Stormblade 4 C30: War Games (2)

Hello, Stormblade patrons,

Starting this week (Jan 26), I'm going to be on vacation until the 14th of February. This will be my first real vacation in a long time; I've taken a few days here and there to climb mountains or camp in the desert, but this is a longer trip to Hawaii with my family.

I've known about this trip for a while, and my original plan was to have the backlog to cover it while maintaining five chapters per week. However, despite writing over 20,000 words a week for the last several months, I'm a couple of chapters short. I could keep going, try to write those chapters over the vacation, and try getting them posted from my laptop, but that's not going to help me in the long term. I need a little backlog left in case of an emergency, too.

So, I'm going to drop to three chapters per week for the next three weeks and try to come out the other side with enough backlog to get back to five a week after that. Thanks for your understanding. I appreciate you all!

30 - War Games (2)

It took the S-Rankers and me only a minute to mop up the broken shield wall and handful of archers, push through the shattered gate, and enter the town. Even so, we were too slow.

The wooden stick floor between the spiraling branches, and the branches themselves, were all but empty. A handful of stragglers clustered around the dozens of towering vertical boughs, siphoning through gateways as they disappeared inside. In the upper levels of each wooden tower, shuttered windows opened and the silhouettes of elves appeared against soft, yellow-white light.

And, from the mess of silken web strewn between the knot of tree trunks supporting the wooden palace, a clicking hiss rose to fill the air.

“Spiders,” I said quietly, shivering.

“Or something else. Arboreals like their creepy crawlies,” Sarah said. “Could be something steam-and-silk, though. Be on your guard.”

Bernard nodded as he shouldered past me. I stiffened, but he was just trying to do his job. He lowered his tower shield. It glowed a light blue. “Alright, ready for anything.”

My resources were well over ninety percent. I was still going strong—I was ready for anything, too.

Atelier Strandqueen: A-Rank

Atelier Strandmaiden: A-Rank

Atelier Huntress: B-Rank

I wasn’t ready for the sheer number of them, though.

The huntresses weren’t really a threat to Bernard or the other S-Rankers, but if enough of them got to me, I might be in trouble. They were black, bristly-looking spiders, almost tarantula-like—we had those in Phoenix—and with massive jaws that clacked open and shut as they rushed us.

The Strandmaidens, in contrast, were smooth-bodied. Their gigantic abdomens bulged, and overgrown spinnarettes dragged on the ground behind them despite their overly long legs. As the brightly-marked spiders spread out around us, they left globs of wet, sticky silk behind them in mounds and strings.

But the worst was the Strandqueen. She stood easily twice the height of even the massive, long-legged Strandmaidens. Bright green and light blue markings covered her enormous bulk—that is, the parts I could see. Most of her wide, smooth body was covered in woven silk armor, dyed a light brown. And, high up on her back, sat a single elf.

Prince Elagost, Lord of the Host: A-Rank

He carried a long lance with a pronged head almost like a trident, and his silver armor was filigreed with golden designs. The tips of his weapon looked fragile and needle-like, but he leveled it at Bernard’s shield anyway and flicked the Strandqueen’s reins.

The massive spider surged forward. I readied Nimbus Edge. Terrel stepped behind Bernard and leaned into the big man, putting his shoulder square into the small of his back and bracing against the spiraled trunks with his hammer, and Sarah put a hand on my shoulder. “Wait and watch. You’ll have your opportunity soon.”

The branches shook beneath me as the spider closed in. Nathan Anders looked almost relaxed. He hadn’t even returned to his phoenix form. “This isn’t our first time in an Atelier. This one’s different; usually, there’s a lot more weaving and a lot more mages. But that’s not a bad thing—means the fighting will come to us.”

When the Strandqueen and her rider slammed into Bernard’s shield, it was like an earthquake. The spiraled boughs shook, and I dropped to a knee as my free hand pressed to the ground. Dust surged up from between the branches. I coughed and looked at the S-Rank tank.

The impact had driven him back.

A full step.

He strained against his shield. Behind him, Terrel’s shoulder pushed into his back. “Enough! Go!” the tank yelled.

The Portal Tyrant rolled right, ripping his hammer from its bracing spot, and Bernard the Wall stood alone.

“Now’s your time,” Sarah said. Next to her, Nathan Anders turned back into a firebird, and in the distance, the first arrows started slamming into Strandmaidens.

I ducked left and rushed around the Strandqueen’s flank. Lightning crackled in my wake as I used a Wind Charge for Windwalk and two Lightning Charges for Thunderblade all at once. Lightning Chain pulled me up onto the massive spider’s back; it was almost broad enough to be an arena on its own.

