Dragon Mage 3 Chapter 10: The Band of Four (Patreon)

368 days until the Arkon Shield falls

I crept into the central cavern.

It was not hard. As Kellar and Henk had reported, the chamber was huge—about two hundred yards in length—and peppered with stalagmites, some of which had grown so large they had already reached the roof. It left me with plenty of cover, and even though my stealth was low, I was able to shuffle unseen between the rock structures.

Then, too, the cavern’s primary occupant was in no fit state to observe much. Rounding another stalagmite, I peered around the edge at the shadowlion huddled down on the left side of the chamber.

The beast was not especially large, not compared to the shadowcats, anyway, which I’d known to expect from the scouts’ description but still surprised me. The other creature champions I’d encountered—the murluk chieftain, the spider queen, and the broodworm—had all been larger versions of the base species.

So, what’s different about you? I wondered, staring at the shadowlion.

The shadowlion was more heavily built than the shadowcats but had the same distinctive dark fur, rippling muscles, powerful jawline, protruding tusks, and large paws. Physically, the only thing that distinguished the lair boss from the others was the rich black mane lining his face.

The differences between the lion and the cats, therefore, had to be more than physical. Reaching out with my will, I analyzed the lair boss.

The target is a level 140 shadowlion. It has no Magic, exceptional Might and Resilience, and no Craft. Additional information revealed by anatomy: this creature is near death.

 I frowned. The Trials’ feedback hadn’t really told me anything I didn’t already know. In terms of Might and Resilience, the lair boss was more powerful than the lesser cats, but how much so, I couldn’t tell by staring at him.

That the lair boss was near death also did not surprise me. There were large gaping holes all along his torso, his mane was ripped and torn, and his breathing was labored. The only question, really, was why the mages had not finished the creature.

Perhaps Arneson was right, perhaps they only retreated to rest up.

Pushing on the stalagmite I leaned against, I was about to break off from my study of the lair boss when, unbidden, a Trials message unfurled in my mind.

Spontaneous analyze triggered. 

You have uncovered a shadowlion’s Feat: Unstoppable, rank 3. This creature is immune to all debuffs of rank 3 and below. 

Well, well, I thought, pursing my lips. The shadowlion had a Feat, just like the murluk chieftain had. And it was a powerful one, too. If I was interpreting the Trials message correctly, none of my crowd control spells—including wilting waze, my most powerful—would be able to slow the lair boss down.

Which begged the question…

How had four—or six—Trainee ranked human mages managed to defeat it?

Time to find out. Pushing myself into motion again, I resumed my journey through the cavern.

✵ ✵ ✵

I found the mages exactly where the scouts had said they’d be—in the cavern’s far-right corner, behind a shimmering curtain of silver. Safely tucked away behind a rock, I took a moment to study the four before I made my approach. 

The mages were all male and young-looking, but that was just a side-effect of the Clean Slate form. Two wore robes of the deepest black and had staffs near to hand while the other two were covered in steel plate armor and carried swords. Sitting around a fire, they looked to be engaged in a fierce debate, but about what, I couldn’t tell from this distance.

My gaze slid further right. Six backpacks lay piled there, their contents unclear. It was not the packs that drew my interest, though, but the two bodies. 

The dead mages.

Both corpses had been left uncovered and were badly mangled—the shadowlion’s doing, I imagined. One was a woman, the other a man. Their clothes were torn and shredded, and blood pooled freely on the ground around them. Despite this, none of the nearby four appeared perturbed.

Did they care so little for their former colleagues?

My eyes darting back to the campfire, I analyzed each of the mages in turn, focusing on their Magic Potential in particular.

The target is Hawthorn, a level 68 human player. He is gifted with Magic.

The target is Sashin, a level 60 human player. He has mediocre Magic.

The target is Jared, a level 57 human player. He has meager Magic.

The target is Borris, a level 53 human player. He has meager Magic. 

Hmm. The four mages’ levels and Magic Potential left me with no cause for concern. If it came to a fight, I thought I could handle them easily. 

If you didn’t consider their gear, anyhow.

The shimmering curtain—a Seasoned ranked ward, I thought—was evidence enough that the four were superbly equipped. Then, there were their clothes and weapons. The armor and swords Jared and Borris wore were covered in sigils and definitely enchanted. I suspected the same held true for Hawthorn and Sashin’s robes. And while I could not make out all the details from where I stood, the pair’s staffs also appeared inset with elemental crystals.

Not even Jain and his party had been so richly outfitted. But then again, Jain’s people had not been subjects of any of humanity’s Sponsors, not nominally anyway.

These four, though, clearly were.

And that alone gave me ample reason for caution.

While I still intended to approach the four openly and with friendly intent, I would do so with my defenses active. Closing my eyes, I cast sanctum of fire.

As the spell fell into place, a shimmering amber dome that was invisible to the naked eye took shape around me. I didn’t stop there. Drawing more mana, I cast magma buckler, regenerative aura, and after a moment’s thought, taloned hands in quick succession.

Looking down at myself, I took stock of my appearance. 

The only one of my defenses that I’d not raised was guarding flames. The spell was too visible, unfortunately. My hands, at least, I could hide, and the buckler on my left arm looked innocuous enough.

Glancing over my shoulder, I found Ash. I’d sent the little fire elemental aloft—unmanifested, of course, and barely visible—to watch over the shadowlion from up high. The lair boss might be near death, but that did not mean I was ready to discount the threat he posed, and the last thing I wanted was to be attacked from the rear while I approached the mages. 

Ash would warn me if the creature stirred and if necessary, she would manifest and take whatever steps were necessary to stop him.

There was no use delaying further. I was ready. Raising my chin, I stepped forward and out of hiding.

