smell demons.
Elia smelled it too, though she was withholding judgement. Demons did not have exclusive rights to the smell of fire, brimstone, and ash. A good second guess might have been that a dragon was right around the corner. Scratch that, with Elia’s luck, there were two dragons, probably. But the clatter of bones marching in lockstep didn’t fit either picture. The air turned humid, hot, unbearable. The cry of a horn lamented the inevitability of what was to come.
Elia still had a bigger problem skittering above her head. The giant monster was still squishing her and she watched in hope as Karla held out a hand, conjuring the full might of her [Chains of Tartazon].
The ground cracked open. Chains twice the thickness of Karla’s normal ones burst from the cobbled stone, a dozen wrapping around the beast before diving down below again. The stygian pike roared and did its name justice, darting forward with snappy jaws, omnidirectional maw swirling around like a combine-harvester. It slipped out from under the first wave of chains. Of the second, it cut through half of them in an instant, but twice as many came out of the ground again and again.
The creature was pulled to the ground. Elia felt its impact quite thoroughly; she was still under it at the time. The chains didn’t care that she would have preferred running or simply standing. One of them burst up and twisted her arm, eliciting a cry from Rye. Elia hacked at it twice with her empowered greatspoon. Even though they came from a rare boon, its power was divided over tens of chains, while Elia’s common boon focused it all onto one edge. The chain didn’t hold, and Elia freed a leg, fended off another two chains before a sneaky one wrapped around her neck and slammed her head into the floor.
The creature took that time to roll on her side and for a moment Elia felt like a souffle someone had accidentally sat on. The chain tightened around her neck. A few more seconds and she’d be knocked out.
G-get away from me you ungodly MONSTER!
She noticed in that moment the conjured ball of ice in her offhand. It was somewhat large and felt like it was bulging, bursting at the seams. Elia choked nervously, questioning even as Rye led it to squeeze beneath the creature’s body.
It exploded in a shattering bang as a wall of force popped her out from under it like a cork.
T-three influences at once! T-take – ow – that!
The chain around her neck yanked her out of the air, but the moment Elia gained ground under her feet she cut it in a single slash and made for where the monk was pulling a shivering, unconscious Karla out of the way. No, she was still holding onto her shield and sundry, she was just barely there. She was looking cross-eyed, lids fluttering, and her tongue lolling rather comically.
“Purple friend! Peace! I propose a retreat!”
They were leaving an awful lot of loot behind. Shards and greater souls perhaps. For a moment, Elia turned towards the struggling beast. The snapping of chains like undercooked spaghetti made her think better of it. As did what seemed to be an approaching wave of steam and billowing heat.
I think we should–
“–hide? Yeah, let’s scoot.”
She looked around, then found a door her instinct didn’t scream ‘locked, locked!’ at her for. Lockpicks, where were her lockpicks?
“If I may ask you to hurry, dear soldier.” The monk said in an even voice.
“DON’T–” She picked up a completely healthy looking Quibbles. He spat out a lockpick. “Thanks bud.”
Within ten seconds the lock was picked. Within another five, they were inside a musty room. She practically had to shove the monk inside as Karla weighed her down rather much. Jumping in after, she slammed the door shut and propped up the nearest bit of furniture against it.
“Alright, up the stairs. Let’s get some distance between us and whatever that is. Maybe run the rooftops, they’re flat enough. Any complaints? No?”
“A legion of asura.” The monk pointed out the window. “Buddha, is this my punishment?”
What’s an asura?
Elia’s head turned on a swivel as the horn sounded out again. The mist had passed their small window front, cloaking the road in obscurity. A humanoid shape walked past. Another followed, staggering slightly even as it held rank with tens of others. A larger one with a kind of paintbrush helmet stood out among them. It stopped, stared at them right through the window.
No face. Just bone and muscle.
“Go, go, GO!” Elia shooed the monk upstairs, wincing as she felt Rye retreat from her arm, which was definitely broken.
Sorry, I should have warned you. I used a lot of our reservoir. We’re digging into the dangerous reserves.
“Sixty percent?”
Sixty.
