We loaded up the wagon with cargo in the morning, crates empty of loot or supplies. The guards at the south side gate were nice enough to help us get them all sorted out. They even lent me their halberd for a short while I was taking a break.
I swung the heavy-tipped javelin in a circle, the guards giving a wide birth. I just barely nicked a lone weed and struck the heart of the dirt. It was far heavier than I imagined.
The guard who gave it to me--Lucius--heartily laughed, his armor clanking with every heave of breath. "Not muchofa soldja are ye?!" He had olive skin and rippling muscles, the chinks in his armor gave way to the bits of skin that threatened to shatter it.
"No." I handed the halberd back, huffing. "I am not." Not this playthrough.
I glanced over to Jah'Ir who was adding some "finishing touches," to the interior and exterior. A translucent barrier only he and I could see encased the cargo and center chamber, a smaller one glowed inside the box, protecting the glass windows.
I threw a rope over the top of the cargo, tying it in several knots before covering it with a tarp and tucking it underneath.
"How's it look?" Jah'Ir asked?"
"Like a caravan," I said bluntly. It was convincing and secure. It would take years off your life to untie those knots, though, a single slice from a sword would likely render it useless.
A Gordian Knot. Only the knot, no destiny.
"Then shall we be off?" He patted the wagon door. We bid the guards farewell as we both hopped in.
Slow breaths, I reminded myself. Calm. My stomach didn't believe my soothing methods, souring and gurgling. I kept my mind off it and looked out the front of the carriage, something feeling remiss.
"How are we gonna get anywhere without a horse?" I didn't imagine a steam engine somehow snuck beneath the chamber and was raring to go. "Don't tell me you plan on us pushing it."
He looked at me like I was a blubbering fool. "Of course not." And I was made to look exactly as he thought. A blubbering fool. The cart began to move with a blow of air from his palm. I never should have doubted the King of Convenience. The wheels croaked, their life's purpose having returned.
"You have the lens?" He asked.
"Yes." I pulled it from my inventory, passing by a couple vials I had pilfered from the alchemy shop that morning. Pilfer being a strong word, the guards had allowed me to take some of the remaining goods, provided they were broken or defective. I wiggled the lens in the air. "See?" I peered through its otherworldly vision, the vertigo subsiding after the hours of practice yesterday. We moved steadily across the dirt path, the wall and guards faded into the black cloud at the edge of my vision. Nameplates would appear here and there, but it was all herbs or plants, sometimes a rodent. Strangely, it neglected to name the trees. My brain thanked the lack of burden that I previously experienced.
"So how far do you think?" I asked, putting the lens in my pocket.
"All accounts deviate. Could be a few minutes, could be an hour or so. Where they coincide is the spotting of a scout in the wilderness. Guards saw one in the treetops while you were loading the first batch of boxes."
"Don't you think they'll know something's up? You're not exactly local looking."
"Bold. Do not assume they've the intellect to critically think."
"They're still human, just how dumb could they be?"
"No skills nor brains required to rob a civilian caravan."
I rubbed my bruised ego. Takes some. It was how I made a living early on in Riptide, sending small skeleton battalions to rob their goods. Food, herbs, gold, whatever they had. I remembered fondly that sapphire necklace. I was certainly stronger then than I was now. Gent and Genta had power, but the sheer amount of skeletons I used far outweighed their strength. I glanced at Jah'Ir before opening my inventory. It was earlier when I slipped the potion vials in my pockets that I noticed my spider companions had their own special tab: Skills. I opened Genta's.
* Venomous Shot
* Skittering Claws
* Sac of Webbing
* Necrotic Fang
* Venom Shower
I noticed Jah'Ir giving a quizzical glance. I smiled. Reading through each ability, I could remember when Genta had used them in the mock battle gone wrong. Necrotic Fang made my rib twinge. Never forgetting that. Gent's skill page was practically the same, save that of the entirely new ability at the bottom. Which, I only found out because of the subtle difference in name.
NEW: Spinal Shrapnel -- An ability learned by [Name Detected] Gent during Necrotic Rage. Sharp hairs protrude from the user's legs and are shot out a high velocity towards enemies.
