Marching is a boring affair. Less boring than my time traveling alongside the Squiddies along the King’s Road, but only because of the tension in the air and the hilarious reactions of the ill-prepared acolytes. I can’t feel it but according to their muttered complaints, the temperature is steadily dropping as we walk along the uphill path. I personally think it’s all in their minds, an idea that’s supported by several of them quietly lamenting their reckless decision to join the campaign.
Interestingly, it isn’t snowing. It’s always snowing. So much that after the first couple of days, I ignored gentle flakes and gray sky, accepting it as a new constant. Therefore, the lack of it is significant. The sky is still overcast but that’s it. No peacefully falling snow. No wind. If anything, the world is uncommonly still and silent. It amplifies the sound of the marching warriors. No considerations are given to stealth because they’d be pointless.
After the first hour, I settle in for a long day, trying to find a soothing rhythm in the constant crunch of heavy boots sinking into ankle-deep snow. In my pursuit of relaxation, the shadow passing over me doesn’t garner so much as a blink. What catches my attention is Kierra bolting upright and reaching for the chest of weapons under our feet.
The next second, shouts echo throughout the armies. Alana’s voice joins them as she moves from the front of our group toward me.
“Eyes to the sky! Enemies approach. Hunters, I need a dozen ranged casters ready. Priority to metal and fire. Moons, Duelists, get ready.” I perk up as our army starts to move. Alana climbs onto my wagon and I hold back a question as she starts shouting again. “For those who don’t know what’s going on, we’ve run into the first danger of the campaign. Doomhawks. They earned that name. They’re big, they’re vicious, and they’re maneaters. If you don’t pay attention, they will grab you and you’ll never be seen again.”
As she talks, several more shadows pass over us. I look up to see a dozen large birds circling above us. Far, far above us. For them to still look that big…saints, these things must be massive.
“This is how this works! There are hundreds, if not thousands of these winged bastards nesting on the Peaks. We’re enough food to keep their bellies full for the season and meat is lean this time of year. They will keep coming. The army can’t afford to stop. That means casters on the wagons so they can focus on shooting them down.”
She gives me a look, blue eyes more vivid shadowed by her helm. I don’t wait and hop off the wagon. Geneva and Kierra are beside me, the elf carrying a plain bow with a quiver slung over her shoulder. Three hunters are approaching and they quickly hop onto the driver’s bench.
“Knights, you know your roles. When the bodies fall, you keep them from flattening the skinny casters. Don’t worry about getting them onto empty wagons.” She turns to me. “Lou, that’s your job.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Acolytes! You have one job. Keep up. I better not see a single spell coming from you unless a doomie has its talons around your head. We won’t be speeding up but we won’t be stopping. Don’t be a hero. You’re only going to get in the way right now. What we need is precision, not firepower. Put your focus into putting one foot in front of the other.”
Alana turns back to us. “Kii, what’s your range with that bow?”
“Farther than any caster,” she replies.
“I won’t waste my time asking about power. Head to the front, find my stupid brother. He’s got more supplies and more men. They’ll be swarming him. I would also rather you use up his arrows. Make sure you count your kills.”
“Always.” The elf chuckles darkly as she runs ahead.
“Casters! The wagons are where they are on purpose. You cover the air two wagons ahead and two behind. Anything else is not your problem. We do not need wild fire.”
Yells of understanding echo around. Alana hops down from her perch. “All that yelling to the acolytes but I’m pretty much in the same position. Some commander.” She sighs. “Lou? Don’t space out, things are going to happen quickly. I need you.”
A pleasant shiver runs down my spine and it has nothing to do with the cold. “I’m fine.”
“Really? What’s that look?”
“Just melting a little.”
“In this weather?”
“Mm.” Best not explain myself and distract her.
“Well…I don’t have to worry if it’s you. Geo, when the hunters undoubtedly miss something, can I count on you?”
The succubus grins. “Of course.”
“Remember, fire. And try to blow them toward the mountain. Last thing anyone needs is a corpse crashing into them out of nowhere. The knights are experienced but keep an eye out, Lou. We—"
She’s interrupted by a single call echoing down the ranks. “Ready!”
The shout is followed by several shrill cries. I look up as the first doomhawks begin to dive. They aren’t headed for us, targeting the denser grouping of knights ahead of us. Their speed is incredible. In one second, they’ve doubled in size. In ten, I can make out their eyes with my ‘film’. I can’t believe it takes them less than a minute to reach us from that height.
