Chapter 56 - Death From Above

Rowan flew through the air, his arms flailing, trying to stabilize himself. It was a heady feeling and for just a moment, the urgency of the battle receded to the back of his mind.

The sight from so far above left him breathless. He could see the horde of goblins beneath him, the adventurers fighting them off with ferocious momentum, their weapons gleaming as their Aura’s illuminated the battlefield.

Shouts of surprise and panic followed in the wake of his jump. The mages and adventurers manning the walls not understanding what had happened. Why he’d seemingly thrown himself into the jaws of death.

They weren’t the only ones who noticed his departure. The goblins beneath him pointed up, raising an alarm.

Alright, let’s do this.

Sending a small burst of mana into the ring on his finger, Rowan activated its enchantment. A [Wind Barrier] sprang to life beneath his feet, protecting him from the arrows the goblins launched his way.

As he reached the apex of his jump, Rowan looked around, searching for his target.

Thank you, Velora, he grinned.

The mage had shot him out towards the general direction of the shamans. If he did nothing, he’d land a little ways off—not to mention splatter on the ground—but that was alright. Rowan didn’t plan on falling to his death, or missing the landing.

[Feather Fall] activated, turning his drop into a controlled descent. Rowan guided it by repeatedly casting [Gust], the spell keeping him on course.

Thankfully, Velora seemed to have taken control of the mages, realizing that for Rowan’s plan to work, he needed a distraction. Spell after spell erupted from the walls. [Water Bolt]’s and [Rock Shot]’s, [Firebolt]’s and [Wind Blast]’s, forcing the shamans to keep their defenses up.

It would be close. The mages would need to time it correctly if they wanted to avoid hitting him, but he trusted in their abilities.

Focusing, Rowan started casting.

Mana shot out of his Core and through his channels, winding through them in a familiar circuit. It was a spell he’d mastered long ago, one that had saved his life more than once, one that would hopefully do so again.

A tendril of flame erupted from his shoulder blades. Quickly followed by another, and another, and another.

Rowan’s current maximum was eight. Yet with [Feather Fall] active, even four was pushing it. [Iron Will] showcased its worth once again, keeping his Intent clear.

Holding spells of a different affinity active at the same time was a skill in and of itself. And while he couldn’t say he’d mastered it, Rowan felt comfortable doing it.

He fell towards the clustered shamans with whips of flame trailing behind him, ready to unleash a strike that would decapitate the goblins' assault. All he needed to do was survive the fallout.

A few of the shamans looked up, their eyes widening in surprise and alarm, the unexpected direction of the attack leaving them disoriented.

Guess this is it.

Rowan cut off [Feather Fall], falling the rest of the way. 

His [Burning Whip]’s shot out towards the shamans that noticed him first. Wrapping around one's throat and throwing him against the group—knocking three of their feet, while another slammed a goblin into the ground, searing its face off.

Confusion and panic shot through their ranks. Having an enemy fall on top of them wasn’t something they had expected, and Rowan planned on taking full advantage of his surprise attack.

Rowan swept the tendrils throughout their number. If he wanted to live through this, he needed to be quick.

Shamans fell with each strike. Some tried to erect their shields but Rowan simply wound a tendril around them, attacking from behind. It wasn’t a tactic one could normally use. You had to be up close for it, and being close to a mage generally wasn’t advised.

Heads fell, throats burned, shamans died.

Rowan was a whirlwind of death and destruction among their number. He pushed more mana into his whip’s, the soft red glow turning into a piercing yellow. It wasn’t until only four were left that they managed to get their bearings.

The sudden commotion had drawn attention, and as Rowan looked around, he could see hobgoblins eyeing him with bewilderment etched on their faces.

One of them shamans snarled something, pointing frantically at him through its dome of water.

Well, crap, Rowan thought, Now the not so fun part.

There was no way he’d be able to live through this on his own. His mana was already down to less than half, and with the number of opponents closing in, that was nowhere near enough.

Standing there, in the middle of the enemy, Rowan strained his ears. The sound of battle wasn’t that far off, and he set his shoulders, taking a deep breath.

All I need to do is survive for a little while. How hard could that be?

A shaman shot a [Water Bolt] at him, and Rowan instinctually intercepted it with one of his whips. Thankfully, that particular shaman was still only a Red-Core, but it still drained a portion of his reserves. Water was effective against Fire, even with a tier disadvantage.

The spell hissed as it made contact with his own, trying and failing to overwhelm his Intent. Dissipating a moment later.

Idiot, he chastised himself. Dodge, don’t deflect.

The goblins were closing in, circling him menacingly. They held swords and axes, spears and daggers, rusty and caked in dried blood. He could see their scarred faces, smell the sweat, hear their snarls.

Rowan should have been scared, but all he felt was a strange sense of calm.

He hadn’t made the decision to strike at the shamans without thinking it through. All the pieces he needed to survive were in play. With the shamans occupied, their mages could focus on the horde of goblins without worrying about reprisal. And with them clearing a path, Quinea and the adventurers had everything they needed in order to end this battle and come to his rescue.

A few minutes, that’s all I need. No need to get fancy.

He threw himself out of the way of a [Rock Shot], his eyes locked on the four remaining shamans. Rowan could see the fear and hesitation in their eyes, the panic that came along with losing a bulk of their number in such a quick and unexpected manner.

He grinned at them, his lips pulling back to show his canines.

