Michael Manning - The Archmage unbound

“Exactly,” he agreed.

I looked over the enemy again and now that I understood better what I was seeing with my magesight it was easier to pick them out. It still wasn’t easy to count them but I figured I could manage it. Harold broke my concentration with a nudge.

“Excuse me. I know all of this is very interesting but how are we going to get past the ballistae?” he asked and then remembered belatedly to add, “your Lordship.”

I smiled at him, “You can handle it for us.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s only twenty or so guarding the entrance. I’ve been wanting to see how you fight with the new earth bond and that armor I made for you,” I elaborated.

He gaped at me, “Two wizards and fifty men at arms here and you want me to go alone?”

“Be honest,” I said, “Do you really think twenty of them will be a problem for you? I saw you fighting more than that last night.” Appeal to his ego first, I thought to myself.

He sighed in exasperation, “Twenty I can probably handle without issue, but they have two ballistae in there!” His voice rose in pitch as he reached the end of the sentence.

I gave him a look that clearly expressed my doubts about his manhood. “I made that armor you’re wearing, if I thought something as simple as a ballista could pierce it I’d never ask you to go.”

“Surely you jest,” he said, staring at me in disbelief.

I ignored him and walked back toward the men, “Someone give me a crossbow.” As luck would have it none of them were armed with one, the soldier I asked said something about them not being effective against the undead. Instead he ran off to find one in the supply wagons. Several minutes later he returned with a deadly looking weapon with a steel bow. “Load the bolt and cock it for me if you would,” I told him and he did so. Once the bolt was loaded and cocked I gave the command, “Now I’d like you to point it at Sir Harold here and shoot him.”

“Excuse me sir?” he said, startled. Harold also jumped at my command.

“It won’t hurt him…” I started to explain but then I gave up in exasperation. “Here give me that.” I took the weapon from his grasp and pointed it directly at Harold’s chest.

To give him credit, even though he thought I was about to execute him he didn’t whimper or beg. “Sir I think you should reconsider,” he began.

“Nonsense,” I replied and I started to pull the trigger, pausing only at the last second. “You there!” I shouted at a soldier standing to one side, “Better move back behind me, this bolt might ricochet.” He made haste to do as I said.

Harold stared into my eyes. “You’re making a terrible mistake your Lordship,” he said in a very reasonable tone.

I laughed, “Best hope I’m not Harold, because otherwise you’re out of a job.” Then I pulled the trigger and several things happened at once. The bolt itself struck him dead on at point blank range and, as I had predicted, it failed to pierce his armor. Instead it shattered into a dozen pieces. At the same time the force of the blow rocked Harold back and someone shrieked horribly.

Nervous laughter broke out among the men as Harold straightened back up. His eyes were a bit wild around the edges from his near death experience and he kept staring down at the place where the bolt should have pierced his armor. “Holy hell!” he said softly.

I clapped him upon his steel clad shoulder, “See there! I told you it would be fine. I tested that armor many times before I ever gave it to you after all.”

“You could have told me that,” he suggested with an irritable tone in his voice.

“Someone told me once that a demonstration is worth a thousand words,” I told him companionably. “Or perhaps it was pictures? I forget. I think Dorian told me that.”

He shook his head, “I really doubt Sir Dorian said anything like that sir.”

“You’re probably right,” I said agreeably. “By the way, why did you shriek like that at the end? You sounded like a little girl.” I probably shouldn’t have embarrassed him with a remark like that, but I was honestly surprised.

“I think that was Walter, sir,” he replied.

Looking around I realized Walter had taken a seat on the ground and was busily fanning his face with his hands. He looked up at me with an expression of weariness. “You are going to give me a heart attack. I am certain of it.”

A short time later Harold prepared to enter the lion’s den, so to speak, if lions had siege weapons and absolutely no fear of death that is. We were huddled near the entrance, ready to follow him once he had disabled the ballistae, but I really didn’t think he would need our help. Unless there were surprises we hadn’t foreseen.

“Ready?!” he asked me for the second time. Harold’s pupils were dilated and his breath was coming in short bursts. I had never doubted his bravery in any of the battles we had been in before, whether those recently or those of a few months past when Gododdin attacked us, but I worried he might die of adrenalin overdose today. I suppose a heated battle was different than being asked to charge two readied ballistae… alone.

“Yeah, go for it,” I encouraged him.

“Now?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Sure, whenever you’re ready,” I said. “Go massacre them.”

“Alright, I’m about to charge,” he informed me.

“Godsdamnitt all go!” I yelled at him. I used my voice of command but inwardly I was chuckling at his nervousness. I needn’t have worried for he was so charged with energy he didn’t disappoint.

Harold took off like an arrow shot from a bow. He leapt over the rock we were crouched behind and sailed a good fifteen feet into the air. Luckily the overhanging lip of the cave ceiling arrested his upward ascent or we might not have heard from him again. Obviously he hadn’t quite gotten used to the extra strength he had gained from the earth bond and his nervous enthusiasm had made matters worse. I couldn’t help but giggle.

Thankfully he hadn’t knocked himself out. The armor was good enough that I doubted he could have killed himself unless he stood still and let them take their time figuring out how to finish him off, but there are always risks in war. He staggered upright and resumed his charge forward into the cave. At this point only a few seconds had passed and the enemy still hadn’t reacted to his sudden appearance.

He had covered half the distance to the ballistae before he realized he had dropped his swords when he slammed into the ceiling. As strong as he was I imagined he probably could have made do with rocks or simply pulling them limb from limb, and it certainly would have had an artistic touch but he chose instead to run back for his swords.

Walter piped up in disbelief, “What the hell is he doing?!”

I almost collapsed I was laughing so hard at that point, “He’s running back for his swords.”

“Why the fuck are you laughing? Are you insane?!” the older wizard yelled at me.

I couldn’t answer; I had no air left to me by then. I pointed and tried to say, “Just look at him running,” but I couldn’t get the words out. The shiggreth had finally realized they were under attack and a massive ballistae bolt shot forth. It grazed Harold’s shoulder, knocking him down before it exploded against the rock sheltering us.

Walter ducked down even further, “Holy shit!” he screamed as fragments of rock and wood rained down over us. “He’ll be killed!”

I strengthened my shields and peeked back over the top of the rocks. Harold had recovered his swords and was bounding back toward the enemy. The terrain was so rough he probably would have been better off at a fast walk but he was in the throes of adrenaline induced madness now. Miraculously he didn’t fall over anything during his second charge.