The Early Chronicles of the Oddlot I: 6. The Second Battle of Ellry

The horns were well behind us, and I could see the gate to Ellry, but it might as well have been a star in the sky. The survivors only had so much fear left in them to push them onward. Several looked like they might just drop on the road and wait for the inevitable.

I sang then. This had been the moment I had saved my voice for, though I hadn’t know it. I drank the rest of my waterskin, cleared my throat and sang. Even as tired as they and I were, the survivors listened. They perked up and their aching, tired feet stepped with a bit more vigor. Even my companions, weary and battle worn, perked up. All, that is, except Leffe. I caught no sign of the rogue.

My meager efforts were almost immediately doused, though, as the oily ran broke down on us in earnest.

Mordo took the lead. He handed off the litter he was dragging to the one strong survivor, Thom. Then, gathering as many people in his arms as he could, he ran for the gates of Ellry. I couldn’t sing and carry anyone at the point, so I stayed with the others. I watched Mordo disappear behind the crest of the road. Perhaps Leffe had spoken similar words to him about saving who you could.

“My dear Tyr, I’m and idiot,” I said. I dropped my inspirational song and charged after Mordo. Despite his tremendous vigor and head start, I had no problem catching up to the warrior and his burden. I’d forgotten the one spell-song I had left. I sang it then to Mordo. The weariness in his stride fell away, and he charged on ahead at double speed. By the time I had staggered back to Dalvin and the survivors, he’d caught up to me. He gathered another load of four and rushed away.

“That’s eight who will live, anyway,” Dalvin said. “But listen.”

The horns sounded again and this time I could hear the march of feet and the rattle of bones.

“Maybe we can save some more,” I said.

“You damned tall races are always getting little folk like me in over our heads.”

“You don’t have to stay, Dalvin. Help someone back to town.”

Dalvin looked back over his shoulder, then shook his head. “Nah. I think I can save more than one if I stay here.”

I nodded my appreciation and hoped that Mordo would return in time.

A different noise caught our ears then, this one from the road to the town.

“What’s that?” I asked Dalvin.

“Hooves! Horses!”

“And wagons!”

We turned to see two wagons charging toward us, Leffe riding abreast of a rugged old codger driving the lead wagon. As the drover pulled the reins to a halt, Leffe bounded from the seat, summersaulted and landed next to us.

“You have a way with words, bard,” he said.

“Good to hear. At least I can die tonight knowing I could have made it in my profession.” I smiled at Leffe. He didn’t exactly smile back, but his face changed from dour to something else.

“Nobody has to die right now. Room for all of us on those wagons.”

He was right, but I stayed planted in the road anyway. Mordo, his magically enhanced speed finally dissipating, skidded to a stop beside me. We stayed ready until the last survivor had been loaded up and the wagons turned for town. Then, we broke and ran, each climbing up the back of a wagon. I crashed on the floor of the wagon and lay there, thankful to be off my feet for the first time in hours, thankful to realize I didn’t have to save everyone myself.

Still, even as the town’s gates slammed shut after admitting us, I had little call to relax. The kobolds were enraged and had brought their undead minions with them. The minutes stretched into an hour. I used the time to gobble down some food, fully intending on manning the walls. I leaned back from my meal to run through the events of the longest day I’d lived in a while. As I did so, I must have nodded off.

A hand shook me awake. Leffe was making a habit of being my wake-up call.

“How long have I been asleep?” I asked.

“All morning, a little bit of the afternoon.”

“Gods! Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I was asleep, too. We all had a busy day.”

“But the kobolds…?”

“They’re out there, aye, just beyond our sight from the walls.”

“They’re waiting for night time,” I said.

“Maybe, maybe not. Come have a look.”

The oil rain had not stopped. In fact, it had grown only heavier. Outside, the ground had been turned into marsh and rivulets rushed down the sloped parts of town. Already water had pooled in several places.

“They’re connected to this rain somehow,” I realized aloud.

“That’s what Dalvin says.”

“They mean to drown us out.”

“They’re going to need to,” Leffe said. “I got up and took a quick look beyond the wall.”

“You should have woke me for that. But what did you see?”