Ten more seconds later, one of the doomhawks is knocked out of its dive. There’s no squawk of pain or surprise. One moment, it’s a giant arrow aimed at the bulk of Victory’s forces. The next, its wings go limp and it starts to spiral, spinning haphazardly. Another follows a moment later. This time, I think I see something hit the bird’s head before it starts its freefall.
Another one is hit. Now, they’re close enough I could make out their eyes without my film. For the average caster, they could make out the general shape of the creature. Good enough to aim.
As one, casters all launch fire at the descending birds. They don’t all hit but those that do explode, knocking the birds off course and blasting them toward the mountain. As the first spells are launched, the second wave of monstrous birds dive. A moment later, so does the third.
Soon, a wave is headed for us. A small one, only seven birds. I hear casters on the wagon swear and mutter quick prayers as they wait for the manabeasts to come in range. I also push down my natural levity and focus on the moment. Readying myself to play catch with creatures five times my size, if not larger.
I imagine they’re a real terror for anyone not prepared for them. With grey and white patterned feathers, they won’t be noticed until they want to be and by then, I imagine it’s too late. They’re not as tough as the annoying bird that attacked us during the qualifiers. That thing’s feathers could deflect Alana’s blade easily. The spells are tearing these doomhawks apart. The problem is, they more than make up for their fragility with numbers. As the first waves are shot down, more and more take to the skies, circling us.
“NOW!” Alana shouts, her voice echoing in a way that makes me think Rolly is helping.
The hunters follow her command. Soon, there is fire and blades of metal flying through the air. It takes two volleys but the birds are blown back and drop into a freefall. Four are on track to smash into our people. I don’t have the chance to worry. The knights from the Bleak Moons are ready.
Pillars of ice and earth erupt from the ground, catching the corpses of the birds. They disappear a moment later, the corpses easy to knock aside with their momentum gone. I leap into action. The creatures are awkward due to their size but lighter than expected. I throw them onto the first empty wagon I see, starting with the closest before sprinting to grab the corpses knocked away by the more explosive spells.
A new volley of spells are launched before I finish. I glance up, trying to gage where the next wave will fall. There’s more of them this time, nine. If this keeps up, we’re going to be in for a slog.
To think I thought the first day was going to be boring.
Marching is a boring affair. Less boring than my time traveling alongside the Squiddies along the King’s Road, but only because of the tension in the air and the hilarious reactions of the ill-prepared acolytes. I can’t feel it but according to their muttered complaints, the temperature is steadily dropping as we walk along the uphill path. I personally think it’s all in their minds, an idea that’s supported by several of them quietly lamenting their reckless decision to join the campaign.
Interestingly, it isn’t snowing. It’s always snowing. So much that after the first couple of days, I ignored gentle flakes and gray sky, accepting it as a new constant. Therefore, the lack of it is significant. The sky is still overcast but that’s it. No peacefully falling snow. No wind. If anything, the world is uncommonly still and silent. It amplifies the sound of the marching warriors. No considerations are given to stealth because they’d be pointless.
After the first hour, I settle in for a long day, trying to find a soothing rhythm in the constant crunch of heavy boots sinking into ankle-deep snow. In my pursuit of relaxation, the shadow passing over me doesn’t garner so much as a blink. What catches my attention is Kierra bolting upright and reaching for the chest of weapons under our feet.
The next second, shouts echo throughout the armies. Alana’s voice joins them as she moves from the front of our group toward me.
“Eyes to the sky! Enemies approach. Hunters, I need a dozen ranged casters ready. Priority to metal and fire. Moons, Duelists, get ready.” I perk up as our army starts to move. Alana climbs onto my wagon and I hold back a question as she starts shouting again. “For those who don’t know what’s going on, we’ve run into the first danger of the campaign. Doomhawks. They earned that name. They’re big, they’re vicious, and they’re maneaters. If you don’t pay attention, they will grab you and you’ll never be seen again.”
As she talks, several more shadows pass over us. I look up to see a dozen large birds circling above us. Far, far above us. For them to still look that big…saints, these things must be massive.
“This is how this works! There are hundreds, if not thousands of these winged bastards nesting on the Peaks. We’re enough food to keep their bellies full for the season and meat is lean this time of year. They will keep coming. The army can’t afford to stop. That means casters on the wagons so they can focus on shooting them down.”
She gives me a look, blue eyes more vivid shadowed by her helm. I don’t wait and hop off the wagon. Geneva and Kierra are beside me, the elf carrying a plain bow with a quiver slung over her shoulder. Three hunters are approaching and they quickly hop onto the driver’s bench.
