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15. Shamans
🕑 Added 2023-10-08 01:00:01 +0000 UTCEven without the glow of red from his mana sense ability, Earon couldn’t have missed it, not with the tunnel of black clouds pinpointed to the top of the Scar.
Luckily, the flank they had been attacking had been further back, and the rock beside them was fairly navigable, with plenty of footholes to get himself up. Once he was up, the rocky terrain that led towards the ledge of stone above the scar was fairly level.
The main army was out of reach now, but dozens of adventurers had already made their way up here, engaging the archers that were firing down on the main force.
Scattered battles were clashing all around as small groups charged into goblin archer squads. Small fires traced patches of dried grass where spells had set the environment alight and blackened patches of dirt dotted the ground.
Earon found himself stepping over corpses and dipping between melees. He wasn't here to take out the odd archer, the adventurers around him were far better equipped to deal with that.
Climbing over sandstone rock, he caught a glimpse of his target. Dozens of goblin shamans stood beyond, maybe fifty meters from him, summoning and casting all manner of spells over the ledge and into the kill corridor they had created for the adventurers.
Not good.
He couldn't help but compare it to their plan with the hellhounds. It was a reminder that monsters could formulate plans just as well as they could.
Behind the first row of casters that were flinging spells down, was another. However, unlike them, the spiral of black clouds was funneling down to a point just above their heads.
The hellhounds flashed through Earon's memory again. Even if he could withstand the spells of a single shaman, which even he wasn't certain of, he likely couldn't survive an attack by all of them.
Thankfully, he wasn’t alone, and a grin creased his face as he saw a group of casters approaching from the other side, and a moment later, several more were climbing up behind him.
It appeared that he wasn't the only one concerned by the ominous sight. Earon thanked the fact that everyone still seemed to be working together against the monsters. That might not last after the battle was done, of course. But he had to take what he was given.
The battle still raged below, but they couldn't do anything now. It was up to him and the other casters to prevent whatever the goblin shamans were doing from affecting the outcome.
Waiting a moment for more casters to catch up, Earon caught his breath. It seemed to others had similar ideas, and a man in red robes with a tall, brimmed had nodded at Earon from a few feet away.
"Ready to give them a taste of our magic?" The man asked as his hand started to glow red whilst he rubbed it around a globe at the end of his smooth, metallic staff.
Earon nodded with a stiff grin. He couldn't help but feel like an imposter, even if there were biggest concerns present.
What spells was he going to cast?
Several more casters of different shapes, attire, and appearances reached the summit and everyone jumped into action as dozens of spells fired off simultaneously.
Dashing forward, Earon struggled to keep his focus on the enemy ahead and not the myriad of colors and sounds flying past him and crashing into the shamans. The experience was more than he had ever imagined, and Earon felt as if he was living on a real bard's epic as he roared and charged forward with his spear extended.
A burst of flames, sparks of energy, and blinding lights erupted across the battlefield, but Earon took no heed of it and charged straight through.
Chanting sharp, guttural words, a beady-eyed goblin turned to Earon as flames licked his face, but just as the shaman raised its staff of feathers and bone to cast something upon Earon, a whisp of tingling air washed across it, and the goblin fell mute.
Surprise, and then terror crossed the shaman’s face, but it was too late, the distraction had taken it off guard and Earon’s spear drove straight through the goblin’s neck.
Spells whipped across the chaotic battlefield, and a second later, something burst into Earon’s back, hurling him several feet.
Coughing dirt, Earon pushed his battered arms and legs.
“I need to get up.”
A sword-wielding caster rushed past, his blade a glimmer of purple energy as it cut through the defenses of one shaman, and then another; before a spike of earth was flung through his chest.
“Up, damn it!” Earon shouted as he willed himself to his feet. Explosions of magic flying all around him.
A half dozen meters away a goblin chanted whilst dangling his fingers through the air. It was preparing to cast a spell at a preoccupied adventurer who summoned a giant magical shield to block several incoming spells in the opposite direction.
Tightening his grip around this spear, Earon kicked down against the earth and charged. Letting out a guttural battle cry, he immediately regretted his courage steeling roar as the goblin turned to him.
But he was too fast, and the goblin was forced to break its channeling to parry Earon's spear with its staff, throwing him off-balance and skidding toward the ground with an off-balanced thrust.
Words continued to flow from the goblin’s mouth a second later, and it seemed the spell hadn’t been entirely canceled.
Earon bounced back to his feet and flung around, back toward the goblin. But a hasty swivel saw the redcap shaman throw Earon’s spear off course again. However, this time Earon had been running straight for the shaman, and his trajectory couldn’t be altered so easily. Tumbling forward he slammed straight into the shaman, sending both of them sprawling across the dirt.
Dirty little hands grabbed at Earon as he struggled back and forth. The goblin's fingers clambered across Earon's cheeks, prodding in search of his eyes. But Earon was the much larger of the two, and even at his far lower level held the advantage in raw strength. Pushing his weight against his smaller foe, Earon forced the goblin down and arched his back up enough to start raining down punches, drawing squealing cries and bloodying the goblin's face as its hands flailed in a desperate attempt to stop him.
The goblin thrashed and rolled in a clumsy attempt to knock Earon off as his punches continued to land. Grabbing a handful of dust from his side, the goblin then pelted Earon's face.
"Argh!" Earon cried as his right hand reflexively shielded his face.
Leaning back, enough weight had been removed from the goblin that it was able to stretch out and reach for its staff, gripping it and smacking it against Earon's side. Repeating the strikes several times, Earon rolled to the ground, clutching his side.
