27 – Overextended

  Andy crouched behind the same boulder again, hiding from the swarm of rats and rat-people below. The gigantic rat was still sleeping, and he had the crazy notion that maybe he ought to try to sneak up to it and score a critical stab. The only problem was the horde of smaller vermin between him and it. No, he decided; his original plan, mad as it was, was still his best bet. He checked his mana, watching as the numbers slowly climbed.

  He had 375 total mana. His Smoke Lance took thirty off that, bringing that down to 345. His Smoke Sight and Unseen Stalker, together, consumed 20 mana per minute, so he’d had to cancel them in order to get his full pool back. Of course, it was nerve-racking crouching there in the dark, aware that if the rats decided it was time to head back up into the tunnels, they’d spot him. Even so, he wanted to be full before he began the battle, so he huddled there, hands sweating, heart pounding, trying to breathe as shallowly as possible.

  He checked his mana every few seconds, and when it finally ticked up to 345, he recast Smoke Sight and peered around the boulder, trying to decide where to make his first attack. The rat-people seemed to be directing the giant rats, herding them into clusters. Were they preparing more raiding groups? Did that giant rat really give birth to children fast enough to replenish their ranks?

  Even as he asked himself the question, the huge rat stirred, shifting its bulk onto its legs again, then it squatted toward the back of its nest and, with another splash of foamy liquids, deposited five or six more mewling, wriggling baby rats onto the stone. Again, rat-people rushed to pick them up and carry them away through the opening in the cavern wall. The sight steeled Andy’s nerves; it was time to put an end to that disgusting process.

  Gripping his spear, he cast Unseen Stalker, then slipped out from behind the boulder, gliding down the debris-strewn cavern floor toward the nearest cluster of rats. He focused on a ratman that was waving its arms, ushering rats toward a larger pack. His critical senses made it easy to spot slightly warmer areas on the creature’s torso—organs of industry like the heart, lungs, and kidneys. He crept forward and slammed his spear into the creature’s back, plunging the sharp, enchanted blade up, under its rib cage, and into its heart.

  The ratman barely managed a squeal before it died, sliding off Andy’s spear as he pulled it back and jabbed it at the giant rat it had been herding. Once again, Andy’s speed proved too much for the creature; it couldn’t dodge, and it certainly couldn’t get past his guard, especially as he backpedaled. It fell, chittering and thrashing, as caustic smoke spread through several puncture wounds. Meanwhile, Andy canceled his Unseen Stalker spell, and the rats and rat-people who’d already noticed the disturbance suddenly saw him there.

  A great chittering cry of alarm broke out, and the teeming mass of vermin, in a rippling wave of understanding, surged toward him. Andy stopped backpedaling and turned to sprint for the tunnel. As he’d hoped, the sight of him running triggered something in the rodents, and they charged after him, pell-mell. When Andy reached the tunnel opening, wide enough for three or four people to pass shoulder to shoulder, he stood right in the middle and turned, menacing the approaching horde with his spear.

  His hands had grown dry, his limbs steady; he was in the moment now, no time for doubt or worry. As the giant rats—faster by far than their bipedal comrades—hurled themselves at him, Andy gave himself over to his instincts, stabbing and kicking to keep the rats back.

  They were mad, though, eyes blazing in his Smoke Sight as they charged, hurling themselves over one another, heedless of the cries of their wounded brethren and the sprays of hot blood—perhaps driven into deeper madness by it. Their frenzy and the weight of their numbers made Andy’s speed irrelevant, and he had to retreat, constantly on the defensive, though he killed five… ten… twenty of the creatures.

  When he was a dozen yards from the tunnel mouth, on the steeply sloping path, he figured the time was right, and he cast Brimstone Breath. Hot magic infused his lungs; almost involuntarily, he inhaled, and then, focusing on the first wave of humanoid rat-people pushing into the tunnel, he exhaled. A tremendous gout of black, ember-filled smoke poured out of his lungs, billowing over the top of the rats before him, and engulfing the larger body of his foes in that short, straight section of tunnel near the archway.

  The frenzied vermin shrieked their pain and dismay, their frenetic movements rising to new heights as their numbers—their heaving press of bodies—worked against them. Andy, above the cloud, lost sight of most of his foes as the hot smoke engulfed them, blotting out their amber-colored bodies in a river of yellow-orange heat. Grinning with cruel satisfaction, he turned his attention to the rats before him, redoubling his efforts to stab and drive them back.

