A soft snore rousing me in the still darkened tent. My back and shoulders cold, exposed outside the roll, but my front warm, snuggled against Daniel's still sleeping form. Laying like that for another minute or so, the light outside beginning to change, but still predawn. Extricating myself without waking him and going outside to answer nature's call.
The camp, quiet and still, had been set up a short ways from the foot of the mountain, alongside a ravine to the south. A safe area, well, safer, that Ishtar had discovered during their prior outings. The wagons had been set up in a quarter circle to provide a defensive fortification while we'd set up camp within. Doing a short stretch, working out some of the knots and kinks. My breath misting the air. Fingering the simple chain Ink had given to me as payment for delivering the letter and unclasping it. The ends falling and the temperature noticeably dropping several degrees. Catching the shivers and quickly refastening it, rubbing my arms trying to calm the gooseflesh. Seeing movement on top of one of the wagons across the way. That looks like...
Creeping back into the tent to get fresh underwear and a new tanktop. Daniel still asleep, breathing softly. Fully clothed, sans gloves and armor, about to leave again but first drawing the rune on my armor, knife and hand. Exiting the tentflap. Carve. Activating all three, the shield flashing into being. Heading over to confront my voyeur.
“Well, hey there,” Blindside's voice coming down from atop the wagon, “you seem especially perky this fine morning.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Aren't you supposed to stay within fifteen feet of Grace?”
“She fine. Besides, Hugh's keeping an eye on her.” His cocky grin losing some of its luster. “Give me five minutes and I'll take the rest of your turn on watch. You can probably catch another hour of sleep.”
Gesturing for me to come up.
“How are you liking it so far?” he asks, his attention is on the horizon, and the question coming from the side of his mouth.
“Better yesterday than the day before.” My comment having no visible effect. The two of us sitting in silence.
“What'd you want to talk to me about?” he eventually says.
“I want to make sure I don't end up with a knife in my back.”
“I thought you managed to solve that little problem with Grace.”
“I'm talking about you. Magpie's fine.” The guy glancing over. “You're a lot more difficult to read.”
“Magpie, huh? She told you to call her that?”
“She didn't object. You called her something like that when I heard you two talking, so I asked her about it.” No reaction. “Why'd you join up with Ishtar, anyway?”
“Well, why did you?”
“I haven't. Not yet. I'm still a prospective. Still feeling things out and trying to get the lay of the land. If you want, you could sell me on it.”
“Sure. They seemed like a good group of people - they actually are a good group of people, some quirks aside. You could do far worse.”
“Saying they could be worse isn't exactly an endorsement. What do you think about me joining up?”
“I think-” his hand out of his glove, too fast to react, and his bare fingers tweaking my nose, “you're pretty cute, so I have no objection.” His cocky grin coming back. “You're definitely cuter when you blush.”
“Magpie warned me you were a sweet talker.” My heart hammering in my ears. “I think that must've been five minutes. I'll take your spot on watch and you can get some sleep.”
“Yeah? And force a prospective member to pick up my slack? No, thanks, even I wouldn't stoop so low.”
“I want to do it.”
“No can do.” Blindside considering the matter final and returning his attention to the dull, red orange glow beginning to crest on the horizon.
“I want-” Cutting myself short, then taking a moment to come to terms with my genuine desire. “I'd appreciate the opportunity to prove myself precisely because I am only a prospective. That's why I want to do it.”
The guy glancing back my way, cocky grin nowhere in sight. “Lucy, was it? I know exactly what you mean. I dunno how much you got into it with Mags today, but me and her only joined the House about half a year back. While we are full members, this trip is our first real opportunity to prove ourselves in a way we haven't been able to. So believe me when I say I understand your feelings, but Daniel assigned me today's last watch. You'll have opportunities to prove yourself in the future, but this is one of mine.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” The guy stretching himself out. “Thinking back on it, I probably joined Ishtar for all the wrong reasons, but it ultimately wasn't a bad decision and I'm glad I did. I suppose everything does happen for a reason, even if you don't know exactly why at the time. The universe is unfolding as it should, and we simply happen to be along for the ride.”
The simplistic, irritatingly smug and, by design, thought-terminating statement rubbing my not-quite-healed scabs raw.
“I don't think so. That's survivorship bias. Bouncing back after a bad situation, or simply happening to luck out and have things not be so bad, doesn't mean there was secretly some good reason for what happened, let alone that the universe has some sort of well thought out plan.”
Smirking again. “I used to think like that, too, and I was in a bad place because of it. But after some soul searching I managed to take a step back, and I think I found a larger perspective.”
Delusional, and patronizing about it. Common. Too common. “I think you've lost the plot entirely.”
