A Soldier's Life

Chapter 177: Boss Fight

The mage’s wails of anger echoed as I shuffled down the corridor. I fumbled with the cap of the aether potion and drank more than I intended in my haste. I immediately began directing the aether to heal my injuries.

My head started to clear. The body of the ice drake should slow the mage down. Suddenly, I was shoved hard from behind by multiple impacts. Arcane bolts sizzled into my armor, creating burning holes, and reaching my flesh. This was not a fair fight if I could not get close to the damned elven summoner to remove his head. Two of the strikes hit the back of my thighs, scorching my hamstrings and making my escape even more difficult as my legs struggled to work properly.

I could really use that greater healing potion I gave Maveith right about now. I pulled out the last lesser healing potion I took from Raelia and drank it. It did not help much with my extensive injuries, but it did close my wounds. The minor numbing and cooling effect across my skin was also welcome.

I had other potions and drank one of the major stamina potions. It collided with the remnants of the healing potion in my stomach, creating a burning, nauseous sensation. Maybe mixing potions was not a good idea, but the warm, revitalizing energy flooded my damaged body, allowing me to break into a run. The pain faded like a bad memory, though I knew I would be in a world of hurt once the potion wore off.

I did not look back for the summoner as I turned into the corridor leading to the earth drake. The earth drake lay dead, just as we had left it. I was halfway across the large chamber, just past the drake, when I slammed into an invisible wall. The jarring halt to my sprint sent me bouncing backward, landing hard on the dirt-covered floor. I scrambled back to use the drake’s body as cover. I thought I had broken my nose, as blood flowed freely across my lips and down my chin, and I spat out the metallic taste.

When things settled, I panted heavily. “You’re fast for an old man,” I said in my limited elvish, hoping to confuse him. Instead, he laughed.

“You are butchering a beautiful language, legionnaire. Just another reason you have to die.” There was madness, anger, and condescension in his tone. I thought I had done a fairly respectable job speaking it.

I was not going to talk my way out of this, and he would not let me escape. Raelia would probably side with the summoner if I brought her out. I doubted the goblin would be much help—maybe a distraction at best. I retrieved the black-tipped spear, the spider-engraved short sword, and another greater stamina potion from my dimensional space.

I gripped the spear, my only weapon that could be used as a ranged weapon. “I’m sorry about your ice drake. But she did not seem to be in a playful mood,” I taunted, hoping to provoke him into making a mistake. But I immediately regretted my words—the fly does not antagonize the spider when caught.

“Kylma was a dear friend…” Using his voice as my guide, I stood and hurled the spear at the summoner. He waved his right hand, and I saw the flash of a spellform. He was a skilled mage, creating spells almost instantly and with just one hand. The spear thudded into another invisible wall, causing an echo in the room. I ducked back behind the carcass of the earth drake.

This was not going well. The spear was my only ranged weapon unless I wanted to start throwing purple potatoes at him. His imperious voice echoed in the room, “Did you kill this earth drake as well? I suppose it was not much more difficult than a wyvern.” There was an amused tone, as it was clear he had me cornered. His quick shifts in emotion worried me, and he might have lost his grip on sanity.

Feeling the effects of the stamina potion fading, I drank the second one while the standoff continued. It was a struggle to keep the potion down. Drinking so many potions in such a short time was probably not wise. With the black blade in one hand and the spider blade in the other, I planned to rush for the exit. I hoped that whatever invisible wall he had put up, I could destroy it with the two runic weapons, then descend the stairs to the safe room and escape the dungeon.

I took a deep breath and released my distraction, my aether getting dangerously low. The goblin did not cooperate. Instead of running and pulling the summoner’s attention, it was disoriented and tried to hide under the earth drake’s body, squeezing itself into the ground in a desperate attempt to disappear. Shit, the goblin was useless—or maybe just smarter than me, considering the situation. No time had passed for it, and it had been paralyzed with fear when I returned it to my dimensional space.

I pushed off the floor, my blades extended, and searched for the invisible wall. The black blade made contact first, and I swung the spider blade overhead. The wall had a slight reverberation to it. I attacked in a berserk frenzy, and the spider blade drew on my aether with each strike, draining me dangerously. I never defeated the wall. Instead, the world lit up as energy surged around me. Lightning engulfed me, forcing my muscles to clench, and straining my joints painfully.

When the lightning stopped, all I could smell was burnt flesh, and my vision was blurry. I groaned and rolled on the dirt, trying to focus on healing my eyes and ears while ignoring the pain. The soft shuffle of feet reached my ears. The mage was approaching. I continued to moan pitifully—it did not take much effort—and hoped the mage would come within ten feet.

Through my bloodshot eyes, I saw the hem of the summoner’s dark blue robes. Then, the bastard stopped twenty feet away! I had expected some gloating speech and was not disappointed. “Legionnaire...” The goblin took that moment to scramble over the drake and flee the one-sided battle.

The mage turned toward the noise, and I rolled to my knees, planted my foot, and lunged toward him. My body protested the rapid movement, but I just needed to get close enough. I focused on the mage’s head and tried to send it to my dimensional space.

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My veins began to burn with an uncomfortable intensity, warning me of being overtaxed. I had been pushing my aether reserves for the last several minutes, refilling and depleting them repeatedly. Castile had warned me about the risk of burning out my aether channels, and my body was telling me I was getting close. But it did not matter because I had won.

