388 days until the Arkon Shield falls

It didn’t take the pack long to resume their assault.

They were more wary, but no less persistent. The three hounds, scorched and scarred from dragonfire, blinked in, tested me with feinting attacks, and then jumped out again.

They did this often enough that I lost count of the number of assaults I fended off. Each time, the pack would inch closer and closer, until I was forced to flare. Then they would flee. And more often than not, the beasts managed to dodge the flames.

Every so often they returned to circling me before trying to bait me again. There was no pattern to the pack’s assaults. They attacked at random intervals and kept me on edge.

The pack’s strategy was obvious: they were attempting to wear me down. But even though I knew what the beasts played at, I was helpless to stop them.

Inevitably, I knew I would lose. I tried casting flare as little as possible to conserve my stamina and mana, but I had no illusions that the pack would triumph eventually.

During one of their many feinting attacks, I took the opportunity to analyse the creatures.

The target is a level 32 phase hound. It has meagre Magic, is gifted with Might, is gifted with Resilience, and has no Craft.

The results told me little I didn’t already know, nor it did give me any clue how to overcome them. My best hope, I decided, was to hold out until the Outpost company found me.

Even though I had lost the loggers’ trail, I knew I couldn’t have strayed too far from their path. Staying put, I kept calling out once every five minutes. Someone had to hear me eventually.

But as the day waned, and morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon to twilight, I began to lose hope that I would be rescued. The phase hounds were tireless, and I feared they would take our stand-off into the night. Once darkness concealed their attacks, the end would come quickly.

I stared up at the light of the setting sun filtering through the trees. My time was almost up. I’ve waited long enough, I decided. No rescue is coming. If I was going to survive past the night, it would be up to me to change my fate.

For the umpteenth time, I took stock of my resources. I needed a way to bring my magic to bear, a way to hurt the creatures while they hung teasingly out of my flare’s range. But I had been wracking my brains for a way to do that the whole day and had yet to come up with a workable plan.

I glanced at the knife sheathed at my hip. It was the only weapon I had, yet it was useless. Perhaps, if I threw it… Bah! That would only lose me my knife. If only I had a spear, though—

I paused. “A spear,” I mused. My gaze flickered from my knife to two nearby saplings. I don’t have a spear, but perhaps I can make one.

Cautiously, I edged away from the tree guarding my back to the nearer of the two saplings and ran my hand along its length. It was thin enough; I judged that I could saw through its base, or maybe uproot it entirely.

With one eye on the circling pools of darkness in my magesight, I yanked at the sapling. It came free easily. Working quickly, I trimmed off its branches.

When I was done, I had a nine-foot-long pole. But while my new weapon was a goodly length, its wood was too green and wiry. It had none of the firmness I needed from a spear.

I grimaced. It’s a damn sight better than nothing, Jamie. Limping to the next sapling, I repeated my feat.

Then with my two ‘spears’ at my side, I sat with my back braced against a nearby tree while I waited for the next attack.

✽✽✽

It wasn’t long in coming.

A phase hound blinked into being five yards in front of me. The beasts had learned the limit of my flare range and were careful to always appear outside it.

I looked up from the ‘spear’ end I had been sharpening with my knife. “Well, dog, it’s about time you fellows showed up,” I murmured.

The hound pricked it ears forward at the sound of my voice, but it didn’t otherwise move from its predatory crouch.

In no hurry, I hefted one of the saplings and climbed to my feet. By this point, my encounters with the pack had developed a rhythm of their own. I knew the hound facing off against me wouldn’t attack until one of its fellows showed up.

Ignoring the beast in front of me, I watched my flanks. It was the pack’s favoured tactic. Invariably, it was the purpose of the one in front to hold my attention while one of the others, attempting to catch me off guard, rushed in from the left and right.

The tactic had yet to work, though the pack seemed committed to it. Thankfully the hounds had not tried rushing me all at once again. If they did that, I knew I wouldn’t survive. But it seemed that I had instilled enough fear in the creatures during their first failed attempt that they were too wary to repeat the tactic.

A second phase hound blinked in on my right. Watching it through narrowed eyes, I raised the sapling spear in readiness. Would it pounce forward this time, or edge nearer?

