Return to Jorgaldur Volume I: the battle mage

Tense wait

"Eldi, get ready." Caranlín's voice was suddenly heard.

Many listened to her, having no idea what they were up to, though they didn't pay much attention either. They were more worried about the enemies that were in front of them. They couldn't doubt even for a moment while facing them. And also, about the defenses that were about to collapse.

But if there was something that really disturbed them, it was the brief pause in the range attacks, the calm before the storm, a storm that was foreshadowed by the concentration of magical power. It was obvious that the general was preparing the final attack.

Eldi ran towards the center of the formation, while the weakened shields were barely resisting. It was then that everyone clearly perceived the outbreaks of power that were arising from the rear of the enemy lines, from all directions, the hundreds or thousands of attacks that were directed towards them. It was what their enemies had been planning. They had been waiting for the defenses to weaken, and the warriors to be tired.

And it wasn't only magic, but the physical attacks had also multiplied. Those which spit venom had concentrated their entire reserve in a single attack. The largest spikes or thorns had been reserved for this moment, along with all the small ones they had left. Huge rocks were being thrown with the joint effort of several insects of great proportions. And the most powerful corrupt warriors were advancing forward to seize the final moment, pushing away their allies without any regarding.

"Eldi! Now!" shouted the leader. "Warriors, one step back! Everyone, stop the offensive! Disnalor, be ready for my command!"

No one understood the orders, and the gazes of all those who weren't immersed in close combat went from Eldi to the rain of attacks that were coming towards them.

They saw that the visitor was like pushing his arms on his sides, as if he were trying to push an invisible wall that was imprisoning him. Although, the most shocking was the concentration of mana that he was extracting from himself, at a breakneck speed.

Suddenly, he extended his arms and a dense curtain covered them, even hiding the sunlight. They weren't in the dark, for a mage had created a ball of light by Caranlín's command, and now he understood why.

It looked like hundreds of thousands of small stones were revolving around, surrounding the perimeter, as if they were in the eye of a terrible storm. They looked around in amazement, and at Eldi, who wasn't moving an inch from his position. Drops of sweat slid down his forehead. It felt like he was holding that hurricane with his hands, and, in a way, he was.

"What's going on?" asked an elf mage, looking at the scene with his openwide blue eyes.

"But...," an elf warrior whispered, looking forward, at the place where a moment before she was facing a huge wolf, and where now there was only a kind of curtain that was spinning at high speed.

"You have less than twenty seconds to rest and prepare for the next assault! Take the regeneration potions and catch your breath! The wounded, get some healing before we start again!"

Everyone sat down, without failing to exclaim, whisper and look everywhere. A little break was much better than nothing. All but Caranlín, Eldi, Disnalor, the healers and the wounded. They weren't serious wounded, and for that reason they had continued fighting, but, now that they had the chance, they had to take advantage to receive the power of the healing spells. Then, they returned to their positions, continuing to be amazed by the apocalyptic scene that seemed to envelop them.

"Disnalor, now!" the red-haired elf shouted again.

The mage, who finally understood the reason he had been waiting, was impatient to begin. He had been staring at Caranlín, and, as soon as she gave the order, the long spell began. It seemed just a song, but it evoked in each note, in each word, a terrible and dark purpose.

"... let the wrath of the dead pounce on our enemies ..."

"... open the doors of the abyss ..."

"... swallow their essence ..."

"... return their souls to the beginning of the cycle ..."

Though it was giving them goosebumps, the rest of the combatants were staring at him. They were relieved that the terror evoked by that melody wasn't aimed at them.

Meanwhile, in the distance, the general was stunned. The same plan that had worked flawless many times in the past had been overturned by a spell it had never heard of. The magic that crashed into that kind of typhoon was dispersed as soon as it entered. The rocks were destroyed and rejected. About the poison or thorns, there wasn't even a trace left.

He was furious about the failure of its total attack, outraged at being confronted, and worried about not knowing what to do next. He had no idea how long it could last, or if they could cast it more times. All it knew was that it was impregnable.

It wasn't sure if it should attack it until they destroyed it, if it should wait, or maybe withdraw. If it did the latter, it would have missed a victory, but, at least, the losses wouldn't be too high. It would need some time for its troops to regain power, but nothing more. However, it could lose the trust that its lord had placed in it.

Trying to make a decision, it stared at that strange hypnotic spectacle, just like its troops did. These, without clear orders, had stopped, without knowing what to do. The closest ones to that kind of hurricane had been repelled, and their instinct was telling them that it was better not to approach.

The general would have been more confident if it knew that it would only last twenty seconds, and that only one of them could invoke it, by spending all his mana. Although it is also true that he recovered it faster than anyone, in fifteen minutes with recovery potions.

What its little experience in facing unforeseen situations didn't warn him was that, behind that Rock Fortress, another small surprise could be brewing, one that was going to be very unpleasant.