Blessed Time: The Complete Series: (A LitRPG Adventure Box Set), page 117
Standing silently in the air on either side of him were Trevor and Drekt while, nearby, Ravi flapped her wings, chasing an annoyed-looking Telivern while Micah surveyed the scene.
He flipped a page, eyes flickering back and forth as he looked over the notes and arcane drawings in the folio. Finally, he snapped the book shut and let his magic rotate him so he could address his lieutenants.
“Squad B is too close,” he said, pointing with his spear toward one of the formations. “Unless they step back twenty or so paces, they risk getting pulled into the sinkhole when the outbreak starts.”
Trevor shook his head, letting out a low whistle as he looked down at the dune beneath them.
“I still can’t believe this entire thing is going to sink into the sand,” his brother said, a hint of wonder to his voice. “Just sucked into the ground and then monsters everywhere without any warning. It’s really something if you think about it.”
“It is,” Micah replied. “But at the same time, there are fairly mundane causes for this tragedy. There is a dungeon under this dune, filled to the brim with sand elementals. Ordinarily, the Governor’s surveyor would have found it, but he was taking bribes not to search this area because House Riojina has an illicit sun opal mine nearby. In the end, it’s simply a matter of greed. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Huh,” Trevor responded, reaching up to scratch at his chin. “That seems like a fairly large problem. How bad did things end up the first time?”
Micah flipped through the ageless folio, using the book’s magic to immediately turn to his desired page. He read for a second before looking up, his face grim.
“They aren’t discovered before they make it to the city limits. The guards manage to close the gates in time, but the elementals are able to flow up the walls. The mobilized guilds are able to put the outbreak down, but not before Tin Town, the Merchant District and Clay Street are overwhelmed.”
“By Ankros,” Drekt whispered. “There are thousands that live outside the walls. How many died in the first iteration?”
“The city didn’t do a census of those that live outside the wall,” Micah said bleakly. “Inside the walls? Almost five hundred guards, three hundred adventurers, and thirteen thousand civilians. It would take at least two years for the city to recover, and even then, there are some districts that are just shadows of their former selves when the Third Prince began its attack.”
“That does not sound like an honorable battle,” Drekt replied, shaking his head. “The city outskirts are mostly populated by the forgotten. Tens of thousands of lives, many without even the ability to fight back. An absolute catastrophe.”
“Unfortunately,” Micah responded, closing the folio and letting it dissipate, “we were away on a mission to find a caravan that had gone missing. They were alive and well. Their weather mage had fallen ill, so she wasn’t able to keep them on course through the desert. I suspect they will find their way back to civilization in a week or so once she recovers on her own.”
He stopped talking for a second, shifting his gaze to take in a trio of lizards, metal-clad riders on their backs. As they plodded with large webbed feet, Micah began to rotate in the air, aiming himself toward the oncomers, only for Trevor to interrupt him.
“What sort of levels are we dealing with here, Micah? I need to make sure my blessed are ready for whatever hell you’re about to throw them into.”
“Sand elementals are usually around level 25, but this is a dungeon break, so they’ll be a bit higher,” Micah replied. “I’d guess most of them will be around 30 to 40, but I don’t have any hard and fast numbers. After all, I wasn’t actually here for the outbreak. Just the clean-up and exploration of the dungeon afterward.”
“40?” Trevor sputtered incredulously. “Please tell me there will only be about a dozen of these things. If not, we’re unbelievably screwed.”
“Sorry to say, but it will be about a hundred or so.” Micah stopped his descent to address his brother. “The plan stays the same. You team up with Ravi and A squad. Drekt and Telivern get B squad, and the girls will work with Leeka’s team in C squad. I’ll be roving while D squad slings area spells and pulls out the injured for healing. We might have some injuries, but we’re running out of time. Plus, this will earn the guild levels our members desperately need. I can assure you that when the final battle comes, if they can’t handle a level 30 one on one, they aren’t going to be much help to us.”
“But,” Trevor began, only for Drekt to wrap a large, dark hand around his bicep and shake his head.
“Micah,” Drekt cut in worriedly. “I understand that we need to push ourselves, but are Eris and Esther-”
“They aren’t ready,” Micah agreed. “That’s why I’ve positioned them furthest from the dungeon’s entrance, and I’ll have my summoned spirit watching over them. With any luck, they’ll only be dealing with stragglers, and the river kraken should be able to handle that on its own. If all else fails, we can always just refight the battle. Being a time mage does have its advantages, after all.
“Now,” he continued, nodding in the general direction of the approaching lizards, “we have some visitors. Unless I miss my guess, I suspect they’re from the provincial government. The two of you should get into position and let Leeka, Eris and Esther know what the battle plan is. We only have ten to fifteen minutes before they break free from the dungeon and the entire sand dune sinks into the ground.”
With a touch of Micah’s will, he began to descend toward the quartet of riders. Once they saw him dropping down from the sky, their mounts slowed, coming to a halt atop a mid-sized dune about a thousand or so paces away from where Micah’s guild was arrayed around the buried dungeon.
