Something wasn’t right, Jack thought, moving forward and quartering away from the area that was giving him the itch. The girl, for the moment, was staying behind with the horse. That, at least, was good.
There was something about that jumble of bushes over there across the road that didn’t look quite right. Nothing obvious. He couldn’t even articulate to himself what it was. There was also the hint of an odd smell in the air. Something that tasted of rotting garbage and mildew. Not anything he’d ever smelled before, not even in the ‘stan.
If this was an ambush, it was a pretty good one. There wasn’t any indication anywhere that this might be a good place to lie in wait. The grass wasn’t overly tall, there were no real terrain features beyond those bushes, and those didn’t look substantial enough to conceal a coyote.
He was carrying his staff in high guard, so he shifted it to his shoulder, fishing around in the possibles pouch the old woman had included with the replacements she’d given him for his ruined clothing. He’d picked up a couple of good sized rocks back along the way for just such occasions. Scanning his surroundings one last time before committing, he chucked the rock into the bush with everything he had.
The projectile hit something obviously alive, and things instantly went south. Half a dozen creatures with the heads of bats and the bodies of stub-tailed, humanoid werewolves leapt up from nowhere, howling doom at him. They were armed with short swords. The one farthest from him —the one who’d been behind the bush— also had a buckler. Worse, the nearest one was almost on top of him already.
He got the staff into low guard barely in time to divert the first sword blow, fumbling the move enough so that the riposte was late and only grazed one bat ear rather than caving in the skull. He knew these things!
Teufeljaegers! They were from that damned game! Level ten to twenty monsters, they were bio constructs, and the most prolific lower mid tier mobs you encountered until you started running into guns in the second area at around level twenty-one. They came in packs of eight to ten. There were usually crossbows mixed with the melee fighters, but he saw no hint of any here.
Their hide had the same Armor Class as boiled leather, and was resistant to cutting or piercing. That was okay, he didn’t have anything that did either of those. They were fast and decently smart, but their base tactics ran along the lines of charge and chop. The one with the buckler would be a champion. Stronger, with a better weapon skill and a deeper health pool.
He took a wide step back, trying to keep his near opponent between him and the others as he maneuvered. They’d be on him in a second, so he had to be quick.
GrandmotherGrandmotherGrandmotherGrandmotherGrandmotherGrandmother! Tiarraluna took two steps back at the appearance of the beasts, shocked to her very core, and very frightened.
Child? Came the worried sending.
Grandmother? She thought, surprised to be answered. How—?
You are at the far edge of my range, Child, the reply was worried. Were we not tied by blood, I’d not have heard you at all. What is happening? You sound—
Grandmother, Tiarraluna’s sending bore the hint of a squeak. We are set upon! Creatures such as I have never seen! Huge and hairy! They bear no life crystals!
Ten miles away, in her small cottage, a giant claw squeezed around Rosaluna’s heart. How many, child? She struggled, eyes squeezed tightly closed to maintain the concentration the spell required in the face of her dread.
Five, Grandmother, Tiarraluna sent. They have swords, and one a small shield.
What is Jack san doing? The old woman demanded.
He... he is fighting them, Grandmother!
In the hut, the old woman chuckled without humor, an ugly sound due to her handicap. Of course he is, she sent. That is what they do, with a tinge of bitterness. Regardless of how impossible the odds. Even to their certain doom.... That is what they do.
Quickly, child, the old woman ordered now, straightening and squaring herself, reaching for her bag and the tools therein. You must cast ironwood on Jack san’s staff, and name it!
But Grandmother, the girl quailed. I cannot. I do not have the power or time to name—
I will aid you, child, the old woman insisted. Do it now! She withdrew a phial of smokey liquid from her bag and dashed it to the floor, shattering the fine crystal vessel and releasing a cloud of pungent vapor into the room. Dashing also the stab of regret at what she was about to do to her old friend.
