Up amongst the roots of the Tree the fighting grew ever more intense. This close to the trunk, the mighty monster could exert more of its strength. Twisted roots as thick as buildings rumbled as they rose from the ground to reveal gnashing teeth, barbed vines and poison-spitting flowers that regrew almost as quickly as they were destroyed. Mana thundered through the tree so thickly that every Legionary could practically taste it.
The damned monster must be sucking in energy from a wide area to be able to handle this level of output, but drawing that kind of power had drawbacks. Every Legionary knew the price of taking in more than one could handle.
Even monsters, born of mana, could be susceptible to it if they pushed beyond their capacity. Only time would tell if the tree was overdrawing itself.
Rianus had been fighting for an hour and even his superhuman endurance was being pushed. His shoulders burned, his wrists ached and his legs felt weak. This was when the real fight began. Any soldier could perform when they were fresh, and rested, but the Legion didn’t care for warriors such as those. When exhaustion came, when arms trembled and knees shook, that was when the fight would hang in the balance.
The massive wooden creature in front of him glared, its eyes afire with righteous indignation as it brought one massive fist crashing down from overhead. The Legionary grit his teeth and braced his shield overhead, almost buckling under the tremendous impact. Driven down to one knee, he snaked his blade around the edge of his shield and cut deep into the wooden hand, forcing the monster to retrieve its limb.
He forced himself to stand once more, his body on fire as he readied himself again. His fellow soldiers pushed forward to take advantage of the slight opening he’d created, their weapons igniting with light as they prepared to deploy their skills.
An explosion of soil erupted in front of them, showering the soldiers with clods of earth before a wall of slithering roots exploded outwards. Several Legionaries were taken, dragged beneath the surface the moment they lost their footing, with thin tendrils sliding into the gaps in their armour.
“Get back!” Rianus growled as he slashed continuously, burning stamina to thin the attack and free his comrades.
A shadow flitted overhead before a figure arrived with a mighty crash. Towering over the soldiers, even larger than the bigger wooden creatures, the Praetorian swept an arm out, a broad halberd glowing impossibly bright. The vines evaporated when struck by that luminescence, slashed to nothing by the power of that single strike. Without saying a word, the mighty Legionary dashed away, ready to engage on another front.
“Reform the line!” Rianus bellowed.
He didn’t have time to be awed. The Praetorians had been racing all over the battlefield, putting themselves in harm’s way as much as possible to protect the Legionaries’ lives and end the battle as quickly as they could. It hadn’t been the first time he’d seen them and it sure wouldn’t be the last.
As the legion gathered themselves back into formation, he sized up their surroundings. Overhead, the explosions continued to ring out, a rain of fire falling around them constantly. Smoke billowed from the trunk of the tree as the flames spread, the sound of crackling wood almost overwhelming to the senses.
Once they had secured the ground here, they could focus their bombardment from close range and bring the thing down. If events proceeded as expected it wouldn’t be long.
“Shields up!” Rianus ordered.
On reflex, the disciplined legionaries brought their arms high, shields interlocking as a wave of energy passed through them.
The shields were no mere slabs of metal, shaped for defence. The enchantments and augments built in fed on each other, magnified the flow of mana. The more soldiers in the wall, the stronger it became. Rianus felt better now that the formation had re-established itself. No true legionary was comfortable fighting out on their own.
“Where the hell is the centurion?” he asked the soldier to his right.
“Don’t know,” she answered back. “When the lines crashed things got a bit tangled there for a bit.”
“We’ll need to fall back and regroup,” he determined, “get our command structure back in place before we advance again.”
“We have them on the run,” she pointed out.
“Orthodox strategy, legionary,” he snapped back. “We have no relay back to command. We could be hurting the fight more than helping it. We pull back.”
“Yes, sir,” she demurred.
They passed the instruction down the line and began an organised and slow withdrawal as chaos continued to reign overhead. Several times they were almost crushed by falling debris. With the shield wall in place, it was almost impossible for the tree people to break them, though they tried several times. The pace was slow, but they were gradually regaining their footing and meeting up with more groups of legionaries, each gathering themselves again for the final strike.
But still no centurions…
“Where the hell have the officers gone?” Rianus growled.
“Oh. I might know something about that.”
A new voice, light but piercing, cut through the roar of the battlefield. He jerked his head to the side to see an ethereal figure step out of the smoke, as if appearing from thin air. Dressed in a soft, muted robe, the newcomer was humanoid in appearance, though its features were twisted with those of a beast. Two long ears adorned the top of the stranger’s head, and short, white fur covered all of her exposed flesh. Her demeanour was polite, almost friendly, yet her eyes were hard, and in one hand she held a curved blade that dripped with red.
“The Folk?” he spat, then his face hardened. “You targeted the centurions…”
“It wasn’t easy,” she confessed, “but your confidence, might I say arrogance, has given us this opening.”
“Why are you here?”
She smiled toothily.
“A new race has been born on Pangera, so the conclave has spoken. As such, we will defend these free peoples.”
“Dungeon born,” he grated, “just like you. You’re corrupted.”
“We must agree to disagree,” she stated as she raised the blade casually.
“HOLD!” Rianus roared. “Folk Blademaster!”
That was all he could say before the rabbit creature flickered and vanished before them. An instant later, a slash rang out overhead, followed by a barrage of sword light, slivers of silver death, raining down from above. Acting on instinct, Rianus didn’t lift his shield to block, but allowed the blows to slash into his helmet and pauldrons as he leapt backwards.
He made the right choice.
Barely a second passed before another quiet slash rang out, in front this time, unleashing a wave of sword light that sliced through the air at dizzying speed. Those who had judged incorrectly took the blow straight to the chest. Rianus’ arm buckled as a crack appeared in the face of his shield, but he held his ground and stayed standing. When the pressure eased, he leapt to the side to cover his ally who had fallen. With a quick check, he saw that the attack hadn’t pierced the chest plate, but had dented it, punching the metal into the soldier within.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Hurts like heck, but I’ll be fine,” she gasped.
His eyes scanned around them as the legionaries began to pick themselves up, the healthier covering for the wounded until they could get their breath back.
“What the hell was that?” the wounded soldier asked.
“Blademasters of the Folk,” he replied, his tone grim as he continued to survey the field. The smoke was thick now, it was damn hard to see. “They almost never leave the conclave.”
“Why are they here?”
“They want the tree to live,” he growled. “Another reason why we need to cut the damn thing down.”