✵ ✵ ✵

I managed all of five steps before the mages around the campfire spotted me. 

“Hello, the camp,” I called out, smiling broadly to show them I meant no harm.

The four scrambled to their feet.

“Who are you?” Hawthorn demanded at the same time Boris asked, “Where did he come from?”

“From the other party, of course,” Sashin replied, his eyes not leaving me. “Party X.”

“Where are the rest of them?” Jared whispered as if I couldn’t hear him.

“I’m alone,” I replied, spreading my arms to show my hands were empty. At this distance, my taloned hands should go unnoticed or be mistaken for gloves.

“He’s a mage,” Borris hissed, clearly having analyzed me.

“I am,” I agreed, indicating the staff hooked onto my backpack and poking over my shoulder. I took another step forward. “The rest of my—”

“Stop right there!” Hawthorn ordered harshly.

Obligingly, I halted. Some thirty yards still separated me from the mages, and I could get why they wouldn’t want some strange mage approaching too closely.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” Sashin demanded.

“Like I was saying,” I said patiently, “they’re further behind.” I smiled again. “We thought it best if I made contact alone.”

“More fool you, then,” Hawthorn laughed. “Kill him!”

As one, Hawthorn and Sashin lowered their staffs while Borris and Jared stepped forward and took up defensive positions before the other two.

I didn’t move. While I was taken aback by the mages’ sudden aggression, I still held out hope of being able to defuse the situation. “Wait! Surely, we can talk about—” 

Twin rays of fire and ice washed over the golden dome protecting me.

“Damnit, he’s shielded,” Sashin growled.

“How?” Borris wondered. “He’s only a Trainee.”

“Who cares,” Hawthorn ground out harshly. “We’ll kill him all the same. Borris, Jared, advance.”

My lips thinned. Obviously, talking was getting me nowhere. Moving with exacting care, I reached around my back and unclipped my staff. “This is a mistake,” I said loudly and clearly.

“Ye, yours,” Jared taunted as he accelerated forward, his broadsword held high over his head and already shimmering with lightning.

I didn’t bother answering. There was no point. The four had chosen to turn the encounter hostile and were leaving me with only two choices: fight or flee.

And I wasn’t about to flee. Not yet.

Planting one end of my staff in the ground, I began casting. If any of the four had their magesight opened, they would surely be able to tell I was casting, if not what spell precisely.

It didn’t change what they were doing, though.

Jared and Borris kept charging while Hawthorn fired off a steady stream of fire darts and Sashin ice missiles. But my golden shield was equal to the challenge, and I shrugged off the hostile spells with barely any drain to my lifeblood and mana. My own spell completed, and I wasted no time trapping the ground in front of me with wilting waze. 

Immediately, I drew more mana and began a second casting. The two battlemages were fast approaching, but I thought I’d have time for one more spell.

Ten yards from me, Jared streaked forward, transforming for a split second into a bolt of lightning. 

My eyes widened, and I almost lost control of the spell I was weaving, but before my anxiety could morph into full-blown panic, the enemy mage hit the wilting waze field and slowed.

Dramatically.

Unlike the other foes I’d wilted in the past, Jared was lower leveled than me, and his agility couldn’t have been much to begin with. And now, suffering under the spell’s debilitating effects, he was left all but unmoving. My gaze found Jared’s. The other mage’s face was a picture of shock and fright. He knew I had him.

Kill him or keep casting? 

Looking over Jared’s shoulder, I spied Borris. Trailing his fellow by some ten yards, the other battlemage had been left unaffected by the wilting field and was now the bigger threat.

Keep casting, I decided. 

If the worst befell, and I misjudged the timing, I could always activate invincible. Still, it couldn’t hurt to widen the distance between me and Borris. Backstepping slowly and with my eyes fixed on my foe, I wove my second spell as quickly as I could.

Three yards from me, Borris roared.

I staggered back, the wall of sound hitting me like a physical blow. Sanctum of fire did nothing to stop it. My eardrums ruptured, blood spewed out of my nose, and for a heartbeat, it felt as if the world was spinning.

But only for a heartbeat.

You have partially resisted a hostile spell. 

My head jerking up, I spotted Borris. He had drawn up almost to the edge of my golden shield, the sword in his right hand raised and ready to strike. He thinks he has me, I thought, studying the satisfied smirk on the other man’s face.

But I was not dazed. 

And more importantly, I hadn’t lost the threads of the spell I was casting. Shoving my staff downward, I planted it in the ground and cast stone grasp.

In an eyeblink, the ground spewed up and encased Borris’ legs in solid rock from the knee down. But despite his surprise, the battlemage was quick to react. Lunging forward, he attempted to swipe at me with his sword.

I was alive to the danger, though, and stepped out of the way in time. “Tsk, tsk,” I murmured to the enraged and now impotent mage. Leaving him fuming and swearing, I glanced farther afield at Hawthorn and Sashin.

Both mages’ faces were grim as they observed their fellows’ failures, but they were making no move to flee or break off their attacks either.

So, they mean to continue the fight.

Leaving the pair be for now, I circled around the trapped Borris and made for Jared. Still moving glacially slow, he watched my approach with trepidation in his eyes. I drew up in front of him, ignoring the sword he still held up high and was furiously trying to bring down on me.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” I murmured, swapping my staff to my left hand.

Jared’s mouth worked soundlessly.

Sighing, I drew back my right hand, then lashed out, taloned fingers spearing forward.

Enchanted, though, Jared’s armor was, it posed no obstacle to my taloned hands, and my fingers plunged straight through his armored neck and cut effortlessly through the skin, bone, and flesh beneath.

Withdrawing my bloody hand, I let the lifeless corpse fall and stepped past.

Time to end this, I thought, eyeing the two robed mages in the distance.