Founding of Deania [9]

Sam scrambled over the rubble. Dean hadn't been powerful enough to push it all aside, but as a true mage Sam bounded over the debris as easily as he might once have jumped over a puddle.

His invisibility talisman had long since broken down. Fortunately, most of the orcs had abandoned their posts in the stronghold after the battle so there were few keeping watch. He spotted a cloak carelessly left on a railing and threw it over his shoulders. After pulling the hood up, he blended in with the orcs well enough as he skirted through the stronghold.

One positive note with having Anyatara, Erula, and Yonda displayed so proudly as captives was that Sam knew exactly where to find them. He quickly made his way to the center of the keep, stepping over broken barrels and meat vendor stands abandoned mid use.

There were more than a few elves milling about, all wearing collars, though none were as ornate as the set Sam's companions were bound in. They carried brooms or stirred pots of food. Many were scarcely clothed, which suggested they tended to the orcs' more carnal needs as well.

Sam was certain at least one of them got a good enough look at his face to determine that he wasn't an orc, but the elves seemed to decided it wasn't any of their business to pry.

Sam arrived at the walls to the inner keep. The girls had been placed just high enough that only the Bronze Skin orcs could jump onto her platform with her. Sam couldn't jump that far himself, but he still had his flying sword. He'd just need to be quick because once he was in the air he was bound to catch attention.

Anyatara's long purple hair stuck out against the play gray stone of the keep's wall behind her and Sam was tempted to free her first.

That would be foolish. She's in the worst state and the most heavily secured.

Erula was the most conscious of the three still, and she seemed to have gotten slightly better after a few days. She must have retained enough of her magic to fight off the collar's siphoning effects and slowly gather a few scraps of zeal despite its influence. If he could strike that collar and the manacles off her she'd be able to fight immediately, unlike the other two.

Sam reached into his own bag of holding and withdrew a handful of tools. He'd searched the entire elf army for metalworking supplies and finally managed to secure a set of sturdy snipers that should make short work of a gold hoop, though the steel could still be a problem depending on the quality and if the power it siphoned was fueling any strengthening enchantments.

Sam decided to swoop in, cut the chains, then carry Erula off to safety. Realistically any one of the three wizards should be able to free the other two once she was back at full strength.

After mustering his courage, Sam threw off his cloak and pulled out his flying sword in one smooth motion. He flew as fast as he could, stopping before Erula for one brief moment. The wizard barely had a chance to register his presence before Sam was already cutting the chains and tossing her over his shoulder.

Just as quickly as he arrived, Sam left. He didn't bother landing and instead flew to that remote cliff he and Dean had used as a shelter when the girls were first captured.

As soon as they touched down, Sam started working at the collar and manacles. Erula shook herself, trying to stand.

"Where's Dean?" Erula asked.

"He's fighting the Bronze Skin orcs." Sam replied honestly. "And he'll need our help sooner rather than later." One of the manacles cracked and Sam worked it free. Erula sighed pleasantly as the zeal could flow just a bit more normally through her body. "Will you be able to fight?"

"If you can get these things off me?" Erula shrugged. "I'll probably only be as strong as a true mage until I have a chance to meditate and recover. But after that I'll be ready to reduce this place to rubble on my own."

"That will have to do." Sam said as he broke the other manacle off.

<Scene break>

"Dean!" The Songstone elder panted. "We're glad to have you here. These orcs seem much tougher than last time!"

The last time these elves had fought orcs, Erula's spell had been weakening the orcs and enhancing the elves. If the clan leaders thought they'd won that battle through their skill alone, they were sorely mistaken.

Pointing that out however would have been poor form. These elves were looking to Dean for encouragement.

"They're fighting more desperately now that they know we've almost beaten them!" Dean laughed. "Fight well and fight hard and you'll be stronger than ever by the time this battle is through!"

Dean shook off the Songstone elder. She and several others had been sticking to his side. Maybe they thought they needed to protect him. Maybe they thought he would protect them. In either case, the safest place to be was as far away from him as possible, because he was about to go looking for trouble.

Dean stared into the distance, where six orcs strode over the battlefield in a tight circle. Everywhere they went, elves died. Motes of white light trailed behind them like a glowing cape from all the elves they'd killed just moments ago, and one of them was capturing wisps in a jar while the others wielded their weapons like they were harvesting wheat.

So all six Bronze Skin orcs came. Perfect.

Dean flexed his shoulders, sending sparks flickering down his arms as he strode to meet the six orcs. If all six of them were here Sam would only have to deal with the grand warchief. He'd rescue the girls and they'd end this as soon as they could. Until then, Dean just had to fight.

"Six against one." Dean muttered. "Finally, a fair fight."

An orc bellowed at him, but he wasn't one of the six Dean was interested in. Dean backhanded him across the jaw, sending the orc spinning to the ground. As he fell, Dean snatched the weapon out of his hands. It was an orcish axe of finer make than most.

The weapon's blade was wide and the handle was gently tapered. The entire thing was made of one piece of ironwood, cut from the densest part of the tree's root. Before consuming the Golden Muscle Fruits, the axe would have been too heavy. Now Dean felt the weight was just right.