“Knights, you know your roles. When the bodies fall, you keep them from flattening the skinny casters. Don’t worry about getting them onto empty wagons.” She turns to me. “Lou, that’s your job.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Acolytes! You have one job. Keep up. I better not see a single spell coming from you unless a doomie has its talons around your head. We won’t be speeding up but we won’t be stopping. Don’t be a hero. You’re only going to get in the way right now. What we need is precision, not firepower. Put your focus into putting one foot in front of the other.”
Alana turns back to us. “Kii, what’s your range with that bow?”
“Farther than any caster,” she replies.
“I won’t waste my time asking about power. Head to the front, find my stupid brother. He’s got more supplies and more men. They’ll be swarming him. I would also rather you use up his arrows. Make sure you count your kills.”
“Always.” The elf chuckles darkly as she runs ahead.
“Casters! The wagons are where they are on purpose. You cover the air two wagons ahead and two behind. Anything else is not your problem. We do not need wild fire.”
Yells of understanding echo around. Alana hops down from her perch. “All that yelling to the acolytes but I’m pretty much in the same position. Some commander.” She sighs. “Lou? Don’t space out, things are going to happen quickly. I need you.”
A pleasant shiver runs down my spine and it has nothing to do with the cold. “I’m fine.”
“Really? What’s that look?”
“Just melting a little.”
“In this weather?”
“Mm.” Best not explain myself and distract her.
“Well…I don’t have to worry if it’s you. Geo, when the hunters undoubtedly miss something, can I count on you?”
The succubus grins. “Of course.”
“Remember, fire. And try to blow them toward the mountain. Last thing anyone needs is a corpse crashing into them out of nowhere. The knights are experienced but keep an eye out, Lou. We—"
She’s interrupted by a single call echoing down the ranks. “Ready!”
The shout is followed by several shrill cries. I look up as the first doomhawks begin to dive. They aren’t headed for us, targeting the denser grouping of knights ahead of us. Their speed is incredible. In one second, they’ve doubled in size. In ten, I can make out their eyes with my ‘film’. I can’t believe it takes them less than a minute to reach us from that height.
Ten more seconds later, one of the doomhawks is knocked out of its dive. There’s no squawk of pain or surprise. One moment, it’s a giant arrow aimed at the bulk of Victory’s forces. The next, its wings go limp and it starts to spiral, spinning haphazardly. Another follows a moment later. This time, I think I see something hit the bird’s head before it starts its freefall.
Another one is hit. Now, they’re close enough I could make out their eyes without my film. For the average caster, they could make out the general shape of the creature. Good enough to aim.
As one, casters all launch fire at the descending birds. They don’t all hit but those that do explode, knocking the birds off course and blasting them toward the mountain. As the first spells are launched, the second wave of monstrous birds dive. A moment later, so does the third.
Soon, a wave is headed for us. A small one, only seven birds. I hear casters on the wagon swear and mutter quick prayers as they wait for the manabeasts to come in range. I also push down my natural levity and focus on the moment. Readying myself to play catch with creatures five times my size, if not larger.
I imagine they’re a real terror for anyone not prepared for them. With grey and white patterned feathers, they won’t be noticed until they want to be and by then, I imagine it’s too late. They’re not as tough as the annoying bird that attacked us during the qualifiers. That thing’s feathers could deflect Alana’s blade easily. The spells are tearing these doomhawks apart. The problem is, they more than make up for their fragility with numbers. As the first waves are shot down, more and more take to the skies, circling us.
“NOW!” Alana shouts, her voice echoing in a way that makes me think Rolly is helping.
The hunters follow her command. Soon, there is fire and blades of metal flying through the air. It takes two volleys but the birds are blown back and drop into a freefall. Four are on track to smash into our people. I don’t have the chance to worry. The knights from the Bleak Moons are ready.
Pillars of ice and earth erupt from the ground, catching the corpses of the birds. They disappear a moment later, the corpses easy to knock aside with their momentum gone. I leap into action. The creatures are awkward due to their size but lighter than expected. I throw them onto the first empty wagon I see, starting with the closest before sprinting to grab the corpses knocked away by the more explosive spells.
A new volley of spells are launched before I finish. I glance up, trying to gage where the next wave will fall. There’s more of them this time, nine. If this keeps up, we’re going to be in for a slog.
To think I thought the first day was going to be boring.
