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Common Clay B3Ch10: One Final Strike
🕑 Added 2025-01-07 15:00:01 +0000 UTCWith Clay clearing the path for them, they made it back to their camp easily. He barely felt tired by the end of it; [Corpsebane] made things significantly easier.
All the same, it was a relief to rest and prepare for their mission in the morning. He knew the others were still skeptical, so he needed at least one more push to convince them of what he was doing. Then he could go back to Pellsglade and face what was waiting for him there.
He was still going over his plans when Syr Katherine came over to sit near him. She was still tired, but she seemed far fresher than she had after their final fight. For a moment, she just studied him as he ate their dinner of field rations and soup. Then she sighed. “You are still determined to enter the Dungeon again, aren’t you Sir Clay?”
Clay smiled. “I am, yes. Sorry.”
She sighed, a quiet sound that he almost could have missed. “I see.” Then she looked at him more closely. “What you were doing today, is that the strategy that you used with the Ruffians, as you called them?”
He perked up at the question. Perhaps he was getting through to her after all? “No, actually. With them, I’d scout the next group of monsters, and then escort them one at a time to get used to hunting them. Each time they reached the next level of [Achievement], we’d go to the next one, while the others kept the area behind us clear.”
Syr Katherine frowned. She tilted her head to the side. “I see. To keep the monsters from assaulting the village while you worked.”
Clay nodded. “That’s right. I could trust them to do it, since they already had the experience of fighting the lower-level monsters. That, and they’d be working as a team while I was out with one of their friends.”
Her frown deepened. “Then may I ask why you were hiding today, rather than helping us? You even lured the enemy to us, rather than helping us avoid them.”
He felt his cheeks heat. “Actually, I was practicing. The Undead have a way of seeing body heat, so I wanted to make sure I could get past that tomorrow.” Clay shook his head. “That, and it gave me a chance to watch you work together without me interfering. If things had gone wrong, or someone needed help, I could reach you from outside the battle and help.”
Syr Katherine’s eyes narrowed. “You seem confident of that. You’ve done it before.”
It didn’t sound like a question, but Clay answered it anyway. “Yes, actually. Back in the Tanglewood, when my friends were first fighting the spiders. They… needed help, but I couldn’t let them know it was me at first. So I helped them from hiding. Small things, like helping them figure out where the mantraps were hiding, teaching them where the troll spiders liked to wait. That kind of thing.”
Then he paused as another thought came to him. “That’s… probably something any of you could do, actually. It’s probably how I got [Mentor] in the first place.”
He glanced at Syr Katherine. She’d gone very, very still, staring at him as if searching for any sign of deception. Then she slowly nodded. “I see.”
Clay frowned a little. “Are you all right, Syr Katherine?”
She blinked. “I am well, Sir Clay.” Then she looked back at the others. “We should rest. Tomorrow will be difficult enough if we approach it without sleep. Rest well, Sir Clay.”
He nodded and watched as she walked away. It was strange that she’d been so surprised, but she was right. They had one last mission to complete, and he needed to make sure he was ready for it.
The next day dawned with clouds covering the sky. Sunrise stained them an array of brilliant colors, something that Clay enjoyed as they ate breakfast and made ready for the coming fights. Light slowly faded as the day went on, however, as the clouds grew thicker and the sun disappeared completely behind them. Rain threatened in every gust of wind, but for the moment, it seemed like the weather hadn’t turned completely poor.
It was still threatening to downpour, however, as they fought their way south. Despite the glowering clouds, their journey was far easier than it had been the last two times they had fought their way to the Dungeon. The lower ranked Undead stood no better chance than they had before, but now it seemed like they barely had to pause in order to wipe the enemy out completely.
The middle ranks didn’t do any better, for all they threw themselves at the adventurers in greater numbers. By the time they reached the entrance to the Dungeon, their small group had been attacked at least ten times, and none of them lasted longer than a handful of moments. They reached the entrance long before the sun had reached its midday height.
