Faye watched with bated breath as Maggie squared up to the massive hound, which she could now see rose to the height of Maggie’s shoulder, at least. The hound was wary of its opponents. Faye’s Scorching Lance spell had been more than strong enough to hurt it. Unfortunately, the monster still stood, and it looked at them as if wondering which one to eat first.
The burning patches of skin and thorny vines added to the intimidation factor.
Faye tried to slow her breathing. Without getting a steady rhythm, she would not be able to calm her shaky nerves. Right now, her heart was trying to pump enough blood through her body to run a marathon.
She clutched at the wooden sword with both hands. The tip would not stop wiggling from left to right.
Maggie was not a newcomer to fighting, it was clear, but Faye could see where the woman’s stance needed correcting, or her edge alignment on her defensive slashes could do with some work.
There was nothing for it, she just had to hope that her skills were good enough to survive.
Faye grimaced as the hound slammed its paw down, Maggie barely dragged the shield between her and the claws in time to prevent a mauling.
Despite the lack of mana in her inner pool, Faye was eager to help her friend.
Something about the monster oozed danger. Focusing on that feeling, Faye reached out with the sense she had been developing at Arran’s suggestion. For some reason, the lack of inner mana reserves made it simpler to focus on the mana — because that’s what it seemed to be — that was permeating the air around the monster.
Despite the danger, Faye blocked out the sounds of Maggie’s fight, the acrid stench of their sweat and panic and the oppressive olfactory assault the corrupted hound let out with each growling breath. Burrowing deeper into the mana that she could feel.
Something snapped into place, and with a burst of clarity she connected with the hound.
[Corrupted Forest Hound] Level 14
The information flashed into Faye’s mind, and for a moment she was startled enough that her eyes flew open, and the connection snapped shut once more. She realised that she had crawled forward, one hand stretching out toward the hound and Maggie as they faced each other in a stand-off.
The hound was a high level, the highest-level monster Faye had personally come across. It was a level higher than Maggie, but it seemed that the shield was doing its job because she was able to stand up to it. The occasional bash with the shield, followed up with a quick cut, kept the monster at bay.
She watched as the hound’s eyes narrowed.
A sick sensation crawled up her spine.
Pushing herself back and up the wall, trying not to fall immediately, Faye lifted the training sword the exact moment the hound feinted around Maggie and dashed for the weaker prey.
Her.
It was fast. She thrust the sword forward, its sharp tip better than the short sword Maggie held at impaling its target. However, the hound was intelligent enough to avoid the thrust. It abandoned its headlong charge and bounced off to Faye’s right to try again.
Maggie took advantage of it switching targets to lower her shield and blast the hound with Force Bolt. The near-invisible blasts of energy slammed into the monster from behind, each one buffeting it around and making it shift position.
Faye hobbled to her left, putting the large, hardwood kitchen table between her and the hound.
It tried to cut her off, but a well-timed down slash from Maggie made it yelp and pull its nose back.
Pulling herself with her free hand almost as much as she hobbled on her exhausted legs, Faye moved around the table to behind Maggie.
“Into the hallway!” the other woman shouted.
Faye did not reply, she was not sure she had the energy. But she put her head down and pushed through the pain and fatigue.
The hound let out a rippling growl that sounded like a thousand pieces of paper being torn all at once, and then came the sound of it slamming into Maggie’s shield, and the resulting ring of steel hitting its hardened vine protrusions.
She hunched her shoulders and threw herself into the hallway. She did not stop, she wanted to see if there was something more defensible. Maybe the stairs? High ground advantage.
Hobbling along and listening to the sounds of the fight both terrified and exhilarated her. A headache was building rapidly in the base of her skull, but the adrenaline bursts were pushing it back. For now.
In the entrance lobby to the manor, Faye spat out a curse when she saw that the grand staircase was split in two, steps on either side of the hall leading up to the first floor.
Useless. They would defend one set for the hound to race up the other.
The hallway from the kitchen to the front lobby was their best shot.
She turned back to see what was happening. Maggie was holding her own. Barely.
Faye could see the tension and muscle fatigue building in her friend’s stance. The slight over-extensions in her counter strikes. The slow recovery after bashing the hound with the shield.
Her mana reserves consisted of a single drop of mana. Not enough to do anything with, let alone cast another spell. Her wooden blade was just not the right weapon for nature-aligned monsters, clearly.
The frustration built inside, as her headache rose to prominence.
I can’t get all the way here, just a couple of levels away, to fail now.
She refused.
The fatigue the lack of mana had given her was annoying. Why should it matter if she had used her mana reserves? She was a swordfighter. Her natural state was mana-less.
She did not need it.
She closed her eyes, breathing in and out in a steady flow.
