Ihuet appeared beside Gilda, stepping out of Concealment. His body was a mass of crackling energy as if he were the walking embodiment of lightning. He touched the exposed flesh of Gilda’s arm.
The girl did a jittery dance where she stood. The chakrams fell from her limp fingers, clanging on the cobbles. Gilda collapsed to the ground and writhed.
Setnana strode over to the helpless girl. Eyes cold and pitiless, she stared down into Gilda’s face. “You will tell me where Benediction is, the location of its schema, and you will give up the location of your friends.”
Teeth gritted, Gilda stared Setnana down with defiant eyes. “Not a chance.”
Setnana allowed a ghost of a smile to play across her lips. “I will enjoy breaking you. You will know my Perihy’s suffering.”
CHAPTER 7
Early the next morning, Frost woke beside the campfire’s dying embers, his cloak balled beneath his head. He rolled his neck to work out a little stiffness and climbed to his feet, screwing up his face at the stench rolling off his body.
Promising himself to bathe in the lagoon, he repeated the stretch and exercise regimen from the previous night. He again worked in Leaps.
Hunger gnawed at him by the time he finished well over an hour later. He ate some of the roasted lamia and washed it down with water.
After breakfast, he got dressed in his undershirt, black thigh-length gambeson, and mahogany brigandine. He pulled on the close-fitting, knee-high, soft leather boots, strapped on his greaves over them, and then secured his cuisses to his thighs. Lastly, he cinched the bracers on his wrists. Smiling, he rubbed his Two Ring, thoughts drifting to Pops for a moment.
Shaking off the reverie, he made a makeshift sack of his cloak and bundled chopped bits of lamia tail into it. He’d thought about putting the chunks in his inventory, but the sack felt more practical. With one last look around the cavern, he tossed the sack over his shoulder, and departed.
Today would be his last day on the island.
Mist and cool air greeted him outside. Beyond the mountain, the mist was dirty milk blotting out the land. The war of lightning among the clouds was muted. From above came a lament of drakes’ screeches.
When he crested the hill, he immediately became aware of numerous drakes circling the open area, most of them larger than the ones he’d seen the day before. At a quick glance he could tell they were hunting. Frost dropped the makeshift sack and retrieved Deadeye from his inventory. He sidled up against the steep slope to his left, got flat on his belly, and studied the encounters.
Most drakes attacked the speedy lamias. In twos or threes, they would swoop down time and again until they managed to snatch a lamia with their claws. Some flew off to the aeries when successful. Others gorged on the spot.
The majority of the arkets had fled to the far right corner of the saddle among several rock formations. Squinting, Frost could just make out caverns like the one in which he’d spawned.
Arkets caught out in the open proved to be no easy meat for the drakes. Relying on Concealment, they often escaped. But the drakes followed doggedly.
The bolder arkets flung Whirlwinds at their assailants. Others hurled Gust, an aether-infused half-moon of wind as tall as a man. The drakes flapped away every time.
Frost wondered why the drakes bothered. Hunting arkets seemed such an annoyance. Particularly since the lamias were much easier.
To escape the onslaught, the lamias had taken to their burrows. But some weren’t fast enough or chose to help a nearby counterpart fight off a drake. More often than not, such attempts failed.
By Frost’s estimate, the hunt lasted half an hour. No carcasses were left when it was over. The drakes either picked them clean or flew off with the remains.
Frost had kept an eye out for Red-and-black. It wasn’t among the others during the hunt.
While he waited for the mobs to return to their normal haunts, he watched Red-and-black’s aerie. Sure enough, it appeared at the opening. It didn’t leave until the other drakes had settled in their aeries.
Frost picked up the sack and dashed to the lagoon. He emptied the chunks of meat onto the rocks. Focused on Red-and-black, he crossed to the lagoon’s opposite side.
A shadow passed over the land as Red-and-black banked and circled the plain. Unlike its predecessors, the drake made no noise but for the flap of its leathery wings. And unlike its predecessors, it did not seem to strike fear in the hearts of its would-be prey. Neither the lamias nor arkets attempted to flee.