There, the same group of guards were waiting for them, concealed by a cloud of poison fog. Clay almost grinned when he saw it. It might have been an effective barrier before, but now…
It took him and his companions roughly a single minute to demolish the entire group of Undead. Some portions of the poison were still dissipating when the last of them fell dead, and they were left facing that unnatural archway of stone.
Taylor jerked her staff out of the ribcage of a disintegrating marshal. “You know our bonuses won’t be as effective inside, right? All we really did was make the approach a little easier.”
Clay nodded, but Orn chuckled. “I’d say we did a sight more than that, Master Taylor! Even with all the additional attacks, we tore through them easily. Besides, I gained another level thanks to the extra fighting. Didn’t you?”
The [Artifactor] gave a reluctant nod, and Clay gave Orn a grateful look. Then he turned back to the doorway. “We won’t stay as long this time, but I’m going to need you all to trust me. By the time we leave, we’re going to have at least one Guardian dead.”
Syr Katherine was studying him, her face as composed as ever. “As you say, Sir Clay. Lead us in.”
Clay faced the archway, with the twisted version of the world waiting on the other side. Then he stepped through, and the others followed. One way or the other, it ended today.
Their search began just as it already had, moving through darkened corridors and fields full of red, pulsating grain. Clay made note of the workers still moving among the stalks, trying to keep track of where they were.
Clay led them, stretching out his senses to try to find the enemies amid the howling chaos that concealed them. It was difficult, nearly impossible, but it still felt a little easier than before. Whether from levels or [Corpsebane], he was already feeling less threatened than he had been before.
They had walked for several corridors before Clay brought them to a halt. The past three courtyards had been filled with serfs and red grain, but the doorway they had just passed through led them into an entirely different kind of room.
It was a broad, spacious place, mostly filled with rows of pews and ornate columns. The windows that would have allowed light to filter through were clouded by dust and filth, leaving most of the room in shadow. There was a gigantic statue at the front of the room, showing a massive skeletal warrior with a sword stretched over its head. He could see a stone crown upon its brow, and at its feet, the wretched bodies of dozens of its servants formed a pedestal for its feet.
Clay examined the room closely. There were only three entrances, one of which they had just entered through. Another door was set into the other side, but it was half-choked by rubble from a fallen pillar. The final entrance was a massive set of double doors, all the way down at the far end of the hall, opposite the great statue. It was difficult to see; there were more parts of the room cloaked in shadow than in light.
It was perfect.
He turned to the others. “All right. If they are working like last time, the enemy is probably already trying to assemble a trap for us, right? There’s going to be a bunch of their warriors, backed up by Guardians. I’d imagine they might even be waiting for us a few rooms from here. They wouldn’t want to spring it on us too close to the exit, after all, and they probably want to fight us while we are hitting that second level of Malus.”
Syr Katherine nodded slowly. “That does seem likely, Sir Clay.”
“Then here is what we are going to do.” Clay looked around the room one final time. “I want you to go back to the past couple of fields and destroy as many serfs and plants as you can. I don’t know what the Dungeon is using them for, but I’m betting they need them functional. Start with the furthest field away and move back here. Once you break everything you can reach, set up in here and wait for the enemy to arrive.”
Orn was studying Clay with an appraising stare. “You’re luring them in. The same way we did with the monster parts on the outside.”
“That’s right.” Clay grinned. “They can make us run around here all day, but in the end, we are going to make it just as hard for them to sit still. If they come, we’ll have them right where we want them. If they don’t, we’ll just have to burn down a little more of their kingdom until they do.”
As he spoke, something seemed to shift in the howl he heard with his ethereal senses. It was as if the Dungeon had heard what he was saying, and had recoiled a little. Clay shrugged aside the feeling of unease and continued. “We’re only going to fight them once. When they show up, try to draw them further into the room. Then, once I give you the signal, don’t hold back. I’ll be nearby.”
Taylor blinked in surprise. “You aren’t coming with us, Sir Clay?”