The orcs made to slash through one of the elders of the Bluefield Clan who'd tailed Dean despite his best efforts. Dean remembered her name. She was talented and watched over her clan with a skilled hand. It would be a shame to see her die early. Dean pointed the axe, channeling lightning down its length. His offensive spell shot forth as a bolt of electricity that tore through the air and struck the Bronze Skin orc in the center of his muscled green chest.

Any other orc would have been dropped by that spell alone, but these Bronze Skin orcs were tough. Even Dean didn't want to meet them fist to fist, which was why he'd picked up a weapon.

"You're a strange looking elf." The orc said gruffly.

"And you're an ugly looking elf." Dean replied.

The orc growled. He reached for Dean with an open hand, as if expecting to seize him by the throat and choke him to death as easily as pulling a weed out of his garden.

Dean knew he'd only surprise them once, so he waited until the orc was nearly upon him. Then he fired off his most powerful offensive spell, the Storm of Desolation. He felt the hairs on his head stand on end as his his aura sprang to life. Lightning coalesced in front of him into a sphere the size of a pebble. Normally Dean liked to cup the ball of lightning, wind, and rain between his hands, but in moments like this he could hold the spell in place with his willpower alone.

Dean let the spell charge for a moment as he activated his next ability. Another orc would be nearly in axe range if Dean ducked the first attack just right. Dean's body lightened as his zeal moved in accordance with the Thunder Dance. He seemed to slide through the air while the orc moved through honey. Dean ducked under the outstretched arm, leaving only the swelling Storm of Desolation in the spot where he'd once stood.

As he ducked under the orc's outstretched arm, he pulled the orc's sword of his belt with his free hand and brought it to bear against one of the orc's companions. The orc flinched with the speed of Dean's sudden movements and struggled to throw his arm up in front of Dean's lunging stab, but Dean twisted and brought the axe around instead. Dean's axe dug into the side of the orc's head. That alone wasn't enough to kill the orc, but his fate was sealed. The axe gave Dean's lightning zeal a direct path from Dean's hand to the orc's brain and a burst of energy fried the orcs insides, no matter how tough his skin was he couldn't fight without a brain.

At the same time, Dean released the Storm of Desolation. He didn't look, but he could hear the dying scream of the orc who'd just tried to grab him. His skin boiled and blistered as Dean's spell tore into his body and sent an explosion of electric energy running awry under his skin.

The battlefield froze for a moment and elves looked on awe and orcs looked on in shock as two seemingly invincible Bronze Skin orcs died one after another.

Then the moment passed and all four remaining orcs attacked Dean at once.

Their combined onslaught hit Dean like a boulder rolling down hill, but Dean kept Thunder Dance active, dodging two of the attacks outright. He managed to knock one incoming spear point aside with his hand, but the remaining hammer blow wasn't so easily stopped. It collided with Dean's shoulder and he felt something crack.

Dean jumped back to safety, but he could feel his shoulder seizing up. He had good regenerative abilities, but that shoulder wouldn't be in fighting shape until after the fight was over. The four orcs saw him as a serious threat now, so they were working together to keep him on the defensive.

Dean tried to launch another Storm of Desolation, but the orcs had seen that trick once and weren't about to let it happen again. They attacked Dean the moment he had an instant to focus and gather zeal.

Dean was certain he could have beaten any one of them, even without the element of surprise. But these four worked well together, and after Dean had slain two of their company they wouldn't rest until he was dead.

An orc lunged forward with a spear point and Dean had to shift his footing to dodge. He'd left his axe buried in the dead orc's skull when he'd retreated, but he still had the sword he'd stolen. He passed that weapon to his good arm so he'd have something more than his fists.

The spear-wielding orc attacked again and Dean tried to take the point off his weapon with a slash, but the orc pulled back before Dean could do anything more than cut a notch into its shaft.

Sensing the blood of a wounded shark, weaker orcs began to stream closer. The arrival of the six Bronze Skin orcs had broken the elves in this region of the battlefield and the orcs where already disarming those elves still on their feet and binding their hands to haul them back to the orc stronghold as spoils of war.

Those that weren't taking elf captives were looking at Dean. He was a mighty warrior, and helping kill him would win any orc clout with the Bronze Skin band of six, now reduced to four. Spears, swords, and axes all swept in Dean's direction with deadly intent.

Being on the defensive was to Dean's disadvantage. His powers weren't designed to brave the constant onslaught of enemies. He'd picked his spells for overwhelming short range offensive power, but he didn't dare get too close to an orc. Getting caught in a grapple would be the last mistake he ever made, so he had to keep his distance or slay them the moment he was within reach.

Dean had to turn things around, but how?

His aura fragment had taken the wind and rain zeal Yonda and Erula had bestowed him with and with a new aura fragment had turned himself into a living storm. A tempest meant to sweep away all foes.

But to do that he needed power. If he wasn't afraid of meeting these orcs up close and personal he could use his more devastating spells. But these orcs were stronger than he was and fighting them like that would be suicide. He needed an enhancement. Something that would put his body on even terms with theirs.

