he looked at Grak, all thoughts of sleep now forgotten.
“I’m not sure what it is,” she said, looking out onto the Flatlands, where a cloud of dust was rising in the distance. “But something is coming this way, and it’s moving fast.”
29
Arbor stood with Grak and Hord as they watched the approaching dust cloud growing larger. He was clad in the breastplate that Hord had made for him, as well as the leather bracers and greaves that the king had supplied. Grak stood in her leather armor, holding her rapier at her side and Hord was in a full set of plate mail, his hammer in hand.
Arbor concentrated inward and after a moment of effort, his vision sharpened. The night around him lit up, the light of the moon now more than enough for his enhanced vision. He looked at the approaching dust cloud, and the approaching enemies came into view.
“There are nine of them,” he said, squinting a little. “They’re some kind of scaly creatures with spines running down their backs.”
“Gila lizards,” Hord said with a sound of disgust. “Nasty little bastards. They’re the only creatures that live on the Flatlands. They can survive by drinking salt-water and eating anything that moves.”
Here he paused with a grimace. “Including others of their kind.”
Arbor drew his glaive, the green and brown metal glittering in the moonlight. He pumped himself full of magic, in preparation for the fight ahead. He remembered his breastplate’s ability to take the full brunt of his magic for a short while. Something like that may very well be the difference between life and death in this battle.
“Anything else we should know about them?” Grak asked.
“Watch out for their teeth. They carry a very corrosive acid that will melt skin and even bone if it gets in too deep.”
Grak shuddered at this but took a deep breath and began to carefully allow a small amount of her own magic to flow into her hands.
Arbor was amazed at how quickly she’d adapted to having magic, and how quickly she’d begun to utilize it with her sword. Frost soon coated the blade, coming off in small wisps as the air cooled slightly around them. The icy blue light reflected off the gremlin’s red skin and made her dark blue hair seem to shine in the pale moonlight.
“Here they come,” Arbor said, letting his vision fade back to normal.
He took up a fighting stance and took a few practice swings. He was ready.
Then the lizards were upon them — muddy brown things with long pointed teeth and claws. The first one rushed Arbor, its mouth opening wide to take a chunk out of his leg. Arbor took a deep breath, then dodged nimbly to the side, his glaive whistling through the air to slice into its side.
The creature screeched in pain as green blood bubbled out through the open wound. It turned to its side, tail lashing out at his feet, but he danced back quickly. Then, increasing the flow of magic to his legs, he shot forward in a blur of motion and used the momentum to bury the two-foot blade through its skull. It fell dead at his feet, and he ripped the weapon free, quickly rolling to the side, as his magic warned him of an incoming attack.
Two lizards crashed into each other in the exact spot he’d been standing only a second ago. He ran forward, his magic assisting his speed, and he focused on pouring more magic into his arms. Leaping forward, he covered the twenty-foot gap with one step. He roared his defiance and sunk his blade through one lizard’s head and partway through the one next to it.
Ripping the blade free, he spun his glaive in a half-circle, caving in its skull with the spiked end. This glaive might have been light as air, but it definitely didn’t lack power.
He looked over to the others then. One lizard was standing very stiffly, and Arbor could see that frost coated its scaly hide. He also saw two more lying on their sides, with their heads bashed in, and Grak was just finishing another off.
Arbor turned quickly as his magic warned him of another attack. There were only two lizards left now, and they were both converging on him, teeth bared and hissing. He took a step forward to take them both on, but Hord shot past him with a roar. Not to be outdone, Arbor rushed forward as well, his own shout echoing across the Flatlands.
It didn’t take long for the two of them to finish the last of the lizards off, and they were soon cleaning their blades and examining the creature’s corpses.
“Do you think we can eat them?” Arbor asked as his stomach rumbled loudly.
He was quite hungry before the fight, but now he was practically starving.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Hord said. “Their meat is rancid and can make you violently ill.”
“I’ll avoid eating any, then,” Arbor said, taking an exaggerated step back from one.
Hord was right. The wind picked up, and Arbor could tell that the corpses were already beginning to stink terribly.
“We need to go now!” Hord said, running over to collect his things. “Other lizards will smell this and come running.”
Arbor and Grak moved to follow his example and soon had their horses packed and ready to go. The moon was still high overhead, and he estimated that there were still four hours until sunrise. He turned to look at Grak. She looked worn out, but otherwise unharmed.
“Alright, let’s head for the rebel camp. We’ll deal with any problems that arise once we get there,” Arbor said, and the other two nodded.
He turned his horse and was soon galloping away from the pile of dead lizards. They hadn’t been riding five minutes when Grak called out a warning.
“There’s another pack of them behind us!”
Turning in his saddle, he saw six more Gila lizards catching up to them at an alarming rate.
How were they so much faster than the horses?
“I think it’s best we dismount,” he said, pulling his horse to a stop. “We wouldn’t want the horses to get injured.”
They quickly dismounted and once again drew their weapons.
The fight was short and brutal, but they killed all the Gila lizards and were soon riding at a breakneck pace once again. They’d only ridden another few miles when Hord called out that he’d spotted another pack.
What was going on? Why were there suddenly so many of the creatures? He hadn’t seen a single one in all the time they’d been traveling.
“Why are there suddenly so many of them?” Arbor yelled to Hord. “And how do they keep finding us?”
“They’re attracted by smell!” the dwarf yelled back. “We just killed a whole lot of them. Even though we were careful, some of their blood must have gotten onto us. They’ll be coming from miles around for us now.”
