Chapter 8: Crack-Boom-Bang

Three days. Two, by the time Orn and the adventurers were able to wrangle everyone in a place where the threat could be explained. Cecilia hadn’t expected much in the way of defenses from anyone but the adventurers. In the back of her mind, she’d thought of the ‘simple folk’ of Ikshan as helpless.

She was wrong. There was no panic at the announcement from Orn and the mayor, just a mutter of irritation. Exasperation. Cecilia overheard one farmer mutter to her wife, “At least we got the planting done. Not like last year.”

“Yup. I’ll make sure the sheep are in the fortified pens. The kids can watch ‘em.”

“And I’ll put new heads on the spears. Think one broke over the winter.”

The second farmer reached up and lightly punched the first’s shoulder. “You think? You kept using it to break the ice on the well. What did you think was gonna happen?”

Everywhere Cecilia went, the tone was the same. The people of Ikshan did not see their imminent invasion as something to panic about. Just something to prepare for, in the same practical way they would prepare for a winter storm or summer drought.

She soon realized that this wasn’t ignorance, or hubris, either. Shin was the highest level Hunter in town, but she wasn’t the only person with hunting skills, or a Class that could make traps. She led six or seven folk with relevant skills and backgrounds into the forest on the first day. They were tired, sweaty, and covered in moss and smears of fungi when they returned, but every one shared the same sly grin.

The word went out not to leave the town without consulting with one of the trappers, and as far as Cecilia could see, the prohibition was taken with deadly sincerity.

Cantor and Ren were the town’s only spellcasters, and they spent their waking hours casting defensive spells on Ikshan’s wooden walls. “They won’t take true enchantments,” Cantor explained over drinks after they finished. “Not the right kind of wood, and no true Artisan created them. But what we conjured will make them resistant to being broken or climbed for a few days. Long enough.”

Odi practiced with citizens young and old. Most, to Cecilia’s surprise, already knew how to use a weapon. Simple weapons for the most part: spears, staves, and scythes. Crude armored torsos of layered, stiffened leather were unearthed from chests and barns, and Mare spent her time repairing any wear and tear. There were even a dozen competent archers, who Shin spent the second day testing, then assigning to places along the wall. “They will be of no use against the golems,” she confided quietly. “But one might get a lucky shot at the master. And who knows? He may have followers or apprentices who can bleed.”

Cecilia hesitated. “Won’t that bother them? Golems are one thing, but if they’re shooting at people…”

Shin gave her an odd look. “It is the same as bandits, or any other outlaw. If they succeed in breaching the walls, they would kill us. So how can we hesitate to kill in turn?”

“I haven’t seen anything like a jail, here,” Cecilia said, with a frown. “Do you really kill any criminals?”

“Only if they are causing direct harm. Thieves are branded and turned out. Unusual criminals are held in the Mayor’s home until a magistrate arrives. We get very few bandits; Ikshan is not known for its wealth. But it happens. Mostly, they flee when they realize we are not easy pickings. Bandits are no more eager for their death than we are. But, for that to work, they must genuinely fear death. Kill one or two, and the rest leave.”

“But doesn’t it bother you? They’re people, too.”

“I do not enjoy it,” Shin said, after thinking on it. “But like you, I wish to live. If that means I must kill someone who is trying to kill me, then I will.” She laughed, low and with little humor. “Those who do not feel likewise do not survive for very long in border freeholds. We have no soldiers, no lords with martial skills. Just the militia, and whatever adventurers are around and willing.”

Then her eyes sharpened. “Are you bothered by this? We may have to kill the golem master.”

Cecilia considered lying. But she was trying to be done with that. So, she nodded. “I’ve never been part of anyone’s death, Shin. I was a data analyst. I’ve never even held a real, honest-to-God weapon.”

Shin made a low, thoughtful noise. “I do not know this ‘data analyst’. But you have faced your foes with courage.” Her voice dropped. “If not always your friends.”

“Ouch.” Cecilia’s hands fluttered as she tried to explain. “It’s not courage that I’m worried about. Just - killing a person is something you can’t take back. It’s not the same as a monster.” Something in Shin’s expression made her ask, “Don’t you think?”