"Learned during Necrotic Rage," I muttered.
"What was that?"
I snapped my inventory closed. "Nothing. Just... just thinking aloud."
He nodded, his eyes scanning the forest like a fox hunting down a rabbit. I considered using Grave Feeling to increase our range of scouting, but with Jah’Ir on alert as well as his barriers, I couldn't take that chance. Jah'Ir was part demon, though thousands of years removed. Even so, I wondered if perhaps he might understand my plight. I reclined, taking in the sounds of the outside world. In all my days here, I had yet to just listen to the new sounds. I was disappointed, but not remiss that all the new sounds happened to be practically the same as back home. On a smaller scale, the wheels croaked and whined with every rotation like an old car. The birds and insects kept up their incessant calls. The two suns were about the only discernibly different thing in view--excluding the horseless-drawn carriage--and they were beginning to part.
The wagon began to slow, the creaking becoming a bleak shriek. I squinted my eyes in irritation. Jah'Ir and I shared a quick glance, my confusion meeting his certainty. His fingers began to glow with flame, smoke trailed from the tips. It was coming. They had stopped us. The box felt heavier than ever, my arms and legs resisting my movement. If one could feel the aura of a devil this was it. Jah'Ir gradually stood, peering out the side window. "Do it now," he said.
The forest was vacant; for a few short moments I was relieved. One. Five. Eight. Ten. Each nameplate sprouted like vines, weaving closer to our position. "There's 10 of them!" I said in a hushed yell.
"Are you certain?"
"Y--"
An arrow struck the side of the carriage, falling to the dirt as the barrier activated. "Out of the carriage and you might live. Or don't! We don't mind sending ya off in an oversized casket." His rancid breath had somehow overtaken the scent in the air. Blood and meat. Carnage.
"You marked them all?" Jah'Ir whispered. The flames on his fingers sparked. I nodded. "Good, don't come out, even if it looks bad. I'll send the carriage back if it comes to it." He extinguished his fingers and stepped out. "I am unarmed," he said. "Please, I have a wife, we're expecting a child."
The same man jumped from out of the forest. "I don't give a shit." He spat black liquid. "Untie all the shit and you'll live long enough to see her again. Don't, and I'll be using your blood as lubricant for your wife's cunt."
Jah'Ir feigned terror and moved to the back, trying his hardest to untie the knots.
"What's an elf like you doing in human territory eh?" The man pushed Jah'Ir. "I'm speaking to you long-ear."
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
I watched intensely through the lens. All the tagged bandits lined the trees. Most of the armed warriors stood on the sidelines, chuckling at Jah'Ir, but a few remained high in the trees. Archers, perhaps. I detected no magic, Jah'Ir must have not either. Without word he sent the man flying into a tree, completely engulfed in flame. The men next to the cart froze in shock before one of them shouted. "He's a fucking mage! Kill him!" Four of them rushed Jah'Ir as arrows rained down above. An orange barrier met their sword and clubs. Arrows rained down between each melee, deflected by the barrier. Jah'Ir kicked out their legs with a wall of fire and fired bullets of flame into the tree tops. Blood curdling screams echoed through the woods. More arrows found their mark at his back, failing to pierce the glowing shield.
Two archers. One more hiding.
A menacing aura rose from the brink of the forest. "You die here mage!"
His body steamed, the blood running across his burnt skin evaporated. He lunged. The edge of his axe met the barrier, causing no more damage than a knock. "I'll be having a lot of fun with your wife after this!"
"You believed that?!" Jah'Ir tsked. The barrier pulsed, a wave of fire sending the man back. In his focus the archers took aim again. Jah'Ir had been waiting, a shot of flame taking the arrow head-on. It disintegrated. The ball of fire exploded, sending the tree to the earth.
The axe-wielding berserker was unrelenting. His face had melted, leaving scorched bone and a whole eye to strike fear in Jah'Ir.
"I was hoping you'd put up a fight," Jah'Ir said. "Tell your friend it's time to come out." He looked in the direction of the man. "Make it a fair fight!" He huffed. Sweat dripped from his brow. His hair was soaking.