Gathering the pain in her head into a mental image of her hands, she let it go… watching as it faded. Maybe not completely, but less insistent inside her skull than it had been a moment before.
Again, she breathed in… and out.
This time, she focused on the empty sensation inside of her. The place where the raging furnace of mana normally sat, mere flecks of embers left.
She mentally blew them to life.
They flickered.
And… slowly, fluttered to life.
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Instead of a furnace, it was the flame of a tiny tea light candle.
It would do.
Her eyes snapped open.
“Maggie, coming close!” she called.
Striding forward, she got close enough to slap a hand onto her friend’s shoulder. The hound tried to come in for an attack, and Swordfighter’s Sense told Faye how to move to stay in step with Maggie. She took the step, allowed for Maggie’s counterattack, and then reset.
She gently pulled back on Maggie’s shoulder, and the woman gave way, pushing her left side forward.
Faye stood the wooden blade against the right-hand wall of the hall, resting the pommel in the groove between two of the tasteful dark wood panels.
The hound tested forward again, but this time Maggie responded with the shield. Faye slipped her hand down to the sword handle and Maggie relinquished control of it.
As soon as the shield made contact with the hound, Faye surged forward.
She led with the tip of the blade, despite its lack of a true point, because the hound’s nose was still the softer, more ordinary flesh of a beast rather than the corrupted wooden exterior of this monster’s back and legs.
The tip of the blade dug in, and she twisted as she thrust forward.
The hound pulled back reflexively. Faye followed up with two quick cuts, making an X shape across the hound’s face.
Skipping back, now, Faye avoided the swipe of claws through the air she had just occupied.
As she stepped back, Maggie stepped around and presented the shield once more.
“Gods, this thing feels invincible,” Maggie muttered.
“Nothing is invincible,” Faye replied.
Something about the way the hound was staring at them triggered a response in Swordfighter’s Sense. Faye grabbed Maggie and pulled her down to the floor.
The vines that had grown in on the hound’s back, despite their overgrown, thickened nature, moved to point forward and the two main lengths of vine shot forward.
One crashed over their heads, but the other one struck the shield and pierced through the boards.
The hound whined in pain, as blood and viscera spilled from the now open wounds on its upper back. It tossed its head as it got used to the pain.
That was when Faye struck.
She leapt forward, a loud war cry that she had not meant to utter spilling from her lips as she went. She jumped as she reached the hound and brought the blade down in a cut across the open areas that used to house the spiked vines.
The blade dug deeply and before the hound could escape, she dealt a decisive blow.
It snapped at her, the decaying stench of its rotting breath almost making her gag. But before she could, she threw the sword up in a guard and jabbed at the retreating face.
A moment later, the hound crashed through the door, leaving the two of them breathing harshly in the remains of the kitchen.
“Bloody hell,” Faye muttered. “I wasn’t quite sure about that.”
Maggie just slumped down to sit on the floor. “I hate fighting monsters.”
Faye moved to close the door. It fit into the frame, barely. But it would not close properly.
“That’s a problem, too,” she muttered. She scouted for a cabinet heavy enough to move, but light enough that her rapidly depleting energy levels would still be enough.
Eventually, Maggie stood and helped Faye move a few cabinets into the hollow of the doorway, and then they shifted the large, thick wooden table across inch by inch.
Nodding, Faye wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Alright, that will do for the broken door. These plates and things will make a noise when they get shifted off, too.”
Maggie nodded, still lethargic.
“Let’s check the front door,” Faye said. “Then we’ll barricade ourselves upstairs and… just rest up for a bit.”
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The front door did indeed have a thick wood bar that they slipped into place. Faye was fairly sure that either nothing would get in or they would hear it in enough time to fight whatever it was.
Upstairs, they found a bedroom with a door that locked.
It was a simple rim lock — the kind that sit on the outside of the door rather than inside. It was a dark grey, probably cast iron, and it looked suitably medieval. Faye approved. Though she harboured no illusions that it would keep out a determined person, or monster.
“How does your world not just go up in flames?” Faye asked.
Maggie was already stretched out on the bed. It was a four-poster, with drapes that were secured on each post.
“As you can tell, things aren’t exactly easy right now,” Maggie replied. “Is this what you mean by up in flames?”
Faye grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” She sighed. “No, I was thinking about thieves. The lock on the door…” she paused as she climbed onto the bed, trying not to just collapse. “That lock doesn’t look like the kind of thing that would keep out a determined thief at level ten, or anything remotely close. Are there Thieves?”
Maggie groaned. “You’re one of those that react to danger by getting all hyper, aren’t you?” She let out a sigh. “No, it would not stop a determined thief, nor a child for that matter. Any strength focused class would be able to pop it open unless the door frame was reinforced magically. And, yes, unfortunately there is a class for Thief.”