“I understand why you say that. I really do.” Blindside, with a now very wry smile, gently shaking his head. “For now, let's agree to disagree. I appreciate your offer, but you should try and get some more sleep so that when - not if - your opportunity comes knocking, you'll be ready to answer when it happens.”
Swinging my legs over the side of the wagon's taut covering and dropping to the ground below. Sleep is the last item on the agenda. Now is the time to practice without being observed. Hitting level eleven means Transference is at five ranks, which permits Tracing to draw on targets at range - but with the past two days spent cheek by jowl with Ishtar on the road, there hadn't been any opportunity to safely practice. When crisis comes knocking sometimes no preparation is enough, but ill prepared is assuredly better than unprepared.
***
During the post breakfast pep talk Anderson had stressed that this would be the hardest day of the journey. A stretch of empty sand from the foot of the mountains to our destination for the evening, a walled oasis settlement. Yesterday, while hiking up the mountain path, the monsters generally had ranged from twelve to fifteen, with a few slightly higher - and most of those showing up late in the afternoon after we'd moved beyond all traces of Imperial construction. Today, thus far, the monsters had been between fourteen and eighteen, with only a few encounters considerably more difficult. We'd spent the morning fending off a steady stream of poisonous snakes, giant scorpions, birds of prey, a single dust devil, as well as - more frequently than all of the others put together - shambling sets of bleached bones, humanoid and animal.
After hitting our stride in the first hour, both Anderson and Wallace relaxing a touch and allowing Magpie, Greene and myself to tackle a good number of the incoming creatures ourselves. Magpie using a stone club that Wallace had fashioned from sand, with her knife going in her offhand, and Greene using the flat surface of his two handed sword more often than he used the edge. For myself, in spite of all the excitement, my self imposed restriction remaining intact. No offensive action allowed, even if it meant back peddling or dancing through a couple awkward moments. The shield drawing attention to provide easy targets for my groupmates.
“Lucy,” Anderson says, after blasting apart a stray set of incoming bones with an almost lazy swing of his warhammer, “I'm getting spoiled with you in my group. Swinging this around is downright enjoyable. It feels so much lighter than usual, and it hits so hard. When you three feel like taking a breather, let me know.”
“Maybe after lunch.”
Greene flexing. “I could do this all day,” he says.
About a half hour past noon, with the sun high overhead and sweat pouring down our faces, and fatigue starting to really creep in, the wagon train approaching a lone, shaded area among the otherwise sun baked dunes in all directions. Arches rising out of the sand from a mostly buried ruin. The wagons entering the shade and the merchants starting to emerge, tending to the overheated horses and dousing them with water.
“Alright, we're gonna take a breather for about a half hour,” says Anderson. “Have Serena refill your canteens, but don't eat much, otherwise you're going to-”
A feeling underneath our feet, a slight tremor, causing him to look down. Causing all of us to look down. Out of the shade, maybe thirty paces to the east, something coming out of the sand. Stones. Fingertips. A hand several feet across, hooking onto to the top layer and beginning to pull the thing underneath out. A stone head emerging, humanoid, but the features indistinct and worn away. A Colossus. Four more hands emerging several yards from the first. Two more giants pulling themselves out. A trio of huge stone Colossi, almost entirely buried, coming to life and ready to murder unwelcome intruders in accordance with the ancient commands of their nameless, long dead makers.
From the front of the train, a twinkling sparkle of light catching my attention, and the arcing bolt of lightning from that spot causing spots in my vision. The blast hitting one of the three figures and grounding out. Doing zero damage. That one turning it's attention toward Serena, her finger still pointing, at the front of the train. Daniel, next to her, running in with another two following right behind. Behind them, a bit slower off the draw, a very concerned looking Blindside.
“Do any of you have water?” Wallace practically shouts, shaking his upside down, empty canteen. Tossing him my half full one and the guy taking off, running out into the sun while unscrewing the cap.
“You three stay here.” Anderson unstrapping the hide covered shield from his back and following after Wallace.
One of the guys in Daniels group stopping about twenty feet in the front of the one plodding it's way toward Serena. The slowish plod becoming much slower. Half speed, down to a quarter. Oh, that the Bard. Daniel charging the Colossus in the middle, currently lumbering toward the main group of wagons. How's he gonna-? He's gonna kick it. With a flying jumpkick. Wow. The force knocking the Collossus off a pace. Teetering. Falling down.
Wallace running toward the third one, then veering a little to the side. Anderson passing him, shield raised. A stone fist coming down. Magpie gasping. Oh, that must've hurt, but he's still on his feet. Wallace swinging my canteen and the water coming out slicing through one of the stone legs. Rock to Mud. That one falling over. Wallace backtracking a touch, then running over to Serena. The Wizard conjuring a large quantity of water, and the Druid using it to turn the three, awe inspiring stone Colossi into uninspiring lumps of mud. The sand underneath quickly absorbing the moisture, leaving an ocean of dry sand behind.
