Dragon Mage 028 - Down by the River

390 days until the Arkon Shield falls

I ducked into my tent, emotions in turmoil. For a long time, I sat alone in the darkness, staring at nothing.

I had been elated by our successes today. I’d felt that I had accomplished something good, both for my own cause and the people here. And while the conference had underscored how desperate the Outpost’s situation was, it had not taken away from what Tara, I, and the others had achieved.

The commander though
 her words had spoiled all that. In her eyes, I was obstinate. Willful. Wayward. But I wasn’t—was I?

I knew what Jolin wanted. She’d have me bind myself to the Outpost and sacrifice myself—as she had—for the people here. But I couldn’t. I had my own cause. An important cause. I couldn’t take up her own.

“Who does she think she is?” I growled. Why can’t she be satisfied with what I am willing to give? I had promised to stay until the settlement was established. It was still a promise I intended to keep. But after that?

I would leave. I had to.

How dare she try to shame me into staying. I had made clear from the very beginning that I wouldn’t join the Outpost. Her people were not my responsibility. Leaving did not equate to abandoning them. They had never been mine to begin with. Their fate was not my burden to bear. It was unfair of Jolin to ask that of me.

But was it?

What is the right choice here? I wondered. To stay and try to build the Outpost into something more, into a second home for humanity? Or to venture out and seek my vengeance?

Is vengeance ever the right choice?

I shuddered, feeling my purpose waver. In spite of myself, I was swayed by the commander and her demands. It was a seductive proposition. To join the Outpost and put down roots. To grow the settlement with Jolin, Tara


No. I trembled. I couldn’t let myself forget why I was here. “Vengeance,” I whispered. “I live only for vengeance. I must punish Mum’s killers.”

Yet even to my own ears, my conviction sounded weak. Bowing my head, I rocked back and forth. In desperation, I let memories of my last moments on Earth resurface. Mum’s death, perfectly preserved in the deepest recesses of my psyche, replayed through my mind.

Tears rolled down my face as I relived the moment. Oh, Mum, I miss you. Then grief burned away and horror dug its fingers into me once more. Hate caressed me. Rage consumed me. And finally, my thirst was rekindled. Thirst for orc blood.

I remembered now. I remembered who I was. Why I was.

I sealed away the horrific memories again, burying them deep within my psyche once more. They had served their purpose. Clarity of thought had returned.

I knew what I needed to do.

And I wouldn’t need them.

Staying indefinitely would only hold me back. The right course would be to leave. I was certain of it.

I pursued vengeance. I knew that. But it wasn’t only revenge I craved. My hatred was not senseless. It was with purpose. A purpose that I hoped—no, knew—advanced humanity’s own cause. The orcs were mankind’s enemy. They had to be opposed. Or soon, what little remained of humanity would be under their thumb.

Taking the battle to the orcs might not be the right thing for the Outpost—not now, anyway—but it was the right thing to do. I had to believe that. This one settlement, however strong, could not stand alone against the tide of orcs that would descend upon it one day.

My fight was to kill orcs. Not to defend the settlement.

My purpose wasn’t to protect. But to avenge. For Mum. For all of us.

✜✜✜

I fell asleep after that.

Despite my determination to get in more training, my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I was too weary, and both my mind and body protested further exertions.

“Jamie! Are you still in there?”

My eyes flew open at the sound of Tara’s voice. I groaned and sat upright. What time was it? Light streamed in through the tent. Morning, by the looks of it.

“Jamie?”

“I’m here,” I rasped. I licked my dry lips. “Coming,” I called, louder this time. Labouring upright, I limped out of the tent and shielded my eyes from the bright morning sun.

“You don’t look so good,” said Tara, hands on hips, “but come on. We’re late already.”

“Late?” I asked, still befuddled by sleep. “What for?”

“The murluk attack.”

My mind snapped into focus. “Right, let’s go.”

We were both silent as we made our way out of the camp. The doubts I had wrestled with last night still lay in my thoughts, and I felt little desire to engage in conversation. Tara also seemed preoccupied, her mind elsewhere.

As we neared the river, I nearly stopped short. Along the top of the upper bank, large tree-trunk beams had been planted within the earthworks. Soren had been right last night, I mused. They had made good progress.

The palisade was still incomplete though, and gaps still dotted its length. If we didn’t hold the murluks at the river shore today, all the work would go to waste.

We slipped through the half-built palisade and, standing on the edge of the upper bank, surveyed the scene below. The lines of spearmen were neatly arrayed along the shore, with the commander at their back. Catching sight of her, bitterness swelled in me.

I swallowed it back. Now was not the time.

“Strange,” murmured Tara. She squinted up at the sun. “They’re late.” Not waiting for my response, she leapt down the bank, but stopped when she saw I hadn’t moved. “Hurry, Jamie,” she called, turning around.

I didn’t look at her. I was recalling last night’s conference: Petrov’s report, Soren’s troubles, and Melissa’s failures. There was so much that had to be done to secure the settlement. Three more days, I mused. It was not nearly enough time.

My eyes moved from the incomplete wall to the lines of spearmen. Over a thousand-odd soldiers—the bulk of the Outpost’s manpower—were tied down here, defending the river. The murluks were a distraction, I realised. All these men could be better used elsewhere.

I didn’t agree with everything Jolin had said last night, but she was right about one thing: the time for half-measures had passed. Coming to a decision, I stepped forward.

