Chapter 78

Day 265:

John and Spooky were back so quickly, Sygraid looked up at her lord blankly.

“Did I ... fall asleep?” She asked in confusion.

“No.” John replied. “But we’ve got problems. I need to get you both out of here.”

He indicated the ruined fort, where the Peons had been firing their bows throughout the battle. Now, work teams were dragging whatever stones they could find into a rough wall facing south.

“What is the ... problem?” She wondered, rolling to her side so she could plant both hands.

“Can you get the kid?” John asked Spooky.

“Yeah, you get her.” The Dukalfyr instructed.

The Titan staggered to her feet unsteadily. She nearly face-planted on her first step.

“Doesn’t look like that’ll work.” John said dryly. “Here, let me carry you.”

Sygraid snorted. “How do ... you think to ... do that?”

“Not easily.” He admitted. “Just ... there ... come over my shoulder ... hook an arm ... and, argh!”

He got her to bend across his shoulders, like she was a high-weight barbell he was squatting. It took every bit of his armor-augmented strength to lift her, but he did it. With their difference in height, what resulted was the world’s ugliest fireman-carry, and he’d hesitate to traverse any uneven ground. One slow, plodding foot in front of the other he stomped his way to the vertical stone face across the road.

“Okay, there’s no way I can lift you up.” He said, setting her down gently.

Spooky was in the process of handing Treb off to a Peon team tasked with aiding those who needed to get back up top. Sygraid was tall enough to grab their hands without issue, but John and Spooky both had to get a double-palmed grip on her feet and lift so she could get over the lip. Spooky ran back to retrieve her shield and what remained of her spear (in case it could be salvaged), while John returned to the officers’ huddle for further guidance.

“Anything I can do to help?” He asked, when Tempest had a moment.

“How strong are you?” She inquired, eyes flicking to the slowly-forming escarpment fortification.

John shrugged. “My armor gives a big boost to strength. Why?”

She pointed west, at the road. “One, possibly two Squares of the Dwarven Legion are coming down that road right now. The Cohort I sent to delay them only has a hundred warriors, and a hundred Peons. They’re trying to drop boulders onto the road, build successive walls to fight behind. I told Sergeant Fist not to become stuck in an unwinnable battle, but I know it will be hard. If you would go, with whoever of your friends will follow, it would be the biggest help.”

John nodded. “I’m on it. Before I go, would you mind telling me what’s coming the other way? I’m not sure I caught all that.”

Tempest pointed east. “The other two khimeran squadrons from the Pandemonium Regiment.” She pointed at where soldiers were butchering the large, heavy mounts they’d captured in the battle. “That’s the third, heaviest squadron; they’re on the way back for it.”

“Two more of those?” John winced. “How can you stop them?”

Tempest shook her head. “Pandemonium has one squadron of each type. The lightest, like what your friends were riding when we met them are mostly scouts and archers. They like to ride by our formations and fire quick, rapid volleys from their box-bows. If they can, they will ride a loop and repeat doing so for as long as possible.” She pointed around at the smoke-filled canyons. “This terrain will make that harder to do, and my Peons will have the advantage of higher ground.”

John snapped his fingers. “That’s right! The other squadron’s that medium-type breed. Lancers.”

“I see you know them. Yes.” She confirmed. “It is they we must contend with. The heaviest would be most difficult for us, but if they are willing to take losses, my three hundred warriors here will be hard pressed.”

“What will you do?” John wondered.

Tempest smiled evilly. “Attack their weakness with my strength. The road cuts narrowly through the canyons in several spots. My last Cohort has been digging trenches all morning. Though fast, khimeran do not jump well. Spears and arrows will whittle them down. Now, go!”

John gave a casual salute and jogged back over to Spooky. Ariel and Hal had joined him, since the healing spot was now relocated to atop the escarpment.

“What’s the orders, ‘Lord John’?” Spooky joked.

John rolled his eyes. “They asked if we’d go help the guys out west. Seems a couple Squares of Dwarves are marching this way. I think that’s a thousand guys per Square.”