The girl began the spell, uncertain of how much good would come of it. Even were she to successfully name the weapon, without a crystal, Jack san could not wield such a thing. Nevertheless, she forced her eyes closed and gave over her entire concentration to forming the spell. An aura of azure light grew around the jewel in her staff as she opened her eyes. Eyes that now showed no visible pupil, only a pale, blue-white glow.
The glow emanating from the jewel expanded beyond its physical confines, darkening into a nimbus of pulsing sapphire energy before lancing across the field to envelop the staff and the hands holding it. “By my power and my will, and my bond with this land,” she hissed the incantation’s final stanza. “I name thee now and forevermore... er... FoeSmite!”
Far off, the old woman rolled her eyes. Now, child! RUN!
Grandmother?
Run, Button! Run away! The man has no chance. None at all! He will die. You have given him an opportunity to perhaps buy you some time to escape. Jelia will carry you home; she has one or two runs left in her old bones. But you must flee! NOW!
Grandmother, I cannot!
Heroes are not immortal, child, the old woman insisted. You above all should know that!
I will not. Tiarraluna was firm.
Button...! The sending bore the tone of a wail.
Wait, the girl interjected. Something has changed. Grandmother! He is fighting them!
Of course he— the old woman started.
No, Grandmother, Tiarraluna insisted. He is fighting them!
The jaeger was charging hard, and Jack nearly missed his next parry, but he made it, just. The instant his staff had broken the sword’s line, he swung high and around, sliding his left hand down the shaft. Hard, now, he grunted unconsciously. Break something, damnit!
Even as the staff sliced the air, he felt an electric pulse race up both arms, felt the hair stand all along them. Felt an even more intense shock race up his spine and crash straight up through the crown of his head. His eyes went unfocused.
An instant later, he heard a sickening crack. His heart sank. He’d broken the damned staff! He was done for.
But wait. There was no overbalance or any of the follow-through he’d get if he’d broken the thing off short. Instead, there was an agonized yowl as the jaeger buckled at the shoulder, going nearly to one knee.
He didn’t have time to be amazed. Even as his vision came back into focus, the next monster arrived. Jack danced sideways, struggling to keep his first opponent in range without opening a line for its friend.
He shook his head struggling to clear the buzzing in his ears. He felt like he’d been tazed.
The creature was still howling. Hell, they all were. It was an area effect attack that was supposed to paralyze its victims with fear. But it wasn’t a surprise mortar attack at oh-three-hundred, or a five hundred pound bomb buried in the road beneath a soda can, so it had little power over him. His sense of terror had long ago been anesthetized. He could power through it now.
The others were halfway across the road already. He could see them from the corner of his eye. Had to hurry. He parried the incoming sword, slapping it offline and bringing his staff up into the riposte. The jaeger had seen its friend fall to that move, and ducked quickly aside. That was fine, it wasn’t his target.
Swinging the staff in a full arc, using his entire upper body, rolling the shaft off his hip and around, Jack let it slide out of his grip until he held the shaft with a single hand, grasping it at its very base. Six-and-a-half feet away, moving faster than the eye could follow, the far end struck his first dancing partner in the side of the knee as it was gaining its feet. The crack was louder this time. The knee buckled sideways and the beast collapsed into a muddy heap.
Another two steps back, drawing them away from the girl and the horse. Four to go. They weren’t charging quite so quickly now. As he’d noted; smart. The near jaeger had its sword up en garde trying to work out how to attack him. He remembered there were no staves in the game. Spears, yes. Polearms, for certain. No staves, and his use of it seemed to confuse them. Good. Any advantage was useful.
He moved in at middle guard, waving the staff like a spear, to draw them in. Every second he spent in this encounter tipped the probabilities in their favor. He had to get things over quickly. So, small circles, holding the staff at the base in one hand and about a quarter of the way up with the other. Small circles to keep them guessing. Maybe he was a spearman, maybe not....
At once, he thrust forward and up, straight in for the face of the nearest. The jaeger parried, attempting to break his line as though facing a spear. Jack swept his trailing arm up and back, curling the fore end of the shaft down and around the sword blade, spanking it well clear. In the same motion, he punched down at the rear while pulling up at the fore, smacking the creature under the chin and measuring it. Another thrust, this time to the groin with a good yard of travel to build momentum, and the head was right there, waiting. Up to high, and down atop that misshapen skull, and he cracked it like a melon.
