Night Battle in the Woods

Gorion had conjured a downpour out of thin air. Pan Long's opinion of him rose several notches.

Whether in Eastern tales of immortals or Western fantasies, "calling the wind and summoning the rain" was the mark of a master. Spells like Wind Creation, which worked over a range of only a few dozen yards, did not count. Anyone who could affect the weather across a broad area had to be a master of considerable power.

Gorion had set out to make it rain the moment he acted, and it seemed he truly could do it. Pan Long suddenly felt more confident in him—perhaps Gorion really could trade blows with Sarevok and his crew, and had only lost because he lacked capable allies?

So instead of fleeing, Pan Long took a step forward and moved in front of Gorion.

"You need someone to stand between you and them," he said. "A mage isn't suited to fighting alone."

Gorion smiled for the first time that night.

"If you don't leave now, you won't be able to later."

Pan Long smiled too. "We've only got two horses. Let them run. Who knows? Maybe when I'm half beaten to death, I'll be teleported back again."

Before he could finish, Imoen and Charname came up on either side of him and took their places as Gorion's vanguard.

"Go!" Gorion snapped.

"If we're leaving, we're leaving together after we win!" Charname said firmly.

He took out a face guard and fitted it to his helmet. Gripping his sword with both hands, he assumed a fighting stance.

Imoen moved even faster. "I think we're pretty strong," she said, already activating Stealth. Her body gradually turned transparent and faded into the night until she was almost invisible.

Seeing that everyone was ready to fight, Gorion was not one to make a fuss. He sighed. "No helping it, then. We live together or die together!"

He swept his glowing staff through the air. Wild Wind whipped up soil, stones, twigs, and leaves, hurling them at the approaching enemy.

The goblins in the lead had been delighted—bullying the weak was their favorite pastime. But when the debris swept up by Wild Wind struck them head-on, their soaring Warrior spirit faltered.

"A mage!"

"They've got a mage!"

The short green-skinned creatures shouted over one another. More than one stopped, looking ready to run.

Even monsters understood that spellcasters were mysterious and powerful, and that making enemies of them was dangerous.

Before they could flee, however, a gnoll swung its machete and cut down a nearby goblin that had been hesitating to charge.

"Attack! Or die!" it barked.

The goblins flinched and charged on.

"Don't cast anything yet," Pan Long called. "If it's only goblins, we can handle them!"

With that, he rushed the goblins already closing in on him.

He swung his long blade and felled one goblin, shifted his footing to evade the others' attacks, then swung again.

His proficiency with blades was not particularly high, but it was enough for him.

Reality was not a game. Greater proficiency did not let someone strike several times in a turn while lesser proficiency limited them to one. Pan Long was practiced with all kinds of common weapons; using his footwork to make room and attacking as quickly as possible came naturally to him.

His blade flashed. In just two or three seconds, four goblins fell beneath it.

Charname had not even decided whether to follow him or remain in front of Gorion.

When had the goblins ever seen a Warrior so fierce? They shrieked in disarray.

"A powerful Warrior!"

"Danger!"

"I'm not fighting!"

The Gnolls swung their machetes again and killed a second Goblin.

"Attack! Or die!"

The Goblins had no choice but to press on. Pan Long's blade moved faster and faster, felling one with every stroke. He became a wall they could not break through, drawing a line of death across the road: every Goblin that dared cross it died at once, without exception.

The path through the woods was simply too narrow. The cramped terrain kept the Goblins from making full use of their numbers.

They could have scattered into the trees on either side and gone around Pan Long. But the Gnolls behind them would not let them.

The Gnolls knew their old neighbors' nature all too well. Kept together on the road against such a formidable foe, the Goblins might at least wear him down or inflict a useful wound. Let them scatter into the woods, and they would run at once. There was no hope of them continuing to fight.

Pan Long's blood-dripping blade broke the Goblins' nerve again, and the equally bloody machetes behind them drove them forward again.

These little monsters delighted in attacking lone travelers, sneaking into villages to steal livestock and money, even killing children and the elderly. Bullying the weak and fearing the strong was carved into their bones. Caught between blades on both sides, they could only repeat the miserable ordeal.

Neither the Gnolls nor Pan Long pitied them.

On the contrary, both sides would gladly have killed every last one if they could.

