40. The defence of Caedstad

Secluded to a corner at the edge of the wall, Earon kept to himself. He didn’t feel like a defender, not like the other war-hardened soldiers nearby; and it was clear they didn’t see him that way either.

They were all no doubt higher levels than Earon, a combination of enlisted soldiers, landed men, and those in service to Teyarthia – squires, men-at-arms, and others of lesser standings than the paladins themselves.

Hurried footsteps pounded the ground, shaking Earon from his absent musing.

“Incoming!” A man screamed from several meters away, waving a warpick in the air.

“Stations,” the Commander shouted as he walked the rampart. “And you,  are you ready for this?” He said, stopping by Earon.

Already to his feet and looking out across the battlefield, marked by pockets of fire, rubble, and rotting corpses – Earon nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tyan said, patting Earon’s shoulder. “Too keen and I might have thought you mad. Too scared and, well, that wouldn't have ended well...”

Horns sounded across the battlefield and silhouettes scuttled behind their mantlets at the base of the wall as they prepared to attack.

“Bows, to the ready!” A voice commanded from out of sight.

An eerie silence followed as Earon scanned the field below.

Battle cries roared out and plate-covered dwarves sprung from behind their mantlets and from trenches carrying ladders, running past the burned frame of the siege tower that had previously been used.

“Fire!”

Hundreds of arrows filled the sky, raining down on their attackers, but few seemed bothered by them as they pushed the ladders up against the walls and began to climb.

Tar followed, sending dwarves screaming in agony as it splashed against them and sent them hurling off their ladder, which was set alight as the black liquid covered it.

A ladder pushed up against the brick below Earon, and he grabbed hold of it and tried to push – it was useless. Remembering his rune, Earon engaged his featherweight spell. The ladder, which had four dwarves quickly ascending, was light enough to move. He still needed to strain, dig his heels in, and throw his weight against the push, but Earon raised up and off the brick. A couple of soldiers looked on in disbelief as he continued, pushing the ladder away, and sending the enemy smashing against the ground.

“Right!” Shouted the commander as a dwarf reached the top of a ladder at the far end of the wall, decapitating a defender with a single strike of his heavy axe.

Earon turned and flung a pebble without thinking. It slammed against the attacker's shield and bounced away. The dwarf continued unbothered and jumped down onto the rampart, but without allies they found themselves surrounded.

Realizing this, Earon decided to redirect his attacks, figuring that they might have more effect elsewhere.

To his left was another ladder, which several soldiers were already trying to push away. Earon glanced back towards the breach - there were two dwarves now, but it seemed uncontrol.

Dashing left, he squeezed between the armored men and grabbed hold of the ladder, immediately engaging the rune. Earon didn’t even get the chance to push. With the strength of four men already pushing against it, the moment the ladder's weight had been reduced, it flung backward, hurling the dwarves across the battlefield, to the surprised expressions of those around him.

Not only that but from here the wall curved and he had a better advantage point of the other ladder pushing up against the parapet, and Earon began flinging rocks at the climbing attackers.

Most were grazing shots, doing little real damage, but they did enough, slowing the assault, and as the staggering rocks continued to pelt them, one dwarf fell from the ladder, and then another.

Two dwarves were nowhere near enough to create a breach, and within minutes they had been bashed to death by the defenders who overwhelmed them.

A half dozen dwarves still scattered about at the foot of the wall, picking up then dropping a ladder as they considered continuing the attack. But they were broken at this point, confused warriors fumbling around in the chaos of battle as arrows rained down on them.

Commander Tyan wasted no time crossing the wall to pat Earon on the shoulder. “I underestimated you. Don’t get too many magicians around here.”

“I’m not actually a magician,” Earon said. “I just use some of their spells.”

Tyan’s brow raised. “I don’t really understand, and to be honest, I don’t really want to. As long as your magic helps us keep the wall, you can keep your secrets to yourself.”

Earon nodded.

Celebrations were a meager affair when you were a defender stuck on a wall with little supplies. But when Earon went through his bag and realized Fane had stuffed it with cured meat and sweet cakes. And he decided to share his bounty with his new companions.