“No. It’s going to be just like the forest.” Clay looked from Taylor to Syr Katherine, who had shifted slightly. Her eyes had narrowed.
“We can’t afford to use the same strategy, Sir Clay. Fighting here, the way we fought outside…”
He shook his head. “I promise, Syr Katherine. Just one fight, and then we’ll head straight back to the archway. Trust me.”
She studied him a moment longer, and then nodded. “I will.” Syr Katherine looked at the others and gestured for them to follow her. “Come on, then. We have work to do—and so does Sir Clay, I believe.”
He waited for them to file out of the doorway again. His own task was going to be hard enough; it would be easier if even they didn’t know what to expect. After all, the last thing he needed would be for them to give the trick away while he was vulnerable.
Clay drew out a set of stones that he’d pocketed back at camp that morning. They’d been his long enough now to use them the way he needed to. He spent a few long moments hiding them in various spots around the room, tucking them beneath pews and adding them to piles of fallen rubble. One of them he left near the doorway the other heroes had taken, placing it so that it wouldn’t be knocked aside when they reopened the door.
Then he looked for other ways to prepare the place. He used the Ladder to clamber up to one of the windows and then used Pure Touch to cleanse it. Pure, unfiltered light streamed through the window, creating a shaft of brilliance that glowed amidst the pews. It also had the effect of deepening the shadows elsewhere, which would be incredibly useful.
As he did so, Clay began to feel the howl in his senses start to twist and writhe. It felt… lessened somehow, as if something had caused it to lose strength. He glanced in the direction of his friends, wondering if it was their efforts, or if something else had changed. Either way, he was running short on time.
He spent a few more moments shifting the pews around, making it seem like someone had torn through the room in a fit of rage. Clay left them angled to provide a tangle of wood and stone that would block the advancing Undead, giving his friends a small barricade, especially near their future exit. The howl continued to lessen and shift as he worked. There was a note of urgency and rage in its incessant screaming that hadn’t been there before.
Just as he finished with moving another pew into position, his senses abruptly detected the enemy. They were moving faster than he expected, or he could find them from further away now. In either case, it was time for him to get into position.
Clay spent a few more precious moments debating where he should hide. There were no trees to use here, and the flaking grey stone didn’t offer much in the way of secure footholds, especially not if he had some time to wait.
He began the [Chant] for the Ladder again, spotting a convenient place in an alcove above the far doors. There was a statue there at the moment, but it would be a good place to lose himself in its lumpen shape.
Then he waited, feeling the enemy continue to approach, and listening to the ethereal howl of the Dungeon. It seemed like an assault on his senses, as if it was beating at his Soul. The way it had seemed to react to him earlier was still bothering him as well. It had felt…
Clay frowned. It had felt like the Dungeon had been watching somehow, in a way that almost reminded him of what he felt when others used the Orison to study him. His frown deepened as he thought things over.
Then he recited the Orison’s reverse and sighed in relief as the howl became muted. He shook his head to clear it and shifted slightly in place, trying to position himself better.
Then he was left to wait, hoping his friends arrived before the Undead did.
His hopes were answered. The door to the room opened, and Orn strode through with his hammer over his shoulder. Taylor followed, her staff held ready to unleash her magic at the slightest threat. Syr Katherine brought up the rear, her eyes searching the gloom as she took in the way the room had been changed.
Orn spoke first. “Our young hero has been busy, it appears.”
“Busy, yes. Clever, well, we’ll see.” Taylor shrugged, as if trying to loosen the muscles in her back. “Does anybody see where he went to?”
Syr Katherine shook her head. He thought she started to glance up at where he was, but she stopped. “No. There’s something else coming.”
The three adventurers fell into their fighting stances, and below Clay, the broad doors of the building abruptly swung open.
A small army of the Undead marched through.
Clay saw at least three trios of Undead warriors. Three knights, three priests, three saboteurs. They stalked into the room with the chill of death following in their wake, and Clay could see how the hands of his fellow heroes tightened on their weapons when they saw the enemy arrive.