Dean forced himself to relax and let the zeal flow evenly through his meridians and throughout his body. That was harder than it would be for most elves, as his magic was made of three types of zeal blended into one aspect. Water zeal calmed the unruly lightning and wind swirled about them both.

Dean wasn't as bookish as Sam, but that didn't mean he didn't know the value in reading. Among the things the elves captured from the conquered castle were a number of manuals explaining orc body cultivation. The whole march here, Dean had little to do but read and think.

The orcs cultivated in a way that was very different from elves. Instead of concentrating their zeal in one dantian, they built multiple small ones and distributed them throughout their body. Commonly orcs managed to coalesce and maintain somewhere between four and twenty particle, more being better in the long run as the power merged ever deeper with the orc's body.

Dean didn't use earth zeal, so their techniques wouldn't work for him. He had however ingested a huge number of Golden Muscle Fruits, and quite a few others cultivation materials prized by orcs besides that. He'd sensed his body getting stronger, but the enhancements wouldn't really show their effects unless he could move zeal through his bodies the way orcs could.

And so Dean decided to do just that. He forced zeal out of his dantian until the stormy energy billowed through his body like a tempest in his flesh. His body writhed. He had no spell for this maneuver so he could only control it as informal magic. That would have been hard enough even if he didn't have orcs swinging at him left and right.

Dean felt his spirit straining, as though it was being slowly crushed by a great weight. Only his will urged it to push on. Just when he felt his mind about to snap, something clicked into place. His storm zeal sank into him, filling him from the marrow of his bones to his very skin.

He felt a surge of power in his body as his spell completed. His wounded arm healed in an instant and Dean could sense new strength in his limbs.

Dean moved in accordance with the Thunder Dance, but his body seemed to spring into action before even he was ready. Before he knew it, he was on top of one of the four Bronze Skin orcs in an explosion of motion.

Dean knocked the orc off his feet and slammed him into the ground. In a primitive act of savagery, Dean grabbed a nearby stone, brought it high, and slammed it into the head of the orc he'd just tackled.

The orc didn't even have time to grunt in astonishment before Dean caved its head in. The force of the blow broke the ground in all directions, leaving a crater up to Dean's elbow. Even as a true mage, Dean never would have managed such a feat until now.

He'd done something to his body. Something that combined orcish body cultivation and elvish spirit cultivation. When he tried it, he'd committed to the move out of desperation. The fact that it had worked at all had astonished him, but it had worked, and now he was stronger than ever.

Dean thrust his palm forward, crashing into an orc's face and releasing a jolt of lightning. He summoned the Storm of Desolation and it came together quickly and easily.

"Ha!" Dean grinned, blood dripping down his chin. "Which of you oafs wants a piece of me now!?"

Only two Bronze Skin orcs remained, and each of them looked at the other. As one, the pair turned and fled the battlefield. At the sight of two of their most powerful warriors fleeing, many of the orcs followed suit. Soon, the elves were charging back to reclaim this patch of ground and the orcs were in retreat.

Dean felt something break inside him and he coughed up a wad of mucus and blood. He felt pain flow through his body like it had been put in a bucket and dumped over his head.

Maybe that trick isn't so refined after all.

"Sam... I hope you made it through okay." Dean tumbled to his knees, straining to hold himself upright for a moment before his body failed him and he collapsed onto his stomach. Then unconsciousness claimed Dean.

<Scene break>

"Do you have my bag of holding?" Erula asked Sam as he removed the last of the steel bindings sapping her power.

"No, but I have these." Sam handed Erula a bag full to bursting with water spellhearts from heartwielder-level monsters. He knew Erula would want a source of zeal to replenish her powers as quickly as possible. "It was all the Songstone Clan had."

Erula accepted the bag without complaint. The moment her fingers touched a spellheart it burst into dust and swam into her skin where it vanished. It would take more than ten thousand of these things for Erula to replenish her powers with, but even a sip of water was a blessing to someone dying of thirst.

"How strong are you now?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"Mid true mage." Erula said. "Given my spells and experience, that should be enough to slay the orc grand war chief, and maybe a few of those Bronze Skin orcs he surrounds himself with. But we'd have to draw him out of those enchanted walls or I'd just end up captured even faster than the first time."

"Dean and I broke the enchantments in the walls. He won't be using those again." Sam promised.

Erula bit her lip. "That's all well and good, but I've been watching him the past few days. He was careful to enchant our manacles and collars differently, and you didn't notice but the platform I was on was enchanted too. He had multiple layers of defense and I would be surprised if he didn't have a second enchantment like the one that beat me last time."

"Then our plan for him is no different form our plan to deal with the rest of the orcs?" Sam said. "Earlier you asked where Dean was?" Sam stood over the ledge at the cave's mouth, pointing to the ground below. Elves and orcs clashed by the thousand.

Erula rubbed her eyes. "I must not have my wizard senses back yet. To think I nearly missed an army right in front of me. It looks like you brought all the elves from the castle here."

"Not me." Sam corrected. "That was all Dean. He's down there right now, fighting with them."

"Then that's where we'll fight too."