Dan the Adventurer, page 26
part #2 of Gold Girls and Glory Series
Teeka snarled behind the gun, swiveling the spinning barrels back and forth.
Pang-pang-pang-pang!
And the arrows stopped raining down on the tower.
A loud commotion rose along the far wall, halfway across the compound, and Dan’s blood chilled to see the giant climbing over the ramparts.
43
Battle at the Breach
“You’re doing great, everyone!” Dan shouted. “Keep pounding them at the gate, Teeka. Everyone else, do not let anyone up here. I have to defend the wall!”
If the giant broke through the side wall, the entire army would rush the breach.
Dan jumped from the tower, landed on the wall, and raced along the walkway.
The giant topped the wall. Elves jabbed at him with spears, but he swung his massive arm and batted several defenders off the walkway.
Dan charged in that direction, shouting at elves to follow him. If the raiders got over the wall, things were about to go very, very badly.
Around the roaring giant, ladders slammed into the battlements. Heads appeared. One head, two, four, seven—a horror show of tattooed faces framed in wild beards split by crazed smiles clamped around shining blades.
No!
Down on the ground, elves charged the nearest stairwell. Racing at the head of the defenders was Nadia in her fused form.
Dan’s heart hitched to see his wife racing up the stairs toward the giant, who leapt down from the wall and landed in the courtyard.
Then Dan reached the spot where soldiers were boiling over the wall. A battle cry ripped from his lungs as he waded in, hacking and slashing.
Thirty feet away, Nadia had reached the top of the stairs. He heard her growling as she tore into the attackers.
Dan slid into a red rage, roaring as he punched and kicked and swung his sword, fighting his way toward his wife.
Parry, duck, headbutt, hip check, thrust…
He surged and spun, leapt and bulled forward in a frenzied dance of death, all to the pang-pang-pang music of the Fist pounding away behind him.
Raiders fell away, screaming from the wall, missing hands, missing arms, with smashed faces and opened guts.
Dan was a killing machine, batting enemies over the wall and carving those who kept their balance. Leaning over the battlements, he hacked away heads and arms and sent ladders crashing down on the raiders swarming on the ground below.
Blood rushed in his ears, rage roared in his head, and curse-laden battle cries spewed from his mouth.
Occasionally, one of the raiders would score a lucky blow, stabbing him or slicing him or catching him with a desperate punch just before Dan headbutted their nose to pulp and tossed them over the wall.
Swept wholly into the blood rapture of barbaric rage, Dan barely registered his injuries.
Over the course of recent weeks, Dan had less and less frequently remembered that his life was now based upon a game, but that knowledge fueled him now.
These raiders were mostly first-level fighters.
Dan, on the other hand, was a fourth-level barbarian with 18(92) strength. His damage bonus alone would kill most men outright. Meanwhile, he had a base of 74 hit points, enough to absorb their pitiful attacks and roll straight through the middle of these assholes who had dared to attack his home, his women, and his people.
Wherever a hand appeared, he swung his sword, solving the problem. Behind him, elves joined the fight, roaring “Fire Ridge!” as they followed him bravely into the fray.
Then the walkway was clear, and he was face-to-face with Nadia. She was panting hard, bleeding from a wound on the shoulder, her muzzle washed to the eyes in blood.
She gave him a wicked smile. “Husband,” she growled.
“Wife,” he said, and then turned to the troops behind him. “Defend this wall, warriors. No more ladders. Fire Ridge!”
“Fire Ridge!” the bloody elves echoed and went to work with their spears.
Down in the courtyard, the giant stomped on a red elf. A dozen raiders had massed around him to fight three dozen elves and Ula, who was a thing of terrible beauty as she danced in and out, working her axe, stealing limbs and heads.
The giant turned in Ula’s direction with a loud roar.
Dan sheathed his sword and leapt from the rampart. His boots pounded into the great hairy back, and he fell forward into the back of the giant’s head.
The giant stumbled, roaring with surprise.
