“Typically a portal is heavily guarded,” Cerie explained. “It is rare to get the time uninterrupted to do what you did.”
“I was part of a small raid on a town once,” Elora started, all eyes turning toward the elf. She looked off into the woods, not paying attention to the people around her. “I was Level Five, maybe Six. It was held by a neighboring Clan and they had a portal that led deeper into their lands. The Silver Bark wanted it. We attacked with overwhelming numbers.” She paused, eyes lost in thought. A shudder went through her, Loch wondering what she was remembering and how bad it really was. She turned to look at him, eyes still slightly haunted. “The majority of their defenders surrounded the portal, leaving the villagers to be slaughtered. They tried to give their Portalseer the time he needed to shut down the portal. We didn’t allow it and ended up taking the portal over.”
She fell silent.
“What happened after that?,” Drew asked.
Loch hadn’t seen the younger man walking over. He was in his late twenties and one of the strongest fighters, new to the Clan. Loch was glad he and his people had arrived when they had, helping stop the gaunt attack. The circumstances of why were not good. Drew had come from a camp of survivors in Strafford. They’d been slaughtered by the giants in the area, Drew leading a small group away and to Northwood.
He’d had the choice to take the group to Northwood or Barrington, something making him choose Northwood. Loch suspected it was the Holdstone and the establishment of the Clan Territory. He wondered what that meant for Barrington. It was a much bigger town, it should have had more survivors in the area but was there a Clan in the town? And if not, what did that mean? Monsters or invaders in the area that had killed anyone surviving?
More questions.
They just didn’t know enough about what was happening in the surrounding towns. The Earth getting larger wasn’t helping. They were being cut off. He thought it was most likely intentional by the Connected System.
“We started sending raiders through the portal into the other Clan’s lands,” Elora said, shrugging, the haunted look leaving her expression. “I was not part of those raids so did not see what happened but soon after the Silver Bark annexed all those lands.”
Loch looked down at the stone in his hand while everyone else looked at the elf. The way she spoke of raiding other Clans and taking over their lands, as if it was an everyday occurrence bothered them. It bothered Loch too, but he wasn’t as surprised as the others. He knew what life in the Connection was. It was a normal day to raid other Clans and fight for expansion. To grow and Advance through the use of power.
It was what Loch didn’t want to happen on Earth.
How many portals were open on Earth? The Silver Bark were one and they were nearby. Did the giants, the Hillgrowl Clan, have their own? What about elsewhere across the planet? There had to be more. Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Was fighting back against the invaders a hopeless task?
The Connected System wasn’t ruthless, it didn’t give all advantage to the established Clans. It wanted the invaders to struggle just as much as the people of Earth. It wanted Adapted like Loch to grow and develop and challenge the established Clans. It wanted those Clan battles. The Connection didn’t want the Silver Bark to come to Earth and just dominate. That didn’t help anyone grow or Advance. Which is what the Connection fed off of. All that Spirit gained through Advancement and Leveling, that was the fuel for the Connection’s own growth.
“Can we use this for ourselves,” Loch asked.
“If the Clan has a Portalseer,” Cerie answered. “It is worth holding onto for that day.”
“Pipes.”
Piper stood up from where she’d been leaning against the stonewall, sketchbook in hand. She closed it, Loch not sure if it was her normal one or the special one for her Inksummoner Class. Holding it under one arm, she hopped up onto the top of the stone wall. Loch was momentarily surprised at how easy she had made that look.
No struggle, barely having to push. It was just a hop. Not that high, 3 or 4 feet, it was still something that Piper would have had to climb up before the Connection. She wasn’t the gymnast like her sister, Harper, was. But to see her just hop up so easy, it was another look at just how much she had changed.
How much the Connection had changed her.
“Need the bag?,” she asked, shifting the satchel hanging from her shoulder.
It was a plain looking leather bag. Worn, signs that it was old but well made. Nothing special to look at but it was probably the most valuable thing the new Clan Brady owned. A spatial bag, able to hold a lot of stuff within an extra dimensional space. Loch wasn’t sure how it worked, not even Cerie or Elora knew exactly how the bags were made, he just knew what it did.
And that it was soulbound to Piper.
Which meant she had to be around for it to be fully utilized. Harper and himself, being blood relations, were able to take things out in a limited capacity. Others could put things in if Piper held the bag. But that was it. For all other uses, Piper had to hold the bag.
That forced her to be involved in things Loch really didn’t want her to be. She was only thirteen. She shouldn’t be in the middle of battles. But she was.
Loch was proud of her, holding her own in those fights, but it was still something that shouldn’t have kept happening.