Faye heard the capitalised T for the class name in the way Mags emphasised it. She grinned.
“Okay. That’s what I assumed. So, back to the original comment. How does the world not just go up in flames? With people that can literally call fire into being,” she held up a hand, “like me, or those that are strong enough to literally carve chunks out of a beast corpse that resisted the attacks of dozens of monsters for over a day…”
Maggie chuckled. “The crafters do leave an impression, don’t they?”
“They really do.”
Her friend let out another, quieter sigh.
“In truth, the whole civilised world lives on the quiet balance of a knife’s edge every waking moment. There are people with enough strength to do terrible, terrible things. The only thing stopping them? Their humanity, or conscience, or the threat of other people just as strong coming for them if they did.”
“Ahhh,” Faye let out a drawn-out sound. “That makes sense.”
“Whilst royal families are uncommon, they do exist. Often the nobles are the ones with the power, either through keeping hold of what they have had for generations, or when someone new comes along with an incredible amount of power… they are offered a seat at the table, so to speak.”
Faye nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. You basically all have to live by the rules otherwise it’s all chaos, death, and suffering.”
“Exactly,” Maggie said, quietly. “Sometimes, that social contract is broken, though. Sometimes there are people out there who want to watch the world burn… those people are the dangerous ones. The ones that the rest of us must put down.”
Faye swallowed. Her eyes burned.
The sudden surge of emotion swamped her already taxed mind and body and she erupted into sobbing tears.
Maggie didn’t say anything. It seemed she didn’t have to even ask. She simply rolled over and put her arm around Faye, offering her silent support.
“I’m sorry,” Faye said, eventually. “I’m not sure where that came from.”
“That’s a lie,” Maggie said, carefully. “You’re in a new world, Faye. That’s got to be an incredible strain on anyone. I don’t blame you for being overwhelmed.”
Faye turned to look at her friend. Maggie was sitting up a little, looking at her with concern.
“Oh, God, no you think I’m just missing home or something?” Faye said, with a shake of the head. “No, I’m more just trying my hardest not to call myself a murderer after killing actual humans.”
She spoke the last few words in the barest whisper.
Maggie heard them anyway, her mouth opening in an O shape.
“The Guild job?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Faye said. “And the ones attacking the town.”
Maggie paused for a moment.
“Yeah, I know,” Faye continued, “the bastards had some kind of two-pronged attack planned. Our job was bait, to sucker the Guild into sending out its only remaining adventurer team. At least, that’s what we’ve figured. We killed one of them on the way into town.”
Maggie sucked in a breath. “Shit. That’s bad.”
“And they’ve kidnapped the kids?” Faye said, heat tingeing her voice. “They attack the Steading, maybe more than one of them? March into Lóthaven and destroy people’s homes and livelihoods?”
She shook her head.
“We can’t let them.”
----------------------------------------
Half an hour later, Maggie was likely asleep, as she rested calmly on her side, facing away from Faye. Faye was still awake, though. She could not fall asleep; the adrenaline was too much. The anger at the situation was too strong.
It had always been a bad habit of hers, to focus on the things that she did not like for hours at night. The major difference between then and now was that she had the power to do something about it.
Or she would when her mana returned.
Despite shrugging off some of the effects of zeroing out her mana, she knew there were going to be long-term effects. She felt the bone-tired weariness lingering at the back of her mind. But she pushed it away. She could not afford to lose herself to that, now.
Cycling her breathing in through the mouth and out through the nose, Faye meditated.
The tiny flame of her internal mana had grown. It was now the size of four candles.
The classic sketch jumped to mind, and Faye had to forcibly ignore the mental image to get back into the flow of meditation.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
That corrupted hound was still out there. She was certain it had not gone far. They would have to have eyes in the backs of their heads when they left the manor.
Of course, the hound being nearby would not stop either of them from going to Taveon’s aid. She was already fond of the old man, and the thought of him facing down the Primalists on his own sent shivers of fear down her spine.
The main thought that she could not banish to the depths of mindless meditation, however, was the nagging feeling that she just was not strong enough.
That hound was practically impervious to her wooden sword. The steel one-hander had been better, obviously, but it wasn’t until the hound's self-mutilation that she had gotten a decent enough blow on it. To make things worse, that was after it had taken a Scorching Lance to the face!
Calming herself once again, Faye went through the conversation she had had with Ceri, the Steader’s daughter, and how to imbue mana into her attacks and weapons. She had to master that spell – or skill, she was not sure which it was – as soon as she was able.
The candle-light glow of her inner mana reserves slowly filled out, flicker by flicker, spark by spark.
Soon, I’ll be ready, she thought.