The War (Play to Live: Book #6) (7 page)

I reached for my staff, but noticed the officers around me flinch. The artifact’s aura must have been really unpleasant.
I better wait…

But then…We were few. Too few.

Someone sniffed the air nearby. Looking to the side, I noticed the dishevelled Winnie with a black eye. The little critter was wiping its nose with its furry paw and looking sulkily at the approaching Lightsters.

I asked ingratiatingly: "Winnie, domeone needs to go get help, what’d’ya say?"

Winnie eyeballed me, then looked at the enemy and nodded with displeasure. Obeying my request meant missing a great fight.

The clap of his long range portal nearly made me deaf in the left ear, but I smiled nonetheless. Winnie would not let us down.

The troll next to me lifted up his shield. The next moment, hundreds of enemy arrows began hammering on our bodies. The Lightsiders had gotten close enough, and were now within their aimed fire range.

Another ten seconds, and the enemy wizards would turn the top of our hill into an active volcano crater. They wouldn’t even have to draw near;being outnumbered twenty to one was not something that shields could fix.

"Charge! Stick together!" I cried.

This was stating the obvious. I was the center of our micro universe, and the guards were like celestial bodies crowded around me.

Honestly, we should have fled by portals. But I knew there was a chance of taking a thousand enemies off the main army. Yes, I was looking for a fight. I did not seek to be a non-fighting general. I have not had enough yet.
For my home, for the right cause!

The deafening noise of battle, the rage of tens of thousand of people slaughtering each other; all of it was intoxicating, bereaving the mind of prudence. The young world perceived everything in lurid colors and resonated with the strong emotions of the sentient. This was not the ancient, nonchalant Earth where you could instantly destroy millions of lives with a nuclear explosion, and the planet would remain indifferent, wouldn’t even cough up a puny storm…

Boom!
The trolls on the outside of our formation disappeared in the sea of enemies. We managed to bring down the first ten of their lines before they closed ranks around us, cuting us off from the outside world and dooming us to fight surrounded.

A minute passed. We were pulled apart, seized by the arms, pushed to the ground and buried underneath the bodies of the enemies. The trolls fought like bears against a pack of dogs. Their hide was in shreds, their blood loss so immense that their fingers became numb with cold, making it difficult to hold their weapons. Their muscles and tendons torn, their legs gave way under the weight of the enemies dangling from their backs.

Another minute passed. The triumphant cries of Lightsters and the silencing of the trolls’ battle song meant one thing; Snowie had fallen…My heart was wrung with pain, making me gasp for air. I had never lost the loyal albino before.
When will he be resurrected, and how am I to look Bomba in the eye?

The third minute began. The elite she-elves worked miracles. The demon combat school was perfect for the close medieval fight. With every brief “Ha!” a Drow’s invisible wing would bust an opening in the enemy ranks, scattering them along with fountains of bloody sand.
Jedi girls
…

It must have been a spectacular sight from a bird’s eye view; our ridiculously small defensive circle letting out dozens of scarlet rays. The next instant, we found ourselves with a bit more room as the enemy army shrank back.

I took advantage of the unexpected pause. My greedy pig in golden armor was no longer stingy; it handed me one of the Soul Stones that I had taken off the bodies of fallen seraphims.

My cast failed several times because of the pressure of all the spells hanging over my head. But I finally managed to raise the menacing level-350 pet.

It was time for a surprise. I activated Splitting and got a full platoon of six-winged fallen angels, may the gods of the old Earth forgive me!

The enemy army swung at us again like a pendulum, ramming the line of the sparse she-elves. They piled on the ear-choppers, crushed them with steel, choked them with magic and overran them.
Till we meet again, girls
…

My pets rushed in all directions in response to the damage I received. The colorful magic cloud hanging over me ate away my flesh, and the seraphims tried to reach the enemy casters. Other enemies intercepted them, drawing the aggro to themselves. Within a minute, the chaos of the fight dragged the angels deep into the enemy column.

I was left alone. The demon staff was already in my hand, sucking the life out of everyone within ten paces of me and making them writhe with pain. With so few assailants, the inflow of HP my staff stole made me nearly immortal.