His toes tapped down in the sand, sinking slightly as he approached the mounted figures, spear slung casually and horizontally over both shoulders of his Maarikava armor. He stopped about ten paces away, smiling politely at the three of them.
“Countess Messna, Minister Ballen,” Micah said, inclining his head slightly toward the two women. After all, one was a noble and the other was a representative of Red Sands’ Governor. Even if he could bury all three of them in the sands with nothing more than a thought, it didn’t cost Micah any attunement to be polite. “What a pleasure to see the two of you outside the formality of a stuffy parlor. As for you, I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of your company, Mister…?”
“Hura,” the only man replied, his throat raspy from the dry desert air. “Mikail Hura, general of the Red Sands provincial guard and militia.”
“Well, that makes sense, then,” Micah responded. “You’re a busy man who has done an admirable job keeping the province safe. It’s not surprising that you haven’t had the opportunity to interact with a simple businessman like me.”
“Simple businessman?” Hura asked, raising both of his graying but still bushy eyebrows. He was tanned, his skin leathery from long hours in the desert sun and wind. A hard life that created a strong, robust body. In his previous life, Micah had nothing for respect for him. When others turned and ran, seeking to prolong their lives by a handful of years, General Hura and the Red Sands Militia fought and died to give Micah and Trevor the opening they needed for the final assault on the Third Prince’s castle.
“I might be mis-counting,” the soldier continued, “but I see at least one hundred fifty blessed arrayed in full arms and armor. Last I checked, the Silver Wolves were a mid-sized guild with only about sixty names on your roster and a maximum of one hundred recruits by imperial decree. As best I can tell, this is some sort of rebellion, but I can’t make heads or tails of it. If you’re trying to buck provincial authority, you picked the silliest possible way to do it.”
“Your count is right,” Micah said cheerfully, reaching into his carrying satchel and pulling a weathered document out from amidst the potions and reagents he habitually carried around with him, “but your information is out of date. A month ago, we took over responsibility for two more high-leveled dungeons, and after an evaluation by Minister Dorra, the Governor signed off on a writ to let us recruit up to two hundred fifty blessed.”
He passed the document up to the frowning man and watched him read it over once before passing it to the woman next to him, Minister Ballen. She inspected the paper more carefully, holding it up to the sun to let the light of Luxos activate the mana in the large wax seal at the bottom of the page. Finally, almost grudgingly, she turned to hand it to Countess Messna, who held up a hand, palm out to refuse. Instead, she beamed down at Micah.
“I notice that the three high-level dungeons your guild is managing are all on the north side of Red Sands,” Ballen said, reluctantly handing the writ back to Micah. “That is Minister Dorra’s district. It’s beneath me to accuse another minister of corruption, but it seems strange to me that-”
“Oh, nothing to worry about.” Micah cut her off with a quick wink, rolling the paperwork up and returning it to his satchel. “Minister Dorra was simply impressed by my patriotism and civic-mindedness. After all, I did offer to take over management of both of those dungeons without any charge to the provincial government. Of course, now that the Silver Wolves are expanding, I’m sure that I could offer similar terms to you on the eastern district.”
“But I don’t have any open high-level dungeons,” Minister Ballen replied. “There are only two in my district, both leagues from the city, and their management is defined by contracts that have years left before any re-negotiation. The rest of the dungeons around here are lower level, more profitable than dangerous. I’m sure you are aware that guilds pay to use those rather than the other way around.”
“An empty offer to help won’t forestall questions,” Genera Hura rumbled. “You may have the authority to recruit up to two hundred fifty blessed, even if the ink is barely dry on the agreement, but that doesn’t change the fact that you mobilized your entire guild without notice or a quest. A lot of folks are asking questions about your intentions right now, and some of those folks were a bit surprised and worried to see how well-equipped the only guild in our province run by foreigners actually was.”
“Many knew about your newfound wealth and trading acumen,” Countess Messna chimed in. Unlike the other government officials, she was much more friendly, likely the result of a number of trade agreements that Micah’s father had forged via her caravans that had made both her family and the Silver Wolves vast sums of attunement. “What we didn’t know was that you could field a battalion of soldiers. Some uncharitable folks are accusing you of raising a private army, all under the noses of the Governor and his ministers.”
Micah smiled at them. He could feel vibrations through the soles of his boots. The dungeon had opened and the sand elementals were beginning to absorb the huge dune, powering themselves up as they tunneled toward the surface. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Countess,” he said, feeling adrenaline and excitement begin to flow through his body as the battle drew nearer. “Did my father ever reveal to you how the Silver Wolves ever grew from a profitable and honorable combat guild into one of the major merchant factors in Red Sands over the course of a year?”
“No,” Messna responded, leaning forward in her saddle, eyes twinkling. “Both you and Jon have been very cagey about the sources of your information and success, but it is clear that someone in your employ has a blessing related to commerce. It’s almost like you can predict market trends months in advance. I have never seen a group make so much attunement by gambling everything on long-shot market trends over and over again, only to find wild success each and every time. If you could reveal the name of your oracle, I would pay handsomely to have access to their talents.”