Red-and-black must have spotted the meat at the lagoon, for it abruptly veered off its path and descended toward the waterfall. A blast of Gust shot up and exploded into the drake. With a plaintive cry, the drake pitched from the air.
“No!” Frost was off and running before he gave any thought to the action.
The drake plummeted. Moments before it slammed into the ground, the drake managed to spread its wings and regain a semblance of control. But Red-and-black had fallen too fast. The angle was too steep. The drake hit a thicket and tumbled to the ground. It rolled a few times before coming to a stop.
Legs pumping, Frost had almost made it to the drake when two seven-foot arkets appeared out of Concealment some distance away. They let out chuckles and broke into long loping runs toward the hapless drake.
Growling, Deadeye cradled in his arms, Frost willed himself to run faster. His chest heaved. Each breath was louder and harder until he was huffing. He sprinted by Red-and-black.
In one motion, Frost drew to a halt, aimed Deadeye, chose Aether Bomb, and squeezed the trigger. The one point five second charge seemed to take forever, the cyan luminance growing at the cannon’s muzzle until it was the size of a basketball. With a whoosh, the Bomb launched.
The Bomb hurtled across the distance. It exploded when it struck one of the arkets, leaving a conflagration in a ten-foot radius. Afire, both creatures ran around aimlessly, yelping.
Frost squeezed the trigger again, this time having chosen Concussion Blast. A white beam flashed from the cannon, exploded near the arkets, staggered them, and launched them into the air. The moment they slammed back into the ground, Frost hit one with Staggering Shot, leaving it incapacitated, swaying from side to side. He lit up the other with a combo of Aether Shot and Divergence. It did not get up.
One of Divergence’s five-shot spread had struck the first, knocking it out of the stagger. Retreating step by step, Frost pumped Aether Shot after Aether Shot into the yowling creature as it stumbled toward him. The arket crumpled to the ground.
Chest heaving, Frost kept Deadeye level and aimed in case more of the beasts were Concealed. He clicked to make certain. Satisfied when Echolocation revealed no threat, he turned to the drake.
Red-and-black was gone.
Frost scanned the area. He didn’t see the drake. A motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
The drake was hobbling alongside the lagoon. One wing dragged on the ground. Red-and-black disappeared through the waterfall’s foamy spray.
Following the drake, Frost Leaped atop the rocks. Creeping along so as not to startle the beast, he approached the roaring waterfall, wary of the dangers of the pool itself and the slippery rocks. The wind gusted, sending out swaths of misty spray.
Frost stopped adjacent to the effervescent water curtain. He could just make out movement behind it. And a pair of eyes. A snorting growl resonated, barely audible amid the water’s rage. Frost backed away slowly.
Concerned for the extent of Red-and-black’s injuries and blaming himself, Frost retraced his steps, and circled to the lagoon’s other side. He ambled over to the area with the chunks of lamia meat. One by one, he picked them up, tossed them farther up the wet rocks near where the waterfall spilled over the cliff, and then hurried to them.
He picked out a spot where the falling wa
ter abated, where it was little more than several trickling lines. Beyond the trickles of water, he saw a ledge, a hollow carved into the cliff.
Red-and-black was pressed up against the far corner. Its fangs glinted in the dim light. As did the gold of its circular iris and convex pupils, which were surrounded by the black sclera of its eyeballs.
Frost picked up the meat and hurled it through. The drake’s head shifted to track the meat, but its golden pupils, contrary to the head, were still on Frost. Red-and-black made no move toward the morsel.
“Eat.” Frost pointed at the meat. The drake stayed in position. “Go on… eat.” The drake didn’t budge.
Frost sighed. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll protect you until you can fly again. Least I can do.” Although disappointed, he found a little solace in the idea the drake would not want for food or water.