Ariel looked into the distance. “The Cohort that Tempest sent only has a hundred warriors, and another hundred Peons. Those are not good odds.”

“Nope.” John said cheerfully. “But they’re supposed to avoid direct battle, and I think part of that plan is to fall back from one wall to the next, built in the road. I’m guessing at choke points.”

“The Dwarves are all shorties?” Spooky asked. “Like those ones I saw at the Pyramid?”

“About up to here.” John indicated on his chest.

“These guys are all big.” Spooky nodded at the warriors still wrecking the camp and preparing for the fight to come. “That height and reach advantage will help.”

“You up for giving a hand?” John asked the group.

Apparently, Sergeant Fist’s men were even more industrious than the other blocking Cohort. The four friends found a string of five leg-deep trenches as they ran down the road, each one backed by a line of knee- to waist-high stones. Every one of them cut the road between steep slopes on the ridge to the north and vertical canyon walls on the south. There were at least a hundred yards between them, and none were within sight of the next. Bundles of spears were staged behind each of the barricades, testament to the Cohort’s plan.

They made it past the second to last blockade, exactly in time to see the first Dwarven Legion Square halt just out of bow-shot at the sight of the Odmaaran-manned obstacle. The friends ran up behind the rear Odmaaran Cohort as the lead Legion Square Commander broke off his own last rank to scout the canyons branching south.

“Ariel, what are you doing here?” One of the Odmaaran Corporals at the back said over his shoulder.

“We were asked to led what aid we might.” Ariel motioned at the four of them.

The man looked around, then raised his voice. “Fist! Yo, Fist! Got a short Section back here looking to help. What do you think? Flankers?”

A coal-black Nomad in the front rank turned to look. He too visibly recognized Ariel and nodded. “Yeah! Tell the others to get back here!” Then returned his attention to the Dwarves making their way forward.

The enemy Square Commander was no dummy. He kept his formation tight, and the instant the 100 Peons staged on the slopes to the north released the first arrow flight he had the entire Square put shields overhead. The Square continued marching forward in that turtled-up manner until they were about ten yards away from the Odmaaran Cohort. Occasionally, a flanking Peon would fire off an arrow or three, but only one body littered the road behind, while two others limped back out of range.

John and the others made their way into the southern flank canyons, where a handful of Odmaaran warriors were patrolling the broken ground behind and beside where the improvised stone ‘wall’ was anchored. Without needing to be told, the warriors all gave Ariel a nod and ran back to formation.

“What do you think?” John Looked around.

Getting up on top of the high ground seemed like a great way to be targeted by every Dwarf within eyeshot.

“I will go.” Hal volunteered, pointing up.

“You still pretty drained?” John asked.

“I am recovering.” Hal assured him. “But my cloak will hide me.”

The Cambion scampered up the steep slope and slipped between the rocks on top. His reward cloak matched the rocks’ shade in moments and he disappeared from easy view. A minute later, his hand appeared between the stones. It held up two fingers, and pointed farther south.

“I’ll take the first rotation.” Spooky volunteered, heading out without waiting for their answer.

His Challenge-reward armored gambeson flickered, and reappeared as a set of Legion armor before they lost sight of him.

John glanced back at the Odmaaran line in time to see the battle truly commence. The front line of Dwarves, with their shields still held overhead, unleashed a volley of magical flame and lightning right into the Odmaaran ranks. Even out of the line of ‘fire,’ John could feel the pressure from the blasts on his exposed skin.

But the Odmaarans didn’t even blink. The dragon magic washed right over them and faded away, doing no damage.

Sergeant Fist laughed loudly into the stunned silence. “This a fight? Or a tickling contest?”

The Legion Dwarves were visibly shaken, and one of the Odmaaran Corporals in the front rank stuck his sword upright into the dirt, then raised an empty right hand above the row of shields.

“Hey, you guys need this more than we do!” He shouted, and blasted three Dwarves off their feet with lightning.

They didn’t get back up. Grim chuckles filled the air around the Odmaaran lines.

“Want to try that again?” Fist taunted.