They were not alone, of course. Behind them came rank after rank of Undead legionnaires, marching with shields locked and swords ready to pierce and stab. Following in their wake, protected by the warriors and minions that they had allowed to march in first, were three centurions. The standards the Guardians held were worn and menacing, and each had a corroded horn in their other hand.
Clay held his breath as the warriors began their advance. He saw the adventurers draw back a little, their eyes locked on their opponents. There was a murmur of conversation between them, a bit too quiet for Clay to hear at this distance. Magic already glowed around the adventurers, and he wondered if they were preparing the [Chants] they would need. Across from them, the Undead paused and formed into ranks, preparing themselves to swarm forward and overwhelm their enemies.
For a moment, the howl in his mind stilled. He felt a sudden unease, as if someone, something, was trying to peer into the room. He did his best to stay still, to not shrink back into the alcove. Motion would attract attention. It was safer to just freeze. Clay knew he needed to remain hidden. Internally, he threw everything he had into the Orison’s reverse, trying to make sure it held against the inspection that scoured across it.
{Insight increased by 1! Will increased by 1!}
The presence withdrew, and he heard Taylor say something foul. Then the Undead charged.
All three knights charged forward, smashing pews aside as they came. The priests glided forwards in their wake, floating up and above the barriers Clay had laid in their path. For their part, the saboteurs spread out as they strode forward, their weapons already aimed at his friends.
The legionnaires charged as well, marching in lockstep in the wake of the greater Undead. They were a steadily advancing wave of iron and bone, closing in around the adventurers. Clay saw the adventurers back away slightly, stepping up onto the pedestal at the base of the statue. It wouldn’t buy them much time against what they faced, but it was better than charging into the unrelenting waves of the enemy.
Clay watched as the three Guardians stepped forward, their horns in their hands. The centurions sounded their calls, and the dead answered. He saw them emerge from the walls, more shields and swords in their hands, and that quickly the adventurers were completely surrounded in rank after rank of enemies.
The adventurers responded immediately. Orn stepped forward to sweep his hammer through the enemies; Taylor armored her skin and stabbed her staff out to burn through shield and armor alike. Syr Katherine reacted as well, channeling her powers of lightning and ice to strike down the nearest enemies. Legionnaires crumbled and fell away, but in their wake, the true warriors of the Undead waded in.
Skeletal hands grasped at Orn’s legs, but Syr Katherine whirled and extended her hand. A [Charm] that Clay had not seen before shattered the Undead spell. The [Fighter] shouted in gratitude, and then stepped forward to block an approaching knight that had been aiming for Taylor. He smashed the knight backwards and then lunged after it to catch its shield and rip it away.
As the Armsman battered the Undead warrior with its own protection, a priest rushed at Syr Katherine, staff glowing with power. It stopped a moment later as Master Taylor hurled her staff at it, catching it off guard with a lance formed of glowing crystal. The Undead vanished, and Taylor called her staff back to her before whirling to face yet more foes.
They continued to fight, unleashing [Charms], [Feats], [Styles], and [Sigils] in quick succession. Against the Undead warriors themselves, they might have even managed to push forward now, but legionnaires kept wading into the fight. Their interference gave their greater brethren the chance to recover from hits and line up attacks of their own. He could see the adventurers were still holding back, too, just as he’d asked them.
Below him, still far from the fighting, he saw the centurions advance, their bannerpoles still clutched in their hands. One of them approached a particular pile of rubble, and Clay grinned. It was time.
He started the [Chant] of the Pursuing Leap, dropping his ethereal protection. The minor spell was complete in heartbeats; he jumped just as it was nearly finished, allowing it to grasp him completely as he left the alcove. For just a moment, he hung in midair, his spear poised to strike.
Then the [Chant] took hold, and Clay plunged down towards the centurion on the furthest right. The air whistled around him as he fell, and he saw the centurions twitch in surprise. His target still did not manage to turn before Clay struck it, moving at a speed that made the room blur around him.