At last, after the sixteenth Goblin fell—three of them slain by Gnolls—the others could no longer contain their fear. Screaming wildly, they plunged into the woods on either side of the road.

Their scattered cries receded into the distance. This time, they had clearly been frightened out of their wits.

"I hope they learn their lesson and leave humans alone from now on," Pan Long said with a smile. "Then they might live a few more days."

"They live longer. You die now," one particularly tall Gnoll said in a low voice.

Pan Long shook his head. "If you want me dead, words won't do it."

Then he smiled contemptuously. "Oh, I take that back. You lot have formidable mouths. I'd better be careful not to get any drool on me. That would be disgusting."

The Gnolls roared in anger and charged together.

The woodland road was too narrow for more than three Gnolls abreast, so the other three ran into the trees to flank him.

The woods were now so dark that the surroundings were almost impossible to make out. But Pan Long's eyes glowed faintly in the night. By channeling True Qi into them, he could see in the dark for a short time.

Not clearly, but well enough to see the Gnolls charging.

If I could take another class, an advanced Thief class would give me Keen Eye. Then neither fog nor darkness could block my sight.

The thought flashed through his mind and was swiftly swept away by surging battle lust.

Faced with six Gnolls bearing down on him, he did not retreat. He charged.

When foes met on a narrow road, the brave prevailed!

The Gnolls had never expected Pan Long to rush them. He seized the initiative and slashed.

In the darkness, his blade could no longer be seen. Only its keen whistle carried through the Wild Wind Gorion had summoned.

Amid the wind's roar, the foremost Gnoll suddenly stiffened. Its quick steps slowed, its raised machete arm dropped, and it pitched forward onto its face.

Blood flowed from its throat, and its life flowed out with it.

But Pan Long had taken a cut too.

The gnolls were far more skilled than goblins, and their courage rivaled that of good soldiers. Killing the one in front did not intimidate its companions. It only enraged them.

Even with his quick reactions and feet that scarcely stopped moving, Pan Long had to take one of the two blades coming at him.

The blow struck his left shoulder, but the wound was not serious. His armor, made from tough Northlands monster hide, offered protection no worse than ordinary Jin. It absorbed most of the force, leaving only a shallow cut.

Pan Long paid the wound no heed. He struck again while the two gnolls struggled to recover from their clumsy swings, driving his blade into the second gnoll's throat.

Unlike the goblins, these gnolls wore armor. Thick, sturdy metal strips had been bound side by side with chains to make splint armor. It offered less protection than armor forged from solid Jin plates, of course, but an ordinary steel blade was unlikely to cut through it in a hurried exchange.

That left him the throat and face—places the armor did not cover.

A blade whistled in from behind. His leather armor was cut open again, and this time he suffered two wounds.

The three gnolls sprang from the woods on either side to trap him. Pan Long had no time to choose the right direction to dodge. He twisted aside on instinct and avoided only one blade.

Charname, guarding Gorion, could not see in the dark, but he clearly heard Pan Long's muffled grunt as the blades struck.

"Damn it!" he shouted. "Father, cast a spell on me!"

"No," Gorion said. "Owl's Eye doesn't last long. It isn't time yet."

"I can't stand here doing nothing while our companion fights alone!" Charname said angrily.

"Those gnolls alone can't beat him," Gorion said calmly. "Get a healing potion ready. You can dress his wounds in a moment."

As they spoke, Pan Long cut down two more gnolls and took two more blows himself.

He was already drenched in blood. None of the wounds were deep, but even shallow cuts bled.

And he still had plenty of enemies.

Besides the two remaining gnolls, the two ogres were slowly approaching.

More frightening still, Sarevok was coming too.

Pan Long panted heavily as he swung his blade to block a gnoll's attack. Using a guiding motion, he drew its machete aside, changed the angle of his own blade, and swept it across the gnoll's neck.

A gurgle rose from its throat, and it collapsed.

Pan Long had expected another blow, but behind him he heard a blade pierce flesh and a gnoll's dying scream.

"Sorry it took me so long to find an opening," Imoen said, her voice less lighthearted now. "Their armor's too sturdy. My dagger can't do anything unless I get it between the plates."

Pan Long smiled. "You've helped a great deal."

"What now?"

"Now we fall back and rest a moment," Pan Long said. "Gorion's spell should be ready soon..."