He didn’t expect it. He didn’t expect the gambit I employed. He didn’t expect a rookie, two weeks in the suit, to be so strong. Everything that happened in that instant shocked him, and it all played to my success.
He had two weapons, so I added a second. I shoulder-charged him as he continued his relentless attack. My sword flared with CUT, smashing his clawed fingers aside. My SHIELD pulsed, dulling but not stopping the other claw as it scored my back. But I was bigger than he was; my charge caught him off guard. Letting SHIELD pulse to its max, I slammed into him, and the contact with his chest was like an explosion. The recoil shuddered through my own SHIELD, shaking me, but the impact drove him into the air, fragments of his suit scattering. The breath left him in a whoosh.
He crashed and rolled through the debris on the forest floor. I knew enough to realize now was not the time to relent—I pressed my advantage. As he rose, sparking, smoking, and dazed, my CUT came down. I couldn’t cleave him like a mortal; his shield and armor turned the blade. But the incredible kinetic energy flowed through my sword and detonated on impact with him. A gaping, blackened wound opened on his chest as he fell to his knees.
“What the fuck?” he gasped in pained tones through his helm.
A clawed hand shot out, spearing for my groin. I didn’t even think—I bounded back and hacked down with CUT. The explosive impact of light blinded me, and I turned my head. When I looked back, Perdinger was still on his knees, clutching a stump of a wrist, his severed claw twitching on the ground.
A message flashed on my HUD, informing me that I had reached Level 12. I couldn’t spare the time to inspect the notice or the updates to CUT and SHIELD. There would be time for that later.
He turned his helm to me, his voice shaking. “How… you can’t do that… you’re a fucking rookie… even now… my, my fucking hand…”
He screeched with rage and struggled to his feet. I dropped back, content that I could wear him down now that he had one less weapon. But the man paused before reaching me. He hesitated, taking his own step back. I couldn’t stop the smile beneath my helm. He was afraid. It was a thrilling sensation, to be a source of fear to another Griidlord—a dangerously addictive feeling.
His voice was confused and stammering again, “You’re… but this isn’t right, you’re a fucking baby… you can’t… you can’t take my hand off… how… I…”
It was as if he understood then that the fight was over. A canny logic operated beneath the waves of that broken mind. He turned and ran. I took a step to pursue, but to my horror, I felt the tendrils of Order shifting in the air around me.
The voice was in my ear. Christ, get the fuck back.
I leapt back as Perdinger embraced the Footfield. It was madness beyond madness. He shot away under the distortion of the field, weaving between the trees.
The voice muttered, Shit, I didn’t think he was that crazy…
I watched him go, my stomach tense, waiting for the field to lick one of the trees and entwine the atoms of man and plant. But somehow, he kept going—a miracle of madness playing to his advantage—and faded into the shadows of the forest.
The voice said, Kid, listen, I love when we do crazy things, but I don’t ever want to see you do something like that again.
I replied, “I should have finished him. You’re right; he’s a danger. He’s going to hurt people.”
The voice responded, You did what you could. You couldn’t pursue that. I’ve come too far with you only to watch you kill yourself by using the Footfield in a goddamned forest. You tried, which is a lot more than can be said for his teammates back in Buffalo. You see what I mean now? They should’ve retired him or put him down. He’s loose now—god only knows what he’ll do.
I said, “If I ever get another shot at him, I’ll finish it.”
The voice replied, I’m sure you will, kid. No doubt. But there’s no chasing him now. Come on, back to the convoy. That wasn’t bad—two levels in an hour. We got what we came for; now let’s get those wagons rolling. If we dally too long, you’ll be making camp for the night and adding a whole day to this visit to the jolly Burghsmen.
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Once I left the forest, there was a short range of grassy hills between me and the convoy. I let Footfield do the work and covered the distance easily.
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The convoy was lined up and ready to go. I could see some impatience on the faces of the merchants. These men and women weren’t all from Boston; they had little investment in seeing the new Sword take detours to gain experience. But none would express dissatisfaction to a Griidlord. Griidlords were known to leave unruly passengers stranded for misbehaving. I couldn’t imagine treating someone that way, but the mere possibility was enough to ensure good behavior.
I released Footfield as I reached the back of the train and started trotting toward the center to deploy the wider field and get us moving.
“The hell happened to you?” Olaf’s voice rang out, loud and sincerely concerned.