“I think…I think that if you asked the monster, they might not feel the same.” In the darkness of the evening, the shake of her head was a blur, a shadow. “I do not think my opponents less than me, be they man or beast, Cecilia. Who is the Hunter, and who is the prey? It is all a matter of skill and chance. I simply do what I must to protect myself, and those who I care about. The rest is something to think about after the battle. Not before. If at all.”

“You’re about to tell me I think too much, aren’t you?”

Shin snorted. “Not now. It would be predictable. So I will just say: get some sleep.”

Cecilia went. Perhaps Shin was right about thinking too much, because it was a long time before she fell asleep. And when she woke, she awoke tired, with no firmer answer than the one she’d started with: when it came down to it, she was not at all sure that she could take a human life.

*

The third day was bright and clear, which drew a breath of relief from the would-be defenders. After some consultation, they decided that there was no point in pretending that they weren’t going to fight, so the archers made no effort to disguise their presence on the walls, and each had a signal horn and an armor spell, courtesy of Cantor and Ren.

Ikshan had opened its gates. When Cecilia had exclaimed at the thought, Orn explained, “if we can encourage this golem master to approach from the direction we choose, we can control the terrain. The risk is worth it.”

And, as the sun climbed up into the sky, casting its light over town and forest, the bait seemed to pay off. The old man appeared, walking with effort down the road, Tool’s six-armed form hulking and silent behind him. Cruder golems, four or five, were a bizarre honor guard as he approached the open gate.

He stopped, looked over the defenders at the gate: Cecilia, Orn, Odi, and half a dozen village spear and scythe-wielders. Odi had her staff and, to Cecilia’s surprise, Orn wielded a pair of curved daggers that looked tiny and delicate in his large hands. Castor, Ren, and Shin were on the walls themselves, ranged attackers all. “I suppose this means you are not going to be sensible about this?” His attention focused on Cecilia. “You are being quite troublesome, you know.”

Cecilia tapped her fists together, muttering her skill under her breath. They burst into flame. “Don’t start none, there won’t be none,” she said, more loudly. “Just walk away.”

“Or surrender,” Orn put in, almost apologetically. “Golem-making is illegal in this province, so I am going to have to ask you to deactivate your golems and submit to the Explorer’s Guild’s custody, until such time as the magistrate can arrive.”

The old man stared. Then, he began to cackle. He raised his hands. “Bring me what is mine,” he shouted to the golems.

Immediately, there was a crack of sound; gunfire from above as Ren fired his pistol with such speed that the golems hadn’t even begun to move. It was a masterful shot - a shrieking bullet of green fire lanced through the air and struck the old man right between the eyes.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

And bounced off. He grinned up at Ren. “Gonna have to try harder than that, boy. The Strength of My Creation protects me!” With that, the battle was joined.

Arrows and spellfire rained down; the archers focused on the old man, trying to exhaust his skill. He cackled and danced like a madman under the fire, steel arrowheads bouncing off his clothing and skin to no effect.

Golems lumbered forward. Obeying their creator, they headed straight for Cecilia. She bounded forward to meet the first of the cruder golems. It lunged without grace or hesitation. “Counterstrike! Triple Strike!” Clay cracked and scorched under the strength of her flaming blows. The golem staggered, leaking a pale blue fluid, but didn’t fall.

From behind, she heard, “On your left.” Cecilia skittered right, and Odi stepped up. “Corrosive Strike.” She thrust her staff forward and tapped the golem where Cecilia had broken its outer skin. There was barely any force to the blow at all - but the spot she struck turned black. The blemish spread with alarming speed, clay going brittle, then caving in of its own accord. The golem continued to advance on Cecilia, until the moment its entire chest fell apart, and it collapsed to the ground as a pile of dirt and stone.

Odi had already advanced, ignoring Cecilia’s expression of shock. Serenely, she moved to support a group of four townsfolk as they held off another of the golems. Orn, for his part, had taken out one already; he had tripped the lumbering construct into one of Shin’s prepared traps, sending the golem headfirst into a pit trap, the bottom of which was layered with some sort of sticky sludge. All she could see was the occasional flailing foot as it tried, futilely, to right itself.