They had already warmed to Earon after his prowess in battle, but when something other than stale bread and rock-hard biscuits were freely given to them, it resulted in smiles being etched into their faces for the rest of the night.

There was a comforting comradery amongst the soldiers that Earon quickly learned to enjoy. The dice game they played was called, King’s Bitch, and as the name suggested, it had some unsavory undertones. Nonetheless, Earon enjoyed learning the rules and sitting around throwing cups – that they called rolling the dice from a cup – and placing bets that were meant to be settled after the siege was lifted.

Famous songs filled a lot of the long, empty hours where they just sat around not doing much. There were even a few among them who had come from abroad or had traveled outside of Ome as soldiers or adventurers previously. They shared tales of the foreign lands, the songs they sang, and most importantly, the beauty of their women – though many of the stories were clearly embellished.

Earon tried to continue his training as best he could. But with danger looming it was hard to get the most out of it. He couldn’t risk depleting his mana right before an attack.

Over the next week, the dwarves had attempted a few harassing attacks. Charging parts of the walls with their ladders, then fleeing back behind their mantlets. It appeared they were testing where they met the greatest resistance, since some angles of attack received a considerably stronger response from archers, depending on how good their advantage was.

Everything had earned a price within the besieged city. Basic arrows had risen to ten coppers each, potions and salves were prohibitable expensive, and everything trickled back to Fane. It almost made Earon sick to think about how much money his old companion was making off this war, but he knew getting goods into the city was no easy task. And if no money was to be made, it would be impossible to bring the goods in.

On the ninth day of his tenure on the wall, it rained. There were two corner towers under the control of his battalion. But neither had intact roofs anymore. Not that they had enough room for every soldier anyway, and clothes were crudely drawn across parapets and tied to sticks, creating makeshift tents that let in as much water as they kept out.

These conditions combined with poor food and mounting wounds led to disease, leading to the increasingly fatigued Arks Priests to make their rounds, calling for miracles to heal the soldiers.

Fighting at the wall was a good combat experience, even when it was just repelling probing attacks. But Earon couldn’t help but feel his magical learning had stalled. He wanted to get better at crafting runes and learning spells. And whilst he did get some time to practice his rune crafting, without spellbooks, he wasn’t going to be learning new spells.

Despite that, fighting over leveled enemies was still paying dividends. He was increasing his mana channeling and throwing very quickly. Trudels had mentioned that there was a high likelihood that skills like throwing would also cap for him. They were combat skills, and he was still considered a combat class as a caster. But he wasn’t a martial class, whilst throwing was a martial skill, which meant it would cap even for combat classes above journeyman. This meant that Earon likely wouldn’t be able to raise it, nor brawling, above level 30. Not that it was an immediate concern. Enemies past the journeyman cap were far beyond the horizon, and even then, if he used his spells intelligently, he could probably make up for those caps against all but masters and beyond.

Earon opened his status and sighed. He wasn’t exactly sure when taking on another rune would be a good idea, but he figured both rune crafting and channel mana should be above level 10, before he tried, and ideally higher than that

***

Warlock – Level 12

***Skills & Abilities***

Arcane knowledge (10)
Rune Crafting (Body Transmutation) (7)
Mana Sense (8)
Channel Mana (9)

Polearms (10)
Navigator (4)


Riding (2)
Survivalist (3)
Block (6)
Resistance (2)
Physical Resistance (3)
Brawling (7)
Tracking (2)
Dark Sight (8)
Stealth (3)
Throwing (13)
Dodge (7)

***Spells***

Magic resistance (7)
Zap (5)
Featherweight (8)

***

Hopefully, Lexi might at least learn something. Earon had no idea how he would be able to bring her along if she didn’t gain some combat ability, and he doubted she would accept being left behind. But he couldn’t just drag her along until she got herself killed.

Drawing on a blank scroll, Earon scribbled pictures of rocks of different sizes, and some runes that came to him. There was something missing, he knew that, and he wasn’t going to figure it out without help. But he had been inspired. He knew how he wanted to take his spells to the next level, he just needed help getting there.

Earon held up a pebble between his fingers as light draped across it.

If he wanted to get stronger and do it without waiting a hundred years to become a master, he would need to get creative.