They got off two vollies before they all heard a guttural hiss, and their little circle of light came alive with writhing, slithering bodies. With a sibilant cry, the snakes shot forward, wickedly serrated weapons clasped in their claw-like hands, and murder in their eyes.
The mercenaries shot back a war cry of their own; though they knew they were hopelessly outnumbered, each knew he had a trusted brother in arms at his back, with a spear at the ready. The first ranks hefted their glaives high into the air, apparently leaving them wide open in a foolish preparation for a downward slash. The snakes took full advantage, each one coming in low for the belly.
What they didn't know was that the second rank of their enemies had their spears pulled back as far as they could, leveled parallel the ground, muscles tensed, in a drill they had practiced to perfection.
As they met, the snakes slid in low with their eyes on the raised glaives, seeking which way to dodge. What they found were unmoving human statues before them, and by the time they realized the ruse, it was too late. A ferocious barrage of thrusts erupted from the second rank of mercenaries, thirty glaives piercing the night air and snake hides from behind their comrades. As the second wave of snakes came crashing down from all directions, the first rank clove the night air and their serpentine foes as one in a vicious, simultaneous slash to the earth from their still upraised glaives.
As the snake charge continued unabated, a wan smile crossed the company as one. As they all took in the sight of two ranks of snakes decimated, with no losses of their own, they quickly realized something. They were no longer outnumbered.
From his vantage point on the wagon, Rashaban could see the fight was going well. He dropped his crossbow and drew out his wand. Skeletons rose and corpses exploded all around him, further decimating the enemy ranks.
Rashaban surveyed the battlefield once more, and saw that Greiz and his golem were doing well at the front and rear, but the left side was caving. The mercenaries had played their trump card, and were now taking some losses with the snakes pressing in too close. Sending some skeletons to reinforce, he realized that he was too late.
He saw the snakes press hard against he left flank, and eventually it gave way. One jumped for him, but instead found Kara's new toy, her fire-and-ice trident, in its head.
Rashaban saw a second one moving towards a cowering, terrified looking Elzix, and instinctively jumped to help him. The next moment, he remembered Elzix's instructions, and the moment after that, an overconfident naga had a sword sticking out is back.
Rashaban caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and swung around to see another launch itself through the air. In an amazing leap, it jumped from the ground across the wagon, almost slithering through the air itself, a wicked-looking kris already slashing right for an unarmed Warriv.
Again, Rashaban swiftly turned around to intercept, but the wily retiree was faster still. Warriv's hand slid into his baggy trousers, and whipped out with a long, thin rod. That was all Rashaban could register before there was a crash like thunder, a flash like a bonfire, and the naga was thrown back off the wagon in mid-flight. At the tremendous noise, Greiz's well-disciplined mercenaries only flinched for a second before pressing the advantage once more, driving the shocked naga to flee the battle that was rapidly turning against them.
After the last one had fled the torchlight, Rashaban looked over to Greiz and said. "Good work. Your men fight well together."
Breathing hard, Greiz nodded, accepting the compliment.
Then, Rashaban turned to Warriv and said, "And what, might I ask, was that?"
Warriv shrugged and replied, "The perfect weapon for an old, retired caravan driver." holding up the rod for all to see. It had a wooden grip with a long metal tube protruding from the front. All in all, it was a little under two feet long. A complicated looking mish-mash of levers sat about half-way down the length, at the base of the metal tube.
"It's called a flintlock. It combines blacksmithing and alchemy. You put a special powder behind a lead ball, and this lever here holds flint and steel. One spark, the powder flares up, and the ball shoots out the end." He eyed his would-be killer. "Very effective, too."
Rashaban shook his head in disbelief, while Kara looked intrigued that it actually worked. "Where did you find it?", she asked.
Warriv shrugged, "Fara gave me the directions for how to make it, but search for where she got them. Charsi actually did all the work for it; she considered it a special challenge. And, Lysander boils up the powder to make it fire."
He looked at it approvingly. "Charsi even named it after seeing it in action."
Rashaban and Kara crowded closer to look. Engraved with calligraphy, on the right side, on a long, thin, silver sheet, was the word: BOOMSTICK.
