Chương 59

Shit's About to Get Real Allaria said that Stonehaven was known as 'the city on the hill', and as it came into view for the first time, I immediately understood why. It had been built on an incline. It was gentle at first, but quickly grew steeper towards the heart of the city. A huge castle stood at the very peak, surrounded by manors and grand estates. As my gaze drifted lower, the buildings became less impressive, stone soon giving way to wood.

Many of the buildings sat within the protection of the formidable stone wall that ran around the base of the incline. I guessed it had once surrounded the entire city, but that was no longer the case. Beyond its boundaries, people had continued to build, and thousands of structures had sprung up around it.

"No," said Allaria softly.

"It can't be…" The note of dread in her voice snapped me back to my senses, and I pulled my gaze away from the city to look at her. She had gone even paler than usual, staring ahead with wide eyes. She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, there was a little fire in her voice.

"Lokta'Inif." I followed her gaze. A huge ogre in blood-red chainmail, her skin the colour of sand, strode down the main road from the city. She was not alone. A small army followed her – fifty at least – and judging by their armour and weapons, they were all Trialists. I glanced back at my companions and did a little mental arithmetic. Fifty versus five. Now, if my calculations were correct, that meant they had forty-five more people than us.

I wasn't much of a gambler, but even I recognised those weren't great odds. I really hoped this was going to be an extreme case of quality over quantity.

"Huh," I said, scratching the back of my neck.

"I think we might be a tiny bit outnumbered." Rel waved a paw dismissively.

"The wolf does not fear the flock."

"And in this particular instance, we're the wolves?"

"Yes… well, actually, you, Kaelis, Allaria and Voklum are the wolves."

"And what about you?"

"Me?" He shrugged.

"I'm the arboreal observer." Of course.

"The two walking beside her are Lendoria and Malior," said Allaria.

"They're Lokta'Inif's most trusted lieutenants, and both rank in the top ten for total stat gains. As for the rest… I recognise some of them from my time in the guild. They're not on quite the same level, but they're still formidable – all of them rank in the top two hundred." Lendoria looked like a child walking beside Lokta'Inif, barely reaching her waist in height. She was slim, with skin as pale as snow. Her face was framed by long blonde hair cut just above her shoulders.

Her eyes did not have pupils or irises - they were nothing but pools of red. She wore long black robes with shimmering silver patterns flowing across the fabric. Now, I don't like to judge a book by its cover, but she looked like a bit of an asshole. As she approached, she studied us the same way someone might when lifting their foot to inspect the particularly putrid dog shit they'd just stepped in. Malior was… well, imagine the Hulk. Then imagine him with two extra arms.

Then imagine him covered from head to toe in dark grey plate armour. The fingers of each of his gauntlets ended in sharp claws. Runes were etched into the metal, glowing a faint red. When they were around fifty metres away, Lokta'Inif and her army came to a stop. She took several steps forward, standing apart from the rest of her force, then clasped her hands behind her back as she studied us. Her eyes widened briefly when they settled on Allaria, then her lips twisted in a cruel sneer.

"My dear Allaria," she said, shaking her head in mock sadness.

"It is so good of you to return to us. We were devastated when you left without saying goodbye. Your friends… what were their names again? Drex? Zerrin?"

"Draxis. Zerra. Voln. Kaeth," said Allaria softly, a murderous rage blazing in her eyes.

"Of course!" replied Lokta'Inif.

"How silly of me; I can be a little forgetful sometimes. Yes, we had a wonderful time with your friends after you left. Their whimpering, their howling, their begging for mercy… it was all so much fun."

"Don't!" said Kaelis, grabbing one of Allaria's arms as she tried to launch herself at Lokta'Inif. Voklum seized her other arm, and together they held her back.

"Control yourself, Allaria. Throwing your life away will achieve nothing." Lokta'Inif laughed, then turned her attention to me.

"You must be Peter Brookes…" Her words trailed off as she looked me up and down.

