Path of Dragons

With three orcs clinging to his exhausted body, Elijah struggled to stay upright as the monsters bit and clawed, stabbed and scratched. Roaring, he tried to dislodge them, but the creatures were nothing if not tenacious, so his efforts were for naught. Still, he managed to grab hold of one with his free arm and rip it free. A second later, it was sailing through the air to collide with another of its fellows.

When it did, a handful of arrows fell upon that area, piercing through their durable bodies. At that sight, Elijah received a surge of energy and kicked out, sending another one of the orcs tumbling across the blood-soaked earth to bowl over another pair. But the moment he’d freed himself from that set of grasping hands, another orc leaped to the fore to take the dislodged creature’s place.

And then another after that.

Before Elijah could bring his sluggish reflexes to bear, two more orcs had latched onto him. So, when a sixth and final monster hit him with a shoulder tackle, it sent him staggering backwards and into one of the ditches he’d so laboriously helped to dig. For a second, he felt weightless, but then he slammed into the ground. Fortunately, he maintained just enough of his wits to activate Iron Scales before he landed. Otherwise, he would have been impaled by the sharpened stakes that had already claimed the lives of so many orcs.

As it was, his scales were only nicked, but the orcs couldn’t claim such good fortune. Two of them were crushed beneath his massive weight, while two others were completely pierced through by the sharpened stakes. That left only the two that had been clinging to his front, and in a daze, Elijah dealt with them the same way he’d killed so many others.

With either hand, he gripped a different monster’s head, then squeezed. They screamed in protest, clawing at his wrists, but they could do no good. No – they were powerless to resist his immense Strength, and after only a few more seconds, their skulls shattered. Even as their brains oozed between Elijah’s claws, he couldn’t help but wonder at how perfectly sized the orc’s heads were to fit in his guardian form’s hands.

But then a wave of nausea hit him, reminding him that he wasn’t out of the woods. Not only was there a battle still raging all around him, but even the tiny scratches he’d gotten from the stakes were enough to send the poison rampaging through his body. His muscles had already started to lock up, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it affected his heart.

It wasn’t enough to kill him outright. Not with his high Constitution. However, in his already depleted condition, it would be even more effective than normal. And in the ongoing battle, any decline in his abilities would probably end with him dead. So, with every ounce of willpower he possessed, Elijah forced himself to his feet and threw the orcish corpses aside. He tried not to notice the sheer carnage all around him, but even a glance was enough to horrify him.

Elijah had never seen so many bodies in one place. Blood and guts abounded, and grey corpses were piled high. It was a miracle that he’d found an uncovered stake in the trench. All the rest of them had already claimed more than one life, and they wore their trophies with however much pride a stake could display.

But Elijah’s mind wasn’t in any place to make that distinction. Already, his thoughts had grown just as sluggish as his heartbeat, and he knew he needed to get to safety, and soon. So, with his waning willpower pushing him forward, he climbed the steep slope of the trench, surfacing on the other side. Then, he loped in the direction of the defensive line, bowling orcs over with every passing moment.

He didn’t stop to attack any of them. He could barely keep his mind on the singular task of making it to the relative safety of the defensive line. If he let himself get distracted, he would never survive.

So it happened that around thirty seconds later, and with the poison already beginning to shut down his organs, he made it. The moment he got there, the dwarves and gnomes in the area parted, allowing him passage. They’d done it before during the battle, and Elijah suspected that they would have to do it again before it was all over.

As he passed through, he shifted into his human form and stumbled to his knees. Then, he cast Healing Rain before pulsing Touch of Nature over and over again until, at last, the poison dissipated.

Then, he promptly vomited.

It was like that, on his hands and knees and with a trail of vomit connecting his lower lip to the suddenly muddy earth that Kurik found him.

Elijah looked up and said, “I think that was one of yours.”

“Stop gettin’ stuck with ‘em, and you won’t have to deal with it anymore,” the dwarven scout said. Like Elijah, he looked worse for wear, with more than a few rips in his leather armor and a couple of chips in the blade of his axe. The dwarf himself didn’t look injured, but Elijah could see dark bags beneath his eyes, and his hair was missing in a jagged line that suggested he’d recently been healed. “You aight?”

“Yeah. I’m healed. Just took a lot of ethera, and I had to get rid of the excess poison,” Elijah said, nodding at the puddle of vomit. After another moment, he rocked back on his heels and unslung his pack. Then, he retrieved a jug of water, which he used to swish the taste out of his mouth. Spitting, he asked, “How is the battle going?”

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“Better than expected,” Kurik answered. “Probably thanks to you.”

Elijah shrugged. “More like the ditches and your traps,” he said. Indeed, they’d been far more effective than even he had anticipated, and the traps had claimed hundreds of orcish lives. He glanced up at the sky and saw that the sun had risen to its zenith. Had it already been an entire day? He remembered fighting into the night, and dawn felt like it had come only minutes before. However, time was difficult to gauge in the middle of a battle, and it was doubly so when he was so exhausted. “How many more are there?”

“A few thousand, at least.”

“So many?” Elijah asked, incredulous. He felt like he’d killed that many on his own, and he’d reaped the benefits, too. He was already level fifty-three, and he expected that he wasn’t far from getting another level. Soon, he’d gain a new ability at level fifty-five.