That certainly was part of the uncomfortable feeling. It felt like it was simultaneously freezing and burning. “I’m surprised you held up that well.” Elia muttered. It was almost scary how quickly she was adapting. “You did good, Rye. Fudgin’ great, even.”
I try my best! She beamed. Does that mean I get more me-time for another special massage?
“… maybe.”
Beans, I knew you’d – wait, are you serious?
Elia made a noncommittal noise. They made their way up steep and tight stairs until they were two stories above the action. Carpets and mosaics hung next to family portraits and exotic seashells. The steaming legionnaires outside didn’t try to enter their hideout. They were too busy marching on the beast. At its pained cries, Elia finally let herself breathe.
“Amitabha.” The monk inclined their head to the previous owner’s shriveled husks lying in bed, hand in hand. “Apologies for the intrusion.”
Elia eyed them. Besides their robes, a belt without a sword, and a necklace of sand-dollars, the monk didn’t carry anything with them. Not a weapon, not a shield, not even a backpack or proper shoes. How did a person like this survive on the brutal streets?
“Suspicious,” she muttered.
Hm, what?
“Nevermind.” After making certain that none of the closets were hiding any live skeletons, she turned to her the new face among her posse. “So, you’re a monk. Got a name?”
“I am Nali, purple friend. It is good fortune that we have met.”
“Sure was for you.” Was she hiding blades in her sandals? Maybe she strangled people with her belt, any loose bit of rope would do if you knew how to grapple. “Got any cool monk tricks to get my friend on her feet? Pressure points, acupuncture, internal energy bullshit?”
Nali glanced at the semi-conscious Karla. “I believe she is tired and requires rest.”
“Alright.” Elia stopped mid shoving the corpses out of their beds.
Eliaaa! Behave! Consider not adding any sins no matter how minor in front of an expert. The philosophical debates are going to be so annoying, let alone her silent judgement.
“If they could get back up, they already would have. Karla needs the bed more than they do.”
Elia. Please.
Grumbling, she turned to see Karla lying on spare bedding the monk had spread on the ground. Resourceful. A quick thinker, one that could take the initiative. Useful. But still, something was bugging her that she couldn’t let go. Her instinct was murmuring at a low hum, so it was most likely nothing dangerous. Maybe it was warning her not to go outside with her arm even more damaged than before. The only bowl of respite in the area was right past the melee going on outside.
“So Nali, got any useful boons?”
“What is this boon you speak of?”
Elia blinked. “Any magic?”
Nali shook her head.
“Do you know how to wield a sword or spear?”
“To hold a weapon would be anathema to the path I have chosen.”
Elia threw up her hands. “Oh great. Another pacifist.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Hooray?
“No Rye, pacifism is a deadly disease. The later stages are even self-abortive.” Again, Elia felt more and more unnerved. “How did you end up with a bunch of dregs anyways?”
The monk perked up. “I followed them. I was lost and their mistress of divine arts gave me water.”
“You mean the mage that’s scattered across the road?”
“Yes, she was the most verbal. She grunted and moaned one full word a minute.” She froze, then nodded once, solemnly. “It seems I still harbor regrets of her passing. I am still far from right mindfulness. May she find rest from this hell steeped in Samsara. Amitabha.”
… she was following a group of dregs around? And they didn’t attack her?
Elia blinked. Was this woman insane? Scratch that, why didn’t she know of boons? Yes, this monk practically oozed suspicion from every pore.
The sounds of battle were becoming loud outside. Detonations rumbled in dull thuds and the window was too fogged up to tell much. The air was moist, too moist, and another breath of air only furthered the feeling that she was drowning. The house on the other side of the road was on fire. A hint of smoke tickled her nose and Karla coughed herself awake.
“Did we win?” she asked.
Umm, well, how to tell her…
“We did not win anything. The snappy thing is outside fighting some sort of legion of the damned. We’re stuck inside a house and worst of all, we’re missing out on the deer’s soul and shards.”
We’re alive, at least.
“Yeah.” Elia snorted. “Big load of good that does us. We can forget about getting to your rumored lunatic-conjurer now. I have no idea where we are, but we’re definitely too far towards the eternal fire.”
“T-the legion!” Karla shot up but only managed to lean against the wall. “If they catch us, it’s either join them or die. We have to run.”