As the wagon erupted in laughter at the apt name, one of the mercenaries was looting the bodies. Passing over the body with the gunshot wound, he picked up the kris. It was obviously of exceptional craftsmanship, the wavy blade much longer than most, with a wickedly spiked knuckle guard. Recognizing it after a few moment's perusal, he called back to Rashaban, "Oi! Necromancer! How'd ye like Solmo's blade!"
He tossed it up towards the wagon, and Rashaban caught it, looking over it in awe. "Are you sure?"
The mercenary nodded. "I saw 'im usin' it when 'e was 'ere, and Meshif brought it back with 'im from the jungle. Somebody stole it a few months back; looks like we found it. It's called de Jade Tan Do Kris."
Rashaban hefted it eagerly. It was obviously magical, and very, very powerful. As he gave it a few practice swings and thrusts, he felt its obvious power. But, as he slipped his previous kris, a magical weapon in its own right, out of its sheath, he felt an odd tug. Just…a funny feeling. Shaking it off, he hefted his newfound weapon, and tossed the helpful mercenary a few gold for not keeping it for himself. With a grin, he jumped off the wagon, and took the blinders off the camels. They couldn't be far away now.
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They parked the wagon outside the temple, leaving Elzix and Warriv to guard it, along with about twenty of Greiz's men. They had lost ten in the attack, which left forty to take with them into the temple.
As it turned out, they didn't need them. The snakes had apparently put most of their manpower into the surprise attack, because they encountered very light resistance. 'Hoping to end us before we even arrived.' Rashaban noted dryly to himself. 'Might have worked, too, if we had brought fewer men.'
They ran into real resistance at the central altar, where twenty snakes crowed around. They could have simply pushed through with their overwhelming numbers, but Rashaban and Kara decided to go through first, and take the brunt of them on with the mercenaries as backup. "We'll lose fewer men that way." Rashaban suggested
Rashaban plowed in with a golem and three skeletons backing him up. With the Jade Tan Do in his hand, this fight seemed effortless; he raised his hand for an overhead strike, and a snake came in, eyes on the blade. Bashing its face with the knuckleduster on his fist gave him more than a little satisfaction. Kara's poisoned javelins whizzed past his head, and after a few, the room was clouded with killing fumes. She finished handing out the last of the special antidotes to her javelin poison, then yelled, "Chaaarge!"
In the confusion, the poison and the sudden, overwhelming press of mercenaries, the snakes were killed in minutes.
The staff lay upon the altar, still unbroken. Wiping his brow, Rashaban went to retrieve it, then broke the altar to break the spell, smashing his new weapon down upon it.
It was then that he realized what was wrong. It just felt…wrong using Solmo's blade to do the things that Solmo had done. Looking down at the weapon, he felt a pang of something that wasn't guilt, and wasn't queasiness, but something in between. He remembered his time back in the forest, which already seemed long distant, where he had resolved that he was not being pulled along by Solmo's fate; he was choosing his own, quite separate, destiny. He felt like he was cheating himself by using this weapon.
A bit torn, he wandered over to where the rest of the group, mostly Greiz, was rifling through the treasure. Kara called over, "Hey, Rashaban! Come look at this!" She held up an ornately carved crossbow. "The identify scroll says it's called the Ichorsting Crossbow, and it's pretty powerful."
Before Rashaban could get his hands on it, Greiz stalked over. "I seem to remember something about you handing me over all the treasure."
Rashaban winced, and nodded. "I did indeed." Inwardly he cursed. Beaten at his own game. He looked longingly at the Ichorsting Crossbow; it seemed like it would fit his hands so well. He was about the ask Greiz his price, which would undoubtedly be ridiculous, when the obvious idea flew into his mind.
"Tell you what, then." he told Greiz as he was about to turn away. He held out the Jade Tan Do Kris. "I'll trade you."
As they approached the exit, Rashaban was looking forwards to seeing the light of day again. As they stepped outside, though, the landscape was still white with moonlight. Rashaban whirled around. Had he failed to break the spell?
Kara laughed at his reaction, and whispered something to Greiz. "I guess it's about ten at night." the captain chuckled.
Once they were safely back on the caravan, and headed towards Lut Gohlein, Rashaban test fired his new crossbow, and found it very much to his liking. He slid his old kris back into its sheath, and it felt good there. Very good. Nothing was going to turn him aside from his destiny.
Once back in Lut Gohlein, they rested up for a few days. They knew they had to be ready for what was to come.