His spear struck through the centurion’s armor in a single thrust, penetrating the thick bands of metal protecting its spine and burying itself up to the crossguards. The strength of the impact smashed the creature down onto its face, sending its horn in one direction and its standard in another. Before it could rise again, Clay drew his Pell knife and plunged it straight into the thing’s head, stabbing hard enough that the blade punched through the armor and lodged in the thing’s skull. Then he placed a foot on its back and twisted the spear before he yanked it free, feeling bone shatter and crack under the motion of his spearblade.
{Cruel Centurion slain! Soul increases by 100}
Clay caught sight of nearly a third of the legionnaires suddenly burn and fall, their armor crumbling and their weapons falling from nerveless hands. He saw Syr Katherine look up and see him, but he didn’t spare more than a heartbeat to look in her direction. Instead, he sprinted towards the next of the centurions, knowing that the more time he gave them, the worse the situation would be.
The creature dropped its horn and grabbed for a short sword that was a little longer and thicker than his Pell knife. Ethereal flames swirled around it as it stepped forward, its eyeless stare filled with malice. It clanked the bottom of its standard against the stone floor, and Clay saw a shimmering shield of magical force gather around it.
He attacked regardless, knowing that he only had so much time before the warriors and legionnaires tried to fall back to stop him. Clay stabbed at the centurion, grunting when his spearpoint met the invisible barrier. It felt like he was trying to thrust through a brick wall, but he kept striking at it, even as he started the Refrain under his breath. The centurion lashed out at him, but the sword’s shorter reach let Clay maintain the distance.
After three blindingly fast exchanges, the barrier abruptly crumbled. The centurion backpedaled, swinging its banner at him to try to keep him away. Clay feinted high and to the right, and the centurion swung its pole out and up to bat the strike away from its face.
Then Clay completed the Refrain, with his focus on the stone placed under a pew behind the centurion. He darted in low, moving too fast for the centurion to track. The creature shrieked as he slipped past its guard, and Clay forced himself to ignore the way the scream clawed at his soul.
Instead, he shifted his grip on the spear and caught the centurion with a single, brutal blow. The rising slash caught the Undead and ripped up, crunching through armor and bone from the thing’s groin to the middle of its corroded breastplate. In the corner of Clay’s eye, he caught sight of nearly a dozen legionnaires abruptly burst into flame, though he knew the centurion was not dead yet. Was it consuming them, somehow?
His suspicions strengthened as he saw the light in its eyeless sockets. The flailing standard caught him across the shoulder with a blow that made him stagger, but Clay ignored it. He stepped in again and thrust the spear as hard as he could, sinking it into the thing’s sternum up to the crossguards. It staggered, the banner falling from its grasp as Clay wrenched the speartip back and forth, grinding through the bones beneath the thick breastplate.
{Fortitude increased by 1!}
He pulled the speartip free and swung the weighted end of his spear into its head. The blow landed on the side of the centurion’s head and turned a part of the helmet into a crumpled ruin. For a moment, the centurion staggered, trying to stay upright while its minions burned.
Then the strength went out of its legs, and the creature fell to the floor.
{Cruel Centurion slain! Soul increases by 100}
{Commoner reaches Level 15!}
{Maximum level for all Stats is now 30!}
{Experience gained (Weathered: Gain 10% resistance to disease, heat, and cold.)}
{Experience gained (Spectral: Gain 20% resistance to ethereal senses.)}
He straightened up and turned to face the last of the centurions. It had retreated from him, fleeing back towards the rest of the warriors. Its legionnaires had already abandoned the fight against the adventurers, quick-marching to help their commander. The rest of the Undead warriors suddenly seemed to find themselves hard pressed as their comrades abandoned them; Syr Katherine and the others had launched a renewed assault, now that they saw their battlefield clearing. Some of the Undead champions were already down; Taylor had speared a knight through the chest, Orn had caught a saboteur square in the head with a slingstone, and a priest had collapsed on the ground with one of Syr Katherine’s ice spears through its fragile spine.