He headed back to the plain, intent on grinding out his level while keeping an eye on the drake. Before he started, Frost took a swig from his canteen. He wiped sweat from his brow then spent a few minutes meditating for Replenishment. When he was at full capacity, he chose the lamias, and got to work.
Within the first thirty minutes he had left a trail of carcasses. A part of him wished he had bought a skinning knife. He could have at least come away with some hides to sell or for future use. Until he considered that like everything else, skinning would be an imitation of real life. He grimaced at the gore involved with the work.
Brushing away the thought, he considered that there had to be rare herbs like those Saba had mentioned the last time. Although Gilda had said gathering was simply a matter of engaging in it, he didn’t know where to start. He sighed. Gonna have to fix my life skills and professions after all.
The hours dragged on, the mist burning off, the day producing a swelter. Frost gained yet another point in aether, raising it to thirty-five. Hot and sweaty, he dragged a lamia tail up to the waterfall. He chopped it up and flung a few chunks behind the water.
Again, he tried to coax the drake into eating. But Red-and-black merely delivered snorting growls of warning. Frost took note of the old food’s absence.
Frost left the rest of the lamia just outside the trickling water. He paused for a moment, face held up to the foamy spray’s welcome respite. With a sigh, he refilled his canteen and got back to grinding toward level twelve.
Whenever Frost heard a drake screech, he’d worry, thinking the three bullies had found Red-and-black. Or that any of the others had done so on occasions when they landed at the lagoon. Frost stopped the grind during those times, an expectant breath held. But the drakes would drink and fly back to their aeries.
Bored of the lamias, he sought out the arkets. This time he took more care in approaching his target. A combo of Staggering Shot, Piercer, Aether Shot, Divergence, and Aether Shot put the creature down without fuss.
Frost checked the carcass. His mouth fell open. A skill shard.
Skill acquired:
Concealment
Cast time: Instant
Recharge Time: 1 minute
Consumes: Aether
Available shard slots: 3
Effect: Allows user to become invisible until user cancels the ability or takes damage. Environmental aspects and situations can affect invisibility in adverse ways. Concealed attacks do fifty percent less damage due to the inability to properly focus aether while invisible.
Frost absorbed the shard. He had always loved the idea of stealth, of cutthroats in general. He was less enamored with the penalty for the skill and was positive it didn’t exist in the game’s old version.
But then, classes were restricted in Ataxia One. In Void Legion, all a player needed was to hit the requirements, be it stats, levels, or weapons to use a particular skill. Concealment, like many of the dash skills that covered great distances in a blink, had no weapon requirement.
While he continued with his leveling, Frost practiced Concealment. The advantages of the skill seemed amazing. But he also became aware of the flaws. Concealment did not mute his footsteps. Or breathing. And while Concealed, he noticed the stink of his unwashed body.
On one occasion, an arket heard him coming and had also Concealed. Frost considered clicking for all of a second. Instead, he studied the arket’s location. Minutes passed. Frost frowned. He swore he could see something there. A distortion. Eventually, the arket reappeared. Frost killed it.
On a whim, Frost cut off the arket’s arms. He returned to the waterfall. He threw one bloody arm onto the wet ledge halfway between him and the drake.
One wing still hanging awkwardly, the drake dashed forward and snatched up the arm. Making growling sounds, it ate. Bones crunched. Those golden pupils were still focused on Frost.
“The little hyena bastards are a delicacy for you, huh?” Frost smiled.
He reached out, his hand passing through the cold dripping water, and held out the other bloody arm. Red-and-black finished off the first arm in a series of swallowing snaps. Its gaze tracked Frost and the other arm.
“Eat.” Frost waved the arm.
After a moment, the drake took one tentative step. One became two. Two, three. The drake leaned forward, its neck stretching, mouth open. It snatched the food and backed up.
“Good boyyy. Eat.”
He waited until the drake finished. Smiling triumphantly, he refilled his canteen then headed down to the arkets. He continued with the grind, using Cannon Kata’s speed boost after every kill to sprint to a new target. His sprints using Kata as well as his constant Leap practice saw his agility increase by one. By evening he had a good collection of arms wrapped in his cloak.
