Wham! Almost like he was squashing a cockroach with a broom, Gaius brought his faussar down and split Dionysius’s head in two. Without even a chance to cry out, the so-called “guild’s strongest” met his end.
“Gwoh!” Matthew the ogre took the opportunity to bring his sword crashing down. Gaius dodged the blow, but Chas was by then waiting for him with his longsword at the ready.
Gaius brought his faussar up to block, but the middle-aged adventurer feinted with a vertical chop and swiftly shifted to a horizontal slash instead. This was a technique which allowed one to easily manipulate their sword’s movement and control a fight. There was a ting! as metal clashed on metal; Gaius had anticipated the feint and moved his own sword accordingly to block the oncoming attack. Loathe to turn this into a contest of pure strength, Chas didn’t push the attack, instead jumping back with an irritated cluck of his tongue.
That was as far as Gaius’s skill could take him, however. He had nothing left to block Melinda’s attack as she darted up to him from behind, swift as a swallow. Her horseman’s flail drew an arc as she swung it into his side, and the blow connected with considerable force.
This was a weapon meant specifically for bludgeoning armored foes. The strike hit Gaius’s coat of plate, rattling his organs and bones even through the thick armor. That one attack would have felled a normal fighter.
“There we...” she began, but this was no normal opponent. Gaius had realized that he would be unable to avoid her blow and had steeled himself to take it. “...go?”
There was the sickening sound of flesh and bone being crushed. In exchange for landing a single hit, Melinda took a blow to the face from the hilt of Gaius’s faussar. Anyone could see that the weapon had caved her face in.
“Urgh...” With a groan of pain, Gaius leapt away from his foes, nearly turning a cartwheel to get the most distance. He’d managed to avoid the full force of all of his opponents’ attacks. The elder was wailing from his pouch on Gaius’s back, but he had no time to concern himself with the old kobold.
“Aw, fuck! He got two of ’em in an instant, the monster.” Chas took up his stance again with another cluck of his tongue. Matthew reacted to the word “monster”, but Chas noticed and continued derisively, “Not you. Obviously.”
That’s when Homer finally stepped forward, armor clanking. His heavy arms and armor, and his position relative to the others, had prevented him from joining the exchange of blows. If the mad bull had been involved, the Kobold King may not have still been standing. Of course, Gaius knew that, which was why he’d specifically drawn the ox-tongue spear-wielder to attack him.
“Would you hurry it up, Homer?” Chas shouted irritably. “Because of you, our six against one is down to three against one in no time flat.”
“It’s three against two!” A voice came from the Kobold King’s back, but the adventurers didn’t seem to hear it.
“It’s not my fault,” Homer replied. “Dionysius was too hasty.”
“Well, yeah, but...”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m more than a match for him on my own,” boasted the ogre.
“Would it kill you to be a little cooperative here, Matthew?” Chas responded.
Gaius took a look around as the three bickered. None of the other adventurers made any move to assist them, not even the archers or sorcerers. They all seemed to defer to this group, or perhaps they feared them too much to get involved. Of course, they could also be considering the possibility of accidentally hitting their allies.
“Old-timer. Get a message to Miss Sashalia for me, if you would.”
“Will you make it?” the old kobold asked after Gaius whispered his plan to him.
“We’re short on time. We should have them get started. I’ll get through here and head for the river as fast as I can.”
“Got it,” the elder nodded and slipped back into the rucksack.
＊
The knight Heatley had taken over the late Dawson’s role as the leader of the rear guard. He was currently stationed a little down the river from where Darke’s attack squad was, gathering and treating the injured from the Adventurers’ Guild. They lay all over the ground as they waited for treatment, filling the riverbed with their cries of pain. Some had lost their fighting arms to the Black Rose of Igris; others had been impaled on spikes in traps and could no longer walk. One man had been attacked by a bugbear and was deemed a lost cause after being carried here, so they’d just left him on the ground. He’d breathed his last only a moment ago. Others were bleeding worse than they’d initially appeared to be; it was likely that only about half of the injured would survive their injuries.
“This wouldn’t have happened if they’d come at me instead of Dawson,” Heatley grumbled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He was half irritated at the situation he now found himself in and half annoyed at the ease with which his colleague had been dispatched by the enemy.
The young man, who’d once brought down a band of thieves all on his own, was the most skilled of the knights under Wyatt’s employ. However, because of this, he had a tendency to rely too much on his own strength and look down on those around him. Knowing that, Wyatt had purposely stationed him at the rear instead of sending him upriver with the main force. It was hard to say if this had been a smart use of his subordinates or not.
“It’s getting cloudy,” the young knight muttered, looking up at what was visible of the sky through the trees. The healing sorcerers they’d brought along who had been tending to the adventurers’ wounds with magic followed his gaze and looked up as well. As Heatley had said, clouds were starting to pass across the sun, gradually darkening the forest even though it was the middle of the day.
“It’s pretty hot. It’s not gonna be good if it rains.”
“Yeah, that’d be a pain.”
They were treating the wounded under the open sky, and there was no time or manpower to put up tents. If it started to rain, it would take even longer to get the injured stabilized, and it would be harder to keep them there.
“Mhm,” came the half-hearted reply of one of the sorcerers, as he moved on to his next patient without so much as a glance at Heatley.
“...Hmm?” Next to them, a bearded adventurer who had been bandaging one of the injured stood up and cocked his head with a puzzled look on his face.
“What is it?”
“Well...do you hear rain?”
“Hm?” Heatley strained his ears. “...I do. Has it already started?”
“I don’t feel anything.” The young knight and adventurer exchanged a mystified look.
Their ears didn’t deceive them. Not a drop of water was falling, but they clearly heard the sound of rain under the darkened sky.
＊
The agile Chas would block and deflect Gaius’s attack. Matthew would then strike with a quick slash, and while Gaius’s movements were restricted, Homer would swing his hammer.
Or, Homer would block Gaius’s attack with his heavy armor while the other two struck at him. They were improvising, but using their various strengths to their advantage as they worked together.
They launched a few blows, jumped back, then struck out again. The three men had come at Gaius in this way six times now. Change came on the seventh.
Chas struck at him first to limit Gaius’s movements. His aim wasn’t to do damage; it was to force him to react, limiting the number of decisions he could make. So he was casual as he made his move against Gaius, intending to dodge or deflect the return blow as he’d done before.
Snap! This time, instead of attempting to strike at Chas, Gaius aimed only for his opponent’s sword. Chas’s longsword was rendered useless when about two-thirds of its blade snapped off.
“Ack?!” Chas hesitated, and a huge fist grabbed his right hand. Gaius swung his arm back and threw his enemy somewhere behind him without looking. The black-haired adventurer flew through the air with a strangled cry and crashed hard into Matthew’s face as the ogre was preparing to hit Gaius from behind. His huge frame swayed, a grunt of anger escaping his lips.