Then came the backlash of Traeliorn’s resistance. Not only did his head remain, but it felt as though mine had been severed. Time seemed to slow as I fell to the ground. I flung the spider blade at the mage, who was turning to face me again. His aether shield flared, but the runic weapon penetrated it enough to cut into the hand he had put up to block it. The cut was not deep, but I would have laughed if I were not in such a tremendous amount of pain.

I fumbled inside my armor for the aether potion, only to find that the vial had cracked, leaving me with wet dirt. I sucked on the dirty vial, trying to get even a drop of the restorative potion, but all I got was grit and crunchiness in my mouth and just a hint of aether.

Traeliorn moved slowly toward me. I was helpless and could only watch. He bent down to pick up the spider blade, more interested in it than in finishing me off. As he examined the blade, his face twisted with concern. His eyes moved from the blade to me, and he spoke, “A mage assassin then. I would have never guessed it by your looks, boy. Still, I do not need magic to deal with you.”

He expertly spun the short blade in his hand, then frowned. His eyes hardened, and he attacked. I was weaponless, my black blade a dozen steps behind me. I pulled one of the fire bear pelts from my dimensional space, using it as a momentary shield. From this minuscule expenditure of aether, my veins felt as if they were filled with acid. I scrambled back to retrieve my long black blade. It worked, and I stood facing the irate summoner. Although standing might be too strong a word—I could barely force my body to an upright position.

Traeliorn did not hesitate and rushed me, the short spider blade dancing dangerously in his skilled hands. The exchange was fast. I thought myself an equal swordsman, but I was heavily injured, and he scored a light slash on the back of my hand, parting the flesh and exposing the tendon underneath. I moved to create some distance and tried to heal the wound.

Nothing. I could not feel my tiny amount of aether in my core or any aether at all. It was slippery as I tried to command it. The summoner smirked, “Not so fun when it happens to you.” The spider blade had a grimy, oily coating—it must have been what blocked my access to aether, that or it emptied my aether core.

The pause in our fight gave me a chance to ask a question. “Is it permanent?”

“It is your blade, legionnaire. Do you not know what a magebane is?” He narrowed his eyes, suspicious that I might be trying to trick him. He obviously was not going to tell me much, but I figured he would be angrier if it was permanent.

Suddenly, the goblin dashed out, and both of us turned to watch. It had circled back and picked up the spear, struggling with its weight. I thought it might help me, but instead, it ran off with the spear down the corridor toward the dead owlbear. The summoner looked bemused by my shock.

Traeliorn shifted his stance, removing his robes in a flourish to give himself greater movement. I drew my belt knife in my off-hand as we circled each other. He took a side stance to reduce his profile, while I angled mine to bring the dagger into play. We engaged again, my joints protesting at the required speed.

“Not just a mage, then?” I asked after a few exchanges, sporting several slashes on my armor. I had the longer reach, yet I was losing. He probably had centuries of practice, and my dreamscape amulet was showing just how effective it was at focusing my training, but it was ultimately insufficient against his experience and my injuries.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The elf smirked, speaking in Latin for the first time. “I have kept fit through the centuries, training with some of the best Rangers in Bartiradia. I can usually hold my own with a blade, but you are not unskilled.” I acknowledged the compliment with a nod. He did not allow me to rest and moved to engage again.

Slowly, I started to feel and hint at control of my aether core again—the poison from the spider blade wearing off. If his aether returned, I was doomed. The problem was that Traeliorn was not giving me an opening, and he countered any of my attempts to create one. The deadly dance continued, and I kept trying to coalesce my aether. Though it was there, it was like trying to collect water with a sieve.

Finally! I managed to pull the elven spear I retrieved from the ancient armory into my hand. I dropped both blades in favor of the ancient weapon, parrying Traeliorn’s attack and sweeping the spear in an arc as he retreated. His right thigh now sported a deep gash, with some of the muscle exposed.

I did not give him time to react, pressing the attack. Traeliorn was now hobbled, and suddenly, I had the advantage. He seemed unfamiliar with fighting against a spear. I scored a hit to his abdomen, then another to the injured thigh. He tried to retrieve something from his belt, but that was his downfall. I drove the spear into his sternum, pinning him to the wall.

He was trying to thumb the top off a potion in his hand. Instead of stopping him, I moved in close and wrenched the magebane blade from his grasp. He brought the potion to his lips, but I used the spider blade to open his throat. The poison coating the blade as I slashed. My aether channels burned as the blade sucked what little aether my body had to create its supernatural concoction. The potion tried to heal the wound, so I sawed away frantically until his head was severed.

The mage’s body slid down the wall, the spear tip scraping the stone as it went. With his head in one hand and the dripping spider blade in the other, I dropped the head and joined him on the ground. The adrenaline of battle ebbed away, and every injury on my body began screaming as the rush faded.

I pulled a canteen of water from my dimensional space, ignoring the aether burn from the action. I drained it dry, belching loudly. I did not bother offering any to the summoner. Exhaustion swept over me, amplified by the potions, the aether backlash, the poison, and my wounds. If I slept here, I would likely wake up inside an earth drake stomach.

I gathered my black blade and positioned the mage’s body and head on his robes before starting to drag it back to the safe room. Once the pain of the aether burn lessened, I would use the collector on him. The corridors seemed much longer than they had before, and every step was a chore. The ice drake was still mostly blocking the corridor—I needed to use the collector on it soon or risk losing its essence. I pulled the mage past the drake and into the safe room.

The black spear was near the owlbear in the center of the safe room, and the goblin had rummaged through my pack, consuming everything that was edible. It was now in a contented food coma, oblivious to my presence. I guessed it had not eaten in days. I glanced at the dungeon exit, wondering how the company was managing.

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