The Calamitous Bob

The road they followed was large enough to accommodate one carriage and two lines of guards on foot. Such a path should have been overtaken by the forest, yet even the grass seemed to avoid it. Varska did not know why when Viv asked.

If the flora kept the road alone, the same could not be said of the fauna. They found the first bodies lying in pools of their own blood. Those were merchants or settlers, according to their simple and practical outfits. The man and one child had their chest cavities ravaged. A third pool and footsteps showed that a third person had left on their own.

“Is that…”

“We are close to the deadlands. Revenants are made in hours,” Varska commented.

“The two others have too much of their bodies missing to turn. We can recover them on our way back. The living take priority.”

The mounted guard at the head of the formation moved the corpses to the side quickly. There were no whispers or reactions from the soldiers around Viv.

Viv had to get used to the fact that dying to monsters here was the most common way of losing one’s life. To her first world’s mentality, the men and women’s stoic approach to death made little sense. How could they so easily accept this horrid fate? The answer was simple. They had no other choice. The human mind was not designed to live day after day in a state of constant stress, and so most of them accepted the eventuality of their gruesome death as something that might happen, and there was little they could do about it. Viv understood that intellectually, but viscerally, she had more difficulties.

It was noon when the troop came across the first scene of battle. Viv was already grateful for the wagons, as she would have been spent jogging at that speed for hours with all her gear on. This was another obvious benefit of the light infantry path. Its followers could last longer, on less, and fight with less means than anyone else. It was not much, but it allowed them to be an effective force despite their lack of means.

The men before her had not been so lucky. A dozen soldiers lay in clumps, covered in wounds from head to toes. Viv saw light armor and some heavier ones. An archer with his quiver empty had crawled to sit under a tree where he had bled to death. His blood-caked fist still grasped the hilt of a dented shortsword. Viv also saw a woman in a forrester garb, fallen on the side with three spears poking from her breast. Her quarterstaff was red on both hands, with pieces of gray matter clinging to it. They had fought a gallant rear-guard action to allow those who had reached Kazar to flee unimpeded, and had paid the heaviest price. As for the culprits, they were everywhere.

Beastlings were short. The adults would barely reach the average woman’s sternum. They had lean muscles covered in hair and an assortment of crudely made weapons and cloth, made from stinky, insect-riddled pieces of fur. Their faces were vaguely humanoid but deformed in a ghastly way, with large mouths filled with rotting teeth and, sometimes, horns. Fur, not hair, covered their skulls and the back of their necks. Their skin had a grayish quality and more than a few had sores. Viv could not be sure, but she thought that she noticed flabby teats and extended abdomen in the few of the dead specimens. There were quite a few of them. The soldiers had defended themselves to the last with the fury of those who knew they would not see the dawn.

The guards at the head of the column dismounted once again to place the human bodies in a line. Farren dismounted and placed his hand on the forehead of every fallen, whispering a short prayer. Viv could spot a small amount of golden light left over the dead warriors’ skulls after he was done.

“Neriad’s last gift to those who fought for his ideals. No necromancer, no creature of darkness will ever make those rise again,” Varska whispered.

The temple guard stopped in front of the lines and their commander stepped forward in his silver armor. Viv had met him a few times, she realized, but she did not know he was in charge. Lorn was a tall man with a dark beard and receding hairline. A large scar covered parts of his nose, and he was wielding one of the largest swords she had ever seen. When he spoke, his voice rang clearly over the entire formation.

“Company, present arms!”

Like one man, the entire temple contingent drew their sword and saluted those who had sacrificed themselves. A few of the guards saluted them as well, then the others followed in a drove. Viv thought that this was one of the universal things that she could stand behind. She stood up with Varska and Marruk moving at the same time, as well as a mildly confused dragonling. Every last member of the expedition force honored the dead for a few seconds.

“At ease!”

The column departed in the following moment. There were hopefully people to save. The dead could wait.

There was now a spring in the steps of the fighters, and it was not a joyous one. Viv felt a modicum of relief that their enemies were not human, because the rules of wars would not be respected. The search and rescue mission now had an extermination addendum.

Viv looked forward and frowned. The road curved through the forest so the visibility was limited. It would still be hard to miss the many corpses of beastling lying on the path. Sometimes, a human was mixed in between but those had been thoroughly devoured. They were missing most of their flesh, including on the face. It was so pronounced that Viv could not tell what gender they had been in life. Some of the beastlings also showed the marks of teeth. The little fucks were cannibals. That was something the bestiary had not mentioned.

It only took them ten more minutes to smell and see smoke. There was a distant clamor and the clash of weapons. A man in a brown outfit with a cape and bow burst from the edge of the trees and made a beeline for Corel. Since no one had reacted, Viv had refrained from blasting him.

[Head forest scout, very dangerous, a man who follows a path dedicated to forest exploration and reconnaissance. Excellent combatants and ambushers, head scouts are a valuable addition to any army and a vital one when fighting in rough terrain. Stealthy.]

Stealthy as a separate term was indicative of a lifetime of effort, just like Viv had ‘smart’ for all the years she had spent studying seriously. And the group presentations. Fuck those.