“That’s the good news. No more than twenty of them scaly bastards are around.”

“How many undead?”

“More than twenty, aye. I know what you’re thinking. But I talked it over with Mordo and Dalvin, and they agreed with me.”

“Agreed about what?”

“We think if we take out that shaman, the undead will either drop or not be particularly beholden to the kobolds anymore.”

“It’s worth a shot,” I said. “The walls of this town won’t last long against a horde of the undead.

“That’s part two of the plan.”

“We have a plan? There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

“You, me, Dalvin and Mordo will sneak out and ambush the ambushers, strike right at the shaman and the kobolds. We break their hold on the undead, and maybe stop this unnatural rain.”

“When did you get so bold? Wouldn’t you prefer the enemy to come here and you could pick them off?”

“Just smart planning, is all. We fight them on our terms, rather than let them dictate the battle.”

“Huh,” I said. That made a lot of sense. “You involved in some ship-to-ship battles, back when you were a sailor?”

“Brother, I’ve been involved in just about everything.”

We moved to ready ourselves for the upcoming sortie. I had rested enough to recover the full essence of my magic, as had Dalvin. The town had one wizard of its own, if he could be called that. He was a slight fellow, not much taller than Leffe, and he wore the insignia of a scholar on his simple robe.

“Dalvin talk to that one?” I asked Mordo when I saw him.

“Aye. Didn’t catch his name.”

“Dalvin think he’d help?”

“No, probably not. Gnome say that wizard is mostly researcher.”

“So no fireball artillery to help us then.”

“No. All us. Quick and from behind. Kill shaman. Then crush undead.”

“Or slice undead. It doesn’t have to always be crushing.”

Mordo hefted his maul. “Yes, it does.”

We reassembled. Before we left, the dwarf looked at me hard.

“What magic was in that song you sang on the road, Ander?” Leffe asked.

“The one I sang for Mordo?”

“No, the one you sang to the survivors, just before the rain hit us hard.”

“None,” I admitted. “It’s just that sometimes people respond well to music.”

“If singer any good,” Mordo said. “Some good singer,” he said patting me on the chest.

Leffe led the three of us out a side passage. The rain fell hard, and the kobolds would not have any special advantage seeing in it, so we were reasonably certain we’d gone unnoticed by the enemy. We wound around the forest enough that if they had seen us, they could have attacked. Eventually, we belly- crawled up a small hill to peer down at the kobolds.

Around the shaman, the kobolds held an unusual amount of discipline. Probably their fear and reverence for this master of the undead kept them orderly, less they become the newest member of the undead ranks. The kobolds, unfortunately for our plans, had spread out behind the ranks of the undead. The zombies and skeletons lay motionless on the ground. Perhaps the shaman was preserving his necrotic power until he needed them. We had no doubt that he’d move to animate them once we attacked.

The plan had been to blanket the kobolds in another sleep spell, this one targeted especially on the shaman so that the undead wouldn’t rise up against us. However, only three kobolds attended their leader while the rest were out of range of the spell. Still, three plus the shaman was fine, if the shaman would fall. He’d resisted my lullaby the last time.

“If this doesn’t work, they’ll realize what’s happening,” I said. “What’s the follow up? And don’t just say Mordo crush.”

Mordo’s mouth snapped shut.

“I’ve got all my spells ready,” Dalvin said.

“Watch vine-grabby spell,” Mordo said. “Nearly got Mordo before.”

“He’s right. Try to use that away from us.”

“You’re going down there, Ander?” Leffe asked.

I nodded. “Mordo’s a force of nature and all, but he’s going to need help.”

Leffe looked dark for a moment. I could tell his part in the plan had been to fire his crossbow from a distance. Now, with me ready to enter the fray, he’d have to join in, too. I understood his apprehension.

“I’m no frontline fighter, Ander,” Leffe said.

“I’m not one either, really. I suppose I’m a bit better suited for it than you.”

“You’ve trained in that, too?”

“Aye. Mix a little of this, and a little of that, put it in a beautiful vessel, and tah-dah! You have a bard.”

“Jack of all trades, master of none?”

“I like to think I’ve got the singing down pat by now, but yes.”