Then Hal was hissing down at John and Ariel. “They’re coming!”

The Cambion pointed south, so the pair of them got ready. Only a second later, several Legion Dwarves rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. Ariel gave them no time to think. His charge knocked both off their feet and his longsword swept through both necks. More Legionnaires came into view, and Ariel pounded his shield in invitation.

Another batch came over the top of the rise beside them. John leaped over to guard his friend’s flank. These Dwarf Legionnaires used their spears to brace against while they descended. They slid to the lower ground several feet behind where Ariel decimated their fellows.

Then John was on them. He led with his own shield, like a football lineman blitzing. There was a brief moment of resistance before his strength-enhanced legs shoved like a battering ram. The handful of Legionnaires went head over heels, with the Tooth following. John chopped and kicked as he waded through the pile until all were dead.

Between the melee experience he’d gained over the last year, his even more battle-computer-like mind and the integration of his enchanted gear, John felt like the entire fight was occurring in slow-motion. He knew exactly where to go and what to do when he got there for maximum effect. His mind took the hints his weapon and armor spirits gave and absorbed them seamlessly into his quick, agile fighting style.

Two more leaped down, leading with their spears this time. John caught a slice across his arm, but the Dwarves landed awkwardly. His kick launched one back toward the main battle while the Tooth split wooden shaft and fleshy arm alike on the other. The Dwarf screamed in pain which cut off abruptly after John’s second strike crushed his throat. John chased down the first one, to find more Odmaaran warriors peeling off the main line to support them.

A quick glance at the main battle showed why. The Odmaaran Cohort front rank had the Legion mostly bottled up. Pole axes chopped away where the Legion Square attempted to traverse the ditch. The hole already contained enough corpses for the Legionnaires to march over on their comrades’ backs.

But behind the front Square was a second one. The Dwarves from this formation were streaming into the broken ground to the south, searching for a way around. The lead element of this group was who threatened to overwhelm John and Co. with their numbers. The four friends were killing in droves, but they could only cover a few paths without more people.

“Ariel! Time to go!” The Odmaaran Corporal who first addressed them shouted. “Back to the next one!”

Hal hopped down at John’s wave, and ran back along the road to the east. Spooky reappeared as well, his false Legion equipment switching to Odmaaran style as he slipped by Ariel’s still-hammering shield. The Paladin swung his sword out in a vicious sweep before retreating with the others. They burst out onto the main road and ran with the last of the retreating Odmaaran warriors. Dwarven Legionnaires flowed over the now-abandoned barricade and out of the difficult terrain beside it. Their cheers and shouts chased the Odmaarans as the larger humans began outpacing their shorter strides.

Then the Peon archers on the high ground to the north unleashed. The Dwarves weren’t covering themselves any longer. They were too focused on the retreating Cohort warriors. The Legionnaires’ exposed backs were pelted by several waves of arrows. Excited premature victory calls turned to anguished cries as scores of Dwarves went down in seconds. Legion officers scrambled to reform the disorganized throng who were slowing and turtling up individually.

The Peons kept up their covering fire until the entire Cohort was behind the next barricade. By then, the remaining Legionnaires were organized into smaller, understrength Companies, though without any neatly-dressed order. Shields overlapped as they moved at a crawl, still advancing. The Peon missile fire trickled off as the war-slaves peeled back, leap-frogging in parallel with the Cohort withdrawal. A few continued to shoot, keeping enough pressure to prevent the Legion from regaining their previous massed formations.

John watched the Legionnaires collectively growl in frustration when they realized the Odmaarans were again perfectly staged behind another trench-and-wall fortification. As the separated Legion Companies began recombining, John’s count said their fight had eliminated almost a quarter of the attacking Dwarves. Four to five hundred casualties, many of whom were still breathing, filling the air with the din of their moans and screams, were a massive blow to the attackers’ morale.

Then a smarter Legion Company flowed into view as they traversed the canyon John and his friends were guarding.

“Trouble!” John called out.

