Chapter 67 - Bring my Friends

“You’re sure you have it all? Shall I call Mr. Angol over to do one last sweep over the facilities?” Jassin asked for what must have been the dozenth time. The answer didn’t matter.

We were down to the wire, and even if the interns discovered another big source of metal somewhere in the Spire, I wouldn’t have time to suck it all up.

We were on the makeshift parade grounds yet again, the hangar sized, glorified storage room the military repurposed as a staging area. It looked a little bit more clean and orderly now that there weren't a hundred armed soldiers running around grabbing things and shouting orders. With just us, the place was downright cavernous, and our voices echoed off the hard surfaces just enough to be noticeable.

“I think I got everything,” I told Jassin again. “Everything but the decoys.”

Garret nodded to me, his mustache curling upward as his mouth did the smiling somewhere underneath. “We’ll start doing our impersonation act tonight. Sure you can’t spare a little ammunition to really make the experience a bit more authentic?” The glimmer of hope in Garret’s expression was the same one you found on kids throughout the multiverse when they asked for a new toy. This man wanted a crate of rifles for his squad, and he wasn’t above outright asking.

“We’ve been over this,” Jassin admonished his master at arms. “Ryan is meant to have the best chance to get home alive, and to that end, I insist he takes everything. Additionally, I would rather Ralqir not be plunged into a new era of warfare right after we manage to save it.”

I coughed uncomfortably into my fist. “Uh. Yeah. I mean you guys have all seen what’s possible with a little kinetic force and a tube. I’m sure somebody will figure it out sooner or later.”

“Yes, of course,” Jassin sighed. “Especially with so many witnesses to the efficacy of your methods. I predict it will be the goblins first, gods of old help me. Their propensity for theft does not stop at material goods, and if they are not upstairs crafting their own firearms of questionable quality and safety right now, I would be very surprised. They are devilishly clever in their way. We can only hope to be well ahead of the technological curve before the practice becomes widespread among the various tribes.”

As Jassin talked himself into an ulcer, I caught Garret’s eye. I kept my expression neutral, but I let my eyes flick up to the ceiling for half a second twice. He seemed to get the picture and gave me a wink. Upstairs, if he looked hard enough, he’d find a singular casting bowl and a solid steel auto-pistol I’d left for him, though he’d have to figure out how to recharge the gun and the bowl himself.

“I don’t know, Headmaster. I sense that goblinkind is undergoing a cultural upheaval right now, based on my time among them. They may still surprise us,” Kolash croaked. “Tragedies such as this are often the fires in which new ages are forged.”

Jassin’s frown did not leave his face as he, no doubt, thought upon all conflict and strife new ages brought about, but he had the presence of mind to give the Bishop a slight nod of acknowledgement.

“Of course, not if our friend from beyond the stars is careless with the life of the first and only goblin queen,” Kolash warned, turning toward me and tilting his head much like a tired teacher silently warning his worst student.

I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder where my ‘entourage’ was busily pretending to strap on gear and not listen to our conversation. All except Tiba and her guards of course. They wouldn’t understand what we were saying anyway, so they’d be standing there with their spears watching the tall folks jabber amongst one another. Geddon would be pointlessly brushing his hair, only to have it ruined when he donned his helmet. Sissa and Samila would be checking each other’s straps, making sure they were good and tight. Trix would be meticulously oiling his rifle with a cloth he kept in his pocket. Lots of moisture where we were going, and I’d warned him about rust.

Yes, they were all coming. Yes, I had mixed feelings about that.

But we’d had that argument already.

After Samila broached the subject with me back in my workshop, I was, in a word, irate. There was hyperventilation, babbled accusations, a tiny bit of begging, and a sudden desire to test the limits of the magic practice room’s explosive resistance.

After that, they’d all piled into my workshop and hit me with the plan of the century: ‘We’re all coming with you.’

When I’d protested that this was not a plan so much as a declaration of intent to die, they filled me in on the rest. Apparently, none of them had been idle while I slept. They knew I was going to live thanks to the Bishop’s magic and Trix’s examination, so they went about putting something together. Apparently, the ‘let Ryan do what he needed to do’ plan was unacceptable.