Daniel, running his hand through his hair, with a sheepish expresion, talking to some very clearly happy merchants. Anderson and Wallace doing something similar with some others, then the two of them jogging back to the three of us.
“Hugh, that was amazing,” Magpie gushes to Anderson.
“That was definitely amazing,” Greene agreeing with her statement.
“Yes, it was.” Wallace tossing back my empty canteen. “Thanks for the assist.”
Holding out a leaf to Anderson. “That was a big hit you took.”
“Sure,” he says, shrugging, “but I've had worse.” Then, in spite of his clear show of bravado, the man accepting my offered leaf. “Alright, let's grab a quick lunch while we can.”
***
“You three, go help Daniel up front!”
Late afternoon, the sand around the entire wagon train erupting. A swarm of brightly colored ant-like creatures - multi-legged, segmented insects with mandibles, and roughly three to four feet in length - boiling out of the earth..
“Get going!” he shouts. “That's an order.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Anderson turning away to give a nearby insect a hearty smack with his warhammer. Wallace reaching into a pocket and throwing a small piece of something that quickly expands into sticky spider's webbing that splats onto the ground and snares a couple of the insects.
Getting my hatchet from the loop in my belt. It was a good rule while it lasted, but rules are suggestions that exist because they're useful, not because they're important in and of themselves. Rules gone bad, rules gone stupid, get tossed. The three of us following Anderson's order moving toward the center of the train, Greene in front, his sword giving big swings, knocking the bugs out of our way, busting them open and breaking spindly limbs.
These colors probably mean poison. Probably. Everything that isn't dead in this unredeemable sandpit is some creepy crawly poisonous carrion eater, or something barely higher up on the food chain. Nothing good ever came out of the sand and nothing good ever will. Knocking an approaching bug off balance with the shield and slashing at the thorax. And another. Staying with Greene as he moves forward, with Magpie right behind, the girl clubbing at limbs with one hand and stabbing at multiple eyes with the other. Greene pushing on, his mammoth swings hacking and splatting anything on the ground in his way, or now crawling on a nearby wagon.
The merchants in the center of the caravan in near panic, trying to calm bucking and whinnying horses and battening down the hatches while securing their loads. And trying not to get dragged away by one of the insects. Half the group from the front coming to meet in the middle, but still a ways off. Daniel's kicks sending pieces flying, Blindside and another person following him and covering his back.
Swapping my position with Magpie, her usually graceful strikes having lost all precision, now raining down frenzied chops and stabs. Using the shield more offensively to pull insects down off the sides of the wagons.
We aren't going to make it.
The three wagons in the middle basically overrun. Sealed from the inside, but the swarm of insects crawling over them are shredding the coverings, and the horses are being grabbed by mandibled mouths and getting dragged away. A blast of lightning from the other side announcing Serena's presence over there, but that doesn't do anything for this side. There are too many crawling around. Working our way closer - still not close enough - and then a pulse of energy releasing from one of wagons near the middle. The crawling insects trying to get to the tasty things inside immediately stopping, collapsing, and convulsing as fluids start to leak out of various places. The horses in the vicinity, and probably all the nearby people, too, giving gurgling screams as blood starts pouring out of their orifices. Their eyes, their noses and their mouths and, probably, their unmentionables. Two men immediately emerging from the previously imperiled wagon and reaching out their hands to touch the affected merchants and horses, followed shortly after by a third man, who keeps his eyes out for anything hostile still moving around.
The nearby insects, seriously disoriented by the blast of magic, are quickly put down.
***
“I love coming here this time of year,” Serena says, in between some bites of food. “The melt causes the river to overflow, so for a couple months everything turns into this.”
Patchy bits of scrubgrass and green on the horizon had brought welcome relief, but it took about another hour of travel beyond that point to reach our destination for the evening, a small, fortified village built beside an oasis on the edge of a verdant floodplain.
The disastrous incident with the hive of insects - Sandreavers - ultimately bringing everyone together. Fortunately there had been four Empaths among the merchants: the two from an independent wagon in the middle, and two more from Four Corners. It was entirely thanks to their efforts that only three horses ended up being unrecoverable. My contribution to the cleanup, less immediately noted but no less important, three Mended wagon wheels.
“How are you two enjoying the trip so far?” Serena asks.
“I'd say it's been an eventful couple days.”
“Getting out of town has been a good change of pace.” Magpie's admission somewhat delayed, and obviously grudging.
