Chapter Fifty-eight
Krissy blinked a few more times, then her eyes remained closed.
‘Krissy! Krissy! Talk to me!’ I screamed at her, poking her face with a tentacle, but no response.
What’s happening? Dimal demanded, sounding as panicked as I felt.
‘We ran into every spiritualist on board all at once. She’s hurt. And unconscious,’ I reported.
Fuck! Can she carry on?
‘No. But I can,’
Alright. Good. They’re unfurling the sails. It will be slow, but they can still get away. And … there’s a hole in the ship,’ Dimal said. It was probably a question that he wanted an answer for.
‘I’ll handle it,’ I said, and I shut his voice out of my mind.
The ranger and Miss Goldeneye came rushing to investigate the boom and the brand new hole letting in the last of the sun’s light … and of course water. It wasn’t a lot of water, but on a ship any amount was probably cause for concern. They slid to a halt when they saw Krissy, lying on the floor, surrounded by wet debris. Miss Goldeneye gasped, holding her hands to her mouth. The ranger immediately knelt next to Krissy, putting Jevan’s sword on the floor, and began examining her.
That was it! He was a ranger. Not a trainee, but a full-fledged ranger.
I didn’t hesitate. I drew a few EPs and some Mana, and worked the substances into a thread in a matter of seconds. Then I stuck a tentie into his soul, and attached the thread to the node inside, connecting the man to the voice-chat.
The man was trying to take Krissy’s mask off, unsuccessfully, when he felt something wasn’t right. He stiffened and stopped moving.
‘You’re a ranger. You know how to treat injuries, right?’ I asked him, removing the mask and putting it back to Jack’s Room at the same time.
The ranger jumped up, grabbing the sword, looking around for a threat, scaring Miss Goldeneye in the process. A few of the rescued elves were also coming this way, no longer naked but wrapped in all sorts of rags they must have found or taken off the dead barbarians.
‘Who are you? Where are you?’ the ranger growled, still looking around.
‘I’m her familiar,’ I said, and I took out my last bag of medical supplies from Jack’s Room, dumping it at his feet. ‘Can you treat her? Her left lower arm is broken, shoulder’s not quite right. One of her ankles’ twisted. I don’t think there is any internal bleeding.’
The man stopped looking around, his widened eyes on Krissy’s unconscious form.
‘A spirit,’ he whispered.
Miss Goldeneye heard him and started looking around in a panic, clutching her hands in front of her chest.
In my experience, people who weren’t used to talking to spirits needed some adjustment period, but I was running out of patience.
‘Can you or not?’ I demanded.
‘I … can,’ he said, nodding.
Spirit-man, who the hell are you talking to? Sini’s voice came, demanding an answer.
‘Sini? Scout-master Sini?’ the ranger looked around again, grabbing his head with both hands, clearly not accustomed to hearing voices in there.
Miss Goldeneye was looking at him as if contemplating whether the man needed psychiatric care or not.
‘Yes, it’s Sini, but she can’t hear you speak,’ I said to the man. ‘What’s your name, ranger?’
‘Uh … I’m Tomaron Astar, scout, first-class,’ he replied.
I imagined his training was kicking in, because he straightened himself, as if reporting to one of his superiors. Well, he had just heard Sini’s voice, so that made sense. I told Sini who the man was.
Oh, Tomas? Is that you? Man, I’m glad you’re alive. Sini’s thoughts came, radiating joy and relief. Listen, do what the spirit tells you. Treat the injured woman. She’s a spiritualist, her name’s Misery. She’s with us.
‘Yes, sir,’ Tomas replied, kneeling down again next to Krissy. He waved Miss Goldeneye over, saying, ‘Ferin, help! Open the bag and look for gauze!’
Miss Goldeneye, or Ferin, did as she was told and began rummaging through the contents of the elven first-aid kit.
I glanced at the gathering elves, quite a few of them now, even some of the children among them. They kept a healthy distance of at least three metres from us. Some of them were watching Tomas and Ferin, some of them looking at the hole in the ceiling and the hull above us.
Quite a few rowers gathered around the hole in the floor, those whose chains no longer had anything to chain them to. One of the whip wielding elves appeared, too, looking down into the hold, then barking orders at the slaves.