The original plan, as I’d set before Jassin and Kolash, was this: Once Ephelir was no longer a threat, I would need to close my insertion point. The only way I knew of doing that was either by dying or going back through, and I’d rather not die after going through so much to live. So, I would set out on my own and go back to where it all started, staying hidden as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Jassin would go through with the evacuation of the city, an exodus of the living, taking whatever food and supplies they could with them. They would take the best boats they’d found and head upriver to the nearest garrison where Jassin would rouse as much of an army as he was able using his connections. Kolash would get the church moving as well once he could get a hold of a proper messenger.

In ten days, if I could make it to the tutorial facility, I would need to show myself to the scourge in an attempt to draw them all to me. If I was right about the hive mind thing and their burning desire for my death, they would all come running just as they had in Eclipse. All of them… worldwide.

From there I would hold out as long as I could before retreating through the insertion point and depriving them of the power it provided as well as access to me. If I could hold out long enough before having to pull the ripcord, the scourge would all be bottled up in the Black Ones’ territory, and the military could march in and wipe them all out at the same time.

Well, that plan didn’t work for my friends. For one, the risk to me was, admittedly, high. There were a lot of parts that could go very off the rails very quickly with even one mistake, and I was not above making those.

“One turn of an ankle or blow to your head, and you are done, Ryan. What then? We have to face another tainted fulcrum wearing your face?” Trix had argued.

“There is a reason we don’t fight alone, not for anything of import,” Sissa added matter of factly. “That’s why you’re not going to be alone.”

I was seething at the time. They’d all surrounded me, not in a hostile way but in my room, each sitting on a different piece of the decor while I spun from one stern face to the next.

“But I’m definitely leaving alone, Sissa,” I fumed. “I am literally leaving this universe, meaning I’m the only one with a way out of the valley when the time comes, and when I leave, the turrets will be firing blind if they even keep firing at all.”

“We’ve accounted for that.” Samila dismissed my concern, smiling that little smile that dared me to ask the obvious question..

If the blue scales didn’t tell you the dragonkin sisters were sisters, their matching smug expressions would have confirmed it.

When I asked the obvious question: “What do you mean, you accounted for that?” She set about explaining.

Sissa had recently spent an entire day while I was asleep in a sort of trance, giving her father a call.

Did I mention she could do that? No. No I didn’t, because I had no idea she could do that. When she tried to explain how, there were a lot of proper nouns and spiritualistic terms I wasn’t ready to assimilate, and I wasn’t sure if any of them had any 1 to 1 english translations either. I got the impression that this was a sort of half astral projection, half prayer to a god… a god that happened to be your dad.

Essentially, Sissa had brought her mind into line with her father’s dream as he slept away the eons, and she’d told him everything. Once he learned what was at stake, he was willing to help. He wasn’t in position to come himself, but he was sending one of his minor allies who was close enough to give everyone a lift out of hell when I finally had to make a swift exit.

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“Can we trust this dragon?” I’d asked, still not believing what I was hearing.

“Hells no,” Sissa snorted. “Father even said as much. Otherwise, I’d have asked them to fly us all the way there. I imagine the only reason they will even agree to rouse themselves is to capture you and use you to bring back the age of the dragons just as the Dark Lord used one of you to end it.”

A thought popped into my head. “I guess it would be too much to ask for this dragon ally to fight with us to save the world,” I hazarded.

Samila nodded. “The world’s magic is different now, Ryan. It cannot sustain one of the old ones like it used to. The maelstrom is too much. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be able to snuff us all out with a thought if they so desired, but it would cost them dearly.”

“With that in mind, we plan to have our rescuer arrive just as the human slips back into his own universe. They will still be honor bound to rescue us, since that is the agreement they struck with Father,” Sissa declared, looking very pleased with herself.

I came back to the present with a jolt as Garret slapped two hands on my shoulders, pinning me with a knowing glare. “Easy to get bogged down in other men’s parts to play, young man,” he said prophetically. “Just stick to what you have to do and trust us to do ours.” He didn’t outright tell me to trust my friends too, but the message came across well enough.