Dan’s left hand grabbed a fistful of thick black hair. His right hand ripped a knife from his belt. Reaching around the massive head, he jammed the blade into the giant’s eye. The great orb popped like an overripe tomato, spewing forth the jellied contents of the ruined eye.
Dan drew back his arm and struck again, this time thumping the blade into the side of the giant’s neck. Sure, it was only a knife blade—1 to 3 points of damage, some crazed part of his brain chimed—but his strength bonus basically tripled the damage.
He drew back to strike again, and the whole world exploded.
Stunned, he tumbled from the giant’s shoulders and slammed into the courtyard cobblestones with an explosion of pain.
See, the trouble was, strength bonuses worked both ways.
He’d been punched by a fucking giant!
The giant roared and staggered back, stepping on one of his own people. Nadia was on his shoulders now, tearing into his neck with her jaws.
Leaping to his feet, Dan rushed forward. In a single move, he unsheathed his sword and brought the blade around in a wide arc that sliced across the giant’s hamstring.
The giant wobbled but didn’t fall. He bellowed and tossed Nadia away.
Dan parried an attack from a raider, elbowed the man in the face, and then split the bastard in two, from skull to gut.
He turned just in time to see a massive fist rushing toward him—and came to a second later, lying on the cobblestones several feet away, face throbbing and ears ringing.
The giant had punched him again. Stunned him. Knocked him off his feet.
And now the massive fucker was coming this way, raising a huge boot into the air to stomp Dan to a pulp.
Dan tried to roll, but his stunned body wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t move.
As the boot rushed toward him, Dan heard a grunt, and he was hit again, not by the boot but by someone else, someone who dived into him, knocking him out of the way just in time.
Then the giant foot slammed down. Dan heard a crunch and a cry as the boot crushed the person who had saved him.
Struggling to stand, Dan saw Ula stretched unmoving upon the cobblestones.
“No!” he shouted, as the giant lifted his foot again.
Pang-pang-pang!
The giant stumbled backward. His colossal head jerked back and forth, coming apart.
Then the huge raider crashed to the ground, dead as a pile of slag.
“Yes!” Dan shouted. “Teeka!”
He rushed to Ula. Nadia was already there, touching the warrior woman’s neck.
“She’s alive,” Nadia said. “Barely.”
“Thank Crom,” Dan said.
Ula had saved his life, throwing her own body into the path of the crushing boot just to push Dan out of the way.
He lifted Ula into his arms and jogged across the courtyard. “Hold on,” he told the unconscious hobgoblin. “I’m tucking you away in the tunnel until the fight is over.”
Jorbin Ateel appeared in the doorway of the building. “Lord Dan! I was just coming to find you. We’ve cleared the tunnel, sir!”
“Good work,” Dan said, handing Ula over to the group of gnomes who appeared behind Jorbin.
He started to give them directions, but a loud crack split the air, and the tower exploded in a blinding flash of blue lightning. Bodies tumbled, limp and smoking, from the ruined tower, which burst into flames.
“No!” Dan roared. Teeka, his crew, the Fist… all gone.
How could they possibly hold the gate now?
Nadia pulled at his arm. “The wall.”
He looked to where she was pointing and saw raiders scampering over the wall he’d abandoned. The elves were battling bravely, but they were outnumbered, and more raiders were scrambling over the battlements every second.
At the rear of the fortress, flames burned brightly, lifting high in the air. The buildings are on fire, Dan realized. Everything is falling apart.
“Lord Dan,” Jorbin said, “should I tell those waiting in the tunnel to flee?”
Dan looked at the little man for a second, trying to think. The very old and very young were huddled in the tunnel, awaiting his command. Should he send them away?
Enemies were boiling over walls, much of the fortress was burning, and the Fist was out of commission.
But the tunnel would drop them at the edge of the woods, too close to the enemy. In fact, they would emerge not far from the wagon that was protecting Roderick and the wizard who had destroyed the Fist and killed Dan’s crew.