Three steps back, two to the right. Three of them left. But something was wrong with his left arm. It was on fire and he was losing strength in it. A quick glance down showed him blood on the staff. Red blood. Opening his hand, he saw the wound. His first exchange, then. He hadn’t gotten his hand clear of the initial, clumsily parried blow, and the bastard had shaved the pad from his fingertip. And, oh, yeah, he remembered now. Poison. A dark stain was spreading down along the finger and wicking out into his hand even as he watched.
He was still backing away as the three remaining teufeljaegers maneuvered to surround him. His position was still pretty dire. Moreso, in fact, than before.Unlike in the game, he had no way to deal with poison, which meant that he was probably already dead. Thankfully, without the crossbow mooks, none of them had any ranged attacks, so he at least stood a chance of taking them down with him and saving the girl.
Do not attack, Button, Rosaluna was ordering sternly. If you must refuse to flee, at least do not draw attention to yourself. Just try to keep him alive as long as possible. It will not be easy. He has no armor at all, and against swords, well.... I will aid as I can, but I am weak after so many months of putting him back together the first time and now granting him a named weapon from this distance. There is little more that I can do.
As you wish, Grandmother, Tiarraluna replied taughtly.
Button, please reconsider, the old woman pleaded.
Mere seconds had passed since the eruption of the monsters from seeming invisibility, but much had happened. Tiarraluna had managed to enchant the staff and the man had already weathered two attacks. More, the first creature to attack him seemed sorely injured.
FoeSmite never stopped moving, swinging about and darting in as though it had a mind of its own, and the man merely holding it back. Was it glowing? It looked to be glowing. She must be imagining that. Ironwood should not cause such an effect.
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She gasped when he missed his first chance at the second beast, but had to throttle a shout of joy when the blow struck its true target. How was he doing this? She had never seen a true hero fight. She was too young. Was this how it always was with them?
He is not doing so badly, she sent to her grandmother.
How can that be? Came the reply. Even with what we’ve given him, he cannot hope to prevail against five—
There are only four now. Tiarraluna couldn’t keep the pride from her voice.
What was that? How?
Now three, Tiarraluna smiled wide as Jack san’s latest victim went down. The others are growing wary. Grandmother! He has a life bar!
Oh, Button, you didn’t! the claw tightened around the old woman’s heart.
It is not very bright, the girl sent. Almost transparent, but I am sure it is a life bar.
Do you see any sign of a crystal? The old woman’s sending sounded resigned.
No, she admitted. Just the bar. Wait. There is a status effect in play. I do not... Grandmother, his health is dropping. They are not touching him but it is dropping.
Poison! The old woman warned. You must cleanse it, Child! Quickly!
Wasted effort. Tiarraluna was already chanting the spell. She felt her gorge rise as her spell touched the poison. Vile stuff, grown of ichor and hate and evil. She grounded herself more firmly and began to draw mana from her surroundings as well as from herself and her grandmother. The glow of the purification spell began to brighten as she fed more power to it. A very powerful poison. Such that she would not have the power to heal him or close his wounds while dealing with it.
One of the creatures raised its head and sniffed at the air. Its head swiveled around, coming to bear on her. Without pause, it turned and charged.
Far away, Rosaluna felt the fear take hold of her little Button and quailed.
It was getting harder to use the arm. That was bad. A quarterstaff was one of the most two handed of two handed weapons to wield. It wasn’t the pain, either. The muscles were under attack. His tormentors were holding back now, waiting for the inevitable.
All at once, he felt a sensation of warmth wash through him, and the pain began to diminish. He could feel the strength return to his arm, bit by bit. He didn’t dare turn away from his enemies, but he knew that this must be the girl’s doing.
He shuffled farther to his right, shifting to low guard, his right hand high, drawing evil eyes further away from her. He could see her now. What’s more, he could see the glowing trail of what he could only consider a magical spell connecting them. And if he could see it....