I slowed at his words and looked down at myself. I could feel the pain from several wounds on my body. My armor was damaged—not nearly as battered as Perdinger’s had been, but showing the marks of my fights with the fiends and my duel with Perdinger. I cursed softly. This would mean pod time. Time in the pod meant time not spent roaming and leveling. While I was pleased with the two levels I’d gained, I knew it would get harder as my experience grew. I was intensely fixated on the goal set before me: reaching level 20 before the 26 days until the next Falling had expired.
I said, “I’ve been training.”
I tried to smile as though it was a joke, but I was put off by the horrified look on Olaf’s face and my own disappointment at the time I’d lose in the pod.
The remainder of the journey passed uneventfully. We continued across manageable, if roadless, terrain into Pittsburgh’s territory. Their division of land differed staggeringly from my homeland. In Boston, the city was the heart of the world, with only farming hamlets, castles, and market towns representing civilization beyond the walls. Pittsburgh, however, was entirely different. The Hill Clans were spread across the territory, each seated in a capital settlement of its own. Many of these settlements were located on the sites of still-functioning foundries that produced power weapons or fabricated materials. The Burghsmen didn’t really maintain roads, but well-worn paths had emerged from generations of use, and we traveled these paths until Pittsburgh Tower peaked between the unfolding hills.
The city was different from Boston. Its walls were less substantial, as Pittsburgh had never been taken by an invading force since the fall of the old civilization. Unlike Boston, with its distinct sectors of residences occupying different Order levels, Pittsburgh seemed smaller but more militant. There were more industrial buildings in the city itself, more warehouses. Residences seemed clustered into what could almost be small towns of their own, often in areas of lower Order.
It was said the Burghsmen avoided living in higher Order, fearing the softness and decadence such privileges could bring. Each of the twelve smaller towns that composed the larger city served as an outpost for one of Pittsburgh’s major clans.
Nestled in the crook of three rivers that flowed around it, Pittsburgh somehow felt both older and less permanent than the city I called home.
When we arrived at the mustering area outside the city proper, I dispelled my Footfield. The convoy wasted no time in breaking up. The sun was creeping low in the sky, and for now, this time was my own. Until my next caravan was ready in the morning, I was free to do as I pleased.
I stood watching the caravan breaking up, carts heading off in each direction to deliver the goods we had ferried so far or to rendezvous with other Griid-trains that would take them even farther afield. As I observed, I became aware of a presence near me. I turned and found Olaf’s large figure standing nearby.
He seemed embarrassed to have approached me, awkward about putting himself there. He said, “Uh… thank you. I just wanted to say goodbye. If my plans work out then… well, the next time we meet might be on the other side of an Orb.”
He smiled despite the seriousness of his words. Olaf did not smile often. For all his size and stoicism, I thought he was really quite a shy character.
Words came from me that I hadn’t intended, but words I meant. “Olaf, I understand your need to find a suit. I think we’re the same that way. Once we discovered what it was to wear the suit, we couldn’t imagine any kind of life that could compare with this…”
I raised my armored hand to show him what I meant. He watched me intently, with perhaps a mild envy, and he nodded.
I said, “I don’t ever want to cross weapons with you. Without you, and what you did in the arena after Leona put me down, I wouldn’t have this suit. And afterward, when your obligation was over, you were still there. You’ll make a great Shield, Olaf, and if there’s any justice in the universe, you’ll find your suit. I might never want to cross your path in battle, but I hope you win it.”
He pursed his lips, as if measuring his own feelings. “I was wrong about you from the start, Tiberius. I judged you as a commoner, and I hated you for embarrassing me. That was all wrong. I was all wrong. Boston couldn’t be in better hands. Maybe my future is to come back to the city and take up the mantle of knight. Maybe I’ll be riding out with you in Fallings to come. But for now, I need to do what I can to win the suit.”
He held out a hand to me, and I took it, holding it firmly. The emotion of the moment shocked me. I barely knew him. But then, I barely knew anyone, it seemed. And even if it was premature to call him a friend, he had surely been a true ally. I said, “You’ll be a mighty Shield somewhere, Olaf. Boston will be poorer without you.”
He shook my hand in response. That grip of his, so firm that I could feel the strength of it even through the suit, bore down on my hand with an intensity that caught me off guard. The moment clearly meant something to him as well.
So it was that Olaf set out on his quest to find his place in the universe.
As we stood there, I saw the solitary figure of Gideon stalking away, shoulders hunched in his perpetual anger. It would be a long time before I saw Gideon again. But this wouldn’t be the last time.