His Blood Sense caught a surge of movement behind him.
He turned and looked back across the stream.
About a dozen rabbits burst from the trees to the left, white tails flashing as they tore across the open ground, low and fast. Two deer followed, longer strides eating up distance as they ran hard for the west treeline, ears pinned back, heads low.
Harry stared after them.
Well, that can’t be good. And I’m surprised there’s even wildlife here with all these stalkers around.
:: System: It is best not to try and apply normal ecology rules in a dungeon. That way lay madness.
Fair enough.
Harry stepped a few paces east and focused, pushing his Blood Sense out as far as it would go. Threads bloomed at the edge of perception, staggered and spread wide. Venomstalkers. A line of them, moving in a loose advance rather than a charge.
Behind that first line, the sense thickened.
More threads layered over each other, deeper and denser, a heavy pressure pushing forward from beyond his range. Too many to count cleanly. Enough that the forest itself seemed uneasy under their approach.
Harry exhaled slowly and turned back in the direction of the others.
- Harry: Jo, how far to the bridge?
It took a moment for Jo to answer, likely pulling out the map.
- Jo: My best guess, it’s under a mile.
- Harry: Are you up to moving again?
- Cedric: Sir Harold, what is happening?
- Harry: It looks like the whole forest is stirred up. I think we should make a run for it.
- Jo: I can do it.
- Harry: Stan, you’re good?
- Stan: Aye, boss. We was setting up some defenses, do we have time to gather ‘em up?
- Harry: No. Drop everything and go. I’m going to lag behind and see if I can slow them.
- Jo: We’re on our way.
A few minutes later his Blood Sense showed them moving away to the northwest at a good pace.
He angled toward the rocky rise the others had chosen.
Up close, it was better than he expected.
A rough clearing spread around the base, maybe fifty feet across, flat and open. A stream ran along the southern edge, fast water chewing at the bank. The stream was less than ten feet across and Harry jumped it easily. The flash of nausea faded before it even started.
The hill itself rose jagged and uneven, exposed rock stacked at awkward angles, close to twenty feet tall. The southern face leaned out over the water, undercut enough that it felt temporary. Given enough time, the stream would take it apart and drop the whole thing into itself.
The west side was a clean drop. No footing, no handholds. The north face was steep and broken, sharp stone and loose scree that would punish anyone trying to climb it in a hurry.
Only the eastern approach made sense.
And they had been working to close it. No doubt Cedric’s Field Fortifications ability being put to use.
Sharpened wooden stakes lay in rough overlapping lines, angled outward and set into the ground. In front of them, a shallow ditch was taking shape, dirt piled carelessly to one side. Not deep yet, but enough to break a charge and funnel anything coming in.
For a moment he wondered who had thought to bring a shovel from the village.
Oh right. Stan has a Summon Tool spell right?
:: System: Affirmative.
Harry turned off Shadow Manipulation again and cut northeast, angling toward the approaching venomstalkers.
About halfway there he pulled another dagger and started hammering it against his shield. Sharp, ringing blows carried through the trees. He kept the rhythm steady as he jogged, loud enough to be impossible to miss.
The threads reacted almost at once.
They curved toward him, tightening, speed picking up as the line collapsed inward.
Good.
Harry pivoted and ran south, still banging the shield as he went. Brush tore at his legs. Branches snapped back against his shoulders. Behind him, the pressure built as more threads swung his way.
When his Blood Sense told him most of them were committed, he broke hard back toward the rocky hill.
He hit the slope at speed and checked himself, boots scraping on stone as he slowed to thread his way between the stakes. He hauled himself up the last stretch and dropped low at the top, shield tight to his arm.
He waited.
The first venomstalkers burst from the treeline, bodies low, legs churning, heads lifting as they searched.
Harry put the dagger away and pulled a spear from inventory. The weight settled into his hands, familiar and right. He willed Shadow Manipulation back into place.
The stalkers slowed, spreading slightly, movements cautious now.
Harry stood up tall and slammed the spear shaft against his shield.
The sound cracked sharp and hard.
Stolen story; please report.
They came at him all at once.
Harry burned vitae into strength and speed, two points each. Power flooded his limbs, a solid, controlled surge that locked in and stayed. Muscles tightened.
:: System: Enhanced physical attributes.
:: Strength +60% (duration: 60 seconds)
:: Speed +60% (duration: 60 seconds)
He set his feet, leveled the spear, and waited.
The first few venomstalkers hit the defenses hard and paid for it.
Sharpened stakes tore at their legs and bodies, slowing them, forcing awkward climbs. The next two scrambled over the impaled ones, claws scraping on wood, fur, and stone. As soon as they gained a few feet up the slope, they coiled and sprang.
The first came down fast. Harry planted the spear and held. The blade punched through its body. Its legs spasmed as a long, tearing hiss ripped out of it. At the same time, he pivoted away from the other and let it land beside him.
Stupid spider wolves, that’s never going to get old.
The one on his spear thrashed. Harry tilted the shaft and let its own momentum carry it toward the western edge. When its weight tipped past balance, he twisted hard and snapped the spear back, scraping the body free. It vanished over the drop, the sound of impact lost below.
Behind him, the one he had ignored landed clean.
Pain flared as its head darted in and fangs punched into the back of his thigh. Harry spun with the motion. He felt one fang snap off buried in his leg as the creature tried to pull away.
