Chapter 38: Isekai Life & Fiery Death

The arena was filled with screams and shouts as the crowd panicked, trying to escape the flames. The fire spread quickly from the VIPs’ stand, catching the hidden fuel under the stands, but fortunately the Flamestrike seemed to be the only source of fire.

Flamestrike ... a fifth level Priest spell, often referred to as the “Cleric’s fireball”. Deals 6d8 damage in a 10’x30’ upright cylinder, save for half. Even if I successfully saved, I’d have to be extraordinarily lucky to survive outright. Hell, it was probably a death sentence for my entire party. So, Mariska’s level had to be at least 9 in order to cast that ... and elven clerics had a maximum possible level of 12. Good to know.

Ahead of me, Gogol drew a pair of battleaxes, turn and sank them into Ricard Parett’s gut, almost to the handle. The human warrior coughed blood, looked at his (former) party member and asked, “Why... ?”

“You always were a fool, Ricard,” Gogol replied in a gruff voice, “Mariska’s cult might be weird, but they sure pay- aaaargh!”

Katriana was ready for the dwarf’s perfidy, and thrust her longsword hard into the dwarf’s side, between the plates of his armour, and the tip was red when she drew it out. Voss also struck, his spear uselessly caroming off Gogol’s helmet, while Ashryn darted forward and prayed a healing spell over Ricard.

I didn’t have the space to hit Gogol without risking hitting my own party, and I didn’t have the range to hit Mariska, so instead I rounded on the silver fox knight and his two squires.

“That elf,” I said, pointing at the judge’s stand, “Just assassinated the lord paramount and is trying to sacrifice the crowd to the God of Destruction.” I lowered my hand, “That dwarf is working for her.”

The knight gave me an a considering look, then nodded. “Say no more, friend,” he said, and that’s when I noticed- his plate mail was inlaid with runes of copper, and when he turned to his squires, he ordered, “Give me Foxfang.” One of the boys reverently held out a bejewelled hilt sheathed in scaly leather, and the knight drew a longsword that was the faintly tinted red of dragonsteel, inlaid with runes of silver.

Probably the greatest Charisma check of my life, to be honest.

I turned, encanting magic as I went, and gestured at Gogol, reducing the dwarf by about half a foot. Ricard and the fox knight I could take or leave, but if he goes for Katriana or Ashryn, they would need the 20% reduction in his damage. Oh, Voss, too, I suppose, but I was a little more concerned about the mechanics of raising a pregnant woman.

Shockingly, I could see over the melee that the lord paramount was somehow still alive, and struggling forward out of the flames. His skin was black and sloughing off, and I wasn’t even convinced he could see. He stumbled into the the still burning railing, when Mariska gestured and a band of light shot from her hands and bound him in place. Hold Person, I guess, keeping him in the fire where she wanted him.

Meanwhile, Ricard roared wordlessly, drew steel and slashed Gogol savagely in the face. Katriana and Voss maneuvered, keeping the dwarf hemmed in with their blades, and circled around to get more room.
The dwarf still only had eyes for his old friend, which was smart- my allies certainly weren’t of a high enough level to seriously threaten him- and hacking viciously at Ricard, blood flying. Yet the older adventurer still didn’t back down.

The fox knight brushed past me, sword flashing red in his hand, and he cleaved straight through Gogol’s pauldron and bit deep into the dwarf’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Ashryn hung back, in a protective stance beside me, biding her time.

I was stuck in this tunnel, with the angry-yet-shrunken mohawked dwarf berserker fighting my allies. I couldn’t get anywhere as long as he was in the way- not without risking getting in my allies’ way and maybe getting an axe in the teeth for my trouble.

With a great effort, Ricard managed to lash out one last time, striking true and raising a spray of blood. Gogol roared in defiance, and sank one of his axes deep into his former ally’s skull. Next, he rounded on the fox knight, slashing out with a backhanded, almost casual blow that caught the knight in the gut.

He wasn’t done, though, and the dragonsteel sword bit true once again. Then, surprisingly, one of the squires leapt forward, shouting, and took Ricard’s place in the melee, his shortsword slipping between the dwarf’s armour plates.

Meanwhile, there was another blossom of flame from the arena. The opponent knight, with a shield of midnight blue faced with a grey hammer, charged from the opposite tunnel, and struck Mariska with a glancing blow from his lance. Mariska, having been dashed to the ground by the force of the blow, stood, dusted sand off her hands, and gestured, Flamestriking the brave knight. The horse and knight alike screamed, and blindly charged into the side of the arena, both mount and rider sinking to the ground to die.

So, correction, Mariska was at least level ten.

Gogol lifted both of his axes, slamming them downwards into the fox knight, hacking open his chest in a spray of gore. The two-handed, powerful blow was enough of a distraction, however, for Katriana to come from behind and run the dwarf through with her blade.

Voss barked a laugh and turned to face Mariska, but I yelled, “Wait! We don’t know how many more of those fire attacks she has!”

Grimacing, he stopped, and even backed further into the shelter of the tunnel. Though, I noted grimly, it wouldn’t be a shelter for long with the way the fire was spreading through the stands. The crowds were stampeding on their way out, I could see, several of them leaping off the back just the get away from the consuming flames.

And yet, it was only spreading from the original Flamestrike. Either Mariska’s plan was dumber than we originally assumed, or Calliope and Enna were successful in their ambush.

The fox knight’s squires, meanwhile, had retrieved Foxfang and were in the middle of dragging the poor, dying knight back into the tunnel. Hopefully the fire wouldn’t spread so far that the knight ended up cremated, after all that. I kind of liked the guy.

And at least he had a cool sword.

Guards began streaming into the arena from the tunnel where the hammer knight had ridden forth from, just basic city guardsmen armed with spears. Mariska wasn’t having any of that, however, and gestured with a laugh, Flamestriking them and setting the stands on fire around the tunnel entrance. So much for reinforcements, I thought grimly, but also noted that Mariska was on her third Flamestrike. Level eleven, then. And she was allowed to use a 6th-level spell slot for a 5th level spell, I noted.