“No,” Dan said. “Not yet. It’s too—”
Beyond the wall, something whooshed loudly. Bright light lit the meadow. Defenders upon the ramparts screamed. The front gate shuddered, suddenly engulfed in flames.
Roderick’s mage had launched a fire ball!
The magical fire raged, eating the gate, and rapidly spread to the wooden portion of the remaining guard tower.
Beyond the flaming gate, the raiders roared victoriously. Only a matter of time now.
Another loud crack split the air, and blue lightning blasted away an upper section of the wall. Elves rained down in the courtyard, dead or dying.
The upper third of the wall was gone. Brave defenders rushed into the smoking gap and slammed into a wave of howling raiders.
“We have to kill that fucking wizard!” Dan shouted.
“How?” Nadia asked. “He’s sitting in that wagon, all armored up, taking potshots from across the meadow.”
Dan’s brain raced. With the Fist, Dan might have been able to blast through the armor, but with the big gun out of commission, they couldn’t reach the wizard. Arrows would just bounce off the wagon’s shield.
Trying to cross the open field between would be suicide.
More elves rushed to defend the broken wall, but another bolt of blue lighting struck, frying elves and raiders alike, leaving the crumbled section a smoldering ruin.
Seconds later, raiders clambered over the wall. Soon, Roderick would swing his entire force in that direction.
Think, Dan, think!
Could he drop down the other side of the wall, sprint to the woods, and circle around to the wagon?
No, they would see him running across the kill zone.
He needed to kill that sorcerous asshole!
If only there was a way to just teleport to the wagon.
He pictured himself just appearing in the woods, ready to kill, and in that second knew what he had to do.
“Come on, Nadia!” he shouted. Then, looking around, he said, “Jorbin, I need you. And your sons.” Settling his eyes on a trio of fierce looking red elves with blood-spattered faces running toward the main battle, he called, “You three! With us!”
44
In Through the Out Door
Dan rose out of the earth like a demon, his face painted in blood and streaked in soot, sweat, and soil. He ran, snarling, out of the woods, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
He and his friends had hurried out the long tunnel, repurposing the exit of last resort to stage a surprise attack.
The guards posted around the wagon never saw Dan or his band of bloodthirsty fighters coming and died in a flash of swords, spears, and fangs.
Their death cries served as an alarm, however, and a second later, a tall red-haired man in banded mail emerged from the wagon, brandishing a glowing sword. Beside him appeared two burly raiders with the hard-bitten look of veteran sergeants.
Dan didn’t waste time or breath on threats, promises, or introductions. He knew who this man was, just as Roderick, judging by the look of white-hot rage that flashed in his eyes, knew who Dan was.
One of the burly sergeants stepped forward, blocking Dan—and then shouted as a chestnut-brown blur rushed past, snapping. The man stumbled away, gurgling and clutching at his throat, bright red blood bubbling through his fingers.
Roderick’s other muscular attendant rushed forward—straight into three elven spears that pounded into his torso. Growling, the big man began yanking the spears out of gaping wounds.
Dan made that job considerably harder by lopping off one of the man’s thick arms. The raider barely had time to scream before a potbellied gnome jammed a dagger up between his legs, sheathing the blade to the hilt in groin-flesh.
Several raiders appeared and joined the battle. Steel rang against steel.
Dan charged forward and swung at Roderick, who parried the blow with his glowing sword and called, “Asha!”
Dan attacked with three rapid backhand slashes, keeping Roderick on the defensive, then launched his real attack, dropping into a crouch and swinging at the man’s thigh.
Again, Roderick parried the blow, and Dan, who felt one of his berserk rages coming on, forced down the red bloodlust.
Roderick was no first-level raider or bumbling acolyte. The man commanded an army of a thousand savages, brandished a glowing sword, and had calmly blocked all of Dan’s attacks.
Dan dredged up the lesson of the ass-whipping he’d received from Briar. He couldn’t just attack Roderick blindly, couldn’t pretend that things weren’t what they were, couldn’t pick an approach and keep hammering away, regardless of consequences.