  The lack of immediate reinforcements made his work easier again, and he used his superior speed, strength, and reach to wreak havoc among the giant rats that had escaped his cloud of burning agony. The stone ramp grew slick with blood, adding to the rats’ disadvantage. As the last of his immediate foes fell, something skittered against the stone wall to his right, then more such sounds impacted the ground and the other wall. It took a moment, but then Andy realized they were bone-like ratman arrows—their archers had arrived and they were firing blindly through the cloud.

  Andy glanced over his shoulder, but Lucy and Omar were still distant. He saw Omar raise his arms in a “what should we do?” gesture; they’d been expecting him to retreat further, faster, no doubt. Andy shouted, “Keep your position!” Then he pressed the attack, charging into his lingering cloud of caustic smoke.

  The burning bodies were thick, and Andy had to gingerly step around them; the heat of his smoke didn’t bother him, but the secondary fires did. Still, he was quick and nimble to a superhuman degree, and as he entered the smoke, his vision clarified—a feature of the spell—making his Smoke Sight redundant. He canceled the mana flowing to the vision spell immediately; with it and Unseen Stalker no longer applied, he’d begin to regenerate mana again.

  He didn’t try to count the bodies of the vermin; there were too many, and he was focused on the far side of his cloud. He knew the ratman archers were there, shooting their arrows into it, but their volleys had slowed; perhaps they hoped he was already shot, or maybe they were saving ammunition. All Andy knew was that he needed to stop them before they got lucky. Before he spotted them, the cloud thinned, and his vision became less clear, so he cast Smoke Cloud.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Mana poured through him, and hot smoke exploded out of him, billowing in every direction. As it roiled away into the cavern, he saw six ratmen with bows turn and start to run. Andy charged at them.

  He caught one right away, stabbing it through the spine. Another stab hamstrung another, but then the other four outpaced his cloud of smoke, and he lost sight of them. Growling with frustration, Andy charged forward again and cast the spell again—its forward reach didn’t match his Brimstone Breath, but it only cost thirty mana.

  Once more, his spell revealed his foes: archers that had just turned to draw their bowstrings, and at least a dozen other rats and ratmen. Their bowstrings twanged, and their needle-like bony missiles ripped through the smoke. Even as he slid to a stop, desperate to avoid them, two of the arrows hit Andy. He screamed in pain and frustration as one pierced his shoulder and another sank into his stomach. The wounds were anything but trivial, and Andy realized his error too late: he should have backed up and let Lucy handle the archers as they advanced.

  “Handle it!” he growled at himself, shoving the distracting thoughts to the side. He was badly wounded, and he needed to retreat. Four archers remained, and the other vermin were growing bolder, steadily exploring the edge of his smoke cloud. Andy knew what he had to do. He continued forward, gasping and grunting in pain, and cast Brimstone Breath toward the remaining archers.

  He tried to scream in agony as his chest expanded, but the spell had control of his lungs. The only thing that came out of his mouth was a rushing cloud of hot black smoke that sparkled with tens of thousands of tiny embers. It billowed out, pouring over the archers and all the teeming vermin behind them. Andy didn’t stand around waiting to see the result; he turned and ran.

  His two smoke clouds lingered—enough for him to see by—and he charged into the tunnel, though each step sent shivers of agony through his chest and stomach; it felt as if the arrows were sawing away at things that were never meant to be touched by anything. As he hit the slope and passed into the last dredges of his first Brimstone Breath, he glanced at his mana report: 67/375.

  He cleared the smoke, and darkness wrapped its cold fingers over his eyes. He gasped, trying to run in a straight line toward the lantern Omar had set up on the slope. He stumbled halfway to it, falling to his knees and smashing his knuckles on the stone as he tried to keep his grip on his spear.

  “Andy!” Lucy cried.

  Andy grunted, coughing out something that tasted like copper as he forced himself up and continued to run. The lantern seemed dim; shouldn’t it be bright to his dark-sensitive eyes? A streak—bright silver—flew past him, whistling through the dark. He squinted toward the source and saw Lucy, her bow already drawn. Another sliver-glowing arrow ripped through the dark, and then Omar grabbed Andy’s shoulder, jerking him past and stepping forward with his own spear.

