Into the Fog (7)
We'd been pushing through the fog for two hours, weapons drawn and senses on high alert.
Parlen suddenly halted and leveled his sword.
No words were needed; that motion alone sent tension rippling through the group.
Parlen raised his shield and advanced toward something perched on a boulder, sword at the ready.
It looked like a bug the size of a human head.
But it wasn't your average insect. Its bulky body sprouted two pairs of spider-like legs, and its head bore a massive pair of scythe-like mandibles.
Up close, it resembled a squat jumping spider with four legs. No eyes, though. In their place, bristle-like antennae twitched unnervingly.
Parlen glanced back at me briefly.
A silent question: Permission for a preemptive strike?
I nodded.
This was the wilds. We couldn't afford to leave threats or uncertainties in our wake.
And something told me this monster was the apex predator of this fog.
At my signal, Parlen lunged and thrust at it.
His sword was enchanted, infused with magic. Most beasts would burst into fluids the instant it pierced them.
But—
“!?”
In a flash, it leaped skyward, dodging the stab, and swung those scythe-mandibles down toward Parlen's back.
Thud!!
I activated my ability and closed in, slicing it mid-air.
Its head and body separated, sailing apart. The bug seemed oblivious to the strike—its mandibles slammed the ground, while the torso hopped around a couple more times.
“Whew, you just saved my skin. That attack pattern... yeah, these things are behind the ambushes. What the hell is it?”
Paradilan examined the corpse and replied.
“Looks like a subspecies of helmet ants. No vision; other senses are heightened instead. And these are playing the same role we are.”
“Same role as us? You mean like scouts, Grandpa Elf?”
“They'll swarm us soon. We need to move.”
Helmet ants—naturally, they lived in colonies. That one was a worker or scout.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Thud. Pat-pat.
Light knocking sounds echoed from the fog ahead—against the ground, trees. Closing in on us, unmistakably. The rhythm was picking up speed.
“Incoming!”
Four bugs burst from left and right at his shout.
Parlen bashed the one targeting Paradilan with his shield and skewered it. Damish and Chiria downed two more mid-leap with their long weapons.
The last one misjudged its landing; Ragi crushed it under her upright blade.
But this was just the start.
These were stragglers nearby. The main force was swarming in with those cheerful tapping sounds.
We bolted in the direction Parlen pointed.
“Paradilan! Hit 'em with some crowd-clearing magic!”
“A wind spell... can you buy me a moment?”
“No time! Chiria, hoist Paradilan! Ragi, grab Chiria's bow!”
Chiria caught on, tossing her great bow—which blocked her rear view—to Ragi and scooping up Paradilan one-handed.
“Whoa! This bow weighs a ton... Eek!”
A bug lunged at Ragi in the meantime. I cleaved it apart.
“Ugh, this bug juice is so gross.”
Ragi grumbled, drenched in insect fluids from above, but she slung the bow over her shoulder and kept running. Good—no poison in the goo, apparently.
We couldn't protect the horses amid this chaos.
One grazed the flank of a horse; it screamed and bolted. The rest, spooked, thundered off en masse.
Ragi, quickest on her feet, passed the great bow to Damish and raced to snag the reins—but in this onslaught, scattering wasn't an option. She let them go.
“Nooo! Damn it!! Our gear!! The loot!! I should've ridden one if I knew they'd book it like this!!”
The thick fog had made us hesitate to ride before. Now, sensing death, the horses charged blindly.
Truly regrettable, but we had to cut them loose.
Camping gear, rations, Agnes's potions, Hodo's crossbow... Damn. Gotta come back for 'em later.
But horses weren't the issue now. The swarming taps from the fog behind were far more pressing.
The moment those sounds caught our heels, we'd be swallowed by the fog.
Too many for even my ability to handle. I might survive, but the others wouldn't.
Paradilan, slung over Chiria's shoulder like a sack of rice—unflattering, but functional—twisted to chant backward-facing spells.