Still holding the pad under her arm, she managed to hold the top of the bag open. It was wide enough to barely fit the stone. Holding the stone near the opening, Loch turned away so he wouldn’t need to see the spatial distortion as the magic of the bag warped and shrunk the stone to make it small enough to fit. He felt the pop of Spirit that was the stone disappearing into the bag’s storage space.
“Let’s head back,” Loch said to the others around him. “We have a lot to do.”
***
They didn’t get far.
Instead of heading due west out of the fields, Loch led the others up the hill toward the ruins of the brewery. They had left more of their people up there. Those had taken the western wall from the gaunts manning it, setting up a defensive position. Loch wanted to see what was left of the wall before deciding if it was going to stay or not.
As they passed by the brewery, coming around the back corner of the building, Loch could hear a commotion. Clan Brady guardsmen stood at the wall, which was just a pile of logs laid down by the gaunts. They were looking west, a couple with drawn bows. Shouting could be heard.
Loch cursed, picking up the pace. The small group around him following. Only a handful had stayed down at the cemetery, others patrolling the field or coming up to the road. They were all looking toward the west, wondering what to do.
Waving his hand in a circling motion, Loch gave them the ‘wait’ signal, glad they had worked the system out before the battle at the Clanhold.
“This is America,” someone shouted from beyond the wall. “You can’t stop us.”
“These lands belong to Clan Brady,” one of the guards shouted back. “And it’s not safe to pass yet. We just ended a threat,” he continued, waving down toward the field.
Loch couldn’t see who was on the other side. The guards looked relieved when they saw him approaching. The wall itself wasn’t anything fancy, just five large trees stacked on top of each other, the bottom ones aligned to give the defenders a place to stand so they were higher than the wall. That was where the guards were and where Loch hopped up. He steadied himself with a hand against the rough bark, standing chest height above the top log.
On the other side was a large group of people, maybe two dozen total. One of the largest Loch had seen. Most that were coming into the Clanhold had been in smaller groups of five or ten. Drew’s had been the largest up until the one Loch was now looking at.
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One man stood in front of the others. He was tall, broad shouldered, had a thick and long beard and hair that had been matted into dreads. No weapons were held in hand but he had a large two handed sword strapped to his back and was wearing a metal breastplate. It was dented and worn, but looked sturdy. On his arms and legs he wore sports pads for protection.
The rest of the group were men and women, a couple of kids. They looked tired and worn out, a couple with swords and spears. Real weapons, not broken branches or shovels. The oldest looked to be fifty, the rest in their mid-twenties to thirties. The kids were mostly tweens, a couple looking fourteen or fifteen and one that was five at the most. The leader, the guy in front, looked to be about forty. He also looked to be pretty belligerent.
Another Rodger, Loch thought, just what he needed.
As soon as he appeared, the man’s eyes were focused on Loch. So was everyone in the group.
“What’s the problem,” Loch asked the guard.
“We told these guys they had to wait until the area was secure but that one thought were just trying to..,” he paused, glaring at the other man. “I don’t know what he was thinking. He just didn’t like us telling him to wait.”
“You ain’t got no right to tell us where we can or can’t go,” the man growled, pointing up at Loch.
“Listen,” Loch said. “Up until fifteen minutes ago this area was overrun with humanoid monsters called Gaunts. They were hostile and there were probably a couple dozen that we just killed off.”
“Who are you,” the man called up?
“Lochlan Brady.”
As soon as the words were out, Loch knew he’d probably made a mistake. The man’s posture stiffened, he took an aggressive step forward, hands clenching. A couple of the others in the group, standing on the edges in the rear of the group, obvious fighters and protectors starting tensing. Loch could feel the tension rising in his people around him.
He held out his hands, waving them down, telling his people to relax. It didn’t translate or carry over to the newcomers.
“So you’re the one that thinks you own this land? Some wanna be dictator gonna tax the shit out of us who have nothing?”
“It’s not like that,” Loch said, fighting back a sigh. “Look, you don’t believe us, come on over and take a look at the bodies yourself.”
“Sure, put ourselves behind your wall,” the man growled.
“Not our wall,” one of Loch’s people shouted. “The gaunt’s built it.”
He was mostly ignored. The leader of the ragtag group didn’t care to hear anything. He raised a hand, ready to shout something when one of the older members stepped forward. He laid a hand on the other’s shoulder, leaning in close to whisper. With his Adapted hearing, Loch could still hear it.
“Josh, let it go,” the older man said. “Look at them, if they wanted, they’d slaughter us.”
The leader, apparently named Josh, glared at Loch and his people but Loch could see the wheels turning, see the man acknowledging what the older had said. His eyes moved from Loch, seeing the armor and glowing axe in hand, to the guards with swords and the archers. None of them had arrows aimed at the people, but they were held against bows, nocked in the string and ready to draw and fire. Loch wasn’t sure what else Josh sensed or could see, but his posture shifted. He was still defensive but no longer as aggressive.