"I must say, I've been very much looking forward to meeting you. You have something I want." Before I could respond, the air filled with the crackle of lightning. Rel rose into the air. I glanced at him and wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. His face wore an expression I'd come to know very well over the past six months. Shit-talking King Rel had arrived. He floated towards Lokta'Inif, his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. He circled her, humming thoughtfully to himself.

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"Allaria told me you were stupid," he said.

"But she failed to mention how ugly you are. I'm surprised – it doesn't seem like something anyone would be able to forget. Then again, maybe looking at your face traumatised her so much her brain repressed the memory." His statement was met with a few seconds of stunned silence. Then Lokta'Inif's minions absolutely lost their minds. Dozens of outraged voices filled the air, spittle flying as they rather inelegantly described what they were going to do to Rel for daring to insult the Overlady. He wasn't done.

"And your breath? I've never smelt anything like it. Every time I float past your face, it takes every ounce of my willpower not to vomit explosively. Seriously. What did you have for breakfast this morning? A steaming bowl of shit?" Apparently, he'd gone too far this time. One of Lokta'Inif's thugs roared and leaped forward, drawing a dagger as he hurtled through the air towards Rel. Rel didn't even turn to face him. With a casual flick of his tail, a fireball shot out to intercept the incoming moron.

The spell swatted him out of the air mid-flight, and he crashed to the ground, smoke curling from the smouldering ruin that had once been his face. The rest of the angry mob fell silent. Apparently, seeing your buddy's face melt had a sobering effect. Lokta'Inif, however, remained entirely unfazed. She smirked as her eyes tracked Rel's floating form. It had finally happened… we'd met someone Rel couldn't drive into a murderous rage with nothing more than his words. It was even worse than that… she'd enjoyed it.

"I'm very familiar with you, Squire Rel," she said.

"Admittedly, my research mostly centred on Peter Brookes, but given your connection, I've heard all about you. What was it my agents told me…? Ah, yes, I remember now.

'He's an arrogant squirrel who suffers from delusions of grandeur. Despite being an unremarkable practitioner of the arcane arts, he tells anyone willing to listen that he is an archmagus.' Based on what I've seen so far, I think they've earned bonus pay. Their assessment appears to be incredibly accurate." Rel froze, suspended in the air, staring at Lokta'Inif through narrowed eyes.' Here it comes' I thought. At any moment, the lightning would start raging and the battle would begin. Instead… He laughed.

"Well played," he said, floating back towards us. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"I suppose we'll handle this the old-fashioned way. Once all is said and done, we'll see if you still consider me 'an unremarkable practitioner of the arcane arts'."

"I've got to say," said Lokta'Inif, "I've rather enjoyed this meeting. It's just a shame the ending will be so… anticlimactic. You may be first in total stat gains, Peter Brookes, but that small advantage will avail you nothing. You are severely outmatched. Are you so arrogant as to think the five of you alone can stand against me and my force?"

"Mister Pete is not alone, bitch." What the fuck. My head whipped around to find the source of the oh-so-familiar voice. Emerging from the trees to our left was an enormous orc, almost as large as Lokta'Inif herself. He lumbered towards us, his pale green, scar-ridden face splitting into a broad smile. Behind him came another twenty orcs, each and every one a mean-looking bastard. Well, all of them except the one trailing at the back, at least a dozen paces behind the rest.

His eyes darted around constantly, as if he were already planning an escape route for when the fighting kicked off. They all looked rather dashing, if I do say so myself. Every one of them wore a spotless black tunic, the letters 'PPP' embroidered on the front in silver thread.

"Dekrek! Mogdun! Pete's Peasant Patrol!" I shouted, waving enthusiastically as they strode towards us.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ah, well…" said Mogdun, as he moved hesitantly to the front of the group.

"You told us that Pete's Peasant Patrol was formed to protect the innocents who live in the region. Well, me and the lads were talking about it, and we realised that no one poses a bigger threat than Lokta'Inif. We knew you were coming here, so we figured you might need some help." Honestly, I felt a little emotional… Before I could respond, Lokta'Inif's laughter pissed all over the moment and ruined it.

"You think this changes anything? Five Trialists and twenty worthless locals?" She turned to face the small army behind her.