The prince’s lance whipped around like a sword. He wielded it in a single hand; in his off-hand, a silver-and-wood shield went up to guard his face. He said something, and his eyes narrowed.

“I have no idea what you just said,” I replied.

Then I rushed him.

Nimbus Edge flicked in, but the lance moved impossibly quickly and parried even the Thunderblade-empowered lunges. I didn’t mind; I wasn’t trying to win right away. My free hand hung behind me, and I summoned a lance of my own. Brendan’s Stormfire Lance. It ripped through the air, right into the shield—but that was enough of a hit to start burning away at the wood, and at his Mana.

His eyes widened, and he spoke again in that language I couldn’t understand.

I smiled wordlessly and pressed the assault. Back to Thunderbolt stance—the one-handed version, so I could still cast if I wanted to. Thunderblade was still running. I threw myself into the offensive; the prince’s armor took the blows well, but not without denting and melting as lightning poured into the silver. Five blows hit him before the lance lashed out and left a trio of rifts in the Stormsteel breastplate and pauldron.

I stepped back—a mistake, but one I made quickly and committed to. The prince stepped back, too, and I realized I couldn’t get out of his reach. I curled a lip and threw myself at him. The lance punched out, and a tip slammed through my vambrace—and the muscle and bone beneath it. I hissed from the pain and poured Stamina into the wound.

Cutting Storm. Wind and lightning rippled out as my sword cut across the prince’s faulds and echoed onto the massive spider under us. It shook, then staggered suddenly. For a moment, I thought I’d landed a critical blow.

No.

The Portal Tyrant’s hammer swung back, then whipped forward, its head moving fast enough to crack the air—and the spider’s silk armor. It staggered again. This time, the prince came off. He hit the ground as I ran through the air toward him. Before I could finish him off, he rolled to his feet. The lance punched through the air, almost as quickly as the Portal Tyrant’s hammer.

Mistwalk Forms. Storm Dance. I landed behind the monstrous elf. Thunderbolt—the two-handed variant this time—into Rain-Slicked Blade. My sword punched through the prince’s side as he spun to counter me.

And I unleashed my aura.

The Stormkin Avatar only awakened for a few seconds, but I didn’t pull my sword free. Lightning surged through Prince Elagost’s body. He tried to pull his lance-blow and bring it around to block Dad’s sword.

It didn’t work. A moment later, Dad disappeared, and the elven prince’s head hit the ground.

“Good job, kid,” Terrel Young said. He stood nearby, pulling his hammer out of the mashed-in space where the Strandqueen’s head had, apparently, been. “You’ve got potential. A little slow for a striker or a mage, but not unacceptable.”

“Who are you comparing me to?” I asked. “S-Rankers?”

“Absolutely. Why would I compare you to anyone else? You want to fight with us, you’d better keep up.”

◄▼►

The portal wasn’t over.

But the spider fight was.

All around us, the burned-out husks of the B-Rank Huntresses lay smoldering. A dozen Strandmaidens lay in a wide spiral, the closest only a dozen feet from where Sarah pumped healing into Bernard the Wall. He’d taken damage, surprisingly. When I asked, Sarah nodded grimly. “Bernard’s not invincible. He just acts like he is.”

“She’s lying. I only take hits because I choose to.” Bernard hissed as a rib cracked back into place audibly. Then he grinned. “I’ve got a skill that requires me to take minor damage to gain more defense. Makes me stronger the longer a fight goes.”

“That rib was inside your heart,” Sarah said.

Bernard laughed. “I said minor damage, and I meant it!”

I’d seen S-Rankers fight before. Angelo—and the rest of the Carlsbad convoy’s strike team—at a distance. A few of the other big names on the news. Deborah Callahan and her instant-kill move. But working with them was different than anything I’d experienced. The closest thing was probably Warren Carrol, the A-Rank fighter who’d joined us in our impromptu, forced assault into Queen Mother Yalerox’s fortress.

He’d been impressive because we’d been C-Rankers, though. And he’d done a lot of carrying in that portal.

This was different. Every move the Phoenix Reborn reminded me that he could flatten wave after wave of monsters from the Carlsbad Portal. He was just choosing not to. They all were. Bernard was strong enough to have blocked the Strandqueen’s charge by himself, and Terrel could have killed both the spider and the prince faster than I’d taken out just one.

But they were holding back. There was only one reason for it; they were trying to shove skill levels at me.