“We’re sorry,” the older man said, releasing the other’s shoulder and stepping to the side. Loch wasn’t sure if it was just to keep talking or make sure there was space between the two in case Loch’s people attacked. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks. We didn’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t,” Loch said, wanting to get this moving. He had things to do and it looked like these people needed food and shelter. There were fighters that looked like they had some experience. Loch didn’t try to use Evaluate, not needing to see how many were Classed. Not yet anyways. “It’s been rough all around. Where are you coming from?”
“We were part of a camp in Pittsfield,” the man said. “A bunch of us had a falling out with those in charge, which is why we’re a bit testy. Headed this way when we left.”
“Why this way?”
“Just felt drawn this direction,” the older man said with a shrug. “We came down 107 by the old Jeep store. Sad that it’s gone, they used to have some great ones there.” He shook his head, sighing.
“We haven’t sent anyone further than the stores down there,” Loch said, pointing at the hardware store just visible down the hill.
“Assume you’re the folks that cleaned it out?”
“Yeah, just about a week ago.”
“Name’s Jeremy Heeler,” the older man said. “The irritable guy is Josh Hauser.”
Josh grunted, still glaring at Loch. Jeremy sighed again.
“There were monsters you say?”
“Yeah, humanoid creatures. A kind of undead.”
“Zombies,” Josh grumbled, spitting on the ground.
“Not quite, we have some of those at a cemetery near our Clanhold,” Loch explained. “Come on over and take a look.”
Josh looked to Jeremy who nodded. Loch had thought Josh to be in charge but it looked like Jeremy really was. Josh was the muscle, put up front to be intimidating, with Jeremy in the back watching it all. Not a bad system, Loch thought.
Josh turned around, motioning to two other men. Each had real swords with mismatched pads and protection. All three headed for the end of the wall where Brian had been standing with a couple of others. He looked up at Loch, who nodded. Brian stepped aside, arms crossed with the large club visible.
The three men didn’t appear intimidated, Josh glaring at Brian to size up the much larger man. Josh wasn’t small by any means, bodily larger than Loch, but compared to Brian he was small. Everytime he Leveled up, Brian seemed to get just a little bit larger. Loch hopped off the wall, meeting Josh and the other two, who appeared nervous now staring at all the armed people waiting beyond the wall.
“Got a lot of folks,” Josh said. He didn’t show it, but Loch could see the nervousness in his eyes and the way he clenched his fist. He wanted the large two-handed sword in his hands.
“Not all,” Loch said. “Have more back at the Clanhold.”
“What’s that? Second time you’ve mentioned it.”
“It’s what the Connection calls the place we’ve established,” Loch said. “Wasn’t the camp in Pittsfield a Clanhold?”
“Nope. No Clan,” Josh said.
Loch couldn’t place his accent. It had a bit of a southern twang to it but muted as if the man had been living in the northeast for years. He looked to be late 20s. The beard was long and scraggly. It’d been long to begin with and only gotten longer.
“Max was the guy in charge. Bit of an asshole.”
“A bit,” one of the other guys said with a chuckle.
Both the other and Josh laughed.
“Yeah, ‘kay. He was a major asshole. Reason why we left. Just didn’t like what he was doing.”
“And what was that,” Loch asked, leading the trio down the hill.
Only a couple steps away from the wall and the pile of bodies was visible, as was the growing pile of swords, other weapons and pieces of armor. Loch saw Josh’s eyes widen at that pile before sliding over to the bodies.
“They’re gray,” he said.
“The official name given by the Connection is Gray Gaunt,” Loch explained. “Most of them are Drones, a kind of hive mind controlled by a stronger version. Those were brought here by a portal that we just shut down.”
Josh looked sharply at Loch, then back at the bodies. Anyone would have thought Loch to be crazy talking about portals, but in a post Connection world, anything was possible. It was apparent that Josh hadn’t dealt with portals but had seen enough to believe Loch.
“Others were created by a stronger creature called a Dullahan. And yes, it had a flaming skull for a head,” Loch said, chuckling. None of the trio did. “Those were somehow reanimated from bodies found in the cemetery and elsewhere.”
Loch was glad he didn’t need to further explain what elsewhere meant. The world was dangerous and just walking down the road was no longer safe.
“That’s a lot of them,” Josh said as they stopped about twenty feet away.
“That many would have slaughtered us,” one of the two men said.
“Yep, they would have,” Josh replied with a sigh. “You say you got a place?”
“Yeah,” Loch answered. “We’d be glad to have you.”
He held in a sigh. More mouths to feed with the limited Resources they had. But there were some experienced fighters with them. He’d have to learn more about the situation in Pittsfield. Even with the increased size of the planet, that was pretty close.