"It's time to bring an end to this farce. With me–""Oh, but we're not done yet…" said Rel, as if he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment. He raised a paw, and an abyssal portal began to form, tearing a hole in reality itself. It expanded rapidly, growing to over eight feet in height. Then it stabilised. Commander Osian emerged first, looking magnificent in his Blackflame Plate. He was closely followed by his knights, each now equipped with armour from the Tower of Potential.

Some wore the void-black armour of Tarridor, the Undead Champion of Necrodar. Others wore the shimmering silver Divine Plate Mail of King Azzarath. Their weapons were equally impressive. Bone Reavers. Great Axes of the Demon King. Avatar's Judgments. Steel Bark Blades. They all turned to face Rel, and, in perfect unison, dropped to one knee.

"Rise Commander Osian and my skeletal knights," said Rel.

"The greatest foe we have yet faced stands before us." After Rel's epic interruption and the spectacular arrival of Osian and his knights, I may have gotten a bit carried away and shouted, "Oh, but we're not done yet…" Over seventy pairs of eyes fixed on me. Their faces were a mixture of emotions. Confusion from my allies, who knew with absolute certainty that we were, in fact, done.

And no small amount of panic from Lokta'Inif's thugs, who were now no doubt feeling a little less confident about their odds of victory. Shit. Think, Pete. Think. And then a single thought struck me… He was going to be pissed. Elirion, the Weaver. Elirion appeared, still rocking the jean shorts and Hawaiian shirt. His eyes narrowed as he materialised, and he turned slowly on the spot, taking in the scene.

"Boy," he said softly, a dangerous note in his voice, "why do I get the feeling you have not summoned me to seek guidance with Aura Manipulation?"

"Ahh…" I said, my ears suddenly feeling very warm.

"Sorry, Sensei. I got a little caught up in the moment and thought of you." Elirion sighed.

"I've told you before. The Essence exists to–" Lendoria moved to stand beside Lokta'Inif, her lips curling back in a snarl as her empty red eyes bore into Elirion.

"This is who you bring to face us?" she hissed.

"A senile old fool in the most hideous clothing I've ever seen? You're a truly pathetic creature, Peter Brookes. I pray the Overlady allows me the honour of killing you." I didn't hear anything that came after 'hideous clothing'. I was too busy looking at Elirion. The muscles in his jaw were twitching violently. He took several deep breaths, attempting to calm the overwhelming urge to melt her brain. It didn't work. He turned, slowly and deliberately, to face Lendoria.

I couldn't see his face anymore, but it must have been quite the sight, because Lendoria flinched and took a step back.

"A senile old fool, am I?" roared Elirion, his voice a deafening force that seemed to shake the very air. Lendoria's knees gave way.

"The most hideous clothing you've ever seen?" She let out a wheezing gasp, reaching up to claw at her throat.

"I am Elirion the Weaver. I wield power beyond your comprehension. I have been a saviour and a tyrant. A king and a conqueror. I have seen civilisations rise and fall. I have been worshipped as a god… and I have brought gods to their knees." He took a step towards her.

"What are you, child, when compared to me? You're nothing but a gnat, an insignificant speck. You think you know power? You know nothing." She began to choke, blood pouring from her eyes, ears, and nose.

"Allow me to educate you." She raised a pleading hand towards Lokta'Inif, but for the first time since I'd met her, the Overlady of Stonehaven looked afraid. Lendoria collapsed. Her body went still. Elirion turned to face me, his anger departing as quickly as it had arrived.

"Damnit, boy," he muttered, suddenly sounding very sheepish.

"This is going to cause me all sorts of bother. G. E. C are not going to be impressed that I've murdered one of their Trialists." He sighed.

"I'm going to have to send them one hell of a fruit basket to make up for this." He stared at me. Hard.

"Listen carefully, boy. If you summon me for something like this again, you and I will fall out. It will not be an enjoyable experience for you." With that, he faded away.

"Well," I said, shrugging awkwardly, "at least that's one less of them for us to deal with."