A bone club whistled past his shoulder; the last remaining Go’rai sentry had made its way over to him while he cast the firestorm. His blade barrier caught the blow and Drew twisted so he could see the sentinel. A shock bolt expelled with a thought from his elbow, blue light illuminating the ugly face near him.
Drew backpedaled, trying to open some space between him and the orc. He then launched a fireball over the orc’s shoulder, aiming for the explosion to take it in the back while missing him. The shockwave from the explosion knocked him back and to the ground, sliding across the carpet. The scent of burning flesh filled his nose as he sat up with a groan. His head dazed, he looked around. The firestorm was still raging, but otherwise, he was alone in the hallway. He cast refresh, which didn’t seem to renew him as much as he would have liked, before standing up with another groan.
His head still pounded from slotting Blink Step. In all, he was pretty battered from the fight, and he sensed it would take a few more castings of refresh and another cure or two to get him back to normal condition. Suddenly the air went quiet, firestorm’s energy spent. He studied the darkening gloom carefully. He took another glowrock out of his pocket and held it up as he advanced towards the corner. The mad rush had been in darkness, using the faint light from the party behind him and the blockaded entrance to guide him. He paused and cast dancing blade, unsure of what would be waiting for him around the corner.
He bounced the glowrock against the far wall, extending his vision further into the hallway as he drew the last one from his pocket. He edged around the corner, a frostfire ball ready to target any waiting Go’rai. He saw two silent forms on the floor, burned by the storm he had conjured.
“You will pay for their deaths, Red Mage.” Chakri’s disembodied voice echoed through the hallway.
“You started this. You attacked us first.” Drew’s eyes flickered back and forth, looking for the charging form of the Orc.
“Your kind has hunted the Natren for millennia, the War Gods of the Iron Fleets bring only death and suffering in their wake.” Drew thought Chakri’s voice came from the left. In the space there was a large cube farm, much too big for his small light to illuminate. He briefly considered launching his last glowrock, but Drew couldn’t be sure he was on the left; the echoes made it hard to determine Chakri’s direction.
“I haven’t hurt any Natren; we’re just trying to leave this accursed hole.” Drew edged forward, heading towards the glowrock he’d thrown earlier.
“Foolish child, the Natren are all the clans. We cannot allow another Deathweaver to ascend. You are skilled, particularly for one so inexperienced. Allowing you to live would be to abandon numberless children of the Natren to their deaths. I will hunt you through your world like your kind have hunted mine through the stars.”
Drew realized how stupid he was being. The others were possibly dying, and he didn’t need to know the Orc’s exact location; he dropped the glowrock and then began casting frost storm. Chakri, seeing the mage begin his casting, bellowed and charged, his large form a darker black to Drew’s right.
Drew dropped the frost storm cast, immediately double casting frostfire ball and fireball, both streaming towards the Orc, who was limping still. Chakri was still fast enough to pivot, a skill flaring as a yellow glow surrounded him, protecting him from the blast as he lunged away from the explosive magic.
Drew launched an acid dart at his prone figure, which also raised yellow light as Chakri’s shielding spell blocked the damage. The orc grunted and stood up, wiping green blood from his mouth with a backhand while the other grabbed his dropped great axe. “You are all out of tricks Deathweaver. How you have so many spells so early I am not sure, but I will destroy you.” He had stalked forward as he said this, Drew backing up at the same time.
Drew’s last few spells needed the Orc to be closer, but the length of the axe made him leery. Dancing blade had a small amount of time left, and he had one more block from blade guard. He stopped his retreat and waited for Chakri to come to him. When he was about 15 feet away, another cone of frost coated the ground between them, the orc stepping back in time to avoid getting damaged by its blast.
“Come, Human, my axe will taste your blood!” His heavy feet stomped through the ice, which cracked under his weight, but didn’t cause him to slip.
Drew waited until the Orc was within 10 feet this time, cone of frostfire catching his legs and burning away at the exposed skin it encased in ice. With a grunt-filled with equal parts pain and anger, the orc lurched forward, his axe flying straight for Drew’s midsection. The dancing blade struck at Chakri’s shoulder, though the cockroach chitin blocked any damage.
A piece of debris caught under Drew’s foot and he stumbled, the ensuing axe barely blocked by his last remaining blade barrier charge. A shocking bolt connected his palm to Chakri’s face. The orc merely grunted again and reversed the swing of his axe. Drew watched the axe descend, but he already knew he wasn’t going to be fast enough to dodge this one; in a close combat fight, the orc had all the advantages. So instead he blinked away.
“Goodbye Chakri,” he said, as his fingers formed the seals of ice storm. The slowed orc bellowed in anger as his axe split the head of Drew’s afterimage. Chakri attempted to cover the distance between them, but it was a futile gesture, as his haste caused him to slip on the ice and land sprawled on the floor. His eyes glared at Drew with utter malice before disappearing into the storm.
Drew turned, his energy spent again. The adrenaline that had kept him moving quickly disappeared as he saw the blinking notifications at the edge of his vision: the system telling him he was out of combat. He ignored them, hurrying back to where he had left the others.
The area near the summoned walls was deathly silent. Two Go’rai corpses lay before the visible portion of the walls, and he picked up the pace. Limping around the corner, he was sure he had landed on his ankle wrong when he stumbled; it burned with pain, but his boots had prevented any serious injury.
Turning the corner, Drew nearly impaled himself on the spear Katie thrust at him, averting it at the last moment when she saw who it was. Her face was pale, and Mitch and Sarah lay unmoving on the floor. Another Go’rai lay dead between them. “They’re all dead.”
Katie took a moment to process his words and then dropped the spear, heading towards Sarah. The brunette dropped to her knees, her fingers feeling for a pulse. Meanwhile, Drew did the same for Mitch. The fight was strangely devoid of red blood, although there were plenty of green stains on the carpet. The clubs the orcs wielded more often did internal damage and broke bones rather than cut flesh. Drew pushed his fingers against Mitch’s carotid artery, leaving it there for a few seconds, but there was no pulse.
Looking over at Katie who had been doing similar actions to Sarah, “She’s alive!” Katie exclaimed. Drew shuffled over to her, pushing the body of the orc off Sarah’s legs, where it had fallen. One of the Ensign’s legs was bent in the wrong direction, and there were a couple of lesions visible where her clothing had been torn by the blows.
“What do we do?” he asked Katie, who had been checking for breathing.
“I–I don’t know, she’s got a pulse and is breathing. I think she hit her head.” Katie began slowly feeling around Sarah’s head for any wounds, trying not to move her spine as she did so. Her hands came back clean.
Drew sat back on his heels, “Mitch is dead,” he said, looking at Sarah’s immobile form.
Katie leaned back as well, glancing over at Drew, a pleading look in her eyes, “What do we do? I don’t know how to help her.” Katie echoed his words while Drew looked around and cast replenishing rain. The warm water was refreshing, but the Ensign remained unconscious.