Book 6: Chapter 64: A Little Help

Book 6: Chapter 64: A Little Help

“Attacks have increased in frequency,” said Rasana, the gnomish scout. She was one of Kurik’s team of hunters, though instead of her class coming from a Ranger archetype, she’d begun her journey as an Explorer. And while her class had given her a few combat abilities, her origin could not be ignored. Once an Explorer, always an Explorer, Ramik thought. Even so, she was the best scout in the city, even if she didn’t always conduct herself with the decorum one might expect. “Those dark elves have gotten bolder. They’ve pushed past the second gate, and they look like they’re going to move on the first.”

Ramik removed his hat, then wiped his forearm across his brow. After Colt and Gwenivere had discovered the first gate, they’d soon led another mission down to the tunnels. Due to their efforts, they’d managed to take the gate, which gave them a foothold from which to defend the city.

So far, they’d managed to keep the dark elves at bay, but no one had ever expected it to last. The numbers were too unfavorable for Ironshore’s defenders, and the only reason they’d managed to hold the line so long was because of the gate itself, which served to even the odds a bit. Ramik was no general, but he knew that a soldier holding a wall was worth ten assailants.

But it was only a delaying tactic.

At some point, the dark elves would get serious, and the moment that happened, the gate would fall. That was why Ramik had directed his most powerful Tradesmen to work on defenses closer to home. He’d even considered collapsing the tunnels altogether, though that came with a host of issues that made him hesitate.

For one, if he took that route, it would likely mean the end of Ironshore as they knew it. Digging through the rubble after the threat had ended would take too much time, which would mean that he’d default on his contract with the Green Mountain Mining Company. Indenture would be his only future.

Not to mention that the town itself would fall under their complete control. If that happened, things would get much worse for the residents, many of whom would end up just like Ramik – virtually enslaved, with no hope of crawling out.

But that wasn’t what truly worried him.

Instead, what really frightened the goblin mayor was that the representatives of the Green Mountain Mining Company would almost assuredly fail to honor the truce Ramik had negotiated with Elijah Hart. They would see the Druid’s island as a resource to be exploited, and they would immediately set out to do just that.

Ramik knew how that would work out.

And given Elijah’s proclivity toward violent defense of his home, it was a near certainty that the people of Ironshore would get caught up in his wrath. The human had slaughtered fifty people just for setting foot on his island. So, what would he do if it happened again? And given that years had passed since that fateful day, he would be much better at slaughtering anyone in his way.

Ramik shuddered to consider Ironshore’s fate if Elijah returned from the Trial of Primacy only to discover that someone had defiled his grove. It was difficult to imagine that he wouldn’t hold the entire city accountable, and if that happened...

It would not be good.

Besides, collapsing the mines wouldn’t be an effective deterrent. At best, it would slow the dark elves. At worst, the enemy would abandon its half-hearted efforts at waging a war and embark on a true mission of conquest. That seemed inevitable, but the longer Ramik could delay that turning point, the better prepared Ironshore would be.

Because he knew that the mines weren’t the only means of reaching the surface. Other scouts had found signs that the dark elves were already topside, and Ramik had heard enough stories of the race to know that there were probably many more they hadn’t discovered.

No – war was definitely coming, and Ironshore wasn’t ready to meet it head-on. He needed time, but complicating matters was that he couldn’t go all-out and force the dark elves to respond with the full force of their might. He was trying to walk a knife’s edge until young Miguel – and the handful of other scouts he could afford to send out – found help.

After Rasana finished her report, Ramik thanked her. Upon her departure, he let out a groan.

“That bad, eh?” came a voice from the door.

“You don’t knock anymore?” he asked, his head tilted toward the ceiling. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Carissa had come to visit.

The chair on the other side of his desk scraped against the floor as she flipped it around. “Nope. No reason. You met with little Rasana, right?” she asked, staddling the chair.

“I did.”

“The verdict?”

“It’s hopeless,” Ramik stated with a sigh. Then, he finally opened his eyes and focused on the mine’s foreman. The dwarven woman looked just as stout and solid as ever, though her face was covered in dust. “Rough day?”

The class’s bad reputation was well-earned, because they enforced their will on often sentient creatures, enslaving beasts, monsters, and guardians alike. That was different from those who created reciprocal bonds with powerful beasts. Those relationships went both ways, with neither party having an upper hand. With Tamers, the power was one-sided.

“Can a Tamer enslave a Voxx?”

Carissa shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. But the refugees from Norcastle brought someone with them that might help,” she said. “A Librarian. He only just got his class, but the kid could help us figure some things out.”

“But what about fighters?”

“Maybe a hundred,” she said. “Some of ‘em are already injured, though. Most are gonna take some time to recover, too.”

“How many could fight right now?”

“Fifteen, but that number will probably double in a week,” she answered.

“And how many refugees?”

“A little over a thousand. Mostly children, but there are a few valuable non-combatants in there, too,” she responded. “I know it ain’t the army you wanted, but it’s better than nothin’. And the scouts are still out there, lookin’ for more help. I don’t imagine the dark elves have reached Argos yet.”

Ramik suppressed a groan. Norcastle had been a city with a population in the tens of thousands, and only a thousand had survived? The threat posed by the dark elves grew graver with every passing day. Still, having another hundred fighters at his disposal would be a great boon, especially if they were deployed correctly.

However, the spread of the enemy posed another problem.

“We need to bolster our defenses,” he said. “We don’t have a lot of soldiers, but we have plenty of Tradesmen. Let’s use them. I want the wall heightened, with war towers. I’ll dip into the city coffers for the designs.”

“Is that necessary? They’re going to attack from below, and towers ain’t gonna do much in those tunnels.”

“They’re not just coming from down there,” Ramik said. “They’ll come from every direction.”

“That ain’t like dark elves,” Carissa stated.

None of them had much first-hand experience with the reclusive race, but they’d purchased a couple of guides that gave them a decent impression of the tactics they typically employed in war. And everything they’d read told them that dark elves rarely fought on the surface, preferring to target other subterranean targets or mining towns.

But these dark elves seemed different. Perhaps they’d adopted new tactics when they’d come to Earth. Or maybe the guides weren’t entirely accurate. It was even possible that the differences could be chalked up to individual variance. Regardless, the fact that they’d attacked Norcastle, which didn’t follow their normal pattern of behavior, was enough to tell Ramik that the guides weren’t accurate enough to completely trust.

“I need to speak to whoever’s in charge of the refugees,” Ramik said, climbing to his feet.

Carissa nodded and said, “That would be Essex. He’s the closest thing to a leader they’ve got. Seems like a good man with military experience.”

“Good. We need all of that we can find.”

And it was true. One of the many problems that had come with Elijah’s slaughter of Eason Cabbot and his Black Sun mercenaries was that Ironshore simply didn’t have any fighters suitable for command. There were people like Colt and Gwenivere, but neither were strategic thinkers. Other than them, most of the remaining combatants were too young and inexperienced to shoulder the burden of command.

“Let’s go meet this human, then,” he said.