“I’m a time mage,” Micah replied. The General was looking at the vibrating sand with alarm. Neither of the women had noticed the impending dungeon break, but it was clear that the old warrior knew something was amiss. “I’m sure the three of you knew I stirred up some trouble in Pereston before fleeing to Sandrovok?”
He was met by nods from the Countess and the Minister, but General Hura was too busy looking for the source of the tremors to pay much attention to the conversation.
“One of my abilities lets me know some of the things that will happen in the future,” Micah continued, smile still on his face as the Countess faltered, finally noticing the shaking sand. “I wanted nothing more than to retire to a quiet but comfortable life of clearing easy dungeons and providing for my family. I don’t truly need wealth or fame, and I didn’t want to disturb Sandrovok’s government. The Empress is a good ruler, and she appointed a good Governor. Unfortunately, I have seen a war coming. Sandrovok is not ready for what will come, and I need to make it ready. That means drawing enough attention to myself that those with the power to make changes decide to take me seriously.”
“Retire?” the minister asked, confusion in her voice. “But your guild almost solely takes on high difficulty dungeons and quests. Your people have largely avoided scrutiny because you’ve provided an invaluable service to the province by eliminating threats that have the power to wipe out entire communities. How in the name of the Sixteen is that retirem-”
The massive dune collapsed behind Micah, dropping into a sinkhole that ended in a flat, horizontal wall of sandstone with a circular opening in the center. Clambering up the sides of the hole were dozens of lumpy, humanoid shapes fashioned from animated sand. Some pulled themselves up on four limbs, others galloped on six or eight, but the one commonality was that despite all of them being twice the size of a human, they moved with the speed and grace of a jungle cat.
“We are now experiencing a dungeon break,” Micah said, turning away from the three Red Sands representatives to look at the battlefield. Lines of warriors equipped with spears and shields took the front line, prepared to use the Silver Wolves’ signature martial art to defend the archers and mages behind them as they lobbed missiles, spells and blessings at the rampaging horde. “Somehow, Red Sands didn’t locate a level 25 Sand Elemental dungeon within sight of the city walls. After going months without being cleared, the monsters will be between levels 30 and 40. Enough to overwhelm the surprised guard and lay waste to the outer districts before the royal guardsmen hidden in the city can turn the tide.”
“By the Sixteen,” Ballen whispered, her voice strained. “The Princess is in the city on an incognito inspection. This attack is putting a member of the royal family at risk.”
“Not really,” Micah replied, lifting his spear off of his shoulder and taking to the air. “I told you that I needed to make friends in high places. I’m glad that the three of you came. Witnesses will make my report on the battle that much more believable.”
FIVE
OUTBREAK
Wind rushed past Micah, pulling at his hair and whipping it back and forth as he flew toward the battlefield. He reached up with his left hand, touching one of the Maarikava teeth mounted on the shoulder of his armor and poured mana into it. A streamer of gold light jumped from the ivory spike and flew through the air toward where Esther, Eris and Leeka were attacking the first sand elemental to crest the edge of the sinkhole.
The golden light transformed, turning into a massive river kraken that swam through the air above their squad, swinging its huge tentacles in downward arcs that caught elementals and sent them flying back into the bottom of the pit where they would slam into the stone wall and scatter. Most of the sand elementals would reform and resume the difficult climb back out of the pit, but at least one or two remained, unformed and unmoving after the force of the kraken’s blow.
Trevor and Drekt were both under much heavier attack. Each of their formations had at least a dozen sand elementals assaulting their front lines. Micah’s companions could easily defeat the monsters one on one, but the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the guild. In most places, two or three melee fighters would gang up on one elemental, attacking to draw its attention and then pulling back as soon as the creature tried to retaliate, all while ranged attackers kept whittling away at the monster’s hit points.
Their strategy wasn’t as effective against the faceless beasts as it would have been against humans. Often, a warrior would think that they were safe to attack a blind spot, only for a limb or tentacle to erupt from the formless sand, knocking them back and injuring them, but that was where the teams of healers came in.
True healers were rare, and excluding Micah, the Silver Wolves only had six amongst their ranks, but Micah made up for that deficit. Their support and combat casters were all equipped with enchanted items that let them transform their excess mana into low-level healing spells.
It wasn’t a terribly efficient usage of their magic. Their mana didn’t sync properly with the wood-type enchantments that Micah had invested into the amulets, but right now, the focus was on making sure that the combat teams gained experience, contained the enemy and stayed alive. The bulk of actually killing the monsters fell on Micah and his team’s shoulders.
Micah flew over the center of the sinkhole, casting Haste as he came to a stop. Time seemed to slow as the spell increased his reflexes, and his eyes darted with impossible quickness over the clash and clamor of battle.
Then, he hurled his first Wind Blade, tracing the spell as it cut a line as wide as his forearm in one of the eight-limbed sand elementals that had just tossed a warrior with a warhammer that had stepped up to fill in for an injured spearman.
Half of the creature fell to the ground, lifeless and inert sand, while one of its remaining four limbs hammered into the shield of a spear-wielding woman, knocking her back a step. He cast the spell a second time, watching the beast get bisected once again. This time, it did not stand back up, drawing a cheer from the soldiers Micah had just assisted.