“You remember your breathing too, right? You doing it at night before sleep?” Garret asked with a finger in my face. I never knew my grandfather, but I imagined that this was what it would be like to have one, a grizzled veteran one. A kind word one moment, deadly serious advice the next.

“Uh- Yeah. When I got a chance,” I lied. I hadn’t actually slept much after the coma thing. Too busy working. That meant no pushing metaphorical boulders uphill practicing Mana Manipulation.

Garret seemed to detect the dishonesty, frowning slightly, but he let it slide. “You keep doing that. Get your body used to doing it lying down, and work your way up to practicing with your sword. You’ve had a bit of training. I can tell, though you’ve let it rust. Let the breathing shake that rust off for you. Learn them together, and let them sharpen each other.”

“I- uh-” I stammered. I still had reservations committing to the sword, given my complicated history with it. It always felt like I was borrowing the knowledge from my dad instead of using my own. Of course, the sword was a tool. Such a good one that I’d be stupid to let the skill just rot on my status screen.

“I’ll practice as much as I can, Garret,” I said, meaning it but not able to see when my life would slow down enough to do so. “Thank you for what you’ve done. I’ll never forget you.”

Garret grinned. “Nah. Don’t let ol’ Garret take up space in your mind. I have it on good authority that you’ll live forever, and you don’t want this old war hound coming ‘round your dreams. Just remember what I taught you.”

Kolash was next, towering head and shoulders above me. He put a hand on my shoulder, the intact one he wasn’t using to hold his staff. My eyes only flicked momentarily to where he touched me. No curse materialized inside of me though.

He smiled that big, toothless smile of his. “After everything, you believe I would still kill you if I could.”

I looked up at him, in his alien face, trying to peer into his eyes for some sign of malice. I found none, but I couldn’t rule it out. So, I simply shrugged. His hand stuck there, heavy enough to be uncomfortable.

The big frog nodded, bobbing his head straight up and down. “Very well. Some wounds take time to heal.” He shook his staff slightly, wincing as his crooked fingers adjusted.

“Why don’t you heal that?” I murmured so that only he could hear me. “You obviously can. You did it with the other one.”

“Our scars remind us of our past failings, human,” the Bishop rumbled. “It will be healed only after you are gone from this place and the taint you brought with you purged from our world.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You failed to kill me, and that’s your reminder?”

“A question asked from a limited perspective. It took many failures to bring us to where we are, Ryan. I failed to see the plague for what it was,” Kolash gurgled regretfully. “Failed to send for help in time. Failed to see you for what you were. Failed to give you peace through death. The legacy of my failure is all around us.”

“You had a chance, down below” I reminded him working up to the real question.

“Why did you heal me?”

“The time to kill you had passed. You had just rid us of a great evil, Ryan, and just because it would be easier to kill you, does not mean it would be the best possible path. If this plan works, we will have staved off another Purge. If it does not, we have our contingency, and your death is assured. You have done your best for us, and, for that, I am willing to have a little faith.”

I felt my dinner churn in my stomach at the mention of the contingency.

Jassin came between the two of us before I could formulate a response.

“Daybreak is upon us. Your guides await you down below. Are you ready?” Jassin asked, dragging my gaze back down to his. Kolash and Jassin hadn’t been idle during my nap either. This next part was what they’d come up with as a compromise between letting me go off on my own and ending my life now and rolling the dice with the scourge.

I blew out a long breath, steeling myself for what was to come. “You know, I’ve never actually seen what you can do,” I said to Jassin, trying to sound brave.

“And you’re unlikely to. Only rarely do subjects of this spell recall the casting,” Jassin said. His sad smile told me he wanted to say more, but there was no time.

“Unbelievable,” I declared before spreading my stance and holding out my arms to show I was ready. “Hit me before I change my mind.”

“I am glad I met you, Ryan Kotes,” Jassin proclaimed as his hands began to glow at their fingertips, white hot and blinding like arc welders. “Goodbye.”

Jassin’s mouth moved as he whispered something in no language the System could translate as deep, resonant humming buzzed in my ears.