Corel rode along the line and bellowed his orders.

“When we get into the clearing, I’ll turn left and you follow. Amari’s detachment will be just behind me, then Lorn takes the center and Sargas the right. Sargas, anchor your lines on the road. Archers behind him on the carriage. Keep the path open at all costs and hold.”

A few calls of acknowledgement came in reply. Viv noticed that Corel did not give Varska any orders.

“I will stay at the back with the wagon guards,” Farren explained, “you two know what to do.”

“Let them do their duty while we do ours,” Varska replied with some impatience. Viv decided that she would just stick with her.

And they were out into a clearing the size of a small field to their left, dotted with the occasional tree. The forest was still dense to the right. The column turned into the open ground at the brisk pace while their armored wagon placed itself on the road, anchoring the formation. Viv followed after Varska as she jumped down and walked calmly forward until they were just behind Lorn’s temple guards. Marruk was there as well. As for Arthur, she had taken to the skies once more.

The besieged convoy was further on the road, its view obscured by another line of trees. Milling beastlings were rushing away towards it and the battle.

“Will they come for us?” Viv asked in a low voice.

“Oh yes, you can definitely count on the beastlings to always do just that.”

Viv could hear them then, strident cries that grew in intensity across the expanse of land. The human line was barely long enough to cover their side of the clearing with rows two or three men thick. The guards had made a shield wall with spearmen behind. Only the temple guard had adopted another formation. Their numbers jutted out in a triangle that would split the assault in two, or at least that’s what she assumed they were attempting. Lorn himself was at the fore, his massive zweihander resting casually against his right shoulder. The tall amazon and a man with a halberd covered his flanks.

The shrieks of the beastlings rose in intensity, though they were still hidden across the field. Behind them, Viv heard something stomping the ground heavily. The earth shook. Trees crashed on the ground as something made its way through the forest right in front of them.

It was big.

“We found our target,” Varska observed.

Before the large creature could make itself known, the shrieks reached a high, deafening pitch and a solid mass of the creatures sprinted across the field, wielding stone clubs and makeshift spears and whatever else they could get their hands on. Gathered packs rushed without order or reason, savagery blinding them and working them up to a frenzy.

It took exactly four seconds for them to cross more than fifty meters of green grass. It was both too fast and agonizingly slow.

“Hold your spells,” Varska ordered. Viv obeyed.

Just before they hit, a few beastling threw stones and rocks at the formation. Most of the men were on guard and the projectiles banged uselessly against shields, but one unlucky man was brained instantly.

The wave crashed against a disciplined wall, and the humans smacked them down. Spears plunged into unarmored flesh, swords went up and down, maces crushed bones and sinew. Backed by magic and harsh training, the guards and soldiers cleaved through the enemy numbers with clinical efficiency. The deafening roar of the beastlings was soon tainted by painful yelps. The human side was trained, ready, and quite pissed off to boot. They mangled their foes with the cold determination of those who have come to kill. It was pitiless and professional. The air smelled of blood and shit. Viv felt more at home now than she had since coming to this land.

At the head of the formation, Lorn showed that he had not usurped his position. He alternated quick vertical strikes and horizontal sweeping motions that went through flesh without stopping. It was like a fucking blender. Other temple guards mixed magic with their skills in interesting ways. There was a man who sent waves of flames with every swing of his sword, and another who erected a blue shield that blocked a volley of stones.

The line was holding. Men from Earth would have been swept away by the violence of the assault, but people here enjoyed magically-enhanced strength. The clawing monstrosity that was the beastling tide crashed against their unyielding opponent and was bled as a result. Like all waves, it finally receded and the plain was soon empty except for a solid mass of bodies at the feet of the victors. The shrieks had ceased, replaced by a low drone. Again, it gained in intensity. Meanwhile, moaning men and women were helped up the line to the wagons with broken limbs and bloody faces.

A drum started to play.

“It means that they have shamans. It was expected,” Varska said, “do not cast until I tell you so, or they will know our position and send spells our way. Hold and wait for the beast.”

“Copy that.”

Varska looked askance and Viv realized that the expression did not quite translate

“It means, received and understood.”

The drone changed to shrieks again and if it was possible, it sounded even louder than before. Once more the tide launched across the glade and this time, there were hairless specimens at the back wearing crudely-made bark masks. As ordered, Viv stayed put.

The shaman raised their hand and started a chant, quickly interrupted when arrows struck their chest and throats. Silent figures shot at the beastlings from behind our lines, and from bushes and trees on the side. Viv had not seen them coming.

[Forest scout: very dangerous. One who follows the path of reconnaissance and forest warfare.]

The shamans had not seen them coming as well. It was a good reminder that, although she could cut through stone and metal, one arrow was all it would take to end her life. Archers here also seemed dreadfully accurate.

The beastling tide slammed into the ranks once more and a few men yelped in pain.Some places in the line buckled before closing rank again, with the rock of the temple guard triangle taking the brunt of the violence. Once more, they managed to decimate the beastlings coming for them. This time, however, there were more of the buggers. The drums in the distance kept accelerating when suddenly, a movement from the left made Viv’s head turn. Corel was charging with his mounted detachment. They crashed into their foes despite little room to accelerate and drove them off before quickly retreating to their own lines. The maneuver worked and the beastlings around him fled. The rout propagated across the entire clearing and the squirming horde retreated to the far side. The droning sound began anew.