He’d also gotten two more skill shards. One for Concealment and the other for a sorcerer’s Infernal Spear. He was certain they’d be worth some credits on the Auction Market.
On his last kill, he leveled up.
Level 12 gained
Attributes increased by 3 points
Strength: 26
Agility: 32
Vitality: 37
Aether: 38
He nodded at the additional vitality outside of the three-point allotment. It proved his theorycrafting for conversion rates between agility and strength was correct. He absorbed the Homer skill shard.
Skill Acquired
Homer:
Cast time: Instant or chargeable
Recharge Time: 15 seconds
Consumes: Aether
Available shard slots: 2
Effect: Instantly fire an Aether Missile at a target locked onto when aiming. Range up to 400 feet. Charging the skill creates additional missiles. Two missiles per one second charge up to a maximum of eight missiles. Recharge time is constant regardless of firing method. Gain 2 percent aether for each successful hit.
Evening had bled into night’s inky cloak. The hunting scream from the previous night echoed farther up the mountain. It sent a shiver through Frost.
Gripping Deadeye tight, he peered toward the sound but only deepening dark greeted him. Lightning radiated at the summit in fitful spurts.
Shaking off the unease, Frost headed up to the waterfall with his spoils. The lagoon glowed with unearthly turquoise splendor, insects flitting like playful specters in its radiance. He paused to admire the spectacle before striding up to the edge of the hollow. The luminance allowed him to see Red-and-black in the far corner.
Frost dropped the makeshift bag of arms. He picked up two and tossed them toward the drake. “Eat.” Frost did his best impression of tearing flesh with his teeth.
When Red-and-black moved to the morsels, Frost picked up the bag, and stepped through the spray. Red-and-black froze. A snorting growl rumbled low in its chest. The black of its eyeballs glinted with the lagoon’s blue radiance even as the golden pupils tracked him. But the drake made no move. Neither of aggressio
n nor to flee.
Frost sidestepped over to the corner with the bag of arms. Willing himself to relax, he took a seat and placed Deadeye across his lap. Within the hollow, the crash of the waterfall was thunder, the sound of an entire stadium cheering a team. Soon enough, the clamor became a part of his surroundings.
With a snort, the drake returned to its meal. It made short work of the food. The drake looked to Frost, but its eyes shifted to the bag. Frost leaned forward, grabbed an arm, and tossed it. The drake caught the arm in mid-air and swallowed it whole.
Frost threw a few more on the ground between him and the drake, each time instructing it to eat. Watching the beast feed reminded him that he, too, was hungry. Frost removed the chunks of roasted lamia from his inventory and had himself a meal, his attention on the drake, who had worked its way to each arm until it was within spitting distance of Frost.
When Red-and-black finished, it made a gurgling sound. Its eyes shifted to the bag.
Frost smiled. “You sure can eat.” He finished his lamia, reached into the bag, took an arm, and held it out.
Red-and-black stretched its neck out. Frost pulled back a bit. The drake took a step forward. Frost held his breath. Red-and-black took the food and ate.
The drake was so close now that Frost could touch it. Its musky odor was strong. Animal. Heat emanated from its body, a heat that reminded Frost of the chill in the air. Frost shivered. He’d hoped there might be an area in the hollow dry enough to support a campfire, but the light mist in the air dashed such thoughts.
Red-and-black gurgled once more. Frost handed it another morsel. When the drake took it, Frost eased to his feet. Reaching out, he stroked the drake’s head as it ate. Red-and-black made a soft noise in its throat. A noise Frost could only interpret as contentment.
This close, Frost noted that the injured wing was higher up, closer to a more natural position to match the other side. He placed the last two arms on the ground before the drake.
Frost walked around the beast, trailing his fingers along its shoulder, back, and down to its tail. He admired the little he could make out of its mottled color in the poor lightning. He could only imagine the splendor of the red and black scales up close in the day.
The Forsaken Crypts Page 8