His hands flashed, and, quick as a snake, latched onto my flesh, one on my forehead and one on my stomach. I could feel the power burning between those two connection points, searing hot wires that flailed and slashed like living whips until they found one another and connected at their tips, becoming one, a circuit.

Status gained: Cursed

Curse of Inevitable Doom

—-----------------------------------------

I came to mid-step in the familiar confines of the smugglers’ tunnels, their plain, uniformly gray brick seeming to entomb me. I gasped desperately through an already raw throat, my eyes darting all over the room as I tripped and went down on one knee.

It felt like waking in the middle of a terrible nightmare, stuck between the world of the dream and the here and now. Nothing felt real or would ever feel real again compared to the terrible darkness of before. My blood felt cold in my veins, though it rushed through like I’d been running a marathon, and my labored breathing bordered on hyperventilation.

“He’s back,” Samila’s worried voice shouted from next to me. She slipped out from under my arm and got down on her knee to look me in the eyes, her golden irises shining in the faint light. My arm shook, and I felt the pressure of her hand there, warm and strong.

“Are you back with us, Ryan?” She asked in confirmation.

All I could do was breathe, panicked, an animal in a cage. Sweat poured down my skin to drip from my nose, and, as my senses came back online, I found my clothes were already soaked through with moisture and cold.

“Trix!” Samila called out after I hadn’t answered immediately.

The little Volpa was there in a flash, reaching up to put a claw up on my face. “It is the same as before. This is a spiritual malady, not one of the body. There will be an adjustment period.”

The world spun around me as my brain called out for oxygen it wasn’t getting, but I got enough of a breath to wave them off with a shooing motion from my prosthetic.

“It’s okay,” I gasped. “I’m fine.”

Trix shot a worried glance at Samila. “The Headmaster said it would be like this. All we can do is give him time.”

“I’m okay,” I breathed.

“I don’t like this,” Samila growled at Trix, though he’d done nothing to earn any sort of blame.

“I do not either, but-”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Needed to be done.”

“You tend to nearly die a lot. You’re not afraid it will go off prematurely?” Trix asked.

“Chance we had to take,” I replied, feeling better by the second. “Just in case the scourge can use my access to the System. It was a good idea. Just hurts… in here.” I slapped my metal hand to my chest, hoping it got the point across. The curse seemed to respond to my thoughts, thrumming with restrained power as it settled further into my spirit.

Tiba brushed past Trix, putting a hand on his back and slipping to the side until she was right in front of me.

“Heavy magic on you, Ryan. Here. This will help,” she said, opening a pouch and sprinkling something powdery into her palm.

“It’s okay. I’m do- PLEPHCH!” Tiba had blown the powder in my face so suddenly that I inhaled it, and I immediately went into a coughing fit.

Status gained: Soothed

I did not feel soothed. I felt… minty. No. Tingly. Overstimulated.

However, the world did stop spinning quite so fast, and, after I was done coughing, my breath slowed as my conscious mind took further control of my endocrine system.

So, I now had a magical dead man’s switch in me. I could feel it there like a boulder tossed in the little puddle that was my life force. It weighed on me, settled down into the soft center of my soul, but, unlike a boulder, this was a complex working of power that felt almost alive, connected to me.

According to Jassin, this spell was loosely based off of another one that agents of the Queen endured when they entered her service. When one of the Queen’s agents was captured, they could activate it with a thought and be instantly incinerated, or if they were murdered, the assassin would burn with them. The Queen could also activate the curse at will, literally putting the lives of the Queen’s agents in her hands, a sign of trust and fealty.

My particular curse was Jassin’s spin on the classic. If I were to die, I’d be my own funeral pyre, and the thing that killed me would get a nasty blowback courtesy of all the power I had stored up in my spirit.

It was the only way to guarantee I didn’t rise again to plague Ralqir if the worst was to happen, Jassin and Kolash’s compromise.

I could deal with this, though. I could deal with it by not dying.

“Thanks, Tiba. Thanks for looking out for me,” I said appreciatively.

“My job,” Tiba blushed. “As your queen."