One of the jaegers straightened. The one closest to the girl. It sniffed the air, as if sensing the magic. It turned, and charged.
“NO!” he shouted without conscious thought. He reared back, and flung the staff spearlike with every ounce of strength left in him. It sailed like a bullet and impacted the base of the jaeger’s skull. The thing crumpled bonelessly to the dirt nearly at her feet, the staff bounding away and over her head.
Okay, NOW he was screwed. But it wasn’t in him to give up. He dove back in the direction of his first kill as the remaining pair of teufeljaegers charged with renewed rage.
He hit the ground rolling, snatched up the dead jaeger’s sword and lunged to his feet just in time to clumsily parry the first onrushing assault.
Tiarraluna did not scream. She wanted to. She needed to. But she would not. Not while he needed her. She held her concentration and pulled the poison from his body even as her vision was filling with a mountain of stinking fur, teeth, and claws. She didn’t even step back as the beast collapsed at her feet, or duck as FoeSmite sailed over her head to disappear behind her. Only when the poison was gone did she drop to her knees with reaction.
Then the realization hit. FoeSmite had sailed over her head? Her heart caught, and she turned to look, but it was nowhere to be seen. Back to the battle, and she saw that Jack san had taken up one of the swords.
He has thrown FoeSmite away! she sent raggedly.
He can’t have, the old woman sent with utter assurance. That would be idiocy.
He is fighting the remaining two with a sword now, the girl told her.
A monster’s sword? The old woman wondered, even as she absorbed the notion that he’d somehow struck another of the enemy down. How can he even hold one?
Tiarraluna shrugged helplessly. She knew no more than her grandmother. He is not very good with it, she admitted. But he seems at least to know its working.
The sword was crap. The hilt felt like rebar, the heavy pommel like a lump of untempered ore. The quillons were loose and undersized, and the blade felt like an iron ingot that had been poorly cast and sharpened on a rock. It was too short, there was no real point, and the balance was completely wrong.
He was still nominally on his knees when he parried the first attack by the simple expedient of bashing it out of the way, feeling the shock of the blow travel all the way to his shoulder. He didn’t stick around to riposte. Instead, he dug in his toes, took a runner’s knee, and launched himself clear. He began circling away from the big one with the buckler. That guy was going to be no end of trouble.
He was waving the sword back and forth as he circled, not so much to fend off any attacks as to try and get the feel of it. It hung from the end of his hand like an iron club. Hold on. Time for a change of perception. Don’t think of it as a steel sword. Think of it like it was a rattan stick. Heavier, but just as bulky. Just as poorly balanced. Just a long club with a hilt. Just like with the Anachronists in the park. Except with these things, he didn’t have to moderate his strikes.
His first victim was still alive and still clinging to its weapon, though it was reduced to crawling, dragging itself along the ground with one arm and one leg. It was raging at him, a string of invective and curses that he could clearly understand. Well, the words, if not some of the curses. That thing had an imagination.
A quick feint at his pursuers, and he took off running, arcing wide to intercept the crawling jaeger. He didn’t even bother to parry the feeble chop that came up at him. Instead, he stomped down on the wrist and swung for the neck with his entire strength. He stooped to catch the sword from the slackening grip as the head bounced along the grass. Another thing the game hadn’t had was dual wielding.
Okay, he thought, his breath coming in gasps. Now, we’re talkin’!
He has changed his stance, Tiarraluna informed her grandmother. And he has picked up another sword. He is holding two of them now. Grandmother, he is smiling.
Jack was dancing back, shifting his feet, one blade held upright in each hand. They may as well have been cleavers for all the finesse they allowed, so as cleavers he’d treat them.
They moved in, and he shifted aside, keeping the lesser jaeger between himself and the champion. They were the stronger, but he the more agile. The creature shifted with him undeterred, striking swiftly. Jack parried with his right sword and slashed downward with his left, the crude blade skittering along the tough hide and shaving off a hatful of hair. Oh, right. Resistant to cutting attacks. Another strike, which he parried with his left, this time striking straight down across the forearm with his right hand blade, grunting with the effort. The thick blade bit deep, cleaving the arm nearly in two.