The beast padded closer and stopped three yards away, just outside flare range. I lowered the sapling in my arms. Its nine-foot length was unwieldly, but with some difficulty I managed to keep it pointed at my target.

The hound kept its gaze fixed on me, its eyes not even straying the sapling’s way.

I smiled grimly. Good. Stepping away from the tree, I lunged forward with the spear.

The hound made no attempt to dodge. Its only reaction was a surprised flick of its ears.

My spear tip struck the hound’s chest dead centre, but instead of piercing the creature, the sapling bent on impact. Aaargh, I screamed in silent frustration. The hound’s coat had not been so much as scratched by my ‘weapon.’

The beast looked down at the stick poking into its chest. Its mouth opened and its tongue lolled out.

The bloody thing is laughing at me, I thought in amazement.

Then the hound bounded forward.

Letting the spear sag, I removed my left hand from it and cast flare at the leaping beast. But I struck only air as the beast blinked out.

The second hound, who had been waiting patiently all along, rushed in. I swung flare its way and it blinked away.

The third hound appeared on my left. It didn’t attack. Lying down on all fours, it watched me insolently from well outside of flare’s range.

Snarling in frustration, I stopped casting flare. I tired of the pack’s games. I knew the one on my left was waiting for me to turn my dragonfire its way so that it could blink away. I didn’t want to give it that satisfaction.

Instead, I hefted the sapling again and charged the hound. As I thrust the sapling forward, I cast flare.

It was an act born more from thwarted anger than anything else. At best, I hoped to catch the hound by surprise and to close with the creature while it was distracted.

But as I sent dragonfire rippling from my hands and into the sapling, I felt the spellform in my mind change to something else, seemingly of its own volition. My eyes widened in shock. My magic had never behaved this way before. Caught off guard, I didn’t resist as the spellform shifted shape and expanded outwards into the sapling.

Dragonfire raced along the wood’s length, and then to the astonishment of both the hound and myself, a bar of liquid gold leapt out of the spear’s tip and struck the creature.

The hound howled as the searing beam of dragonfire plunged into its chest. I stumbled to a halt, too stunned to take advantage of the creature’s momentary confusion.

A second later the hound blinked out, though I barely noticed. An avalanche of text clouded my vision.

You have spellcrafted a: ranged spell, from the Discipline of: dragon magic. The name assigned to this spell is: fire ray. Fire ray is a single-cast spell that must be invoked with the aid of a Focus. Its casting time is: very fast and its rank is: uncommon.

You are the first player to have spellcrafted the dragon spell: fire ray. For this achievement, you have been awarded: dragon lore and four Marks.

Lore note: Fire ray is an uncommon dragon magic spell. It produces a single beam of dragonfire that is powered by the caster’s health, mana, and stamina.

Simple touch-based spells are not fully realised in the world and only exist while their spellforms remain connected to their caster’s mana pool.

Projectile spells are different, and ordinarily are too complex to be cast by novice mages. Their spellforms must be tied-off so that the spell can exist even when disconnected from the caster.

The fire ray is not a true projectile spell, but a variant of a touch-based spell that is transformed into a ranged attack with the aid of a Focus—usually a wizard’s staff.

You have cast fire ray through an unattuned Focus. A redwood tree sapling has died.

The Trials messages took my breath away. Belatedly, I realised that the spellform my flare spell had morphed into was the one I had been practicing last night. The same one that failed time and again.

“A wizard’s staff,” I muttered. That’s what I had been missing all along. But what is a Focus? I hadn’t come across the term before.

I looked at the sapling in my hand. The wood was charred, turned lifeless by the forces it had channelled. Yet, given the dragonfire that rippled through its core, the sapling remaining surprisingly whole. I ran my hand down its length. The wood had dried up. There was no give through its length at all, and the tip had hardened nicely. It will make a much better weapon now, I thought.

I turned my gaze outwards and scanned the surroundings. The hounds had retreated into the shadows once more. They weren’t gone though. Like me, they were probably contemplating what my latest display of magic boded for our contest.