The moment the goblin rolled away from Earon; it began to chant again.
A patch of red clouds began to gather around him and the goblin. But magic was one of the few things Earon didn't fear anywhere near as much as he probably should, and he bit down on his pain, and jumped back to his feet.
The goblin seethed as it saw Earon approaching with his spear - its spell still a few seconds away.
Earon had a plan this time and when he was only feet from stabbing into the goblin, dropped his spear and jumped forward into a tackle.
The redcap had intended to parry again with its staff, no doubt realizing it was the superior combatant by this point, and was completely taken off guard when Earon wrapped around it in a bear hug, slamming both down to the ground.
Chest to chest, Earon was unable to strike back but perhaps he could immobilize the goblin for somebody else. As long as the shaman wasn’t casting spells, he was being helpful, Earon figured.
Only a dozen meters away, another caster spotted the struggle, hurling a bolt of glowing energy from their mace at another group of shamans before rushing over to Earon.
The goblin’s beady eyes glared over to the approaching caster, then back toward Earon. Ripping free one of his hands, the goblin’s grubby little fingers wrapped around a talisman hung from his neck, cracking the little shaft of bone and feathers snapped between its fingers.
Blinding light flashed around them and in an instant, Earon had gone from the heart of the battlefield to a dark, gloomy cavern. Only the faintest of bluish, purple light reflected up from a chasm somewhere deep below, creating a hazy film of light that only barely illuminated the outlines of his surroundings.
“Where am I?” Earon murmured, but before he got a moment to contemplate his surroundings, he heard the familiar chanting.
Earon wiped the sweat from his brow and refocused.
His ability to resist magic had kept him alive for now, but Earon needed to figure out what was going on if he wanted to stay alive.
He had to focus, ignore the dark, and remind himself that he didn’t need to see if his enemy was a mana wielder.
Pivoting, Earon scanned his surroundings, and a moment later he caught the glimpse of a faint red smudge glowing in the near distance; he had found his target.
It had been him who had spotted the satyr first back in the swamp, despite Master Rudis being a far stronger caster than himself, and Earon wondered if his ability to sense mana was somehow stronger than most, perhaps because of his class type. And if it was, perhaps the dark was to his advantage.
Creeping through the dark with his sights set, Earon took care to avoid making noise, but when he heard the grating goblin language chanting once more, he realized stealth might work against him.
Unfortunately, he had lost hold of his spear and shield when transported to this place. Tapping his foot against a rock, Earon looked down.
It was better than nothing.
Perhaps it had been overconfident, believing Earon wouldn’t be able to easily find it in the dark, as the goblin didn’t even turn its glowing yellow eyes toward Earon until he was within a couple of feet.
It had tried to speak something, a word of magic perhaps, but the words were caught in its throat.
Gasping, the monster's face twisted in shock as Earon pounced down on it, bringing the rock that barely fit in his hand down on its skull with a spattering of blood. Then bringing the rock back over his head and smashing it down again, and again, until it had been reduced to a broken, fractured mess of meat; and the struggling hands pulling on Earon’s tunic fell limp.
New skill unlocked – Tracking (Active) Track your enemies and friends alike; 1.
New skill unlocked – Brawling (Passive) Whether it's something you’ve found or just your fists, you find creative ways to fight; 1-2.
Warlock – Level 7 achieved.
Two new skills. Earon grinned. They weren't skills he had necessarily planned on gaining, but anything that helped him level was welcomed.
His grin widened further when he brought up his status screen. Two gains in polearms and one in block. He had survived a real battle as a foundling, but still, it was impressive gains nonetheless.
Warlock – Level 7
***Skills & Abilities***
Polearms (9)
Navigator (4)
Arcane knowledge (2)
Rune Crafting (Body Transmutation) (2)
Mana Sense (2)
Riding(2)
Survivalist(1)
Block(5)
Resistance(2)
Physical Resistance(2)
Brawling(2)
Tracking(1)
Stealth(1)
***Spells***
Magic resistance (7)
It was hard to believe how close he already was to hitting level 10, an achievement that had taken all his life up until now. Of course, he had almost died multiple times to achieve that.
However, foundling was only the beginning. Just about everyone made it through the foundling stage, and the vast majority of people did it whilst they were still teenagers. It was the apprentice stage and beyond that people started to struggle. A grown man should be able to rush through this stage, Earon figured. It felt good, but it wasn't enough to give him confidence that he would continue to progress with such speed.
Earon had never spent too much time worrying about leveling up, and definitely not about getting stronger. But his life had changed, and that battle in particular had reminded him just how weak he really was. Life had given him a chance, a unique opportunity only special individuals got, one that people killed over. He couldn't let it be wasted on him.
"I'm not going to let people die around him," Earon whispered. "I'm going to get strong. I won't waste this gift. Ma, if you're listening, I'm going to prove myself. I'm going to make the Rye proud."
A drip echoed somewhere in the distance, reminding Earon he still appeared to be underground.
He bent low and grimaced as he quickly searched the dead goblin.
Nothing valuable.
Slipping his fingers into the goblin's belt, Earon removed the dagger and clutched the staff as he began to fall apart.
The dagger itself was crude and of poor craft, and he doubted it would get even a single copper at the market. However, when combined with some cloth torn from the goblin's robes and the remnants of its staff, he might be able to fashion a spear.
Peering around the dark, empty cavern with his newly crafted weapon, Earon couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu.
However, being lost in an idyllic, green forest seemed like a pretty good predicament right about now.
"How did my life come to this."