“This fascinating,” Mordo said. “But enemies need crushing.”

Mordo, the voice of reason.

We eventually settled on the plan. If my sleep spell worked, Dalvin would stay and watch for the other kobolds to be alerted. Mordo, Leffe, and I would slink in and kill the sleepers, making sure to get the shaman first. Not only was he the leader and vessel of eldritch power, I wanted a look at the staff he wielded. It had an ornate shaft and a large, multicolored orb on top.

If my spell didn’t work, Dalvin would use his wave of thunder spell to try and knock the enemy prone. Mordo would charge the shaman while we tried to keep the other kobolds down. After that, we’d only have twenty or fewer kobolds to fight, Tyr preserve us.

Surviving this battle was a longshot that banked on getting the shaman down quickly and the other kobolds losing their morale and fleeing. If they stayed and fought, I wasn’t sure that even Mordo’s maul would save us. The townspeople had armed themselves behind the wall, but their spirits were as waterlogged as everything else around us. I didn’t count on them to join the fight, even if they could follow our action from behind the enemy lines.

Thinking about it too much seemed pointless, suddenly. “We ready?” I asked. The others nodded. I began the magic lullaby, letting my voice rise up slowly to the hearing of the shaman and his kobolds. The attending kobolds slumped down. The shaman waivered for a moment, then grasped his staff harder and shook the sleep from his eyes. He’d been ready for the spell a second time. He stamped down on the ground with the staff, and the kobold warriors outside the ring of my spell immediately turned to attend their master. The undead stirred, but did not spring right up.

“Dalvin!” I said. The gnome had his druid magic ready. We covered our ears and he let the thunderous wave of noise blast the kobolds. It worked, but not as we planned. Dalvin had switched targets to the kobold warriors and the nearest skeletons. Many warriors blew backwards and the bones of the undead scattered.

Still, the shaman remained unharmed and started to retreat to behind the kobolds who had managed to keep their feet. Mordo jumped up and charged, this time bellowing his intent. Two kobolds closest to him froze in fear, and Mordo sent them to their doom.

Dalvin prepared his entangling root spell.

“Target the zombies, skeletons and kobolds not near the shaman. We need to move to kill him,” I said. Dalvin nodded, but otherwise concentrated on his next spell. Leffe glanced at me and I nodded. We sprang forth, our focus on getting to the shaman as quickly as possible.

We never got there. The kobolds proved hardier that last time, springing up in front of us. It was all we could do to keep them from getting behind us. Leffe and I found ourselves fighting back-to-back, ringed by the scaly little monsters. I scored hits and a couple fell, only to be replaced by their brethren. Leffe grunted behind me, and I risked a glance at him. Though he’d dropped two of his own, he’d taken minors wounds. Then, so had I. One spear avoided my rapier’s parry, then another, scoring flesh wounds of little damage. Still, a death of thousand bites is still a death.

I heard Dalvin cry out. The gnome danced and ducked away from pursuing kobolds. He’d unleashed his spell; writhing tendrils held down the undead. Dalvin himself could really only flee for the moment, his quarterstaff and cloth robe no match for the kobolds’ spears.

I took another wound, this one staggering me, a painful reminder to keep my eyes on my own opponents. The kobold pressed his advantage and lunged. I parried and riposted, driving my rapier through the underside of his jaw. I tried to do quick math as I parried its fellows’ attacks. Mordo had killed two; I’d dropped three; Leffe at least two; if the three kobolds around the shaman were still unconscious, we’d taken ten out of the fight. Not a bad improvement.

I swatted away a spear thrust and punched a kobold with the handguard of my weapon. As I did so, I became more painfully aware of the wound I’d received. I checked it with my off hand and felt hot wet blood seeping from the hole in my armor. I switched back to a fully defensive posture, but suddenly I could not find Leffe’s back. The dwarf had fallen and was kicking and poking to keep the kobolds off him.

I roared away my pain and pivoted from my opponents to slash wildly at Leffe’s attackers. The kobolds fell back off him, giving Leffe the time he needed to get up. However, as he did so, my right leg buckled from the painful wound on my hip, and I fell into him. A spear punched through my back right to the rib, and I fell to the dirt. Leffe alone stood against the mob.