“No. You have to run. I’ll get the big soul of the deer and then maybe this adventure won’t have been an entire loss.” Elia had enough of meddling and things not going to plan today. “Hope you learned your lesson, miss hero.”
It’s not fair to blame it entirely on her.
An impact shook the building. A bookcase fell on Elia and for all her finesse she failed to dodge. Grumpily, she squeezed herself out, brushing herself off as if everything was fine.
Karla remained silent as Elia guided her and the monk outside. “We’ll walk down the alleys and split up once we’re behind the violence. We meet up at the giant crab-tavern, middle of the road, can’t miss it. Oh, and Nali? Make sure she doesn’t run into a blender. If she has so much as a scratch on her by the time I’m back I swear I will, I–“
Nali just stared at her with that same knowing smile as before.
“I’ll do what happens to her to you. If you want to follow, don’t slow us down.”
“I shall endeavor to be like air, present, indispensable, yet rarely felt.”
And with that they moved out. It was near pitch black outside. The already dim light was choked out by evaporating water and the wall of smoke that was ever so slowly overtaking the steam.
I could make a light.
“No, that would give us away.” Hopefully her instinct would be enough to guide them.
It took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust and a few more for them to get their bearings in the winding streets. The clang of metal and shouts from both man and beast clamored on the other side of the buildings. Too far left and they might just stumble right into the action.
They arrived at a crossing marked by a thin minaret, lines of prayer and graffiti engraved onto its surface.
“Warning, danger, quad souls required, uncommon or up.”
Legion territory. They flay faces and carouse with demons.
“Jerry’s armpits smell like bloodmoss.”
Careful, maze.
Some of it even glowed in the dark. Elia was not about to summon anyone, what with how the last time went. There were too many people already for her preference.
“Alright, we split here.”
“I’m going with– ack!” Karla sputtered as Elia tripped her. Elia winced, but didn’t say a word. It felt like trying to trip a horse.
“How many times do I have to tell you, you aren’t going anywhere but back! Look at you, you can barely stand. I can knock you over with one arm.” Elia didn’t mention that her other one was a bit busted up. “You’ll just go out there and die horribly.”
The girl full-on glared at her this time. “Heroes never stay dead. I have to get back up. I have to prove I can.”
“Alright. Sorry Karla.” She sighed. “Rye, freeze her legs to the floor.”
Wh-what? Elia, who do you think I am–
“Do it or she commits suicide by heroism.”
“You don’t know if I will win or lose.” Karla muttered. “You, you… you just think you’re better than me.”
“I AM better than anyone in this dump. I have more experience, more skill, and more patience than anyone in this city and I still get dunked on the regular. What does that tell you about your chances? What does it, Karla?”
“Peace, friends, peace.” Nali interceded, gently tugging the two girls away. “Friend Elia, you have the right intention, but understand that Karla has the right view. Both are noble thoughts, but life is a struggle that must repeat itself so it may overcome itself.”
She shared a glare with Karla, then doled out an even share to Nali. “Do whatever you want. I’m done playing babysitter for this arrogant, idealism-blinded princess.”
As she turned down towards the battle, her hairs stood on end. A man with horns stood in her way. Not a single sound reached her ear, not of the battle, not of her own breathing.
“Great. What do you want?”
“Give us the yellow robed one,” his voice boomed, “and you may go in peace.”
He walked up to her, every step echoing loud in the silence. Elia didn’t move. When she took a step forward, he stopped, looking at her through curious green cat-eyes.
“Get your muttonchops out of my way before I turn you into a footnote.” She couldn’t hear her own voice, but the man evidently could. He blinked, slightly confused.
“I… that’s not how this works young lady. You listen to me,” he brandished a wickedly curved knife. “Or suffer the consequences.”
“Bet.”
“Uh, what–“
She jumped him and he yelped. His slash was sloppy and unpracticed. She easily flowed beneath it and kicked his feet out from under him before straddling his chest, searching for his dagger. There was no need to twist his wrist, he had already dropped the knife in the confusion.
“Ow, ow, I give, I surrender, I’ll serve your family nine generations down the line!” He whimpered as she put her spoon to his neck, drawing blood. “Gods, Worga above, what is that thing made of?”