Certain I remained secure—if only temporarily—I cast analyse on the weapon in my hand.

The target is a burnt redwood staff. This weapon has no special properties and is unattuned.

So the Trials considered the weapon in my hand a staff, not a spear. I wondered at the repeated reference to attunement. I knew what it meant to attune my mana. But what did it mean to attune a weapon?

Unfortunately, since I’d never suspected I’d have magic, I hadn’t delved much into the subject of the wizardly arts in the Trials Infopedia. Now, I felt caught out by my ignorance. I would have to find a way to fill the gaps in my understanding. If I survive today, of course.

I recalled that when I had cast fire ray earlier, its spellform had extended from my mind into the staff, almost as if the sapling had been part of the spell. Tentatively, I tried to channel mana through the staff, but the weaves refused to enter the wood.

I frowned, but before I could experiment further, the three hounds blinked into existence and formed a half-circle five yards around me.

I dropped into a crouch and stared at the beasts. This was a new tactic. Lowering the staff, I held it horizontally like one would a spear.

The beasts shied away from wherever the staff pointed, clearly fearful more dragonfire might erupt from it.

It gave me hope.

Calling upon the spellform of fire ray, I attempted to extend it through the staff, but once more the weaves refused my command.

Your spell has fizzled. Magic can only be channelled through living objects.

I stared at the Trials alert in frustration. It did not bode well. Warily, I bent down, dropped the burned staff, and picked up the second sapling in its stead. If I interpreted the message correctly, I would manage only a single cast through it.

But hopefully the hounds didn’t know that.

My movements triggered a response from the pack. In sync, they padded forward. Were they going to try overwhelming me again?

I couldn’t allow that to happen.

Tightening my grip on the unburned sapling, I pointed it at the hound on the far left and cast fire ray.

A line of dragonfire leapt across intervening space. The beast tried to sidestep the burning ray, but at this distance it was impossible to miss, and my beam struck the hound squarely in the muzzle.

The hound yelped and blinked out. The other two chose that moment to pounce.

Half-expecting the move, I was ready. I planted the rear end of my now-burnt staff into the ground and angled the sharpened end at the closest hound.

The beast realised the danger too late. Before it could teleport away, the hound’s own momentum drove the hardened spear tip through its torso.

Your skill with staffs has advanced to: level 1.

I dropped the staff, not caring if the hound blinked away. Since it was skewered, it was no threat. Spinning around, I prepared to fend off the third and last hound.

But I was too slow.

The beast, a half-seen blur, crashed into my side and sent me sprawling away. In a fury of tooth and claw, the hound rushed back at me. I rolled and narrowly escaped its snapping jaws.

The first hound rejoined the fray. Teleporting onto me, it pinned me down. I threw up my hands and shielded my neck and face. But that did little to protect me as the hound only shifted its attack lower.

Near simultaneously, the jaws of the two hounds clamped down onto my torso and legs. Agony rippled through me and I bit back a scream as one of the hounds buried its muzzle in my insides.

Death loomed near, and the battle’s conclusion drew close. One way or the other, I realised the contest between the hounds and me would be decided in the next few moments. The time for conserving my mana and lifeblood had passed.

In terrified fury, I cast flare.

And not just from my hands, but everywhere. Empowered by the volatile mix of my panic and terror, waves of dragonfire rolled off me. I urged the flames onwards, fanning them hotter and hotter until I burned so brightly I could barely make out the hounds. Holding nothing back, I spent my lifeblood with no care for the cost.

The beast writhed, desperate to escape. But I held on and didn’t let up. Either it died first or I did.

Vaguely, I sensed the other hound blink away from the superheated flames pouring off my body. I let it go. There was nothing I could do to stop it anyway.

In a few short seconds, the hound in my grasp burst into ash, and I found myself alone at the centre of a world turned white-gold.

I was dizzy and my thoughts felt sluggish. In stunned shock, I stared at the flames dancing about me. They wreathed my form from head to foot, and moved in a manner both enticing and hypnotic.

I knew I was dying. And I knew I should quench the fire. But staring at the beautiful flames, I couldn’t see to care.

Why not let it all go? I wondered. This is a good a way to die as any. Why fight on?