I tried to shut out the pain, for I knew that only death would come from staying down. Gaining my knees ripped a scream from within me. I managed to protect Leffe’s back from two more attacks, but I knew my doom loomed closer. Blood oozed from my hip and back.

Then, something ripped away the kobolds attention. They turned and ran, Leffe felling one as it did so. The dwarf and I sagged together and watched.

The scattered bones and rotting bodies of the undead lay around Mordo’s feet. Apparently, he had not gotten to the shaman in time, but the warrior had gleefully taken to bludgeoning the dead back to hell. Now, unfettered by the icy grasps of the undead, Mordo stalked the shaman.

The shaman didn’t turn to flee, as he had before. The orb of his staff crackled with energy. He pointed it at Mordo and a bolt of lightning ripped the air between the two. Mordo had seen it coming and had dodged, but the lightning couldn’t be fully denied. It lanced into his metal armor and the warrior shook and convulsed. His mighty maul fell to the dirt.

The shaman cackled gleefully in his own language. I could not understand his words, but understood his haughty tone. He stalked Mordo, staff in one hand and a crude dagger in the other. He plunged the blade at the warrior’s exposed throat.

Mordo caught his wrist. The lightning strike had not incapacitated the warrior as the shaman had planned. Mordo twisted cruelly on the dagger hand of the kobold leader. An audible crack resulted in a screaming shaman. The spear wielding minions of the shaman had almost caught up to Mordo now, but he paid them no mind. He switched his terrible grip to the small shaman’s throat, seeking to silence his wickedness forever.

The shaman had one more trick. I could not see what he did, and he was surely incapable of uttering a spell, but in a flash of light, he vanished. Mordo cast about, trying to find his victim, but the shaman was properly gone.

The effects were immediate. The undead not yet destroyed, still entangled by Dalvin’s spell, fell lifeless to the ground. The kobolds charging mighty Mordo suddenly thought better of it, now that their leader had disappeared again. Unsure of which way to go, they ran in all directions away from the gore stained warrior, his seething grimace a terrifying sight.

I used the distraction to recite my poem of healing, and the blood flowing from my wounds stopped. I still hurt, but could bare the pain now that I could function again. Leffe gasped on the ground, holding his side. I recited the poem for him as well. He did not thank me, but groaned to his feet, staggering away.

Dalvin! I’d completely lost track of the gnome. I stumbled along after Leffe. At some point, Mordo saw our plight and caught up to us.

“Kobolds ran,” he said.

“Dalvin,” was all that Leffe could manage. Mordo understood.

A trail of blood set our nerves on edge. It led to a trampled path in the undergrowth. Leffe groaned when he saw Dalvin’s cap caught in some bramble. Hurt though he was, he still outpaced Mordo and me as he searched for his friend.

We found the gnome a moment later, as we rounded a tree. He sat on a limb, bruised and bleeding some, but smiling. Two kobolds lay dead beneath him.

“How?” Leffe managed.

“Never mess with a druid in the woods,” Dalvin said.



* * *



Mordo led the clean-up, back on the battlefield. He smashed the prone undead while we kept careful watch. Or, in all truth, tended to our wounds. Our victory on that day had been painful, but well fought. And it came with some reward. The shaman had left behind a chest and satchel, containing some coin, potions and scrolls. In all, it wasn’t a bad haul.

Yet still, the oily rain poured down.

“Must not be the shaman’s work,” Dalvin said as we trudged back to town.

“This is no natural rain, though,” I said.

“Tis true.”

“Then what is it?” Leffe asked.

“I fear some other evil is at play, some secret conspirator of the shaman.”

I didn’t want to say it, but did. “The dracolich?”

Dalvin raised his hands, palms up. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of a dragon, living or dead, to cause rain.”

Leffe grunted loudly. “I don’t care, not tonight anyway. As long as this rain won’t wash away the town tonight, the only thing I care about is a healer, a mug, and a bed.”

He was right. With the immediate threat to the town of Ellry ended, we could take a moment to recover, if not exactly celebrate. I smiled in relief as the gate of the town swung open for us.

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