  Andy fell again. This time, when he realized he wouldn’t catch himself, he twisted to his side so the arrows wouldn’t be driven in deeper as he hit the ground. He lay there, looking up. Lucy was there, standing beside him, her fingers and bow a machine, thrumming over and over as she fired one glowing arrow after another down the slope.

  With a grunt, Andy pushed himself onto an elbow and looked to see that Omar was holding his own. Better yet, he’d managed to create a fiery barrier across the ramp—not a wall of flames, but something that looked almost like a pool of lit gasoline. Was it one of his Pyre Sentinel spells?

  Andy looked down at himself and saw that the arrow in his chest had hit him almost exactly where he’d been shot back at the Whistler’s house—right in his pectoral. The ratman’s arrow hadn’t gone nearly as deep, though, and gritting his teeth, Andy grabbed it and wriggled it back and forth until he yanked it out. He threw it aside, then looked at the other arrow. It was another matter altogether—at least four inches deep with blood running freely from the puckered flesh of his stomach.

  He looked down the slope again, saw there were still dozens of rats and ratmen climbing toward them, and that Omar’s fire was flickering out. Lucy’s arrows were instant death to the rats she shot, but she couldn’t keep up. Grimacing, pissed at himself for getting shot, Andy looked at his mana again: 102/375.

  “Run, Lucy,” he grunted, forcing himself to his feet with his spear as a crutch.

  “No,” she hissed, firing another arrow.

  “Do it! Someone has to warn them.”

  “I will if I have to, but we’re not there yet.”

  Andy looked at her, saw the fierce determination in her sharp eyes as she fired another arrow, then he nodded. “Fair enough.” Then, stumbling, with dark tunnels closing in around him, he moved down next to Omar, leaning one shoulder against the stone tunnel wall as he leveled his spear. “You good?”

  “Nah!” Omar laughed, driving his spear at a ratman that tried to jump over his fading fire. “Not really, brother!”

  Andy looked at his mana: 117/375. He looked down the slope; the lantern’s light didn’t reach far enough for him to discern how many vermin were left. He took a few steadying breaths, careful to keep them shallow—up in his chest. Deep breaths felt like knives in his guts. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” he said.

  “What?” Omar grunted, sidestepping to jab his spear at a rat that dove at Andy.

  “This,” Andy said, and then he cast Brimstone Breath. Mana burned its way into his chest. His lungs expanded to the max, and as pain lanced through his stomach, he focused on the roiling horde of vermin and exhaled. Another great cloud of billowing, ember-filled black smoke poured down the slope. It filled the corridor as it rolled through the vermin—a curtain of fiery agony and death.

  Andy closed his eyes as he heard their screams and chitters. A wave of vertigo hit him, and he fell to the side, his shoulder hitting the stone wall again. This time, he leaned into it and let gravity pull him down. When the cold stone embraced him, he realized Omar was whooping and Lucy was calling his name, but they sounded far away.

  He felt hands that seemed ice-cold against the fiery flesh of his face. He heard Lucy again, her voice muffled. Then, someone grabbed his arms and pulled. Andy blinked, surprised to find he could still see. “Just run,” he gasped.

  “Lucy’s gone, brother,” Omar grunted, heaving on his arms as he backpedaled. “I think we might be good, too. Your smoke’s still there.”

  Andy smiled, closing his eyes, and he would have let himself pass out then and there, but another commotion sounded behind him. He heard lots of footsteps and then Bea’s clear voice barking orders: “Lay him flat! Hector, help Omar guard the tunnel! Lucy, you too!” Then something cool touched Andy’s lips, and liquid that was somehow warmer than his feverish flesh splashed over his tongue and into his throat.

  “Ack,” Andy gasped, as heat poured through him and his vision brightened. He saw Bea leaning over him, smiling fiercely.

  “That’s a boy. Come on, drink it down. I’ve got another one to pour on your wound. We’re not done yet! They still have Bella, and I’ll be damned if we’ll let some rats eat that girl!”

  “F-frank,” Andy managed before she dumped the rest of her potion into his mouth.

  She nodded, her lips pressed together as she reached for the arrow in Andy’s stomach. “Yeah, sure—that old codger, too. Come on now, grit your teeth while I yank this arrow out.”