“Stainless steel, I think.” She got a second look at his face. He was a pretty boy, like a younger Simon with less edge and more of something she couldn’t quite put. Suffice to say, it was not a good first impression. “Now, when I get up, you’re gonna run and you won’t look back. Capiche?”
“Run?” He glanced over his shoulders, where the alley terminated all too soon on the main road. “Run where, into that slaughter? They’ll stab me! No thanks, I think I’ll take my chances in your comforting company. I can do music. I can sing and dance. I cook a killer fricassee.”
He winked. There was no question about it, this guy was a blathering idiot. The worst kind of idiot.
“No. I am not in the habit of collecting even more strays off the streets.”
He pouted. “Not even pretty, helpless, strapping men like me?”
Oooh, look that those puppydog eyes. I can hardly say–
“–no.” She fingered across his chest, finding a small knife fit for carving, some smooth pebbles, some beetles, wyckwax, and a well-used pan flute. “Alright buddy. You better start telling me what the fudge you think you were doing, or I’ll start breaking things, starting with your little flute.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” he gasped.
“Try me.”
“You monster. I was just trying to buy time and you threaten a man’s flute? How dare you?”
The magical silence ceased and Nali cleared her throat. A rather large and armored man was subtly holding her in place with an iron grip on her shoulder. He was also holding Karla’s hands behind her back with one of his own and if that wasn’t a testament to his strength then nothing would be.
“That’s my friend Mouggen with the physical arguments. Me, I’m the pretty guy with the pretty name. Cesare. You can call me Cess.”
“Friend Elia, if you could stop threatening the… horned clown, I believe we can all come to an understanding,” the monk said. “They are here for me.”
Elia…
Today was just not Elia’s day. She was getting tired of nothing going her way. With a groan she stood up and pulled the goat man up by his collar. “You want the monk? Sure.”
The armored man – Mouggen – straightened up, his metal mask of a conquistador with a pointy moustache betraying nothing besides a poor taste in face wear and the desire to make fried chicken. “… you aren’t interested in why we want her?”
“No?”
He pulled Karla close to his garishly colored puff sleeve. “Well, in that case, we would also like that princess of yours.”
Elia looked back at Cesare again. “Is he trying to make my day?”
He grinned, impishly. “Hah, well, if I knew how little you cared for them, I wouldn’t have had to pull my ‘scary devil’ routine.”
“I don’t care about them? I met this monk minutes ago, as for Karla? I’ve been trying to beat some self-preservation instincts into her for two months, but she’s like a lotus: high upkeep and nothing sticks.” Karla made a scandalized choking sound. “She wants an adventure, to be a hero so bad? Fine, go find someone else to drag down with you.”
“Well, you make an enticing offer, but are you sure you should be exerting yourself? You look downright terrible.”
“You mean terrifying,” she said, but her threats were ringing hollow. For the first time in a while, she felt fully exhausted, empty-tired. Everything could have been so simple. “I’m getting too old for this drama shit. Let go of my friend, brute, before I silence yours.”
The brute did not move. The polished metal mask that would normally not have bothered her now seemed like an impenetrable shield. He didn’t seem like he would back down, it was possible she couldn’t even move him if she tried. She tightened her grip on the goat man again. He gave a nervous laugh.
“Sorry, but if you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.” He gulped heavily. “You’re also working a whole lot more there.”
I can see why. I can also see how.
“Ugh, FUCK! I just wanted to fight and get some loot and now I have to deal with two horny people, two pacifists and a guy with the charisma of a rock. God, if this is your idea of a punishment, I’d rather you smite me now.”
There was no smiting, only the light feeling as her knees gave away beneath her and she sank backwards into a bed of clouds. This was her limit then? She tried and found she didn’t even have the strength left to lift her spoon.
In a flurry, they were upon her. The pink goat-horned man, nervous and worried, Karla, attempting first aid with pinpricks stitching across her entire body, the mask guy, who was mostly there to remind her that arm puffs went out of fashion for a good reason. She squirmed, struggled, but the man pushed her back down. She couldn’t stop now, the loop wasn’t ruined yet. She didn’t have the soul. She needed it, before she started lusting after the nearest person or extolling the virtues of non-violence.