If only things could have been as easy as I hoped. But no, that would be utterly boring, if I could have managed to sneak out without any of the Withered realising I had ever been there. Instead, barely a minute after I killed the Withered Skulker before I even managed to freeze the body for later analysis, I noticed that the psychic chittering around me shifted once more. While I was still unable to determine what was said, it went from what felt like ordinary conversation to something more urgent, my mind conjuring up images of beating drums and screaming sirens.
Whatever was happening, I didn’t think it boded well for me.
Despite feeling the urge to run, to escape as quickly as possible, I didn’t move any faster than I had the entire time. Instead, I channelled extra power into the runes keeping me concealed, pushing deeper into the shadows. A part of me wished that I retained the ability to travel through the shadows, but it had been difficult to learn on Mundus, even after I managed it by accident the first time. Maybe the loopy, dazed state of mind I had been in back then had been the key, it had taken me a significant amount of time and experimentation to make that trick work while in a normal state of mind.
But for now, staying concealed was my best bet to get away. The Withered clearly knew that something was going on, but I wasn’t sure they knew what, nor could I tell if any specific area was their target. They might have been alerted by something entirely different, meaning it would be foolish to break cover.
And yet, it felt incredibly strange, to keep creeping forward while the psychic chittering warbled urgently in the air. The paranoid part of me kept urging speed, suggesting that an attack was coming at any moment. I could feel myself get twitchier with every step I took, my gut starting to clench with nerves and even the hairs in my neck started to rise. Every fibre of my being began to scream at me, that I needed to run, to flee as quickly as possible.
Shaking my head, I pushed against the sensation, it was far too intense to be natural, even if I counted my slight paranoia. Sniffing the air, I noticed a faint whiff of something unnatural, unlike any magic I had ever encountered before. My tongue flickered out, tasting the air and the magic carried by it, only to make me spit out everything in my mouth a vile taste lingering despite the act. My face twisted into a grimace, as disgust started to overwhelm me, the taste was incredibly disgusting, it was completely and utterly wrong. The closest I had ever encountered that managed to achieve a similar response were the Nethersprites with their hunger for miasma. Maybe a certain corrupted beast we had encountered on our travels in Aretia, a giant boar if my memory served me right, suffering from some strange affliction came close but I hadn’t taken too close a look at that thing, the scent had been enough to drive me away. Only, I couldn’t escape the odd energies these Withered put out, it was like a blanket covering the entire area. Trying to make me flee, to make me paranoid.
To break my concealment.
The realisation only served to send me deeper into the shadows in an attempt to utterly blend with them. If the Withered knew that something was here, that somehow the racoon I was still carrying with me had died, or had been killed, but were unable to detect the threat, they would want to flush the threat out. What better way to accomplish that than a large area of effect spell, I would have used a freezing mist or something along those lines, especially if my forces were resistant to cold. If the Withered and their Undead servants were immune to fear effect, or at least that odd effect filling the area, they could easily hunt for whatever living thing was scared up by their attack, bringing in additional forces to overwhelm whatever it might be. Just like in the past, people used hounds, horses and noise to scare up game while hunting, forcing the prey out, into the open, where it could be shot down. A classic hunting tactic, one that had been used since time immemorial. I needed to remain calm and hidden, or I could easily find myself as the prey, not the predator. At the same time, I needed to have some sort of escape, if the hounds managed to find me.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
My breath hitched just a little when I heard something move in the distance. The hounds were coming and while there was no baying, I could feel the psychic chittering shift once more. Not in overall intensity but in direction, turning it from a general din that filled the area into distinct signals coming from multiple directions. They weren’t moving directly towards me, but I could easily guess that they were coming in this direction.
A realisation made me mutter a curse under my breath when a drop of blood from the Withered Skulker I had killed fell and landed with a soft splash. The body was still warm enough to bleed, the blood liquid enough to easily spread its scent, turning it into a liability. After a moment of consideration, I channelled Ice Magic into the body, freezing it solid, before quickly moving, hoping that the hounds didn’t get too much information from my burst of magic.
As I moved along another side street, I noticed a window about two metres above the ground. The interesting thing was, the window was open and below it was an arrangement of boxes, trashcans and even a dumpster, all conveniently arranged so one could reach the window without too much trouble.
It was far too useful a trick to pass up on, so I easily scrambled across the barely-hidden path, even noticing a few scoff marks where somebody had pushed themselves up the wall before. With my increased attributes, I could easily make the last bit, pulling myself up and rolling through the window, landing in a low crouch.
The room I found myself in was quite interesting, though exposure to the elements had clearly left its mark. Unless I missed my guess, I had entered a teenager’s bedroom, at least the various posters, a couple of books on a nearby desk and the general disorder led me to that conclusion. Moving through the room, avoiding some trash that was piled on the ground, I made my way to the door, only to realise it was locked from the inside. A grin spread across my face, as my mind made up a hypothesis to explain the circumstances I observed. Maybe the inhabitant of the room had decided to head out for the night, locking the door to keep their parents from barging in and scrambling down the path I had taken to enter. Shaking my head, I pushed the observation away, it was meaningless at this point. Whoever lived here was either dead or long gone, just like everything else.
Opening the door, I quietly made my way through the apartment, aiming for the other side of it. Hopefully, I’d find an exit over there, something that would allow me to get out of the area I had used my magic in. If nothing else, the shortcut I was taking would hopefully shake any hound that tracked me from that position, unless they were smart enough to make their way through the apartment, too.
Given that the climb would be trivial for the racoons, I made sure to close and lock any door I moved through, going so far as to wedge some things into the cracks to block them even further. I had no idea how strong the racoons were but I was somewhat confident that the doors would slow them down. At the end of the day, they lacked the rather important advantage that were opposable thumbs.
The Undead, on the other hand, likely lacked the coordination to use the path I had used to enter unless they piled up and stepped on each other. But that, just like the doors, would slow their advance quite a bit, hopefully giving me the time to escape.
After moving through a hallway, I came into another apartment and quickly made my way through. There, I easily found a suitable window and peered through, trying to make sure nothing was outside, waiting for me to leave. It would be rather annoying if I were to be spotted here, it would make the entire subterfuge useless.
Noticing no observers, I carefully opened the window, making sure to move slowly and silently. Dropping down onto the pavement, I quickly scurried along, moving deeper into the shadows, as I continued on my way, fleeing from the psychic chittering and the agitation I could feel from multiple sources that were in the area.
The hounds were nearby, and they were looking for my scent.