"Damn it." Those were the only words that came to Unas's mind. He couldn't swim at all, and everyone was wearing heavy armor of various kinds. If the rafts overturned and they fell into the water, even knowing how to swim would be useless.
The Dreadlord was most likely on the island in the middle of the lake. It was holed up there, surely waiting for a chance to counterattack. Striking an enemy halfway across a body of water was a tactic even Unas knew, and he didn't believe they could cross the lake and land on the island safely.
"Don't worry. If anyone drowned in front of a water Archmage, she might as well jump into the lake and drown herself," Gordon said, offering some rather biting reassurance.
"But that mage is so young. I just don't feel like she's all that reliable."
"Don't worry. Anyone Dalaran grants the title of Archmage has either made a major contribution to Dalaran, produced some outstanding research, or possesses exceptional strength. Most Archmages as young as her are the genius type, so she shouldn't be weak." Gordon changed tack. "But we can't rely entirely on these mages. Let's prepare some extra air bladders, just in case."
The two returned to the vanguard's camp to prepare for the crossing. Before long, a pillar of blue light rose into the sky from the fishing village's Docks. In the distance, several mages could be seen standing around it with their staffs raised high. The mages' fog-clearing ritual had begun.
The enemy might have interfered with the ritual, so a large force was stationed to guard the Docks. Their efforts proved unnecessary, however. Not a trace of the enemy appeared before the pillar vanished and the ritual was complete.
The fog over the lake didn't disperse immediately, but everyone could feel the air growing drier, and gusts of wind began to blow across the water. In less than half an hour, bright sunlight streamed down, and the thick white fog disappeared completely. The power of magic truly was wondrous.
But the island in the middle of the lake still hadn't appeared. Looking toward the center of the lake from over a thousand meters away, they could see only a huge mass of green haze. The island was still hidden by it.
"The white fog's gone, and now there's green fog. Can't those mage lords take care of it all at once?" Unas said mockingly. "They really can't be relied on after all."
"That's not fog." Gordon shook his head.
"Then what is it?"
"The Putrid Swarm," Gordon explained. "A power unique to Dreadlords. They control Fel Swarms to destroy fields and spread disease, stirring up strife among people. Now we can be certain Bessarius is on that island!"
"We're doomed! I'm not afraid of anything except bugs," Unas cried. His fear of little insects was a physical reaction. As a child, he hadn't even dared catch dragonflies or butterflies.
"..." Gordon was speechless for a moment, the corners of his mouth turning down. "If a noble lady had said that, I wouldn't have been surprised at all."
"It's a condition. You could call it insect phobia," Unas argued loudly.
"With the Holy Light barrier to protect us, and your body wrapped up tight enough that no skin is exposed, the swarm is only a minor nuisance," Gordon said helplessly, trying to reassure him. "Besides, do you know what the swarm fears most? Fire and smoke. Stick close to me and I'll keep you safe. Don't let people think you're losing your nerve before a battle. That's no small charge."
Unas looked back at the people around him and met Whitemane's gaze. Both hurriedly looked away. Unas felt a pang of guilt. Whitemane still had no intention of letting him off.
It looked like he could only brace himself and go through with it. On the bright side, perhaps this would help him overcome his psychological barrier.
Since the situation was different from what had been expected, Tyrosus summoned his subordinates to another meeting. After a fruitless discussion, they decided to stick to the original plan. The Putrid Swarm was too far away, and the mages couldn't do much about it.
The members of the vanguard all changed into leather armor and put on gloves. Wrapped tightly from head to toe like Arab women, they left only their eyes exposed. Each was issued a square wooden shield half a person's height. If they fell into the water, they could just about stay afloat by holding on to their shields.
Because their destination was Lordamere Lake and there might be fighting on the water, a team of boatmen had been brought along before they set out. They quickly built several rafts.
When they reached the dock, five or six newly built rafts were floating on the water, each with several air bladders of different sizes tied around its edges. Each raft could carry about ten soldiers. At Gordon's command, the vanguard boarded one by one.
Unas followed Gordon and was the last to jump onto the raft. It rocked rather violently, and Whitemane, who was being protected in the middle, immediately shot him a glare. Unas found it utterly intoxicating.
Just as he was wondering why there were no oars, a current suddenly began to surge beneath the raft. He looked back at the shore and saw several mages led by Archmage Angela raising their staffs again, the gems at their tips gleaming brightly.
Magic drove the currents, pushing the three rafts laden with soldiers slowly toward the center of the lake. Unas had never felt better. Everyone was loaded with buffs. With more than a dozen Paladins present, there was no need for Unas to lift a finger. They had all four blessings: Might, Wisdom, Kings, and Sanctuary.
What was more, these blessings were enhanced versions. Tyrosus had personally cast the Blessing of Kings, waving his hand to scatter a shower of silver light and grant the entire vanguard an enhanced version that increased all attributes by 20% for thirty minutes.
A Paladin beside him named Pulhart, who looked extraordinarily strong, cast the Blessing of Sanctuary on the vanguard in two batches, reducing the damage they took by 5%.
The Paladins' powerful spellcasting made Unas feel especially insignificant, leaving him even more eager to level up quickly.
As the rafts advanced steadily, Unas activated his combat skills. He had decided not to turn off Sense Undead anymore. The little spell took very little energy, especially since he had begun to condense holy energy and his energy recovery had greatly improved. Maintaining the spell now cost him virtually nothing.
As they drew closer to the island, Unas saw that the green haze really wasn't fog. Fog didn't churn like that. It was made up of tens of thousands of tiny black specks emitting green light, moving in Brownian motion around the island.
A shriek suddenly rang out, startling everyone. The swarm began to stir and churn violently. That shriek must have been the command to drive them forward. Buzzing noisily, the swarm twisted into several black arrowheads and descended all at once on the three rafts, blotting out the sky.
Without panicking, Gordon activated the White Obsidian hanging on his chest. A spherical barrier radiating golden light spread out from it, enveloping the three small rafts. Several Priests had urgently recharged the White Obsidian beforehand, and most of its energy had been restored.
At the same time, he ordered the standard-bearer to signal for them to speed up. The standard-bearer quickly relayed the order to the mages on shore using flag signals.
The current beneath the rafts suddenly grew stronger as the mages increased their mana output, and the rafts rapidly picked up speed. The buzzing abruptly grew louder, and a putrid stench filled their nostrils. The swarm was right in front of them.
Gordon stood resolutely at the bow, golden-red flames blazing along the greatsword in his hands. With a great shout, he swept it horizontally through the air, sending crimson flames rolling toward the swarm in the sky like a tidal wave.
A chorus of crackling bursts rang out as more than half of one black arrowhead formed by the swarm was wiped out. The vanguard members cheered, shouting encouragement to their commander.