Now the Guildmaster danced around another golem, impossibly graceful for such a large man. He ducked under a blow, sliced with his daggers, then bounced back before the counterattack could land. His daggers must have been enchanted - or he had a skill like Odi’s - because wherever they touched, a fine network of cracks appeared.

There was a gunshot from the walls, then another. Blue-white bullets streaked through the sky, accompanied by Cantor’s burning fireflies. The two mages were concentrating on Tool, keeping it staggered and distracted. Aside from halting Tool, the barrage didn’t seem to be doing much actual damage.

Cecilia couldn’t spare any time to worry about that, though; another golem broke through a line of defending townspeople, and ran towards her, hands outstretched. She threw herself out of the way, then spun with a grace that would have been impossible in her old, human body. There were a series of cracks along its left side, and that’s where she focused. She put all her inhuman strength behind the blow, the shock of impact jarring her all the way up into her shoulder.

The golem’s skin broke and her flaming fist sank into the glowing, hollow interior up to her wrist. It didn’t seem to feel pain - or, if it could, it had no mouth nor face to express it - but it staggered and whirled, tearing her hand free from its body with the force of it. Blue liquid gushed; it was chill and oily on her fingers before it evaporated into the air. The golem pitched forward, landing chest first on the road. Cecilia stepped forward to bring her booted foot down on its head. Clay cracked, then shattered, and after another blow, the golem moved no more.

Everywhere she looked, the defenders were fighting the golems to a standstill. A couple of people were down, wounded but not dead that she could see. In contrast, at least four of the five golems were destroyed, and Tool couldn’t keep its balance well enough to mount a counterattack. Odi was advancing on the golem maker. But the old man seemed undisturbed. More than undisturbed; he continued to laugh and dance. When he caught her staring at him, he even had the audacity to wink. As if her scowl was a signal, he shouted, “Now, my beautiful tools!”

The ground heaved. A muddy hand burst through the ground under Odi’s feet. It grabbed her by one leg and yanked her upside down to dangle in its grip as the rest of the golem oozed to its full height. A massive construct of wet mud, it stood at least as high as Tool, although it had only two arms to his six. Odi’s expression never changed that Cecilia could see; she twisted around and jabbed her staff at its chest. “Corrosive Strike.”

Like before, a black dot appeared on the dark mud. But this time, the golem shuddered, then ejected the mud in a single, explosive movement. A head-sized gob of muck fell to the ground, blackened, and crumbled to dirt. The golem, otherwise unhurt, flung Odi into a line of advancing spearfolk, who had to drop their weapons to avoid impaling her on them.

Screams went up. From behind the gate. Cantor shouted, “Golems beneath the ground!” Archers broke off from their useless pelting of the golem maker, and directed their fire at the invaders who had appeared inside the town itself.

Crackboom! Crackboom!

Shin was breaking out her explosive arrows. It wasn’t a good sign. Worse, the faltering of fire from the walls allowed Tool to get his bearings. He gathered himself, then leapt through the air, straight at Cecilia.

She screamed as who-knows how many pounds of stone hurdled through the air straight at her. “Counter–”

Tool swung two massive fists from the same side, and the skill gave up under the power of the onslaught. The fists struck Cecilia in perfect unison, one catching her high on the shoulder, the other slipping under her guard to strike her ribs. If she had ribs, they surely would have broken. Instead, she was flung a good four or five feet through the air before landing with an agonizing crash.

From the walls, she heard Cantor shouting her name, but it was distant and tinny through the roaring in her ears. More clear was the trembling of the earth beneath her as Tool approached. She tried to stagger to her feet. She was too slow. Four arms snatched her from the ground and tossed her with bruising force over a stone shoulder. “That’s it,” she heard the old man shout with glee. “Bring her, Tool! Bring her to me!”

No. Cecilia tried to say it, but she had no breath. Fire sputtered to life as she reared up and slammed her fists into Tool’s back, but it was every bit as tough as she was. Tougher maybe. She didn’t even crack it. There was a peculiar sound, an almost insectile whine.