The jaeger yowled, dropping its sword and clutching at the ruined arm. Without warning, then, the creature lunged directly forward. The big one had kicked it bodily into him. He managed to feed it a hasty shot to the teeth with a sword pommel as the pair of them toppled backward to the ground, with the wounded jaeger on top, knocking the breath from the man as they landed.
The only thing that saved Jack then was that the jaeger was also stunned, and so didn’t tear out his throat with its teeth. As it was, it was bleeding all over him, and its stench was hampering his ability to think.
Aaaand, he is poisoned again.
He’d freed a hand and had begun to push the recovering beast aside when he became aware of the pillar-like legs flanking them. He tilted his head around to get a better look and realized the big one was going to run its subordinate clean through and pin them both to the ground. Yeah, no.
He cocked a leg and fed the big guy a heel to the ankle, feeling the shock travel clear up past his knee and into his hip. It was enough, though, and the champion staggered back. Jack took the opportunity to roll the dazed jaeger off his chest and run the sword he hadn’t dropped in the fall into its throat, leaning into the thrust with both hands and bathing his face and upper body in its ichor
Very, very poisoned.
Jack had only managed hands and knees before he felt the brutal slam of the big foot into his chest. He was hurled backward several feet, landing in a tangle, the sword flying well clear. His whole body was on fire now, as the poison ate away at him. He rolled himself onto his side, struggling to rise, but that kick had really hurt him. Another try, and he’d almost made it before the boot hit him again, hurling him even further. He groaned when he hit. Okay, that one had broken a rib or three.
He was slower getting over this time. The pain in his chest combined with the fire of the poison was overwhelming. He made it halfway to one knee, then flopped over onto his back. The jaeger champion was taking its time, calling taunts as it strolled toward him. It had won, and it knew it.
Call to me, an unknown voice drifted into Jack’s brain. Different than Rosaluna’s communication. Voiceless. A whisper coming from both within and without. We are one now, it urged. Call to me.
The jaeger was standing over him now, grinning its toothy grin. “You will never inconvenience my master now,” it laughed gutturally. It raised its misshapen sword to split him in half.
“Come!” Jack croaked, holding his arm at full extension, willing the staff to him.
The sword came down with a mighty clack! Intersecting the shaft of the staff midway, bowing it with the force of the swing. With a mighty heave, holding the staff centered, hands wide, Jack thrust the blade to the side, shifting his grip and pushing up with his left arm as he pulled in with his right. The end of the shaft arced up into the side of the jaeger champion’s head with a sodden thunk.
He reversed then, swinging wide from the ground, slipping his grip farther back, and took the disoriented jaeger’s knee. As the staff rebounded from the breaking joint, he brought the far end around and down against the ear of the falling monster almost exactly where he’d already struck it.
As the creature lay stunned half atop him, Jack kicked himself painfully clear and climbed the staff like a ladder, pulling himself painfully up along its length, leaving bloody streaks along its surface. The foot he’d kicked the jaeger with wouldn’t hold his weight, so the staff became a crutch. Moving to the hairy, bat head, he looked around. The fallen sword lay too far away for his comfort. The jaeger might come to by the time he reached it, and he was all out of fight. So he took his balance, raised the staff high, and rammed it down into an eye socket with a sickening squelch. Then, just because his chest really hurt, he pulled it clear and slammed it down again, sinking at least eight inches of its length into what passed for the creature’s brain.
He raised his head, then, and groggily surveyed the battlefield, his breath coming in shallow, croaking gasps. The horse stood calmly, not a care in the world. The girl knelt nearby, working some sort of spell by the looks of her. Hopefully something to do with the fiery sludge coursing through his entire body like cut rate biryani from a questionable street vendor. All else was still. He’d apparently won. Hooray for him. With that, he collapsed, out before he hit the ground.