Clay brought his attention back to the target in front of him. The centurion still had its horn in its hand, and its eyes were glowing with hatred. He ran straight at it, closing the distance at a blinding pace. It blew the horn in its hand just as he reached it.
The sound tore through the air of the room on more than just the level of the physical. Both Clay’s ears and Soul trembled at the blast, and his steps faltered.
Then his eyes narrowed, and he forged ahead, forcing his steps forward.
{Will increased by 1!}
He reached the centurion a heartbeat later, lashing out with his spear. The spearpoint met the invisible barrier again, and Clay danced back as a pair of legionnaires came charging in. Both died in moments as he cut them down; a third attacked him from the side, and he smashed its head with the butt of his spear. Each time they fell, he saw the fires within the centurion burn a little brighter, and its jaw gaped open in a chilling hiss that had to have been a laugh.
Anger flared, and Clay pushed himself to move faster and strike harder. More legionnaires were crowding in around him, and he was forced to spend precious seconds smashing them aside or running them through. The Guardian seemed to be getting further and further away, backing towards the rest of its friends. Its horn was rising to its lips again, and Clay knew that if it sounded it, he was going to be buried in a pile of legionnaires before long.
Yet Clay hadn’t come this far to just let it escape. He pressed forward, tearing his way through the legionnaires that rushed to block his way. The fires in the centurion’s eyes burned brighter and brighter with each fallen legionnaire, but Clay just forced his way forward, regardless.
He broke through the ranks just as the Guardian sounded its horn again. In the corners of his eyes, he could see more legionnaires stepping out from the shadows. They were all around him, and the flames of the centurion’s eyes were unfazed. It had to be storing its power for something else.
Clay rushed to strike the barrier again, and he felt his spear rebound. The centurion had dropped its horn and drawn its sword. Clay started the Refrain again as suspicion rose inside him. He’d be through the barrier in the next strike, but it wasn’t trying to gain distance. There had to be some reason for it.
His suspicions were proven correct when the entire length of the centurion’s sword glowed with power. Pale green fire stretched from it as it swung the blade, launching from the edge in a ravening wave of magic. Clay leapt backwards, and let the [Chant] lend him an extra pull; he just barely evaded the guttering fire, with traces of it singeing the front of his armor.
Yet the centurion wasn’t done. It stepped forward and thrust the standard at him, tilting it towards him. The head of the thing glowed, and a stream of that same pale fire lashed out like a whip, aimed straight at him.
Clay threw himself to the side, feeling the unnatural heat of the fire brush by his leg. He saw triumph in the centurion’s eyes—and then he narrowed his own eyes as a thought struck him.
Then, still in midair, Clay hurled his spear at the centurion, using every bit of his strength.
The weapon tore across the room, more a blur than a shape. His target had barely enough time to step backwards before the point took it in the stomach. It punched through the thick armor, and the centurion staggered backwards, the fire in its eyes abruptly fading. A couple of the closest legionnaires abruptly burst into flame as well, their forms consumed in an attempt to save their master. Beyond them, the centurion dropped its sword and grabbed the spear’s haft, trying to pull it back out.
{Might increased by 1!}
Clay didn’t hesitate. When his feet touched the ground, he took off sprinting towards the centurion. He ran at the thing barehanded, once again speaking the Refrain. Legionnaires rushed in, and he dodged back and forth to avoid their swords. One of them tried to charge him with its shield, and he jumped high enough to plant a foot on the top of the shield itself, using it as a springboard to push himself higher into the air.
As he rose, he saw a broader picture of the fight. More of the enemy champions were down; a priest had somehow been flattened against the remnants of a nearby pew, and a saboteur had been sunk halfway into the floor before it was impaled through the head. Even as he rose, Syr Katherine darted around behind a wounded knight and plunged her sword into a gap in its armor. It fell, even as the others backpedaled away from the adventurers.
Then his spell completed, and Clay once again shot across the room, like an arrow to a deer. He struck the centurion feet first, catching it before it could replace its defensive barrier. His hands locked around the haft of the spear, and he finished pulling it the rest of the way out of the wound. Clay caught a glimpse of green fire leaking through the ruined armor, even as the centurion tried to regain its balance.