I opened my soul and charged, insane laughter erupting from my throat. I stretched time and tried to save my strength, taking abrupt steps as I danced amidst enemy blades and rendered enemies disabled.
Crack
, goes an arm,
snap,
goodbye, leg…

I used my Faith Points to heal enemy wounds on the go, cauterizing stumps and stopping bloodloss. It had no intention of stupidly ruining others’ avatars with my adamant, leaving them with a permanent debuff. No, I needed mutilated victims of war scattered on the parvis of the Sun God’s Temple. Let the one-armed and one-legged veterans strike fear into the youth for thousands of years to come, revealing the horrors that befall anyone who fights against the East.

I left a trail of screaming and sluggishly stirring bodies with missing limbs.
Whoever will come to us with a sword, from a sword will perish.

I began to feel tired, sinking in the growing lines of resistance. The density of magic over my lonely figure was staggering. The thick rain of arrows met with the immunity I’d gotten from the Sun God’s blood.

They had already figured out who I was. The big-brained enemy leaders changed the vector of the main attack and activated filters in their battle chats. They kept coming at me, unaware of what we had in store for them.

My instinct of self-preservation failed me. I was spent. I slowed down, overheated and overweighted with the loot that had fallen into my bag.
Was it time to meet with Lloth?

A portal snapped open and the White Winnie appeared next to me. There were claw marks on his face. He was clutching lumps of black fur in his shaking paws.

Winnie was being chased; two portals opened nearby and two giant furious beasts jumped out onto the sand, looking around in search of the big-eared troublemaker.

I couldn’t help but smile: "Bagheera, Tigress! I am so glad to see you guys!"

Chapter Four

T
igress heard me and turned her giant head toward me. She shut her eyes in disbelief, then let out a sob just like a human and ran over to me.

The pet, who’d grown to be the size of a draft horse, poked her head into my chest, leaving a large print of a cat’s muzzle on my armor, then began avidly licking my face with her coarse, hot tongue.

The enemies froze for a second; the monsters instilled fear.

Bagheera looked at me jealously with one eye, while his other eye threateningly surveyed the aggressive enemy horde. His mighty paws scraped the stones, drawing sparks. His fangs, glistening like swords, looked unbelievably huge and sharp.

"Enough, enough already! You’ll lick me to death…I love you too! Man, have you fattened up! I bet your muzzle won’t even fit into a barrel now!"

Despite being broad as an ox and having three-foot-wide biceps, I could barely push away the giant muzzle. This kitty the size of a cave bear could have made the hound of Baskervilles piss itself.

"Tigress, I’m in a bit of a situation here, think you can help? They’re really giving us a hard time."

As if affirming this, the enemies came to their senses; we heard bow strings snapping. The hail of arrows hit us hard, blood spurting everywhere.

The cats roared in indignation. Tigress rolled on the ground, breaking off the feathered tips of the arrows stuck in her luxuriant hide. She then jumped up and in a few leaps reached the enemy lines which were closing in around us.

It took Tigress only an instant to bring down the solid formation. It looked like a spiked race car had crashed into the audience. Jets of blood spurted in all directions. Chunks of meat, armor, and broken weapons went flying.

Tigress’ status bar appeared in its proper place in the corner of my interface as if to remind my distrustful mind that this machine of death was indeed my pet. My overload bar turned a disturbing red, and I collapsed on the ground. Just like the good old times, Tigress once again came to my aid.

Bagheera trusted his girlfriend. Instead of following her, he turned around to deal with the other half of the enemy ring.

His DpS was clearly lower than that of the cheater sabretoothed tigress. But I remembered his main weapon, and waited impatiently until the Lightsiders would pump him full of steel.

Done, three quarters HP!
The battered, furious beast stopped for a second, looked up at the sky and howled, summoning help.

Clap! Clap! Clap!
The booming echo of the portals indicated that his ability had worked just right; Bagheera, the Black Death, the immortal guard of the Deserted Temple, summoned monsters from the Lost City. They were a small crowd; about fifty beasts of level 350.
Mwuahaha!

They weren’t a challenge for an army of twenty thousand. But would the enemy stay at twenty thousand?

Another minute of fighting. Cries of rage and fear came from everywhere. The kitty’s HP meter went down by a quarter, turning from green to yellow.

Bagheera gave a commanding howl again. This time two hundred monsters responded to his call. Now the Lightsiders were taken aback.

No one had ever tried to carry out three consecutive wave attacks. The Chinese usually stopped after the second, choked on their bloody tears and dropped dead.