“Who are you and what did you do with Grace?” Magpie ignoring that comment completely, so Serena once again addressing me. “Your little stunt really brought her out of her shell.”
Magpie's mouth twisting, spittle ready to fly, fully preparing to unleash an acid bath. A moment later, the girl biting her tongue and continuing to eat.
“Before we pack it in I need to say something.” Daniel's voice from across the way addressing the entire group. The man trying to sound less exhausted than he looks. “In spite of a number of surprises, you all did extremely well today. Tomorrow, I'm expecting-”
The tick hitting. Level twelve. Is he saying anything important? Nah, sounds like the usual postgame claptrap, and even though he's trying, his heart isn't in it. Let's see, which direction now. Five ranks of Transference gave a ten foot range on Tracing and a ten foot range on rune activation. Even Runic Shield's range had improved, slightly. At the very start it had been at my armspan, and now it's about a foot more than that. Transference is definitely useful, but after that big jump last rank the gains will go right back to being incremental. Maybe another larger jump with five more ranks, but who knows. The other choice is Decomposition. Or maybe double up Shaping. Or Perception. Decomposition seems like it could be great. Disjunction probably turns into something very special at five ranks. It may even compete with Kate's new spell. Well, maybe not to that extreme, but there's no reason not to dream big. And Rune Trap'll get benefits, too. Okay.
Name: Lucilia Macarthy Profession: Runemage Level: 12 Sex: Female Experience: 54,888 (16,783) Age: 20 Until Next: 12,862 Health 85 Mana 73 Stamina 36 Spirit 8 Strength (STR) 57 (3) Constitution (CON) 64 (7) Dexterity (DEX) 69 (14) Agility (AGI) 87 (18) Discipline (DIS) 77 (13) Aura (AUR) 82 (16) Logic (LOG) 73 (16) Intuition (INT) 76 (18) Wisdom (WIS) 46 (-2) Influence (INF) 77 (13)
Name Trainings Bonus Armor Use 6 29 Physical Fitness 13 54 Simple Weapons 13 54 Arcane Symbols 18 66 Magic Item Use 13 54 Harness Power 13 54 Mana Control 13 54 Runemancy 13 54 Arance Lore, Decomposition 1 5 Arcane Lore, Shaping 13 54 Arcane Lore, Transference 5 25 Survival 13 54 Perception 13 54 Climbing 13 54 Swimming 10 45 First Aid 13 54 Trading 13 54 Stalking and Hiding 13 54
Health capped. Definitely low. Low strength bonus and not a great constitution bonus. Can't test Rune of Focus here and now. Later.
“- is easier, but don't get complacent. Serena, you're going to be on first watch.” Wallace, and a couple of the others, registering clear disappointment. “I'm going to see if I can coordinate shifts with Four Corners and Windward so everyone here can get some sleep.” Daniel finishing his talk, then leaving our circle.
The mood around the fire more subdued than prior evenings, yawns and some stretches of silence replacing the previous festivity and cheer. People drifting away. Getting a tap on the shoulder from Magpie. Anderson next to her. Oh, right, fifteen feet. Going to Daniel's tent, but no one inside. Stripping off my armor and outer clothing, and then rummaging through my pack. Giving the canteen a shake. Still a little in there. Getting a not too horribly dirty undershirt and using some of the remaining water from the canteen to wash my face. The tent flap opening and Daniel coming in. Looking though me. Looking more at the ground than at anything in particular. The man undressing in silence, then getting in his roll.
“Come here.” The invitation bordering somewhere between a request and a demand. Crawling in with him.
“You smell, you know that?”
“Tomorrow we can all get a proper bath,” he says.
“I'm not complaining about it.” Turning on his side to face me, our feet beginning to lightly touch. “So how many did they lose?”
“None. They...” Trailing off and swallowing his lie. “Two from Windward, one from Four Corners, and one of the indies.”
“How many from that?” Jaw remaining shut. “From what the Blood Mage did. That's an awful way to die.”
“Three of the four,” he admits, “but they're not blaming us for it. They're not even blaming him - much. It seemed like a decent call for a bad situation.”
“Then don't blame yourself. Besides, they're not actually dead. Where are they going to end up, anyway?”
“From here? Probably back in Lumeer.”
“Then they're doing better than us right now. They're probably nice and comfy in their beds.”
“This seems pretty comfy right now.”
“Except you smell.”
“So do you.” Grinning down at me and pressing his lips against my forehead. “You've got a lot of hair in that braid. It kept tickling me last night.”
“We could stay like this.” Reaching out.
“Maybe when we get back.” Smothering my groping hands with his. “We really should get some sleep.”
Softly breathing in and out, front to front, my forehead resting against his chest, taking in his smell from three days on the road.