"I become the giant of the mountains and draw in the wind."
⟨ Channeling Spell ⟩
The incantation rang out, but no immediate effect.
I could guess why. Wind essence gathered visibly before him, coiling like a visible aura.
Gaming terms: a channeling spell. Building power through sustained focus.
Paradilan atop Chiria's shoulder was a siege engine on the move, plain and simple. Gamey analogy, but nothing fit better.
Fog hid the foes, so wind over fire or ice—smart choice for area denial.
But the pat-pat sounds drew nearer.
Black shadows stirred in the mist.
Some bounced along; others charged.
Finally, their footfalls clung to our heels.
We slashed and batted black orbs lunging from ahead mid-stride, but those rear sounds gnawed at us.
Terror gripped everyone; instinctively, we glanced back at the death closing in.
Dozens of helmet ants cleaved the fog from above, scythes poised to strike as they plummeted toward us.
On the ground, stag-beetle-horned, man-sized bugs barreled like tanks.
And amid them, scissor-jawed ones snapped wide, eager to shear limbs or necks.
From sky and earth... the jaws of death in the fog yawned wide.
"The condensed breath of the giant, become raging waves and sweep this land!"
⟨ Wind Surge ⟩
Paradilan's spell detonated.
The maximally compressed wind erupted backward, blasting the scythe-jawed swarm—and the fog—with it.
Aerial foes scattered like baseballs off a grand slam. Grounded ones tumbled, crushed into each other, rolling into a mass that bowled over their followers.
“Grraaahh!!”
Some reflected wind gust slammed Chiria; burdened with Paradilan, she nearly pitched forward.
Couldn't lose our turret.
I triggered my ability to snatch him mid-air before he hit, sliding to absorb the impact safely.
“Seeing it up close confirms it! Your movements have been too fast to track before. What ability is that?”
Paradilan, cradled in my arms, picked the worst moment for questions.
Tension-induced escapism? Mental regression? Whatever—save the curiosity for later.
“Sorry! I'll carry him right!”
Chiria sprinted over, scooped him up again, and bolted. I scrambled up and dashed toward Parlen.
“Paradilan! Questions later—ice pillars at the rear when you can!”
“Understood.”
And so Chiria lugged our siege-cannon Paradilan, fending off the back.
The rest carved through smaller helmet ants ahead, ascending the foggy mountain.
We lost track of time amid the frantic run-walk cycle.
Sunset crept in before we knew it.
No more ominous taps, but the fog persisted. Head-sized ambushers still dropped like falling rocks from time to time.
We took occasional scrapes, but pressed on without major issues. Still, we'd been at it too long—from dawn to dusk in constant alert.
Exhaustion loomed when two massive boulders appeared with a gap between. I ordered Damish to seal it with Earth Embrace.
A true bunker.
We'd tested its durability ourselves with physical and magical blows. The instant the roots sealed us in darkness, tension shattered; we collapsed where we stood.
“Phaaah...”
Even Chiria, ever tireless, had struggled mightily lugging Paradilan. She was out cold the second she lay down.
“Everyone, check your wounds.”
At my word, Paradilan conjured a small magical lantern.
In its glow, we inspected gear gaps and armor for unnoticed injuries.
I checked Chiria personally.
Parlen and Ragi had gashes on arms and faces; Chiria's back was scraped. But nothing life-threatening—thank goodness.
Time for maintenance.
We took turns under Damish's healing while discussing next steps.
“Parlen, how long does this fog usually last?”
“Shortest a week; typically a fortnight. No water or food, we won't hold out.”
No water... wait, no—not true.
“Paradilan, can you make small ice pillars here? Condense moisture or something.”
“I'll gather atmospheric water and freeze it. Or just melt ice.”
Apparently, he could conjure ice sans ambient moisture. Mystical elf stuff—table that for now.
His ice would quench us, at least.
But no rations for a week? Impossible.
Tonight, hunker down, recover, then attempt escape tomorrow.
Looks like I'd need to steel myself.