Clay rose from his crouch and lunged forward. He swung his spear horizontally, catching the banner before it could strike the ground. The blow twisted it to the side, nearly knocking it from the centurion’s grasp. It also left the creature almost completely open, its burning eyes wide with panic and rage.
He stepped in and unleashed stab after stab, hammering the spear into his enemy. The boar spear caught the Guardian once, twice, three times in quick succession. Burning wounds appeared on its torso and arms; legionnaires collapsed as the centurion consumed them in a panic. Clay saw the banner coming back around in a broad swing; he swung his spear back to block it, meeting the strike with the haft.
The centurion used the distraction to gain distance, scrabbling backwards across the debris. Clay caught sight of the last of its champions faltering under the assault of his companions. He could let the thing go; Syr Katherine and the others were going to be on top of it in moments. All he’d need to do was make sure it couldn’t escape.
Then he breathed out and shifted his hands on his spear, giving himself just enough extra reach. Clay brought the spear down and around. The half-light of the Dungeon’s hollow sun caught the spear blade with a flash as he brought it down and across the centurion.
The blow caught the creature on its left shoulder. It carved through its half-ruined chestplate, ripping through metal and bone from shoulder to right hip in a massive, flaming gash. Clay saw the centurion’s head tilt back, its eyes turned upwards to the unseen reaches of the room’s ceiling. Legionnaires burned and shattered around him, sacrificed in one final, frantic attempt to survive.
It wasn’t enough.
{Cruel Centurion slain! Soul increases by 100}
An explosive sigh of relief tore its way out of Clay as the centurion collapsed to the ground. He glanced around to be sure all of its little minions were just as dead, and saw only ash and ruin where they had been standing. When he turned back to the others, he saw Orn crushing a knight’s helmet in his false hand, a broad, fierce grin on his face. Taylor had thrown her staff like a spear through the last priest, and Syr Katherine was already standing over the smoking corpse of the last saboteur.
He drew in a shuddering, wracking breath, and forced himself to smile. “Well. Job’s done. Shall we get out of here?”
Their exit from the Dungeon was about as quick as they could manage it. Whatever forces controlled the Dungeon had been obviously unhappy about the destruction of its champions and three of its Guardians, to say nothing of the fields that they had burned.
For that reason, they left the Dungeon just ahead of another, larger pack of Undead warriors, all of whom seemed fairly intent on chasing them all the way back to Crownsguard. Clay’s last view of the archway was a glance backwards as they fled into the forest, running as hard as they could back to the camp.
The journey was a bit more complicated than it might have been. Syr Katherine was almost completely exhausted; she’d apparently used every [Feat] and [Charm] in her arsenal during their battle, and the effort had left her wavering on her feet by the time they returned to their own world. Orn was in better shape, but one of the Undead legionnaires had gotten a lucky strike in on his false foot, reducing him to a lumbering pace as they moved.
Taylor, for her part, was relatively fresh and unwounded. She was, however, very, very loud.
“I have never, in all my years, seen such a reckless plan for a Dungeon strike. Do you even know how many things could have gone wrong? What would you have done if we hadn’t gotten back to the room before the enemy? What if they had spotted you? Or what if we hadn’t been able to hold our position without your help?”
Clay sighed as they continued their flight north. “I had to take a risk, yes, but we practiced all day yesterday. I had a good idea that it would work.”
The [Artifactor] rolled her eyes. “I doubt that anything you thought about what we just did was could be considered a good idea by anyone even partially sane. Honestly, I thought we managed to train you much better. I do recall trying to hammer some principles of basic Dungeon tactics into your heads at some point…”
He let her continue on without paying much close attention. Of course, he could have brought up that her lessons about ambushes and distractions had influenced him a bit, but the truth was that he’d just fallen back on his instincts. Traps and tricks had always worked in the Tanglewood, and the only reason he hadn’t done something similar at Rodcliff was because things had been a bit too urgent.