But the Light invasion army had every opportunity to become the pioneer of the triple wave tactic; they were just so many. Reinforcements kept pouring out of the portals. The leaders weren’t stupid, and their supply reserves could make any army painfully jealous.

Clap!
Tigress, heavily beaten yet quite happy looking, appeared next to me. She reminded me of a zombie; normally animals with holes that large in them don’t survive. But by the looks of things, this feline was far from dying. She sat down on the sand and started licking her numerous wounds.

Her opponents did the same. They reconfigured their buffs and changed equipment in a hurry. Very few were wounded. The uncategorized monster meant business and rarely left survivors. Most of her hits resulted in so much damage that everyone within her reach fell dead.

I tried to help Tigress by using the Healing scrolls I had on me. But it was like slapping band-aids on a whale. The tigress had the HP bar of an armored train and my treatment was about as helpful as stuffing bullet holes with silly putty. It had a purely visual effect.

The feline handled everything herself. Her coarse tongue flashed incessantly, making the scarlet holes in her luxuriant fur quickly disappear.

The enemy was not happy about having to deal with her again. The Light leaders, cursing and shoving, ordered their warriors to attack one more time.

They formed a wall of shields that approached us slowly like a constantly jamming mechanism. The leaders of the independent clans were not eager to engage in a fight with the mega-boss. They would acquire neither fame nor loot, only lose XP points and money. A minute of slaughter, and the Light warriors would find themselves in the yard of their home castle. It’s called went for wool and came home shorn.

A leader making such moves can expect his warriors to abandon him. After all, these people came here to beat up the bearded, barbaric Slavs, to have fun and to make a few bucks. They were already upset over the four-hour wait as it were. It took some serious diplomacy and logistics genius to assemble the hundred anarchist gangs into a single, well-ordered formation.

Tigress stopped licking her wounds and cast a heavy gaze upon the nearing enemy. They shuddered.

The feline gave a terrifying growl, making the attackers draw back sharply. She then spit out a hairball.

The enemy’s rear lines cut off all escape paths, so the front ones started walking forward again. Tigress heaved a weary sigh and came at them.

I sat still as a broody hen. Six tons of loot had rooted me to the spot. If I tried to leave it, my greedy pig would cut me open and burst out of me like those fetuses from Alien vs. Predator. Leaving by portal wouldn’t save me, plus my kitties wouldn't understand...

The fierce battle continued on all fronts. The enemy concentrated on the remaining basilisk and managed to make his HP plummet to a critical 3 percent. The Wild lizard backed off once again, unwilling to dissolve in the Great Nothingness.

With a deafening howl, he used a last chance ability; the monster’s body became immured into a wall of basalt, acquiring outrageous armor stats that neared absolute invincibility. The basilisk froze and towered over the sands like a majestic Sphynx, ignoring damage and regenerating infinitely slowly.

His brothers were furious. That ability must have had a dark side. The two remaining lizards began a counterattack. The surviving dwarves and demons, all in a frenzy of war, promptly joined in.

The enemy employed the same mass attack tactic against Bagheera. The Lightside analysts must have decided that the death of the boss would make the monsters he had summoned disappear.

Maybe they were right. But once Bagheera’s HP meter turned an alarming orange, the puma gave an imperious summoning growl for the third time. An additional 500 monsters from the Lost City undermined the enemy attack. The amount of gravestones appearing every second was more than the attackers could handle. They started backing up.

Soon, the wizard I had sent for the unhatched basilisks returned. He was breathless, accompanied by panting mules carrying a dozen eggs. A retreat signal rang out on the battlefield.

The wizards left by personal portals. The more conscientious ones helped the warriors escape by group portals. Some used teleport scrolls. Two thirds of all survivors managed to escape.

The rest kept fighting. Some were hoping to snatch some loot from the rich Darksiders. Others were trying to complete quests and get achievements. And there were some who got so carried away by the battle that their personal priorities changed. Their new goal was to kill the Russians.

Yet others simply couldn’t escape their opponent. In close combat you rarely had five to seven spare seconds for a portal cast. The dummies who had forgotten to bring a portal scroll along were cussing and inscribing personal reminders on the inside of their helmets for the future.