“Minor damage, my ass. That’d kill even you, Bernie,” Sarah said.

He nodded. “You’re right. I was burning Stamina. Probably only had fifteen or twenty minutes of heavy fighting before I couldn’t keep pushing anymore.”

“What’s next?” Hugo asked. His left eye was glowing red, a sigil that looked like a crosshair across it, and his right eye had seemingly shrunk down to nothing. The bow in his hand smoked from the speed he’d been firing.

“Next, we assault one of the pillars,” Sarah said. “If this is like another Atelier, the portal boss is in the palace. We take him out quickly and call it good.”

“So, is this an Arboreal world, or an Atelier one?” I asked.

“It’s Arboreal,” Bernard said. “The highest reaches of the tallest forests, where the elves’ royalty lives, are called Ateliers. You’ve seen the spider ranches they have elsewhere? What we just slaughtered was a king’s private herd.”

“And the boss is the king?”

Terrel nodded. “Almost certainly. Let’s get moving before he tries to escape. They always try to run.”

Bernard picked up his tower shield, stretching out. He nodded at Sarah. “Thanks, love. Spot’s always open with the Coyotes if you want—“

“Nope. No recruiting during portals,” she snapped. Then she winked. “Besides, you know where I stand.”

“No harm in trying,” the big man said.

We headed for the nearest of the dozen boughs holding up the high palace. They were larger than the redwood trees I’d seen in schoolbooks. Larger than anything I could imagine on Earth. And yet, compared to the treetop making up the ground below us and the massive limb Ellen and I had fought across at B-Rank, they felt tiny.

The doorway lasted all of five swings from Terrel Young’s hammer and one massive rush from Bernard’s pauldron. He took one step into the hollowed-out tree with the spiraling ramp, then raised his shield. “Arrowstorm!” he called.

“Got it,” Terrel said. He slid under the massive tower shield, whipped his hammer onto its clip on his back, and loosened a smaller shield and mace as the first in the rain of arrows slammed down onto them. Most of them bounced off shields or armor, but a few found gaps, drawing blood and hisses of pain.

Then Terrel moved up, his shield raised, and the plan became obvious.

They were going to turtle their way up the stairs.

The other S-Rankers waited just past the entrance. Sarah glanced at me. “It’s the safest way up.”

I nodded. It was the safest way. “Let me guess. Halfway up, when all the archers are focused on them, Hugo and Nathan open up with spells from down here?”

“That’s right,” Sarah said.

The two armored S-Rankers moved faster and faster, not quite at a sprint but definitely a healthy jog. Their shields looked like pincushions, and even more arrows kept slamming into them. I shook my head. “They’re not going to make it.”

“They’ll make it,” Sarah said. “They’re S-Rankers. They can brute-force this dungeon.”

“No. They’ll definitely make it up, but by the time they do and we join them, the boss will be on the move, right? The Portal Tyrant said they always try to run. Do we have time to hunt him down?”

“The portal’s pretty fresh, and it’s outside of Phoenix’s walls. If it breaks, we’ll still have plenty of time before it’s a threat,” Nathan said.

“I don’t know if I agree. And I’ve got a better idea, anyway. If I start shutting down the archers, you can all get moving.”

“You think you can?” Hugo asked.

“Sure.” I lowered my stance, dropping into Cyclone Forms. I fired a single Stormfire Lance up at the nearest archer, hitting her in the chest and setting her ablaze. Then I used the Wind Charge for a Windwalk and took off, sprinting in a straight line for the same archer. She died from a quick slash to the throat, and memories surged upward.

The last time I’d fought archers like this, I’d been trying to play catch-up for Jeff, Ellen, and the others. The archers had been E and D-Rank, and I’d had to move carefully to avoid taking too many arrows. It had been a desperate, uphill slog.

This time was different. This time, my party was with me, and they could overwhelm the archers on their own. In fact, as I yanked myself back across the open spiral with a Lightning Chain, Hugo and Nathan opened fire on the farthest elves, and I realized they were still testing me—and still letting me push my skills.

So I did.

Archers fell before me. None of them were pushovers—especially once they realized what I was doing. But none of them were tough opponents, either. Halfway up the tunnel, I glanced back. Sarah and Hugo had regrouped with the front-liners, and Nathan was…

The Phoenix Reborn was in flight, filling the center of the tree with flame that he carefully controlled to avoid setting the whole thing ablaze. I grinned. They were moving in earnest now, and that meant one of two things.

Either I’d passed their test, or they were more concerned with getting to the boss than with keeping up the pressure on me.

◄▼►