Tiarraluna’s heart skipped at the man’s collapse, but not so much as it had when FoeSmite had shot past her and into his hand a few moments earlier. He was not dead, at least. She could feel his life through the connection of the spell she was still working to clear the poisons he would insist on bathing himself in. His health bar was no more than a sliver of red, but he would probably live if his physical injuries weren’t too severe. She was ruinously weary.
It is done, Grandmother, she sighed.
* * *
In her cottage, Rosaluna joined her, though her sigh was more drawn out and deep. By your tone, I take you to mean that he has succeeded rather than succumbed? She sent hopefully.
They are all dead, Grandmother, the girl affirmed. Whether he succumbs or not remains in question. It was a near thing, but he has defeated them.
Oh, and he has a mana bar now.
Rosaluna leaned forward and lay her face in her hands. How tightly was that idiot child binding herself to this strange man? Did she not see the calamity of such endeavor?
He called FoeSmite to him, Tiarraluna went on. At the end. He was about to die and he called. And it came.
Did she now? Rosaluna wondered absently to herself before asking, how far? She was struggling against the urge to order the girl to bring both the hero and the staff back to the cottage for examination.
I am not sure, her granddaughter sent back. I do not know how far it was behind me when he called. It was flying like a crossbow quarrel when it passed me, and he was nearly a hundred yards beyond. It was a strong call.
Can you go to him yet? The old woman asked. She could feel the weariness in the girl through their connection. Feel the pull of mana indicating that she was yet casting.
Soon, Grandmother, came the reply. It seems the blood of these things is horribly venomous, and he got quite a lot of it on him. The cleansing is taking some time.
Do you need me any further? The old woman asked. Are you strong enough to finish alone?
Yes, Grandmother, Tiarraluna sighed again. I am strong enough.
Good, then, the old woman wheezed. In that case, I must rest for awhile. Call for me again when the both of you are up and about.
I will, Grandmother, Tiarraluna assented. And when I do, will you tell me please how I managed to perform a three hour naming ceremony in as many seconds? I must confess to being somewhat confused.
In her hut, the elderly enchantress laughed aloud, so much as her deformity allowed her. Perhaps I will, Button, she smiled inwardly. Perhaps.
She broke the connection and flopped backwards against the thin cushion of the chair, breath coming in tearing gasps now that she’d no need to hide her condition. The claw at her heart had loosened only moderately. Button had joined herself with this man somehow. She had become his companion. That was a bond that did not go away regardless of how fervently one wished. It was a life bond that promised only heartbreak. How had she managed it? And so quickly?
And what of the man himself? What sort of creature was he, who could summon magic and wield higher order weapons, and even monstrous weapons, all without a crystal?
And yet the staff. FoeSmite now, she was. She had returned when called? That was very unexpected.
* * *
Jack san was still unconscious when Tiarraluna reached him. That wasn’t terribly surprising. She’d already shut down the purification spell twice, thinking herself done, only to have the rot spring forth anew after only a moment. It was pernicious stuff. Finally, she’d decided it best to simply allow it to spread for the time it took her to reach him. If she could lay hands on him, the spell would be that much more powerful, and draw that much less mana. She would wring that horrid putrification out of him if it took the last dribblings of mana she could gather.
In the event, it took nearly that, even once she’d drenched him in purifying water. Once he was truly free of the invasion, she settled to the ground beside him, exhausted. Resting on one arm, she looked down at his still face, wondering at the place he’d come from. That place where heroes spawned. Were they all like this? They couldn’t be, surely.
She caught herself and cut her introspection short. He was still grievously wounded, and she was now without the mana to aid him. Not for some time would her reserves build sufficiently to do anything of note. The local area even longer. Nor would she call upon Grandmother again so soon. The old woman might think her fooled by bravado, but Tiarraluna could sense full well the degree of strain the battle had put her under.
Gathering herself with a deep breath, she pushed to her feet and moved slowly to Jelia. The pack would contain basic first aid equipment. Perhaps enough, perhaps not. Enough certainly to stop the bleeding, at least. What she’d use to replace the horribly fouled tunic she’d had to cut him clear of she had no idea.