The Lost City monsters paid no attention to my warriors. But whenever a warrior even so much as sneezed in my direction, he took on the monsters’ aggro instantly. After this happened a few times, the raid party was ordered to refrain from mass spells and debuffs and attack certain points only.

The twelve new basilisks turned out to be more tolerant of friendly fire. They would shoot daggers with their satellite-dish-sized eyes when they got irritated, but the lizards wouldn’t trample anyone into the sand for a few stray arrows.

Soon the mercenary unit I had sent for came to our rescue. They started chasing the enemy away. The chase was short. Our monsters made it to the rear of the enemy army and cut the Lights off from their portals.

The remainder of the invading army – six thousand warriors – were crowded together in a close mass. Our fighters slaughtered them with feeling yet in an orderly manner, prolonging the pleasure by tearing the enemy apart piece by piece.

The hired Inferno NPCs ignored my order to take the enemy alive. It is easier to steal pork tenderloins from a pack of hungry dogs than to snatch a condemned soul from a demon’s clutches.

In twenty minutes, it was over. The enemy’s attempt to counterattack through portals left them with more losses. Stuck fighting the basilisks who barred their way like guard dogs, the Lights couldn’t assemble into dense formations. They got worn out pretty quickly.

Their invasion of the Valley failed. Claps of closing portals were the final sounds of battle. The enemy left, giving up on their attempts to rescue the surrounded and leaving them at the mercy of the Darksiders.

The spy goblins grinned with pleasure as they made scandalous videos. The last of the resistance faded away. Stealthers and hounds searched the area for enemy rogues.

This was it. This was our victory.

I sat on the ground, exhausted. Tigress courteously offered me her silky side, and I lay down, leaning against her. The feline was purring happily. I could tell she was remembering a moment we’d shared during our dungeon expedition. Guess I wasn’t the only one feeling nostalgic for the carefree young life…Fallen One knows how long ago that was.

Bagheera sat by us, breathing noisily and jealously stirring his whiskers. The tip of his beautiful tail jerked from side to side.

I rose with a groan and scratched Tigress behind the ears before turning to my inventory. I whistled as I looked through it. "Get the treasurer over here! And mules!"

I glanced at Bagheera and started digging through my jewelry. Finally I found something I thought was good enough; a fine gold chain with a crazy Strength modifier and an awesome Crit bonus.

I took it out. The precious metal glistened in the morning sun, drawing the curious felines’ attention.

Bowing respectfully, I held out the artifact. "Thank you for your help, Bagheera. Please accept my humble gift. An extra hundred strength points might be useful even for you."

Bagheera looked at Tigress, read something in her eyes and stepped forward, bending down his massive head.

Good thing that the chain had a buckle. It had clearly been someone’s belt before. Bagheera could wear it only on the neck, like a golden collar glowing with magic.

He growled contentedly and flexed his claws, crushing a stone beneath his paw.

"Works, doesn’t it? Great! I have a truckload of goodies here all thanks to you guys!"

My greedy pig grumbled but had no objections to a fair division of loot:
One for you, and a thousand for me
.

Bagheera wasn’t greedy. He was satisfied with four bracelets. I really had to strain my Divine Spark to make them fit his mighty paws. Something told me they weren’t made for pumas.

I upgraded the bracelets with magic stones while I was at it. The universe gave in and allowed the modification of the already distorted artifacts. But the law of conservation of energy still played its part; the bracelets’ stats now read "for felines only" as if to spite us.

Tigress gladly accepted some gifts as well. But she chose them herself, digging through the shiny goodies with her enormous paw. She preferred whatever was more beautiful. My greedy pig giggled insidiously and happily slipped her huge useless diamonds and platinum items.

Bagheera and I exchanged knowing glances and smiled.
Women.

As an extra treat, I used my Gilding ability to make Tigress’ claws look as though they were made of solid gold. Tigress held a paw to her muzzle, flexed her enormous glistening claws flirtatiously and purred with delight.

Bagheera was growling and pacing impatiently, hinting that the master must have had enough of the high-maintenance pets for one day and that it was time to go.

Tigress looked at me guiltily, and I sighed. "Leaving? What will I do without you? We’ve won a battle, but not a war. And we were up against only 30,000 warriors this time. Now picture this: about sixty miles from here is an army that’s four times stronger. And I’m running out of trump cards fast. I’m down to the six of trumps."