“Tara,” I called as I slid down the bank. “Have the commander pull the spearmen back. All the way to the top of the upper bank.” Reaching Tara’s side, I outlined the rest of my plan.

“That’s a damned fool idea,” she said, throwing up her hands in disgust. “But I’m tired of telling you no. Let’s go pitch your idea to the old lady. She can be the one to deny you this time.”

“You’re going to have to explain it to her.”

“What?” she asked. “Why?”

“The murluks might appear at any moment. I have to get to the shoreline,” I said. While that was true, it wasn’t the real reason I sent her in my stead. I didn’t feel up to facing the commander again just yet.

I limped past a staring Tara. “Go, Tara,” I snapped.

She went.

✜✜✜

Ten minutes later, I was sitting cross-legged in the mud and gently lapping waves of the river. I was the only human along the entire expanse of the lower banks.

I had feared at first that the commander would deny my request, or that the murluks would attack before the spearmen could reposition. Neither of those things turned out to be true.

Jolin had shifted her men with such speed I wondered if she had known what I was going to do all along. But that was impossible. The idea hadn’t even occurred to me until a few minutes ago.

Now, alone on the shore, I wondered if we had gone to all this trouble for naught. The murluks had still not shown up.

Are they even going to attack today?

My plan was simple. I was bait. It had worked the first day when I had saved the right flank, and I hoped it would work again today on a much larger scale. This time, I had dragonfire to call upon, and I wouldn’t need the spearmen to rescue me.

Or so I hoped.

It was a reckless plan, I knew. But no more foolish than attacking the spider queen, I thought with a wry smile. And the commander had agreed to it. So, it had to have some merit.

The murluks paused when they caught sight of me alone on the shore, but they didn’t hop forward eagerly as I’d expected. They appeared tentative
 almost afraid. Gathering together in a crowd within the safety of deep water, they slurped hesitantly at one another.

I frowned. Did the murluks remember yesterday’s battle? Had it made them wary? It was certainly possible. After all, they were smart enough to build primitive weapons and armour.

What do we really know of the creatures? I wondered. Why did they only attack in the morning? For that matter, why did they attack at all? And where did they come from?

I shook my head. All good questions, but meaningless right now. I couldn’t let the battle be drawn out. One way or the other, I had to bring it to an end quickly. Wading a few steps into the river, I raised my hands and prepared to flare.

Even though they were well out of my reach, the murluks shrank back fearfully. Ah, I thought, halting my spellcasting. So they did remember. Many of the creatures dove back into the river, and for a second I dared to hope it meant an end to the day’s hostilities.

But not all the murluks fled.

For every two that retreated, one surged forward. Perhaps, they were emboldened by the fact that I was unaccompanied. My pulse quickened. There were maybe a thousand murluks—if not more—converging on me.

My legs trembled and my palms grew sweaty. Even expecting such numbers, I was hard-pressed not to give in to terror and flee. The numbers don’t matter, I told myself. You’re ready.

And I was.

Holding my nerve, I backstepped out of the river until I was on firm ground again. The first wave of murluks closed to within a few yards. I dropped my hands and let them approach unmolested.

It was hard.

The temptation to flare, to burn away my attackers, was nearly too great to ignore, but I held to my plan.

Now that the murluks had made up their minds to attack, I didn’t want to scare them off too early. First, I had to draw them in—as many as possible. The murluks reached me. Before their spears touched me, I cast invincible.

Then I threw a punch.

Though it was weak and poorly directed, the blow still landed, even as invincible turned away the murluk’s replying spear jab.

Your skill in unarmed combat has advanced to: level 1.

I grinned at the Trials message and felt my tension drain away. With fresh confidence, I threw another punch and ignored the forest of murluk spears thrust my way.

Alone and with my magic absent, I was a tempting target. More murluks poured towards me—jabbing, thrusting, and pulling. Under the weight of their numbers, I toppled over. But even though I was soon buried under a horde of blue, I was not worried.

It was part of my plan, after all.

Instead, I kept my eye fixed on my Trials core. When the timer on invincible hit fifteen seconds, I acted.

Through my hands, which I had been careful to keep facing outwards, I cast flare. The murluks recoiled, but were packed too tightly to dodge the reaching flames.

They burned. In ones and twos, then in dozens.

As the weight pressing down on me eased, I spread my arms, and even more died.

Too late for most to react, the murluks realised they had been baited. Those that could, fled, and abruptly the tide of creatures flowing from the river reversed course.

I rose to my feet and followed. Shoes squelching through mud, bone, and half-burned remains, I limped after the murluks. A quick glance left and right revealed that none of the creatures had attempted advancing beyond me to the ranks of spearmen on the upper bank.

But even though the murluk attack had been broken, I did not let up with flare. The more creatures I slaughtered, the better the chance that today’s disaster would be burned into their psyche. Hopefully it will forestall further attacks in the future.

I pursued the creatures right to the river’s edge, casting flare all the while to the very limit of my reach. Murluks, slid, fell, and shrieked in agony as they desperately tried to escape.

I did not relent.

Mercilessly, I burned every creature in reach, dealing death and leaving ash flying in my wake. A minute later my task was done.

All the murluks had fled. The river had grown quiet again and a hush had fallen. I swung around and saw the lines of spearmen watching in stunned silence from above.

I began limping my way back to them.

The commander raised her hand, and a moment later the air shook as the spearmen cheered my victory with a resounding roar.