A burly man, wielding a large club stepped out. Jah’Ir followed his every move. I felt my fist clench. I had to help. No. He had single-handedly destroyed all the spider dens in Arach Woods and defended the town for months on end against them as well. If I had confidence in anyone, it was him.
The pair stood on either end of him, ready to clash. The berserk screamed. Jah’Ir quickly turned, having only enough time to meet the enemy's axe. It slammed into his barrier. Behind him the club struck just the same, the barrier’s power wilting, fading. He filled his fists with fire, striking both square in the abdomen. They toppled to the dirt, blood pouring out of the gaping hole in their stomachs.
Jah’Ir fell to his knees, sighing.
“Jah’Ir!” I yelled.
He raised his arms, the flickering barrier coming up for a mere second. It shattered under the weight of the axe. The edge cut through flesh like paper, lodging into his shoulder blade. I threw the lens down and jumped from the carriage.
“No!” Jah’Ir put his hand out, but was silenced by a barrage of fists.
I tackled the man, pushing him just far enough that he couldn't grab the axe. I stammered backwards, my back up against the carriage. Genta!
I fumbled through my inventory throwing the spiders out. Their legs and carapaces crackled like shattered bone as mana flowed through their lifeless bodies. The berserker rushed forward, diving over them at me. I fell to the dirt and rolled under the carriage. His arms grabbed hold of my legs. I kicked at his face, just barely out of reach. His grip was crushing.
"AHH!" His hands let go. Genta and Gent had sunk their fangs deep in his neck. His body turned a sickly yellow and his red aura dissipated.
I breathed again and again, feeling the pounding of my heart in my chest and ears. I rolled free from the underside and quickly ran to Jah'Ir's side. "Jah'Ir!" His nose was flattened, a bone protruded from his cheek. There were latent on his tongue and the gash in his shoulder gushed blood across his tunic endlessly.
The vials!
I had no idea if it would work. I grabbed some of the crowns from earlier and tried dragging them over the vials. They vanished and the vial filled with a glowing red liquid. I quickly pulled it out, my hands wettening.
Healing Potion (Cracked) -- Heals and removes moderate wounds from user. [Cracked -- User must take two for full results]
I didn't care if it was completely shattered. I'd scoop the damn liquid by hand. "Drink." I poured it into his agape mouth. "Come on." His eyes were hazy. "DRINK IT!" I massaged his throat, hoping it worked. He swallowed. I produced another one, forcing it down again.
His body began to contort, the bone piercing his cheek cracking violently back into his shattered jaw. His nose popped out with another disgusting crunch as it returned to normal. The axe tumbled to the dirt. Blood evaporated.
The color in his eyes returned for a mere moment before he passed out. "You're a n-necromancer..." he said breathlessly.
He was alive at least, that's all that mattered. He couldn't rest out here. I walked over him and met the deceased berserker. I touched a finger to his leg, pooling mana through his body and did the same to the club-wielding menace. More bodies littered the forest and I attempted to resurrect them all, but found them to be either piles of ash, or merely limbs unable to form again. The two who remained stood at the end of the carriage, overlooking Jah'Ir's unconscious body. I handed the axe back to its owner and eyed them both. The smell of hundreds of wet coins overpowered my nostrils and I felt the old sting of nausea. Shaking my head, I looked the two in the eyes. "Who do you serve?" I asked.
"Our master Sage," they said in unison.
The pair had new nameplates and more information than I cared to read.
Vuldan AKA The Bull -- Vuldan grew up a fighter, on a battlefield from the age of 12. He never lost a fight. Carrying the axe his dying father left him, he was bloodthirsty, charging headfirst into any challenge.
Bill Bludgeon -- Strong enough to drive a hammer through a steel shield, Bludgeon worked as an enforcer all his life. When news of the Guild's disappearance first broke he was the first one to spot the potential. He bullied towns into submission, making them pay for protection he seldom gave. He formed the Bandits of Oarmouth after a lengthy partnership with Crimson Tongue.