This was a golden opportunity for me, but as the rowers began to obey the elf, that opportunity was going to pass quickly. I stroke Krissy’s face with a Mana-Gloved tentie. After a long, mental exhale, I ripped the Essence wires connecting me to Krissy out of all the nodes in my body. The jolt of pain I felt inflated my anger even more. I stuck a tentie into the closest of the barbarian elves on the rowers’ deck.
‘Tomas! I’m going up there and murder every single one of them,’ I said to the ranger while dumping every weapon I had in Jack’s Room onto the floor next to him — a spear, a couple more daggers, a few kitchen knives, a human sized meat-cleaver, and a number of wooden bars that could be used as clubs. The elves just stared at the pile of weapons with wide eyes. ‘You guys treat her injuries and protect her with your lives. She’s the most important person in the world. Got it?’
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
‘Uh … yeah. Got it,’ Tomas replied, still looking around.
He beckoned more of the spectating elves to come closer. They came and armed themselves. Tomas turned back to look at Krissy’s face and said, ‘But … you’re a familiar. Can you even move without her?’
‘Just watch me!’
‘I … can’t see you,’ he stated, somewhat confused.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, just take care of her and leave the rest to me!’ I snapped at him.
The man nodded, and got back to treating Krissy, telling Ferin how to assist.
The barbarian elf I had picked was walking away from the hole. I injected a metric fuckton of Essence into his soul before he was out of range. The man stopped, his body beginning to tremble as the Essence spread in his soul, connecting me to every single node he had. And with that, he was possessed by a familiar who had just entered “full evil spirit” mode.
Anchored to a soul now, I pulled my body up to the rowers’ deck, settling slightly above my new puppet. I spread my eight free tentacles out in every direction, and I got down to my gruesome work, my Tentacle Horror instinct cheering me on louder than ever.
***
The entire rowers’ deck was in an uproar. The dozen or so rowers, whose chains no longer held them to the pits, were being whipped into submission by three barbarian elves, mine excluded. The rumbling cries and shouts of the still restrained slaves must have been deafening to material creatures with actual ears.
My puppet finally stopped shaking as I took full control over him. My tentacle’s blue colour began to bleed into his bronze soul, merging together into a mud coloured mess. I took a single second to observe it, and I could suddenly sense a fraction of the agony the elf was experiencing, I could even hear an echo of his internal screams. Served him right. The moment passed, and I turned my attention to the wretched barbarians before me.
I flung three of my tentacles at two slaves and the elf who was busy whipping them. They fell dead the moment my tentacles touched them. I didn’t worry about mixing flavours this time — I consumed the three souls in a second, and ordered my puppet to start moving. He tried to resist, but my will overwhelmed his, and his body obeyed my orders. One shambling step, then another, and he got into a weird, jerky rhythm, walking towards the other end of the deck. And with every step, I collected my dues in lives and EXP.
I raised one of my tenties to have a look around the quarterdeck. The two spiritualists were there, standing on a raised platform at the bow, talking frantically to a huge ork with a tricorn hat barely fitting his large head. The captain of the galley, maybe? It didn’t matter. They were up there, I was down here, and currently no-one was close enough to stop me.
I retracted my tentacle and I ate. And I ate. And I ate some more.
Ten metres into my trek between the rowing pits, and it was getting quiet behind me — dead slaves didn’t kick up much of a fuss, did they? The live ones in front of me? They didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. They cried and shrieked louder and louder, yanking on their chains to the point their ankles were bleeding. I recognized some Treini words in there, begging for help or for mercy, but I was fresh out of those.
But I had to take a moment. I was full. Fifty-something human souls and a couple of elves did the trick, giving me 2200 EXP, easily reaching the threshold of roughly 3200 EXP for Level 33. I was ready to grow for the second time today. Looking at the thirty or so metres ahead, I wasn’t worried about choosing my main body this time — plenty of food for a third round.
Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 32 to Level 33. 4500 EXP to next level. Roughly.
My body grew from the size of a basketball to a large, inflatable beach-ball with a diameter of at least 40 centimetres. Maybe a bit more. A respectable size.
My main Essence Pool’s max capacity expanded from 68 to 72, and my Mana Pool from 40 to 44.
My Secondary Essence Pool remained the same at 35, so did Jack’s Room and the Spirit Room. They would all require some active building work on my part, but I felt there was room for them now.