Still, he felt a little guilty as he glanced at Orn. The [Fighter] was hobbling along at a speed that most people would envy, but it was clear his foot was going to need quite a lot more work on the artifact that was attached to his leg. Taylor seemed just as worried about it; every time she started up another rant, it was after Orn grunted, or his foot let out a spark.
The Armsman caught him looking and gave Clay a grin. “Don’t worry, Sir Clay. I won’t slow you down.” Then he frowned. “I’m afraid that will be the last time I enter the Dungeon, however. Even with those bonuses and practice, I don’t think I’d be able to help.”
Taylor muttered something ugly under her breath, and Syr Katherine cleared her throat. “I believe Sir Clay promised that today would be the last time before we returned to Pellsglade. Am I correct?”
The [Calculator] looked at him, and Clay nodded. “A deal is a deal. We’ve done what we came here to do after all.” He shivered. “Besides, I don’t want whatever was watching us there to catch sight of me again for a while. Do you know what that was?”
Syr Katherine frowned at him, but before she could respond, Orn’s ankle shot out a shower of sparks and the [Fighter] nearly fell. Taylor was at his side instantly, even more filth coming from her mouth. Clay paused and searched the surrounding area for signs of enemies, and found it surprisingly clear. It was like the Undead had pulled back; either that, or the things had finally run low on creatures to throw at them.
Shaking his head, Clay turned back to Orn. Taylor was shaking her head too, only it seemed more like a sign that she wouldn’t be able to repair the foot in time here. They obviously couldn’t just camp here. Even if they had their supplies, the Undead wouldn’t stay away from them forever.
Clay sighed and stepped over to them. “Sir Orn, I think I’ll be able to carry you back to camp. You’ll probably need to pick off any Undead that get close, though.”
The [Fighter] gave him a curious look. “I could do that, young hero, but it seems like it would be hard for you to do. I do not mean to cast aspersions on you, but…” Orn gestured to himself and Clay winced. He had a point. Even with his greater [Might], it would have been a hard task to lift the giant and carry him along. Of course, the fact that they were still suffering under the Malus only made it worse. Even with a crude stretcher, it would be tough going for the next stretch of road.
Fortunately, he had something a bit better than that.
Clay stepped over near the [Fighter]’s feet and began the [Chant] of Mule’s Dismay. It was a minor [Chant], but it was supposed to be stronger based on the user’s [Might]. A normal [Commoner] was supposedly able to cart around a small amount of supplies; with his extra [Stats] and bonuses…
The adventurers’ eyes went wide as Clay finished the [Chant] and Orn abruptly floated off the ground. Clay felt a bit of strain on his Soul for sustaining the spell, but it was something he could probably endure, at least until they reached the borders of Sarlsboro. Hopefully, from there they could reach camp and Taylor could make more repairs.
He looked over at Taylor and Syr Katherine, both of whom were staring at him with wide eyes. Then Taylor broke into a laugh, as always a high, twittering sound. “Oh, of course. Yet another one. I swear, once we get back to Pellsglade I am going to corner that Novice, no matter what the Rector says.”
Syr Katherine gave the [Artifactor] a look, and then turned back to Clay. “Can you maintain it, Sir Clay?” When he nodded, she gestured. “Then let us continue. Those clouds look… unpromising.”
It did still look like it was going to rain soon. Orn reached down to wave a hand beneath himself, muttering something about being treated lack a slab of pork. Then he sighed and leaned back on the invisible cart, hands clasped behind his head. The false one sparked a bit before the runes steadied out. “Yes, young hero, onwards! I would not want to call you lazy, after all.”
Clay snorted, as did Taylor. Then he turned back to the road and started trudging away, with the [Fighter] drifting after him. It was going to be a long journey.
Comments
Call0013
Can’t wait to see what the Council makes of him having Mentor.(The reaction to that was interesting, I wonder if they don’t know how to gain Mentor reliably and Clay has just maybe given them a way).