“Yeah,” said Kurik as he ran his hand through his wild hair. “They just keep comin’. Good news is that our scouts say the end of the line is near. Won’t be long ‘fore they start gettin’ desperate. They’ll start going into a frenzy, then. And any big’uns they got are gonna come out, then.”

“I already killed the shamans.”

“Bound to be some higher level ones in there, too. Can’t underestimate those.”

Elijah shook his head, then grabbed a bit of dried meat from his pack. He offered some to the dwarf, who took it. As he chewed on the tough rations, he said, “May as well get back to it, then.”

Before he could rise, Kurik put his hand on Elijah’s shoulder, and he said, “Stay. Rest for a few more minutes. Just keep that rain going, yeah? We’ll set up triage right here for the time being.”

“I’m more useful out there,” Elijah pointed out. He’d seen the difference from when he was out there taking all the attention in his lamellar ape form and when he’d retreated. And it wasn’t a pretty sight, with the orcs pushing the rest of the defenders to their limits. They’d held each time, but only just.

However, Elijah was so exhausted that even he had to admit he couldn’t simply hop back into battle. So, he nodded, then made sure that Healing Rain remained in effect before sitting back down. Soon enough, Kurik had brought a few of the wounded to within the area of effect of Healing Rain, though Elijah had already sunk within himself, dragging as much ethera into the nine vortexes of his Quartz Mind, pushing the flow into his Soul, and letting it settle into his Dragon Core.

It wasn’t real rest, but it was better than nothing. And after half an hour, he stood and refreshed Healing Rain before leaving the wounded behind. They would be tended to by Ironshore’s other Healers who could tend to the wounded much more efficiently. Once he reached the defensive line, he looked out at the battlefield.

In most places, he couldn’t even see the ground, the carpet of gray corpses was so dense. The orcs were pressing the defenders, but the front lines had employed long spears to keep them at bay while the ranged attackers brought their spells, skills, and projectiles to bear. It wasn’t perfect, and there were more than a few instances where the orcs broke through. Yet, it was effective enough that Elijah felt free enough to use his spells.

Specifically, he cast Swarm. Once. Twice. Three times, each subsequent instance targeted on a different portion of the remaining horde. It drained his ethera rapidly, but his Quartz Mind was already hard at work refilling his core. In seconds, the entire battlefield was subjected to an immense swarm of stinging insects that descended upon the orcs with ruthless fury. They bit and stung, often unseen and ignored, delivering their deadly payload of afflictions.

Meanwhile, Elijah used Calamity the moment his ethera allowed it, and a disaster followed, ripping into the orcs with nature’s wrath. Elijah cast it again after only a few seconds, draining his ethera down to the dregs. But it was worth it, judging by the sheer number of orcs that fell before his spellcasting might.

He watched for a few long minutes as the horde’s progress slowed to a crawl. That gave him enough time to continue regenerating his ethera. It was a good thing, too, because not long after, an orc that was at least nine feet tall stepped onto the field.

Immediately, Elijah knew it was the orc’s chief. Not because of the elaborate, leopard-skin wrap or the enormous slab of metal it wielded as a sword. Rather, he knew because of the thing’s aura, which swept out from its position, enveloping the orcish horde and sending them into a fury. They didn’t care of they were injured. And any brief respite Elijah’s spells had gained quickly dissipated before their rage. Glowing red with ethereal magic, they rushed forward with renewed vigor, and when they clashed with the line of defenders, spears snapped and they fell upon the people of Ironshore with the ferocity of rabid animals.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the causal effect.

Nor did it take Elijah long to choose a course of action. So, he sighted in on the orc warlord and used Brand of the Stalker. The second it landed, he shifted into his guardian form and bounded forward, barreling through the horde of enraged orcs along the way. He could see the afflictions eating away at them, and more than a few sported grievous injures. However, the famous endurance of orcs was on full display, and whatever the warlord had done had robbed them of even the most basic survival instincts. They didn’t attempt to avoid Elijah’s or the defenders’ attacks. Instead, they just fell upon their chosen enemies, trading blow for blow.

And they were winning.

Elijah knew he needed to reach the warlord and neutralize it before the battle was lost. So, he leaped over trenches and swept the orcs aside as he used his immense Strength to cover as much ground as possible. Then, finally, he fell upon the massive orc, hitting with all the weight and rage he could muster.

And for the first time since the battle had begun, he was rebuffed. He bounced off the orc like he’d hit a brick wall, then staggered backwards, dizzy and dazed. Elijah barely regained his wits in time to dive aside and avoid the orc’s descending slab of a blade. It hit the ground, cleaving an orcish corpse in two and spraying blood, dirt, and entrails in every direction.

It recovered quickly, though, aiming a front kick at Elijah’s chest. It connected, sending Elijah stumbling back. That kick, which felt like it had broken a couple of ribs, was evidence that Elijah was in over his head.

Yet, he had no choice but to keep going. More than a thousand people were depending on him. So was Nerthus and his grove. And in a way, the rest of the world. He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t consider failure. So, with renewed resolve, he launched himself back into the fight.

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