Both of them still had such lively eyes and if it weren’t for the missing half of his face, or the hole in the other’s stomach, you’d think they were alive. I had them lift Jah'Ir back into the carriage and keep watch as I rested. My heart pumped as if the fight never ended. Gent and Genta roamed the woods, consuming the remains of the deceased. I had hoped that they would gain something through it, but in the end it was for not. My eyes closed as I laid against the window and I napped momentarily. By the time I had awoken the suns had fully parted, resting in separate quadrants in the sky. Jah'Ir was still unconscious. I stared at his chest, waiting for it to rise in accordance to his breathing. Satisfied, I walked out, finding Vuldan and Bill. It'd be troublesome if Jah'Ir woke and found them out here. If his memory was shot, I didn't want something there to jog it.
I recalled Gent and Genta, stuffing them back in their respective slots. I paused and looked at the two bandits. I took the mana from them, both toppling against the carriage and sliding to the ground. I picked them up, somehow managing to slip them in my inventory as well.
Limited Editions: Bill and Vuldan the Barbarian, now lifesize! I amused myself. I climbed back in and attempted to wake Jah'Ir. He stirred, but didn't wake up. This time, I did use Grave Feeling, being able to see 30 yards away in each direction at the behest of dead rabbits and squirrels. I was just relieved to not find the remains of something larger.
"How long was I unconscious?"
I cut the threads, jolting at Jah'Ir's sudden words. "Few hours," I quickly replied.
He rubbed his temples, finding a stray hair to his disliking in the process. Slipping it back in line, he sat up. "What happened?"
I altered the story only a bit. His barrier broke and the axe found itself lodged in his shoulder, but with his last bit of strength he incinerated the man with all the mana he had left. Jah'Ir seemed to buy it. "And my wound?"
I wiggled an empty broken vial. "Made a potion with some herbs I had."
"Glad you talked me into asking the guards then. Have you any more? My skull's pounding more than a rampaging ogre."
I produced another one and handed him the leaky vial. He downed it and gave it back. Wiping his face he got to his feet and made for the door. "They came from there. We should--GRK!" He gripped his skull and fell to his seat.
"We shouldn't do anything," I grabbed him and laid him back down. "You need to rest."
"I'll be fine.” He searched the air for some unattainable answer. "Fine," he finally said. "You go. Find their hideout."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded.
I went to leave, but his hand grabbed mine. "Use the lens and gods help me, if you find any more. Do. Not. Engage."
"I got it."
He let go. He still deemed me weak, I felt quaint relief. I wasn't worried about running into more of them. In the forest, I held the advantage. I slipped away, my feet collecting more sediment as I crossed from dirt to grass. The value of shoes was slowly outweighing the value of my life. The soothing forest hummed their unknown song, the wind tuning their symphonies. My feet felt a harsher song. The grass was thankfully not riddled with thorns this time, but in its place I found the disgusting warmth of maggots and bugs whose guts now painted my soles. I couldn't detest my home territory any more. It wasn't too long before my lubricated toes and myself found the much awaited clearing. I wiped my feet off on a patch of grass and looked out upon the open meadow. A gaping maw of a cave pulled me in, its mouth dark enough that I couldn't make anything out.
"Not it," I said, electing to instead have Vuldan run in. I tried using the same technique with the lens on him and luckily enough I found his vision to become my own. It was hard to see more than a few inches ahead of him as he entered, but the cave was certainly descending. Another opening gave way to a large basin. Sharp rock rose from the ground around Vuldan. A small torch rested on the wall. He pulled it from its metal hinges and lifted it to the sky. Water dripped from stalactites high above, pooling in small puddles around the flat rock. Several tents and sleeping bags surrounded a campfire. He got closer finding them all empty. As he stood tall, the torch illuminated behind them, at least thirty crates, unopened. He tore one of the lids, finding it filled with hundreds of potions. The idiots must've not known their value.
I had him come back and I quickly sprinted back to the wagon to tell Jah'Ir.
"Fantastic news." He groaned. "I'll inform the guards. We'll get them tomorrow."
I wanted to protest. He could shrink them all like the wicker basket, it'd be easy. But, I saw his head in his hands and the bulging veins in his temples. He blew air against his palm and the cart moved towards the town.