An arrow appeared on Tool’s face. Instead of a sharp head, it was topped with a large, sticky mass. It was right in the center of its head; it didn’t seem to notice. Again, the whine of the arrow through the air, and another appeared, this one a little bit lower, where the chin might be on a human. Cecilia twisted and caught a whiff of something pungent coming from the sticky mass. It smelled familiar. It smelled like home.

It smelled like gasoline.

She kicked and pummeled, throwing herself against Tool’s grip and straining to get a look back at the wall. There was Shin, lowering her bow. Beside her stood Ren, the Ballistic Mage, gun pointed. The barrel was glowing a vicious red. “Oh, no,” Cecilia whispered. Then she flung her arms over her head and hoped that God could hear prayers from this world, too.

Crack BOOM!

Cecilia, scorched and fractured, flew in one direction, landing and rolling on the grass to put out the bits of her clothes that were on fire. Most of Tool fell in the exact opposite direction. Its head - or what was left of it - was a pile of rapidly expanding pottery shards that rained over human and golem alike.

The old man shrieked, as if someone had struck him with the bullet instead. “My creation! My beautiful creation!” He ran forward, towards Tool’s collapsed form.

Orn was there, his blades flashing with light. The Guildmaster struck from behind, taking advantage of the maker’s distraction to slash and cut. The old man staggered, and the blades came away wet with blood.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough. The old man whirled, pulling a large lump of something dark from his robes. “Shell! ” The lump revealed itself as metal that flowed over the golem maker in an instant, and Orn’s next blow drew sparks, but no further blood. The old man’s eyes blazed with hatred, then were covered in metal as well, before the Guildmaster could put a dagger through them.

The remaining golems ran and oozed back through the gates, harried by spear, staff, and spell. Even Orn threw himself out of the way of the stampede, cursing under his breath as the golem maker was scooped up and carried away at a flat run, still shaking a gleaming, metallic fist over the shoulder of his rescuers.

A final explosive arrow chased them, but although it blew a chunk out of a mud golem’s backside, the constructs never slowed. Cecilia attempted to climb to her feet. One of her legs screamed agony, and she fell back to her knees. “Here.” Orn’s quiet voice, and one large hand extended to her.

She took it, with gratitude, and he pulled her gently to her feet. “Was that…a victory?” she asked, biting each word out past the pain.

He smiled as they limped their way back towards the gates. Odi was waiting, leaning heavily on her staff. Mare was running back and forth with bandages; injuries abounded from the sneak attack behind the gates, but it didn’t look as if anyone was dead. Seeing that, Orn said, “Seems so. I would have liked to have gotten the maker, but…he was old. You don’t get old without knowing when to retreat. It’ll take him a while to recover. And by then, we’ll have a team out there looking for him.”

Cantor flung himself down from the walls, with Ren and Shin following at a more sedate pace. “Cecilia,” the mage exclaimed, looking her over. His eyes widened. “You’re alive. You look terrible!”

She couldn’t help the laugh. Regret it, yes, as pain radiated through her, but not help it. “I feel okay for someone who just got blown up.” A significant look towards the Hunter and Ballistic Mage.

Ren, at least, had the grace to look apologetic. “I’m told you’re very sturdy,” he muttered, looking at Shin. “It was a desperate measure.”

“And you are alive,” Shin pointed out. “So, it worked.”

“I’m going to tell myself you were confident of that,” Cecilia muttered. She swayed, and Orn steadied her. “Thank you, Guildmaster.”

He continued to smile. “Don’t thank me too quickly, Miss Cecilia. You’re under arrest, you know.” Odi stepped up on Cantor’s right side, while Ren - still apologetic, flanked him from the left. “And you, too. We’ll let the Guild decide what to do with you both.”

Cantor lifted his hands, and gave Cecilia a wry smile. “I told you so.” Shin wouldn’t look at either of them.

[You are Level Five. You have Stat Points to Distribute. You have Skill Points to Distribute. You should choose a Technique.]

Cecilia laughed all the way to the Mayor’s basement.