Chương 98: 32 – The Second Battle of Pemolar’s Hill

Dobretin helped me up the last few rungs of the ladder. A crowd of people had filled the gap between the road and the river. When I looked back, I could see much of my family's farm, and even the pepper pits to the north. Many of us had clay pepper paste balls, and I carried a freshly filled pouch of the spray opposite my crossbow. They stank to high heaven. I felt disgusting, soaking wet, and I'd slipped on the ladder to climb up here more than once. I was still happy to be invited to the top of the wall.

It already looked quite full. I was surprised to discover most of the folks from the bar up here. I was lightly expecting someone to tell me to get down and go back home, but no one did. In fact, more than a few people nodded at me. Istara, the woman who'd put herself in front of a Troll for Haddy and me in the last attack, knuckled her forehead at me like I was a damn noble. That had been happening a lot since I'd made the mine cart… and the granary… and the crossbows…

I'd played a big part in organizing the drills for what to do in case of an attack, too. Parents in particular had been grateful for that, but it was just an idea I'd stolen from April's elementary school earthquake drills. Dobretin had loved the idea and had turned it into a full battle plan. Seeing all of these people gathered here, not more than ten minutes after the call to arms went up? I could only assume they were working.

"What is happening?" I asked the Mayor, putting the strange sensation out of my mind for the moment. He pointed out across the field. I could already see out over the plain between the wall and the woods. A small party of scouts was flying for the safety of the unfinished wall on horseback. I could see in their eyes that they were all surprised at the sheer number of people who had come to defend the town. The threat was real this time.

The tree line was far, but not so distant that I couldn't see the hulking forms lingering in the safety of their shadows. War trolls. A few goblins were there too, shooting their tiny arrows in vain attempts to hit the fleeing scouts. They were wasting arrows. I had no idea how large this attack was. The enemy was remaining hidden, but unfortunately, the confluence of the river and the lake meant that any rift monsters trying to go north or west would have to end up here.

The scouts entered the line of soldiers, riders nearly as tired as the horses. I only recognized two of the four men. The other two must've been out-of-towners from Potato Gully, or even further south.

"I'd have thought that was obvious," Dobretin said. Somehow, despite being even more drenched than I was, he seemed cheerful.

"You don't seem worried," I said. He held up his own crossbow.

"I'll worry when I start to run out of bolts. Did you know that more than half the town has over fifty points in the Archery skill now? There hasn't been a level up without a Dexterity increase in all of Pemolar's Hill since Travmetis and the Carpenters started making these!" I didn't get the chance to respond. Even as I spoke, a War Troll decided to leave the cover of the trees. A roar filled the air, loud enough to reach us all the way up here, and the horde followed, seeping out like water through cloth.

They spilled into the mostly flat land between us and the woods, but Travmetis hadn't had time to burn out the stumps. This was fortunate as it left behind hundreds of unintended obstacles that slowed the War Troll's pace. They filtered around the stumps like a giant game of Plinko. I heard the sharp twang of crossbow bolts being released. Many landed on the ground, nowhere near the troll leading the attack, but plenty of them struck true. The troll stopped dead, holding its chest where the bolts were impaled.

It coughed and a spray of blood mixed with the rain, as its brethren reached and trampled the dying troll.

"Fire!" I shouted, just as Dobretin yelled "Shoot the bastards!" I knew roughly how far these things could shoot, but proof that they could hit targets half way to treeline was enough for me. There was no discipline in our ranks. Crossbows were cocked, aimed, and fired with no instruction or volley. Many of them missed. The rain ruined even more shots, but that didn't matter when it only took a few seconds to recock and fire once more.

Rain sharpened itself into flashes of deadly needles, impacting the goblins as it fell and slicing into their skulls. Probably Edra. I shuddered at the terrifying capability of a water mage in the rain. A few more jets of flame burst from further down the wall, but they guttered and died long before reaching the approaching rift spawn. The fire mages among us quickly returned to using their crossbows.

"Here!" someone cried. I turned and found a flask being pressed into my hands.

"Drink this!" I blinked. It was a tiny cup with what looked like a little bit of alcohol in it. I looked up and saw Vrayger, a Mitoras refugee who'd begun working at the bar recently.

"One of Lupkep's brews! Will buff your Dexterity!" he called. Oh! I'd… I'd made Lupkep that Water Sieve that allowed him to give temporary stat boosts to his brews. I downed the cup, and thanked the man, but he was already moving on. Your Dexterity has been temporarily boosted by 2! Omoali was hard at work near the front lines on the ground. She was one of the few people who didn't have a weapon at all, but she didn't need one.

Rather than using a weapon, she spent time using the special ability from the Sturdy Leather Gambeson I'd made for her, what felt like months ago now. Protective, waist-high walls rose, allowing defenders to take shelter behind them and rest the heavy crossbows on top of them. Instantaneous, mobile cover, protecting hundreds of fighters from goblin bows and the occasional thrown axe from an overly aggressive troll.

A goblin jumped up onto a troll's shoulders and aimed, firing an arrow toward the men and women on the ground. It might've hit one of us, but I watched the man Beldonnel lift a heavy shield and block the arrow. Even ten feet up, I heard the thunk of the wood. The man barely flinched. All three of those people I'd been speaking to had pushed their way to the front of the line of defenders on the ground. They felt like an adventuring party from stories in April's world. So strange.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Soon, I had no time to worry about my allies. I took aim myself, struggling slightly to fit the front of my weapon between the crush of so many defenders. I fired, and was pleased to see my shot pierce straight through a war troll's face. My experiences with the hideous monsters had erased the revulsion I'd once felt from killing them. Cold satisfaction was all that was left now.