Against lesser opponents, Dan’s strength, frenzied fighting style, and deep determination won the day. Against a superior opponent, relying solely on those advantages could get him killed.
He had to be patient. Had to keep his head. Had to remember the mission statement.
“Asha!” Roderick shouted again, and a blue-robed elven woman with a shaven head and a bunch of weird symbols tattooed on her face stepped from the wagon.
“Everyone!” Dan shouted, putting voice to the mission statement. “Kill her!”
As one, Dan’s friends disengaged from the raiders and rushed the magic user, who raised a hand, screaming incantations.
Roderick moved to protect her.
As Roderick shifted his attention, Dan struck, driving his sword up under the tall man’s guard. The blade punched into Roderick’s armpit and out the back of his shoulder.
Roderick counterattacked, focusing once more on Dan, who ducked the blow and spotted an opening but couldn’t find his balance in time to thrust before Roderick pivoted defensively.
Light flashed beside them, strobing once, twice, three times.
Nadia yelped sharply, and other voices cried out. How badly Nadia was hurt and whether the other casualties were elves or gnomes, Dan couldn’t say, because he was busy fending off a fierce barrage from Roderick.
Dan fought like a barbarian, leaping and ducking, relying as much upon speed, agility, and ferocity as upon strength. As he found his rhythm, offense and defense disappeared. By attacking, he kept Roderick on the defensive, and every time Dan parried, blocked, or ducked a strike, he created an opportunity to counterattack. The two battled back and forth, round and round, in a stalemate of flashing steel and shouted curses.
Neither man could overextend and attack, recede into a defensive posture, or avert his attention for even a quarter second, for to do so might afford his opponent a slight edge that could rapidly snowball into a fatal advantage. Theirs was a constant, clanging battle, each man balancing offense and defense, locked with complete and terrible focus upon the other, determined to end him.
Dan felt the weight of recent days—the battle with the living darkness, the grueling trip back to Fire Ridge, the feverish work to prepare for this assault, all without rest and capped off with non-stop combat leading up to this fierce battle.
His arms burned. His shoulders ached. His back and legs felt heavy and stiff. But these obstacles only made him fight harder. He dug deep, rejected all weakness, and launched another attack.
He was aware of the battle between his friends and the elven magic user raging on beside him and took grim satisfaction in registering the occasional sharp and unfamiliar scream that meant the wizard, too, was taking damage.
Stay strong, Dan thought. Stay strong and stay focused.
He didn’t need to beat Roderick. Not yet. He only needed to keep the man from defending the wizard. After that, Dan’s friends would turn their attention to Roderick, and together, they would overwhelm him, Roderick’s fancy glowing sword be damned.
But then a blast sounded above them. Or rather, three blasts in close succession, as someone atop the wagon blew three times upon the war horn.
Bahroo-bahroo-bah-rooooooo!
Parrying an attack, Roderick smiled, and with a sinking sensation, Dan realized the man had been playing the same game as Dan. Those three blasts had sent a specific message across the battlefield.
Defend Roderick.
This was a battle of seconds now.
Glancing over Roderick’s shoulder, Dan saw men on horseback streaking this way across a meadow littered with corpses. Behind them, the gate to Fire Ridge was completely gone and tiny figures battled all along the ramparts, silhouetted against blazing infernos burning within the compound.
“You’ve lost!” Roderick said, driving into Dan with a flurry of slashing attacks. The last strike sliced a line of fire across Dan’s shoulder.
Dan growled and countered, but Roderick leapt deftly back, avoiding the attack. Since the blasting of the horn, Roderick’s smile had not faltered, and the man fought now with renewed energy and confidence.
The magic user cried out—and the cry cut off sharply, replaced by the wild and muffled growling of a wolf shaking prey by the throat.
“No!” Roderick shouted, and suddenly he was backpedaling, battling fiercely to fend off not only Dan but also a bellowing potbellied gnome covered in gore and screeching red elf who rushed wildly forward, thrusting a spear at Roderick’s chest.