The earth shook some more and the last trees collapsed as a behemoth arrived. It was heralded by a great mass of grey flesh, a globe the size of a large boulder with a beak like a bird of prey. It was the head of… a tortoise? Yes, Viv was pretty sure that this was a tortoise. It had small beady eyes dripping blood and quite a few spears and arrows planted in and around them. The creature sniffed the air before retreating in its shell, which had just entered the clearing.

And what a shell it was. You could have built a cabin on the thing, and it was rigged with bone protrusions and grooves. Viv noticed that the front had still been damaged in battle. There was still a war axe deeply embedded in its left shoulder. Viv judged that the magical tortoise of doom must have been as large as three main battle tanks. There was also a weird sort of tower affixed towards the back. It was playing tricks with her vision.

“That is what broke the caravan, otherwise they could probably have handled a beastling raid. This is a horde leader.”

“Does it use magic?”

“Yes. Your presence will spare lives today. Can you cover me while I cast?”

“Sure.”

Varska did not hesitate. She brandished her wand and started chanting something. Viv could feel mana exude from the mage’s conduits to form a dense shape above her. Many glyphs flew around and into the gathering orb.

Another chant erupted from the advancing tortoise’s back, this one guttural and ominous. A core of red under a black cloud as large as a yoga ball formed next to the tower.

“Efestar’s eye! The dark gods are watching!”

Worried mumblings spread across the human army. Varska was busy (and slightly worried), so Viv turned to Marruk instead.

“Is it like what Farren does?”

“Yes,” she hissed back, “but Farren is not a caster and Neriad is not the God of Scorn and Viciousness.”

Aha!

Well.

That could be a problem.

Viv called upon her power and the black mana pooled around her like a nimbus, close enough to still be connected to her. She thought of her nope shield and wondered if she could infuse it with the annihilation meaning.

Yes, absolutely. She could. And she would. No taking any chances.

With a last yell and a maniacal laughter, the enemy caster sent its spell. The orb travelled in an arc across the glade.

Viv remembered all those times the nope shield had saved her life. She remembered it erasing every last drop of acidic bile from a gut spiller attack. There had been nothing left. And there would be nothing left now. Black mana rose in the air, eager to do her bidding. She felt its awkward eagerness to please and held it back. Timing was important.

The god-cursed ball passed over the temple guard and Viv let go.

“Nope shield!”

This one was denser and smaller than usual because its target was smaller. Viv infused it with the meaning of annihilation and guided it forward. Scorn met void. Void won.

There was a hiss, there was a shriek, and then an anticlimactic sound like a popped balloon. In the silence that followed, Viv almost heard a metaphysical burp.

“And fuck your god,” she concluded.

Her triumph was short-lived. The enemy caster shrieked and two smaller orbs appeared, growing quickly. The caster shot them at the same time, one slightly after the other. They were noticeably smaller than the previous attempt.

Viv felt that she could attack back. She also knew that she had one job and it was to keep Varska safe and she would. Heroics got people killed. Showing off got people killed. Doing your fucking job got people saved.

“Nope. Nope!”

The next two spells easily intercepted the attack despite the coming distraction.

The tortoise was more than two thirds across the meadow, with Lorn facing it without fear. A third wave of beastlings was charging.

Varska cast her spell.

“Knee breaker.”

The next time the tortoise put a foot down, it plunged deep into the earth. All the beastlings surrounding it stumbled and fell as well. The beast’s three remaining limbs joined the first as earth swallowed it as if it was quicksand. Viv could feel something being pulled out of the area despite her feeble skills simply because Varska was manipulating tremendous amounts of energy.

Varska closed her fist, and whatever she had drawn bounced back in strength with a dreadful, snapping sound. It was soon answered by a chorus of pure agony, and blood erupted from hundreds of torn off limbs. The maimed beastlings rolled on the ground while the tortoise's head popped out of its shell to let out a pathetic bellow. Pools of blood were spilling on the ground.

Nasty.

In one spell, Varska had disabled the enemy monster.

“Do you think you can finish it off?” Varska asked Viv calmly, as if she had not just shown the deadliness of a heavy weapons team.

Viv focused and overcharged a spell. The tortoise was at the maximum range of what she was comfortable with.

“Purge!”

She sent a snake of darkness towards the tortoise’s neck, but no sooner had it started to dig in the creature’s skin that she felt a resistance. The monster’s inner mana resisted her assault. Blood had just started to shed when a nebulous black plate formed on the creature’s head. The shaman was protecting its ride, for all the good it would do it. Its death was inevitable.

Varska had not wasted time either. She had removed a pouch from her belt and dust flew from it, creating glyphs that surrounded a circle on the ground at her back. The wounded making their way to the backline and wandering scouts avoided it like the plague.

“That caster needs to go. I need the infantry line a little bit farther from me or I might shear their heads off. Think you can help?”