Chapter I Part 7: Apprentice
The air atop the Red Spires was still warm from the recent explosion, and the pungent, smell of smokepowder was still very strong. The fires around them seemed to have died down yet there was an unexplainable feeling of trepidation that lingered. The leader of the garrison-no doubt the most powerful creature in it-was already taken care of. “What else do we have to worry about?” Azareth Starsmiter stopped moving as the person in front of him had, and thought–as most wizards do every now and then. Mental preparation was an important thing for any arcane spellcaster.
“How many prepared spells remaining? How many arrows do I have left? Where is Master now? How many more of those non-orcs are there still alive again?” These were just a few of the many thoughts floating through Azareth’s mind. “A Wizard must always be prepared”.
Three faint swishing noises coming from the opened door nearly disturbed his concentration. He was sure though, that they clearly were not the sound of a door being opened. It was the sound of an ambush, or at least, this is what Azareth assumed after hearing Alioth cry out in pain. The Aasimar stumbled back with three black-shafted arrows sticking out of his chest.
“Tyr! Give me strength!” he yelled, steeling himself and breaking the shafts of the arrows off with a swipe of his sword. His face still twisted in a grimace of pain, Alioth rushed into the room with his sword at the ready.
The space between Azareth and the room was now clear as the paladin charged forward. The elf saw that the barracks was lit by a number of torches on the walls. There were also beds were arranged in two rows of three from where he stood.
Familiar angry and very intimidating growls could be heard coming from across the room. Azareth instantly recognized them. “Non-Or–Hobgoblins again. Four of them.” Three of them were carrying longbows and were smiling-or perhaps grinning menacingly-as if they had accomplished something great. The fourth one, dressed in black robes and plate armor, was wearing a symbol that, to Azareth, looked very much unholy and evil. It was a black armored fist with rays of light in its grasp.
“That does not look good,” thought the elf.
It certainly did not make him feel any better that he seemed to have nearly run out of spells fit for the occasion. “Master would have easily taken these annoying or–hobgoblins out, even without spells.” Azareth thought. “It is very unfortunate that I am not as skilled as he was in battle.”
“At least I can still do this.” The former student of Fyren started waving his arms, which were now radiating with blue energy, in intricate patterns. “Fyrath Chiro Embel!” recited Azareth while simultaneously grabbing the first weapon he saw: Kieran’s rapier. Energy flowed from Azareth to the weapon as the spell took effect. Azareth noticed a peculiar thing about the weapon’s glow.
“There seems to be something– different about my spell” Azareth thought. “Did I-”
“Wait, Kieran, may I ask, is your rapier one of high quality?” the Wizard asked.
“Yes” Kieran proudly nodded. The now-enchanted rapier was glowing a soft shade of blue though nothing else about the weapon seemed to have changed. That was when he remembered.
“I should have checked first!” exclaimed Azareth. The Magic Weapon spell was useless on a masterwork weapon. “A spell wasted”.
Alioth stopped charging forward a few feet in front of the entire group, raising his shield to protect himself, and his allies, from any more arrows. Acantha ran forward next to the wounded paladin, closing her eyes and putting her hands together in prayer to Kelemvor. A faint outline of the holy symbols of Kelemvor started materializing, revolving around Acantha’s hands. The symbols exploded in a burst of bright light, and three arrowheads fell from Alioth’s wounds.
“Be strong Alioth” Acantha said as his injuries healed.
Alioth grasped his greatsword tighter, readying himself for an attack.
“What in the Nine Hells is everyone doing blundering into rooms, getting shot?!” half-screamed Milica, their supposed leader as she watched the unorganized and unplanned counter-ambush take place. Azareth felt the urge to agree with Milica, they were not making any progress with what they were doing now. Knowing how to plan as a group seemed to be what they all lacked. “Except maybe for that one time down in th-”
“At least we don’t stand around shouting!” replied Kieran, charging forward as well to get in front of Acantha and Alioth, making Azareth snap out of his deep thought. ”Oh wait, why am I in front of the Paladin?!” said Kieran, finally noticing where she was standing.
The hobgoblin cleric closed his eyes and raised his arms up, glowing with energy and strange looking symbols. He chanted words that were obviously tinged with evil. “You fools shall witness the might of Bane!” With that Prayer, the air seemed to feel colder. The atmosphere seemed darker.
“Tyr shall protect me from your evil!” Alioth said in reply to what the Hobgoblin had said, sounding more alive than ever.
One of the hobgoblins reached for his side. He pulled out a large two handed sword, a bastard sword, and held his ground, eyeing everyone in the room. Another drew an arrow and fired at Milica, the shot narrowly missing her arm.
Azareth was still outside the barracks watching all of this happen. Wasting his spell on Kieran’s weapon made him more cautious about using any more spells, or even moving without thinking for that matter. One of the hobgoblins started moving again, drawing another arrow from its quiver. With another swish, that arrow flew across the room, hitting Kieran. “A little help would be appreciated!”