The goblins and hobgoblins were still circling, hesitant to rush him with the defensive web of his [Burning Whip]’s. But that couldn’t last. Just holding this many was draining his reserves, and if he emptied his Fire magic fully, he’d be in for a world of hurt.

Coming to a decision, Rowan cut off the flow to two of the whips, withdrawing them back into himself. At the same time, he cast [Tailwind].

The familiar feeling of being wrapped up in a cloak of seeming weightlessness settled down on his shoulder. What he needed now wasn’t strength, but speed.

Seeing his defenses fall emboldened the goblins, and with a sharp cry, they finally rushed him.

Rowan glanced at the shamans and then at the approaching enemies, quickly turning around and running to meet them.

He’d done all he could against the casters. Out of the fifteen that had been there when he landed, only four were left. Rowan had to trust the adventurers to deal with them once they reached him.

He didn’t have close to enough mana to fight four of them at the once. If he engaged, defending against their spells would drain him in seconds, so he moved towards other opponents. Ones that he could hopefully end without too big of a cost.

His [Burning Whip]’s lashed out, wrapping around a goblin’s throat and throwing it at an approaching hobgoblin. The creature flew through the air with a gurgled scream as the searing heat destroyed its throat. It impacted the hobgoblin with a dull thud and the beast snarled in frustration as it pushed the smaller monster away.

But Rowan didn’t have time to celebrate. Another goblin rushed at him from the side, and if it weren’t for [Tailwind], he wouldn’t have been able to dodge its rusted spear as it thrust it at his back.

He cracked him upside the head with the back of his hand, breaking its jaw in the process.

More goblins came, and Rowan’s breathing grew ragged—his movements frantic, desperate even. The speed he gained from [Tailwind] was the only thing keeping him out of reach of their attacks.

Each dodge, each strike, came at a greater cost. His whips cracked through the air, reaping lives, heedless of the price.

Rowan fought harder than he ever had before, his perception focusing to a fine point. Every movement he made, every attack he sent out felt perfect. Like he’d performed them a thousand times before.

A thrill bubbled up from the depths of his soul, and Rowan let out a booming laugh. His reserves were down to less than ten percent, and he withdrew another whip back into himself, leaving only one. Yet he found that he didn’t care.

Something was driving him forward. Coordinating his movements.

Sweat dripped down his brow, mixing with the blood and grime that covered his skin. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from a strange blend of exhilaration and exhaustion. The goblins seemed endless, and he was slowly running out of steam, yet the grin never fell from his face.

And then, Kai was there. His familiar flew around him, his talons ripping and tearing through muscle, his beak piercing through bone. That helped with some of the pressure, but there was only so much the two of them could do to halt the horde.

It wasn’t until a particularly large hobgoblin rushed him—swinging its massive club—that things took a turn for the worse.

Rowan’s last remaining whip lashed out, striking the creature's face, but it wasn’t enough to stop its momentum. The hobgoblin barreled into him, sending him sprawling onto the ground, the breath knocked out of his lungs.

Pain shot through his body as he hit the hard dirt. For a brief second, the world spun, that strange focus leaving, replaced by a sense of disorientation and dread.

Get up, a voice spoke in his mind. Get up. Fight.

Rowan wasn’t sure if it was his own, if it was even real, but he listened either way. He had too. The alternative was death.

He tried to push himself up, yet his body barely moved.

Broken ribs. Shattered collarbone. Fractured wrist, he diagnosed himself, his voice eerily detached, like he was hearing a healer through a thick curtain.

He could see shapes closing in, a massive one standing overhead, its warhammer raised.

Rowan tried to lash out with a whip, willing it to move. It was only when it didn’t that he realized what had happened. The fall had shattered his concentration. He was lying broken on the ground, defenseless.

[Iron Will] flared harder than it ever had before, clearing the fog from his mind and the stars from his vision.

Rowan dredged up the last of his Fire mana and cast.

The massive hobgoblin noticed the change, its beady eyes narrowing. It swung the hammer downwards just as his spell finished.

A [Fireball] erupted from Rowan’s palm, weaker than any he’d ever cast before, hitting the monster in the shoulder.

It exploded, severing its arm and throwing the hobgoblin backwards, its weapon flying through the air, still clutched in its muscled arm. The lack of power in the spell was the only thing that saved him. If he’d thrown a fully powered [Fireball], he’d have died in the subsequent explosion. But that was a small consolation prize.

That was it. He was spent. No more Fire mana.

Rowan turned towards his Wind magic, sending a [Gust] just as another goblin lunged towards him with a spear. His spell threw it back, its weapon falling to the ground, yet another opponent soon took its place.

Letting out a pain-filled roar, Rowan pushed himself up. He rolled to his feet, gritting his teeth as he looked around, a crazed expression on his face. The goblins enclosing around him recoiled at the sight.

He grinned. A bloody, manic grin.

Rowan picked up a discarded spear and cast [Tailwind] with what little was left of his Wind mana. It swirled around him, granting him a short respite from the pain.

He dodged a sword thrust, ducking low before slashing across the goblins’ legs. Another one came from behind, and Rowan spun, using his momentum to drive the spear through its throat.

His body screamed in protest. Every movement sent sharp pain through his limbs, but he pushed through it.

It wouldn’t be long now before he fell. He knew that. He felt it in his bones.

At the edge of his vision, he could see a group of hobgoblins approaching. Once they reached him, it would be over. No amount of speed or precision would be enough to deal with their Auras.

And then, just as his hope started to falter, a golden spear shot through the air.