And there was still food. So much food. My Tentacle Horror instinct was swimming in an overflowing pool of ecstasy as I counted almost two hundred slaves, alive and chained down, their souls ripe for the picking. The remaining few elves had fled of course — they were all up on the quarterdeck now, complaining to their masters about the ongoings down here. It didn’t matter, I’d get to them eventually. For the time being, an entire deck was just waiting for me.
***
Spiritual Tentacle Horror Level 33 to Level 34. About 5700 EXP to next level.
It took another hundred and twenty of the rowers to get full again. 4500 EXP. It sounded like a lot, but in a nutrition-rich environment like this, all I had to do was to make my possessed elf walk at a steady pace, and my tentacles did the rest. I couldn’t even call them “little buggers” any more, not after I had opted to extend their length again, making them 7.5 metres long. And following the universal truth of “the more the merrier”, I now had ten of them instead of nine.
Despite everything, this was shaping up to be a nice and productive day.
My Tentacle Horror instinct was like a dog with a bone, urging me to march on and collect the remaining sixty or so souls on the deck. I was inclined to do just that, when a voice interrupted the party.
Kevin, I don’t know what you’re doing, but they have just dropped the barges down. Dimal informed me.
‘I’ll have look, just wait a second,’ I said to him.
I stuck my new tentacle through the ceiling to look around the quarterdeck, and another one through the hull, so I could confirm the news.
It seemed the orks had a new plan. In a stunning display of orkish bravery, they turned tail and ran away. Well, rowed away. The barges were already on the water, filled to the brim with orks, and among them sat the two spiritualists, working the oars as if their life depended on it, their familiars looking back at the ship and the single tentacle sticking out of the hull. Damn. They were too far for me to do anything about them now. This was a disappointing turn of events. A sensible thing for them to do, but … disappointing. Good-bye Black Essence, until next time.
‘Well, I killed two of the spiritualists, the other two probably decided to call it a day. They’re fleeing,’ I grumbled.
So I take it the ship is under your control? Dimal inquired, sounding hopeful.
‘Almost,’ I replied, looking around the quarterdeck with my tentie.
The spiritualists may have got away, but those rowboats were small, so plenty of barbarians of all sizes and colours remained to serve as a consolation prize.
I felt tempted to go back to Krissy. I really wanted to check on her, but … there wasn’t much I could do for her, mostly on account of not being a doctor. Besides, there was no way she wouldn’t be alright, because … she was Krissy. My Krissy. And all the assholes on this ship bore the collective guilt of hurting her. They’d pay.
So, next stop: the quarterdeck.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, scout-master Dimal, I’ll go and say hello to the captain of this ship, if he’s still aboard.’
***
As it turned out, possessed ghouls weren’t made for climbing ladders. By the time we shambled to the nearest hatch, the poor sod was a twisted wreck. At this point I was pretty sure my tentacle was the only thing keeping his soul in his body. Unfortunately, he couldn’t climb the ladder in that state.
Luckily, such mundane things as ladders and climbing weren't the only way for a capable evil spirit to get around. I sent a tentacle to have a look upstairs, and I liked what I saw. The barbarians were considerate enough to surround the opening with a few archers and some slaves holding spears, or some other kind of spiky pole weapons. My recent level-ups gave me enough reach to grab onto the closest of the ork archers. I said a quiet goodbye to my worn down puppet, and ate his ragged soul while injecting some essence into the ork. Then I pulled myself up to him.
The reaction of the nearby barbarians as my new puppet shrieked and dropped his bow, was fast. They all jumped back and ran as if a volcano had just erupted in their midsts. Damn, they were fast. I only managed to catch three of them, an ork and two humans. It was still a 180 EXP total, and looking around the quarterdeck, there was more of it to be collected.
But first things first, I took a look at the masts.
I was somewhere in the middle of the ship so the mast closest to me was the… hm … main mast? Was that it? I’d have to ask Tommi or Quenta — sailoring was their thing, not mine. The triangular sails had been unfurled already, human sailors — or slaves — all over the rigging, doing whatever it was they were doing.
Now, what to do about it? I had chopped down smaller trees before, and I guessed a long wooden pole with some cloths on it wouldn’t be much of a problem. I gathered Mana along one of my tentacles, willing it to form an invisible blade at the end of the appendage, and I ordered my new, green puppet to head for the mast.