Chapter 41 - Storm (3)

[POV - LE'AHNA]

"Ahhhhh....this sucks as-"

"Miss, you've only been here 10 minutes"

I snapped back to look at the woman who talked back to me, about to say something...less than noble.

"You- oh, it's just you. Julia, you need to be a bit more careful, you know? I can't really tell it's you under that ugly looking mask you got there"

She chuckled as she said "Young miss, not everyone has the money to buy equipment as you do, and I definitely doubt anyone is generous enough to lend out their own equipment, especially in a situation like this"

My cheeks went hot at her reply, so I just turned away with a snort.

She wore a mask, that hid her everything from her nose to her jaw below. Struck by an unlucky blow a couple weeks ago, basic treatment wasn't going to cut it. 

So I gave her the mask from a headpiece I had on hand, in my subspace ring. The same way I'd given out spare equipment for so many other people on the journey so far.

Some had made it.

Some of them are now on the convoy to the next outpost.

Some of them are with us today.

And the rest.....perhaps better left unsaid.

I turned my eye back on the horizon past the choke point we were designated to hold. The streaks of squirmy black kept growing, bigger and bigger. 

Almost as if it devoured the land. Almost.

But, that's not even close. A wave of Fyrraths, thousands of them, heading this way. 

Getting closer every moment.

Though it shouldn't be too much of a problem this time. We had a full party of Combat Classers on this end. A tank, Julia as our melee, Elora, one of the medic, coincidentally, the twin sister of Elara who's most probably on Varric's end.

As for me? The best of them of course. I'm a mage. And in the top 5 of my class back at the academy....

...Not that it means much now. Ugh, is this how miserable Varric feels all the time? Goddess that's tragic.

*GRUUOOOOOO*

"I've received word from the convoy, they've seen the new wave, and it's a couple minutes away from the mouth of the gorge. They gave us an ETA of 35 minutes before they manage to reach to embattlements, and from there...."

"From there it's a matter of how long the Siege takes to break through them, then get to us....Thanks Elora" I replied to the medic.

Both her and her sister were part of the original academy convoy I was a part of. And they were the only Combat Classers left here among us. They rest were mechanics, or pure healers, who'd probably left with the Civilian convoy.

"Cowards" I muttered, quietly. But not enough since Julia managed to pick up on what I'd said.

She gave me a wry smile.

Julia's wry smile was a sharp contrast to the tension gnawing at the pit of my stomach. The squirming mass of Fyrraths on the horizon wasn't just a distant threat—it was a promise of chaos and bloodshed that was closing in with each passing moment.

"Miss, we'll hold them. We've done it before," Julia said, her voice steady and confident, despite the danger. Her eyes, the only visible part of her face, held a spark of determination.

I forced a grin, hoping it didn't look as grim as it felt. "Of course, we will. Just another day at the office, right?"

The truth was, despite the bravado, I wasn't entirely sure how long we could keep this up. The Fyrraths were relentless, their sheer numbers and ferocity a stark reminder of how thin the line was between us and annihilation. But doubt wouldn't help us now; action would.

I glanced over at Elora, her twin sister's presence almost a phantom limb now. Goddess help my soul, I doubt we'd hold out very long without a medic around. "Elora, make sure you stay on high alert. We cannot hold out without healing on hand, as long as you can keep us going, we'll be able to hold out, yeah?."

She nodded, her face pale but resolute. "Understood. We've got potions and bandages prepped, and the triage area is set up. I'll manage."

The Siege was still, at the minimum, 35 minutes off. I set my eyes on the landscape, taking it in, for perhaps the last time. No, that's a death flag, it's not the last time. 

We can't let it be.

The high walls of the gorge, higher than anything I'd seen before...it reminded me of the walls of the 

long corridors back at home...back when I was younger. Everything was so...Large, back then, yet it got smaller as I grew.

But this? I could grow all I want, but I'd never be able to see the top of these walls....

They're just too...uneclipseable. 

The walls of the gorge soared high above us, seemingly scraping the sky. Their sheer faces were a tapestry of jagged stone and patches of tenacious moss, clinging to the ancient rock with an unyielding grip. Each stratum of stone told a story of eons gone by, weathered by time and the elements. The walls, massive and intimidating, felt as if they had been carved by the hands of gods, a reminder of our insignificance in the grand tapestry of the world.

As I looked up, the top of the gorge seemed almost to disappear into the heavens, shrouded in a thin veil of mist that danced with the shifting winds. The sky above was a tumultuous canvas of storm clouds, swirling in shades of gray and black, promising a downpour that would make our defense even more treacherous. The clouds themselves seemed to be in turmoil, mirroring the unease gnawing at my heart.

To our left, the mouth of the gorge was a gaping maw, opening into a vast expanse of rugged terrain. The path we had traveled was now a memory, a twisting trail that wound its way through rocky outcrops and treacherous ravines. The mouth of the gorge, far in the distance, was framed by towering spires of rock that stood like sentinels, guarding the entrance to this natural fortress.

The ground beneath our feet was a mix of loose gravel and patches of hardy grass, the kind that could survive even the harshest conditions. It crunched softly underfoot, a subtle reminder of our precarious position. The air was thick with tension, each breath laced with the metallic tang of impending conflict.

The squirming mass of Fyrraths in the distance was a stark contrast to the natural beauty surrounding us. Their dark, undulating forms seemed to suck the light from the landscape, a creeping tide of malevolence that swallowed everything in its path. The creatures, grotesque and otherworldly, moved with a fluid grace that was both mesmerizing and horrifying. Their eyes, countless and glowing with an eerie luminescence, were fixed on us, promising no quarter and no mercy.

I tore my gaze away from the encroaching horde and looked at my comrades. Julia, her stance firm and ready, was a rock amidst the chaos. Elora, pale but determined, was our lifeline. And me, Le'ahna, the mage who had to prove herself not just in skill but in resolve. The weight of leadership bore down on me, a mantle I hadn't chosen but one I would carry nonetheless.

"Ready positions!" I called out, my voice steady despite the fear that clawed at the edges of my mind. "We hold this line. We do not let them through."

Julia hefted her sword, the blade glinting in the dim light. "We hold the line," she said, voice quiet. It was a statement.

'What needs to be done, must be done', something Bearof said often, usually before the a way arrived. It wasn't endearing, or morale inducing. In the face of certain death, neither of those does much. It was self exploratory, really. 

We do it ,whatever 'it' is, regardless of out feelings.

"We hold the line," echoed Elora, her hands already glowing with healing magic.

"We hold the line," I whispered to myself, drawing on the wellspring of arcane power within me. The familiar hum of magic thrummed through my veins, a comforting presence in the face of the oncoming storm.

The Fyrraths were closer now, their screeches echoing off the gorge walls, a cacophony of terror. The ground shook with their approach, each step a harbinger of doom. But we stood our ground, a small band of defenders against an overwhelming tide.

The storm above rumbled ominously, lightning flashing in the distance. The first drops of an unnatural rain began to fall, mingling with the sweat on my brow. The battle would begin, and we had no choice but to face it head-on.

With a final look at my comrades, I raised my staff, its tip glowing with a brilliant light. "Here they come," I said, more to myself than to anyone else. "Goddess help us all."

And with that, the storm descended.