The Corporal from before was back, shouting for reinforcements. John found himself quickly flanked by ten Odmaaran warriors. The Corporal pushed John aside so the Odmaaran could occupy the line’s center.

“Shield wall!” The Corporal yelled.

Following along, John linked his own round shield with the inverted-teardrop kite shields that the Odmaarans carried. There was a trickle of power as magic flowed out of the Corporal’s shield to envelop the entire rank.

“What’s that?” John asked, studying it with his Sight.

He could hear the smile in the Corporal’s voice. “My Challenge reward; Portable Wall.”

After that, they were in the thick of it as the Legion Company charged. The Tooth flicked out, above and below his shield, but it was quickly apparent why the Odmaarans carried pole-axes. Their longer reach allowed for better strikes once the close-quarters battle joined. Out on the flank, Ariel’s sword hewed through anyone foolish enough to face him. With every foe slain, the Paladin’s healing aura grew stronger. Cuts and bruises vanished without a trace, and even broken digits reset themselves before too long.

Even with his clear-headed thinking, John lost track of time as the battle rhythm took him. All his focus remained on holding his own within the hasty formation and protecting the soldiers to his side. But when a second rank stepped up behind them, he knew they were about to retreat again.

“Ready!” The Corporal shouted. “Hold! Hold!” The rank behind slid spears over their shoulders. “Push! A—and go!”

As one, their shields thrust out, along with the spears. The disorganized Dwarf line fell back, giving them enough time to turn and run back out onto the road. This time, things were even more chaotic than the first fighting withdrawal. Peons were pelting Legionnaires as they tried to catch the retreating Odmaaran warriors. John saw more than one of his allies fall to a well-timed hamstring slice. He had to dodge several attempts himself as he ran to the third barricade. He lost track of Hal in the chaos, but found Ariel and Spooky retaking their spot on the main line’s flank.

The Cohort formation there was noticeably smaller than the first two times. John could see many more Odmaaran bodies lying on the battlefield, where the Dwarves were attempting to reorganize yet again. Sergeant Fist was still anchoring the front row, and motioned for those behind to fill it out. John estimated they were down to around seventy warriors now.

But when the reformed Legion Square came into view for the third time, and saw the bloodied but unbeaten Odmaaran troops, they stutter-stepped to a ragged halt. John did a quick count, and realized that their enemies were down to a single Thousand-Dwarf Square, with a Company or two again moving into the rougher, broken terrain on John’s side. Legionnaire shoulders slumped, and John knew their enemies didn’t have much left in the tank.

Sergeant Fist knew it too. He began taunting the Dwarves, and was quickly copied by the other Odmaaran warriors. The Legionnaires screamed epithets back, but their tenor carried a tone of desperation. And right in the middle of it all, Fist held up a sword. He pointed it at the Peons up in the high ground on the other flank, where the war-slaves were again repositioned. At his signal, a single wave of arrows flew out.

The distracted Legion Square took the missile flight right in the face. Cursing turned to another round of screams and cries of pain. Boiling with rage and fear, the Legion formation broke. John had to give it to them, the Legionnaires were hardened veterans. Faces snarling, Dwarves charged right at them. About fifty Legion casualties remained behind, with another twenty dragging the wounded out of the road.

“Ready!” Fist yelled.

Those Odmaaran warriors not in the front rank knelt down. Hands reached into the dirt and found the spear-poles lying there.

“Ready!” Fist repeated, as the leading edge of the now-disorganized Dwarven mob approached the trench.

The Legionnaires were apparently going to jump for it. One advantage of the breakdown in discipline was that even those Companies who were supposed to get around to the flank lost their cohesion. Legion officers struggled vainly to hold their subordinates back, to no avail. Twelve hundred Dwarves, driven beyond rational thought by their frustration and loss flooded down the road. A wave of flesh and metal without reason or restraint. Thogh they weren’t an organized formation any longer, that mush weight slamming into the thin Cohort line was going to hurt. John wasn’t sure the Odmaarans could hold. At the last moment, before those Dwarves in the lead could realize what awaited them, Fist raised his sword again and bellowed.