Unbeckoned, Mum’s dead, unseeing eyes formed in the flames and seemed to bore into my own.

I blinked. My thoughts snapped into clarity. I couldn’t let go. Not yet. My fight was not nearly done.

“Not like this,” I croaked. With a tortured gasp, I applied my will and quenched the outpouring of mana and lifeblood. The dancing flames simmered, then died, and the spectre of Mum faded.

Thank you, Ma, I whispered in farewell before blacking out.

✽✽✽

I woke up coughing blood and bile.

My skin had been scorched clean, cleansed of everything by the dragonfire. Clothes, armour, hair, all of it had burnt away.

My health was dangerously low. I barely clung to life. And everything hurt. God, does it hurt.

Reality intruded and I recalled where I was. The hounds, I thought. Where are the hounds? I had only killed one. Where were the other two?

Glancing upwards, I saw red tinged the sky. That meant I couldn’t have been out for long. The beasts could return any time. Move, Jamie. Heal yourself. Fear isn’t going to keep the wretched creatures away for long.

I moved. With torturous slowness, I pushed myself into a sitting position and braced my back against a tree. Channelling mana, I cast lay hands.

Almost immediately, I began to breathe easier. I cast the spell again, then twice more. Only when my health was fully restored did I turn my attention to the surroundings.

To my surprise, I found I wasn’t alone.

The hound that had skewered itself was still where I had last left it, and from its faintly moving chest, I realised it was still alive. I grabbed the second discarded staff and hauled myself to my feet.

As I staggered closer to the creature, it stiffened, sensing my presence. But by now I was certain the hound was helpless, so I drew right up next to it without fear.

The hound lifted its head and snarled in warning.

“Well fought, mutt,” I whispered. Raising the sharpened staff high overhead, I drove it down into the pinned beast.

You have gained in experience and are now a: level 20 Trainee.

I collapsed to my knees next to the dead creature. While I regained my breath, I called up the Trials alerts from earlier in the battle.

You have spellcrafted a: caster-only spell, from the Discipline of: dragon magic. The name assigned to this spell is: living torch. Living torch is a persistent spell that produces: three times more dragonfire than flare. Its casting time is: average and its rank is: common.

You are the first player to have spellcrafted the dragon spell: living torch. For this achievement, you have been awarded: dragon lore and two Marks.

Lore note: Living torch is a spell of last resort. It produces an uncontrollable inferno that invariably is only quenched when the caster’s lifeblood is spent. Across the ages, when faced by grave peril many a dragon—even elder ones—have chosen to immolate themselves through flames of a living torch rather than perish at their foe’s hands.

“A spell of last resort,” I murmured. It had certainly been that. But despite me having crafted another spell, right then it was beyond me to feel much in the way of enthusiasm for my latest achievement. It was enough that I knew how I had managed to kill the hounds.

I dismissed the messages and inspected myself. My stamina still hovered in the red, and my mana, too, was almost drained.

What now? I wondered as I mustered the strength to regain my feet. I was lost in the forest, naked, without food or shelter, and night would fall soon.

“Mage Jamie?”

I looked over my shoulder. Standing a few feet away were a man and a woman. Hunters, by the look of the bows across their backs.

Wide-eyed, they took in the scene.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “Now you find me?” I chuckled, though it was a broken sound that transformed into another hacking cough.

I bent over, nearly overcome by the spate of coughing. Only my grip on the staff pinning the hound kept me from collapsing entirely. With nearly superhuman effort, I brought myself under control again.

The two looked at me in confusion. “Are you alright, Jamie?” asked the women. She shifted nervously from foot to foot.

But despite her concern, I noticed she didn’t come any closer. Well, I wouldn’t either if I found a strange man, naked, coughing blood, and kneeling over the corpse of a dead dog.

“I’m fine,” I said, suppressing the renewed bout of hysterical laughter that threatened to overcome me. “Well, not quite. Can you help me up?”

The two hurried forward and hauled me to my feet. The woman averted her gaze, and the man offered me his armour. I gratefully accepted it and dressed while the woman left to report back to their company. The other hunter, unarmed but dressed in his underclothes, kept me company. Once dressed, I slumped back down and closed my eyes, stealing what rest I could.