I pulled out another bolt and fitted it into the crossbow before firing again. Our own shouts of exultation began to drown out even the hoarse croaks of the advancing horde. Their numbers already felt like they were thinning, and no more were coming from the line of trees. This was… strange. Many of them were hesitating at the treeline, watching their own kind be slaughtered in the meat grinder of our crossbows, before charging in anyway. They weren't smart, but they also weren't completely stupid.

Why would they throw their own lives away like this? I got a bad feeling as I watched them dive to their deaths. Cheers began as the tide of monsters slowed to a trickle; their bodies littered the stump-riddled plain, filling it with blood. More bolts flew, peppering anything that twitched. The last goblin fell as it desperately tried to nock a second arrow, its first having struck someone in the mass of bodies below. We'd repelled the attack but something certainly felt off. What had driven the monsters here?

Fear gripped me as I pictured Freyna descending on our town. It didn't matter if we had ten times as many crossbolts. I didn't think any of them were the equal of Reid's bow. None of the things I'd made recently could handle her. Would she have attacked with so small a force, though? This wasn't even as large as the horde that had attacked Pemolar's Hill, let alone the one that had descended on Maulander's brigade.

Wounded were dragged away from the fighting while the ever-reliable Normuran, as well as a few apprentices he'd taken on, swarmed over them. Akkiwa's healing was no longer a secret at all, and I spotted her below tending to a few souls who'd been unlucky enough to take Goblin arrows. I felt guilty about Normuran. I'd intended to learn healing from him, and then promptly never had the time. You killed 2 goblins! You killed 1 war troll! You participated in the death of 7 goblins!

You participated in the death of 3 war trolls! It was over then. We'd won. Unless we were incredibly unlucky, I didn't think we'd lost anyone.

"Gods take you, ya rift born shits!" someone cried.

"Cheers for the fucking storyteller!"

"Aye! Hail the Bondcrafter!" I blinked. One of those voices had recognizably been Burnom, but the other two I didn't recognize. I stared down and found Burnom and a few others that I was certain I'd sold crossbows to just a few days ago, looking back up at me. I hadn't even done anything! I'd only killed three enemies myself! Thankfully, they didn't start cheering my name or anything, but they did start a joyous victory chant, crossbows pumping into the air as excess adrenaline wore off.

We wouldn't have gotten the battle notifications if the fight wasn't over, but I kept my eyes trained on the treeline, terrified that something was about to come along and ruin this. I was surprised to find I was breathing hard, and I startled when a hand fell on my back. Dobretin stood there, smiling at me. He gestured down at the crowd, cheering on the victory. Hundreds of dead goblins and maybe a hundred troll corpses lay sprawled on the ground, their blood draining away in the rain.

"Wave to them," he said.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Why would they care about me?" The mayor chuckled.

"You don't even see it, do you? Just trust me, Elmerina. Give them a wave."

"There's something wrong! Something out there was driving those monsters to attack, even when they knew they couldn't win. We need to send scouting parties back out, and–!"

"The fight is over, Elmerina," he said.

"For now, at least, we are safe. You're right, of course. Even rift monsters wouldn't drive themselves to an obvious death without a reason, but finding out why is a job for tomorrow. For now, your people–!" he paused, frowning as if he'd misspoken." Our people need to see you."

"Damn right they do," Lupkep said as he pushed his way through the ranks to stand to my right on the thin parapet.

"They all know who made these weapons. They've seen whose been killing herself to make sure we're all ready, and we were. Thanks to you." It wasn't as if I was hard to spot. I had the brightest red hair in the entire village. But if both of them thought it was necessary…? I turned to look down at the townsfolk. So many people that I knew. Omoali, who'd certainly done more to protect people today than I had, was smiling up at me.

Her daughter Elsee was closer to the back of the crowd, jabbing her crossbow into the air in time with the jubilant cheers. I was certain Omoali wouldn't look so happy if she knew her daughter had been here. Benethan's mother, Ikara, was there, cheering with every bit as much joy as the young carpenter. I hoped her son had managed to fight the Kerlunka. I had never found the time to craft his need…

The Orchard family had returned in the last few days, and they'd been quite happy that their granary's stores had been put to good use instead of just rotting. They'd been happier still that I'd paid them for it, and promptly bought two crossbows, putting that money right back into my pocket. Their son, Wolkor, wasn't allowed to have one, but the two had been happy to answer the call to defend the village. Lydet Hunter, one of the men who had skipped the draft when Maulander came to Pemolar, stood proudly now.

Petanec, the man who'd carried Mom's fraudulent letter all the way from Lindolen at the very beginning of all this, also stood in the crowd. He'd taken a long and bloody road to get here, surviving both the attack on Lindolen and assaults on Tornet's Reach before arriving here. Mitoras refugees, numbering over a hundred, also stood down there. Irema Innkeeper also held a crossbow. Gods, be good. How many of them had we managed to make?

I knew Pretyr's talent allowed him to sculpt wood quickly, and Fedenat had a similar skill for metal, which let them finish dozens of the weapons per day, but still! Tentatively, glancing to Dobretin for confirmation, I lifted a hand. The cheers seemed to double in intensity. For just a moment, I hesitated. This… this felt like something more than a simple reason to cheer. The way residents had been looking at me lately was uncomfortable. At the same time, though, it was gratifying.

My efforts hadn't been in vain, and today had proved it. Even now, I saw many lit-up need bubbles that had been greyed out before. I'd saved lives today. Maybe just a few. Maybe hundreds. I beamed.

"Pemolar stands!" I shouted, pumping my own crossbow into the air, and the town roared with me. We had our wounded, but we had won. For now, that was something worth cheering for.