Harry planted his good leg, dropped his weight, and kicked up hard. His boot slammed into the stalker’s chest. The blow lifted it clean off the rock and sent it tumbling backward, legs flailing as it went over the edge and into the stream below.
Harry didn’t slow.
He reached back with his shield arm, fingers finding the broken fang jutting from his leg. He yanked it free and flicked it aside. Thick blood welled for a heartbeat and stopped.
The venom was already at work healing him. The damage knit itself together almost as fast as it had been done.
Harry reset his stance and lifted the spear again, eyes searching for the next attack.
The two that had been slowed by the stakes were coming, rushing up the slope, bodies torn and uneven. Beyond them, the treeline kept spilling movement. At least a dozen more broke free from the shadow of the trees, with heavier pressure still building behind them.
Harry focused his vision. The world slid into slow motion.
The first of the two scrambled up toward him, legs slipping on stone. Harry held the spear low and back, point steady. When the creature lunged, he drove the spear up into the base of its throat. Metal bit deep. He braced and held.
The venomstalker’s own momentum carried it up the shaft, forcing the blade in farther. Its legs kicked once and it crashed at Harry’s feet. The head snapped toward him in a weak, clumsy strike that missed by inches as it slumped unmoving to the ground.
The second hit him hard.
Harry let the spear go as it barreled into his chest and shoulder, knocking him back a step. Its head whipped in and fangs sank into his shoulder. Pain flared hot and sharp.
He grabbed the creature’s head with both hands and pinned it against his shoulder. As it writhed, he lunged forward, forcing the long neck to bend. His fangs scraped against the scaled hide for a heartbeat before punching through. He triggered Drain.
Blood flooded his mouth, hot and fast. The heart thundered, each pulse sending a rush through him. The venomstalker thrashed, legs scrabbling for purchase as it tore its fangs free from his shoulder and tried to pull away.
Harry held on.
He drank deep and fought to keep himself anchored, riding the edge of the ecstasy without tipping over, forcing himself to stay present as the creature weakened in his hands.
Another venomstalker had scrambled over the stakes and sprang into the air at him.
Harry let the lifeless body drop from his hands and tracked the arc of the leap. As it came down, he swept his shield across its path, catching it mid-air and knocking it back the way it had come. It landed hard atop the sharpened stakes and let out a loud hiss as one punched into its side.
Harry bent and yanked his spear from the body of the stalker at his feet and took a quick look around.
The space between the hill and the treeline was a carpet of black fur and bobbing snake heads, all of it rushing straight toward him.
Time to go.
Harry turned and jumped off the steep western side of the hill. He hit hard, rolled, and came up running. He burned another two vitae into speed and sprinted west, tearing through brush and leaping over fallen trees. After about a hundred feet he turned northwest, angling toward where the others had moved out of his range to track.
Behind him, his Blood Sense flooded with threads, all in motion.
The venomstalkers poured around the hill and into the trees, spreading wide as the tide followed him into the forest.
A few minutes passed with nothing but the blur of trees and the rustle of brush as he tore through the forest.
Stan’s voice cut in over party chat, flat and worn down.
- Stan: I knew it. The bridge is out.
Jo answered a beat later, breathing hard.
- Jo: It’s not out, just a section missing.
- Cedric: We could swim for it.
- Stan: I can’t swim.
- Harry: I can’t swim either. What are you seeing?
- Cedric: It is a narrow timber-framed bridge, old and half-rotted. The span is maybe a hundred feet, with thirty or so missing in the center.
Dammit.
- Harry: Jo, does the map show any other crossings?
There was another pause while she got out the map.
- Jo: Not that I see. We could keep going west and look.
- Harry: This dungeon is really starting to get on my nerves.
- Stan: If we got time, I can fix it.
- Harry: Really?
- Stan: I said as much.
- Harry: I love this guy. Cedric, can we hold the bridge while he works?
- Cedric: Against how many and for how long?
Harry studied his Blood Sense as he ran. The followers were out of range now, but he could still feel them moving his way, a distant, steady pressure that hadn’t let go.
- Harry: Against a lot really. But we have a little time, fifteen or twenty minutes maybe.
- Cedric: If Constantine says he can fix it, I say we hold here. There should be another way to cross, but I have no faith in this dungeon adhering to the normal rules.
- Harry: Let’s do it.
- Jo: We’ll get started.
- Harry: I love this plan. I’m proud to be a part of it.
- Stan: Yur a strange one, boss.
- Harry: More than you know. I’ll be there soon.
He put another burst of vitae into speed and surged forward. He had plenty to spare after the Drain, more than enough to push hard.
As he ran, something clicked.
Spending the vitae didn’t hurt.
Looks like we finally diluted the corruption enough.
:: System: Affirmative. Optimally, the lack of user screaming and crying will not reduce the entertainment value for observing shards.
What? I was not screaming and crying!
:: System: Duly noted.
***
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He hit the water hard with a splash, landing awkwardly four or five feet short of the far bank, and sank under. Cold closed over him. For a moment he felt hollow and weak, like something had been scooped out of his chest.
As he sank, a wave of panic hit. He hadn't been in water outside of his bathtub since his brother's drowning accident when they were young. And to be honest, he much preferred showers. He thrashed for a moment before his feet found the bottom and he stood. The water came up just past his waist.