“Here you go, sir,” said the hunter, offering me a piece of jerky.

I laughed. “I’m no ‘sir.’ Call me Jamie, please.” I bit down on the jerky. It was heavenly.

The hunter bent over the hounds, studying the corpses. Picking up something, he held it out to me. “Is this yours?”

It was my knife. I must have mislaid it during the fight. “Thanks.”

“Jamie?”

I swung my head around towards the voice and saw Tara, accompanied by the female hunter and another man, who looked vaguely familiar.

“Yeah it’s me,” I said with a smile that I am sure looked just ghastly. “Hard to recognise without any hair, right?” I ran my hand over my smooth scalp.

“What happened?” asked Tara. She knelt down next to me, her face tight with concern while the man loomed over both of us.

“They happened,” I said, gesturing towards the hounds. “Four of them ambushed me on my way here.”

“But what are you doing here?” asked the man, frowning.

I recognised his voice from the conference. It was Albert, the head logger. “I heard about the attack and came to help.”

“Alone?” asked Tara, her brows furrowing.

I nodded. “I know, I know. I should have brought an escort. It was foolish of me not to.”

Tara’s lips thinned, but she didn’t say anything further. After rising to her feet again, she went to inspect the dead hound.

Albert was still frowning. “The attack happened in the morning,” he said. “Why come now?”

I chuckled. “I left the Outpost hours ago, following on the heels of the spearmen company sent to reinforce Tara’s guard.”

Albert’s eyes widened. “You’ve been fighting these things the whole day?”

I nodded. “It was not pleasant, let me tell you.”

Tara rejoined the conversation. “There is only one body here.”

Tara gestured the two hunters in the direction I pointed and they set out to investigate. “So now we know where they went,” she murmured.

I tilted my head and looked up at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

Her gaze dropped to me. “The logging camp was attacked by six of these creatures in the morning. We lost ten men and women in the assault,” she said grimly. “But we managed to kill two. The other four ran off. We’ve been waiting for their next attack ever since.”

“Which never came because you were holding them off all this time,” added Albert, his voice tinged with respect.

“How did you manage to kill them?” I asked, puzzling over that curious detail. “Every time I managed to get close enough to flare into them, they teleported away.”

“They can’t teleport when restrained,” Tara said. She shrugged. “We got lucky figuring that out, but once we did the hounds didn’t stick around. They fled. To ambush you it appears.”

The two hunters returned. “We’ve found the body, Captain.”

“Good,” Tara said. “Albert, have your people send over some sleds. We’ll load up the bodies and haul them back to camp.” Leaning down, she pulled me up. “Come on, Jamie, let’s get you back to camp.”

Gratefully, I accepted her help. But once I regained my feet, Tara started to move off.

“Tara, wait,” I began, grabbing hold of her arm before she could step away. “About this morning,” I whispered so that the others wouldn’t hear. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

Tara stilled for a moment before patting my arm and gently freeing herself. “We’ll talk it about later.”

I looked at her uncertainly as she walked away. It was not perhaps the blanket forgiveness I’d hoped for, but it was more than I deserved. I could only pray I hadn’t destroyed our friendship altogether.

Tearing my gaze from Tara’s departing figure, I turned to the logger. “Albert, would you do me a favour please?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Would you have your people gather some young trees for me, please?” I pointed out the two burnt staffs. “Saplings like those, only green and alive.”

Even though he seemed perplexed by the request, the logger agreed. “Sure, Jamie.” Stepping closer, he clasped my hand. “Melissa tells me we have you to thank for our new tools?”

I nodded.

“That was good work,” Albert said. “You will do well to focus more of your talents that way. Rebuilding our civilization is what will save humanity.” He glanced at the dead hound. “Not battling creatures like that.” His lips turned down. “Leave that to the fighters.”

I freed my hand and struggled not to roll my eyes at the logger. I didn’t agree with Albert, but I wasn’t about to get into an argument on the matter. With a wave of my arm, I bade him farewell.

Then, following after Tara, I began the long trek back to the Outpost.