“I’m not going to forget something like that again. I just need to er–think more.” With that, Azareth rushed in the barracks. As he ran up beside Acantha, he started casting a spell he had used not too long ago. Waving his arms furiously, rushing to finish yet concentrating on tiny detail. His arms started glowing with, again, blue energy, except this time in a deeper shade and brighter intensity. He faced the Cleric of Bane and started chanting in a voice that sounded as if it was not his own.
“Suni Va Arast! Foozhing!” A streak of lightning flew across the room, the sound of thunder echoing with it. After burning two of the beds in the room, it hit two Hobgoblins, the cleric and the hobgoblin who had tried to fire at Milica. “A spell as powerful as Lightning Bolt is almost sure to-”. The wizard’s thoughts were cut short by the two hobgoblins still standing upright. “Another miscalculation” Azareth murmured under his breath.
Azareth was still on his toes. He could already count the number of spells he had left, which was obviously not a good thing. “I might have to take this more defensively.”
Acantha on the other hand, was attacking in full force, confronting the hobgoblin who had just drawn its sword. The cleric raised her aspergillum and took a quick swing to the hobgoblin’s shoulder. It was a strong enough swing to make the hobgoblin howl in pain, but not strong enough to make it lose its focus. The hobgoblin merely stood up straight again, but this time with a furious look on its face and growling at Acantha.
“What kind of a blow was that?” It was another side-comment by Swordcaptain Milica.
“You should always aim low!”
With that said, she did something that the two men in the party tried their very best to forget.
“I’d rather not hear that.” Alioth said in discomfort. Azareth was thinking the same thing. Even Acantha was shaking her head for the same reason.
In a similar fashion to her attack down in the first floor, Milica ducked down next to the hobgoblin Acantha had attacked and forced her rapier into its groin. Not only was it a direct hit but it was an exceptionally powerful one as well. However, the poor hobgoblin was still alive, the look on its face was a look of pain beyond comprehension. Despite all this, the hobgoblin with no hope at all for future children merely howled at a nearly deafening volume at Milica, readying his sword again.
“Rgh! It worked the first time!” Milica said in frustration.
Kieran showed no compassion at all for the hobgoblin in pain, probably in an attempt to best Milica. As if without pity, she ran up towards it and slashed. In a spatter of blood, her blue glowing rapier sliced through the creature’s exposed brownish-yellow arm. Another howl came from the creature but even after that, it was still alive.
“Hey, you mus-”
Kieran stopped talking when she noticed the black-robed cleric was trying to grab her with his hand-which was sheathed in energy as black and putrid as cesspool water. The contagion spell narrowly missed the rogue, who dodged in time, with the spell charging in his hand fizzing out.
“You like my piece?” Kieran said as she waved her blue rapier at the cleric.
Another arrow zoomed across the room. It was directed at Alioth, who wasn’t lucky enough to dodge out of the way. The arrow pierced through his arm as he was defending himself from a slash from another hobgoblin. “Curse you foul creature!” Allioth said in anger.
Kieran was just there, recovering from slipping away from the cleric. After dodging a spell, it seemed like she would be fine. The hobgoblin beside her circled his sword above his head, and swung it downwards. It was too late to evade when she noticed it. The sword cut through her like cloth, gashing through her entire torso. Kieran fell to the floor with a thud, bleeding. The hobgoblin roared in triumph.
Milica was the first to notice their fallen comrade. Azareth saw that she was breathing heavily, and for a second, he thought he saw her eyes water up.
“I wanted. To do that myself!”
Acantha was right beside Kieran when it happened. As another hobgoblin aimed his bow to attack her, she shouted in rage at the one carrying a bastard sword.
“KELEMVOR TAKE YOU!”
Azareth was breathing heavily as well. Just a while ago, his attempt to help Kieran failed to work, and now, she was on the floor dying. He felt an immensely strong, sudden need to do something, anything to help out now. Thinking about what to do seemed less important now to him. He just needed to act, and fast. Azareth ran on top of one of the beds and started waving his arms once more. His hands were shining a bright orange-red that grew brighter until finally igniting with yellow flames.
“Firol Driar Ima!” Azareth chanted as he swung his arms sideways from his shoulders, the flames moving from his hands to the hobgoblins. The Burning Hands did its work. The Cleric and two others were severly burned by the spell. Yet, again, they still survived.
“When will you hobgoblins die?”
Alioth lowered his sword to attack, ignoring the flames around him. He swung his sword upwards, the cleric bending backwards to avoid it.
Azareth was thinking that all hope was lost. He felt as if the world was moving too fast for him. A companion had fallen, all because of an ambush. He blamed himself, for not being ready, for not preparing, for not thinking. But most of all for not acting. He could’ve done more. Deep in his mind he prayed to Mystra, goddess of magic, for anything to help them now.
At that exact moment, Azareth heard a loud crash. Lesamien Xelephia Vaebar and Nealla, her elven hound, had just burst through the door.
Leave a Reply