Frost narrowed his eyes, concerned by the need for an escort. “Why?”
“The area we’re heading into is an Open PVP zone. Been a lot of competition up in the Jurojin for korbitanium and gems. If you’re not strong enough, you can have your mine taken. Also been a group of bandits going around robbing folks. And there’s talk of missing miners.”
“The Krator the Klaw quest?” Frost brought up the objective in IM. Beyond the requirement to kill it, there were no details as to what Krator might actually be.
Meritus nodded. “Yeah. And before you ask, I don’t know what Krator is either. Or how strong it might be. Never seen it. Seen the remains of a few of its kills, though. It literally rips people apart. The few who survived an attack were delirious and just kept talking about a big claw.”
“Sounds like crazy fun.” Dante rode up beside them with Ryne on his other side. “An epic battle for the win.”
Chuckling, Meritus shook his head. “I should’ve expected you’d want in on something like that.”
Dante shrugged. “You know I’m all about the action, boss.”
“So, we will be ass-kicking and name-taking?” Ryne looked hopeful.
The players burst into laughter. To which Ryne appeared utterly confused. Which brought another round of mirth.
After they calmed, Frost answered. “Yeah, we’re gonna kick some ass and take some names.”
“Awesome.” The goblin beamed.
The day dragged on, the sun beating down to the point Frost wished he wasn’t wearing the green brigandine and the gambeson. A shirt alone would have been just fine. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Studying the people around him, he took out his canteen and took a swig to quench his thirst and soothe his parched throat and dry lips.
The folk traveling toward the Jurojin almost encompassed the entire width of the road. Those returning were sparse and mainly kept to the edges. Many carried weapons or wore armor like those in his group. Others had the tools of the mining trade on their pack animals, drays, or wagons.
Frowning, he turned to the other group members. “Those crests some people wear on their right or left breast. Or on their cloaks. Is that like a faction they joined?”
“Guild emblems,” Meritus answered.
“Ohhh, alright.” Frost nodded. “Makes sense.” In other games he’d played, there was typically a guild tabard. “Who’s the guild with the shield, storm lance, greatsword, and the flame? Been a lot of ‘em.”
“WaR. Short for Wrath and Retribution. Current top PVP guild.” Meritus waved to someone he knew. “Top guild, period. They nicknamed their emblem the Herald of WaR.”
“Truth be told, most of them are a bunch of assholes.” Saba was lying in the back of the wagon, peering out at them.
“Yeah, I agree with Saba, bro.” Dante propped his crescent axe on his shoulder. “Avoid them like the plague.”
Frost snatched a look at one or two of the WaR members to see if he spotted a familiar face. “I had a run in with one of them. Two, really.”
“What?” Meritus snapped his head around to Frost.
The others were eyeing Frost too. All except Ryne, who appeared completely disinterested.
“One tried to gank me, so I smoked him.” Frost shrugged. “The other was a woman with two Vindicators as escorts. Tried to buy RnB.”
“RnB?” Meritus repeated.
“My drake.”
“You named your drake after music?” Dante glanced Frost’s way with an arched brow.
“No, fool. That’s his colors. Red and black.” Frost paused. “Although now that you mention it, I like the idea of it being after music. Yo, in fact, when we need a nickname for me, I’m Hip-hop.”
Saba snorted. “That’s wack.”
“Facts,” Dante chimed in with his falsetto.
“Shaddup,” Frost said glumly.
“It’s not that bad.” Meritus shrugged but his sheepish expression belied his words.
“Fine.” Frost blew out a breath. “When I need an alias, call me Lan.”
“Dai Shan?” Meritus exclaimed with a terrible English accent. “That’s a classic. Both the book and the TV series.”
“One of my faves,” Frost agreed.
“Mine too, dawg. Now, back to these WaR members. Where’d you come across the one who tried to PK you?”
“Not long after I got to the mainland. He had an Expedition Pass, so I’m pretty sure he followed me from Maelpith. I’m assuming he mighta been searching for me on the island, either found the cave, or caught a glimpse of me somehow, and tracked me from there. Although, it makes me wonder why he didn’t try to PK me on the island if that was the case.”
“And the woman?” Meritus was stroking his chin now.
“In Madurai.”
“What did she look like?”
“Human. Really pretty.” Frost pursed his lips as he recalled her. “Her clothes were expensive, but it was her eyes that caught me. They were the most beautiful shade of hazel. You think you know her? Wait, she gave me her name. Lemme check my Comm Orb.”
Meritus lowered his voice. “She’s Meileen Elune, co-leader of WaR, and wife to their leader, Kazuto, a badass dementer.”
“I guess that explains why she was willing to pay fifty thousand credits for RnB,” Frost said.
“Fifty thousand credits?” Dante whistled. “Damn, bro, your drake must be pretty rare.” He eyed RnB.
“Seems so.” Frost rubbed RnB’s neck, thinking back to Madurai. The drake gurgled in contentment.
“Definitely got to look into that,” Meritus said. “Our best bet would probably be the Aetherium whenever you manage to get off the Coalition’s bounty list. If that fails then we can hit up the Halls of Illumination.”
“I can’t believe you guys,” Saba said. “You’re more concerned with the drake than with WaR and the bounty. You’re acting as if we aren’t heading into an Open PVP zone. To make it worse, you three haven’t really changed much about your appearances.” Her accusatory gaze shifted from Ryne to Dante before settling on Frost. “And you’re probably on WaR’s KOS list now.”
“She got a point,” Meritus agreed. “We have to assume they have pics of you. Maybe even shared on the guild’s notice board.”
“In my defense,” Dante said, “my coloring is of noble descent, so I’m shown respect rather than suspicion.”
Pondering the dilemma, Frost stroked his aether ring. If he was max level, he wouldn’t have been concerned about being on any guild’s Kill On Sight list. The Coalition bounty was another problem entirely.
He drew his hood up over his head. “Dante, you and I’ll dye our hair like Saba. Ryne, you’re gonna need to give up those robes you like so much. Switch to pants or something. And get hooded cloaks. Light ones, considering the heat.”
“I got one.” Dante retrieved a light brown cloak even as he spoke. He flung it over his back, tied it at his neck, and pulled up the hood. “You know we’ll have to deal with this problem at some point, right. Can’t hide forever.”
“Cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, we have a goal.” Frost found himself thinking about Gilda again as they rode toward the Jurojin Mountains. He occupied his mind by explaining the change in Ryne’s behavior to Saba and Meritus.
CHAPTER 14
Haladie in hand, Setnana stood over Gilda, the naked erada girl shackled to one of two stone slabs within a few feet of each other. Blood stained Gilda’s slab. Trickled from it to drip on the dusty ground.
The dark beam of Life Link stretched from Setnana to Gilda to a dvergr miner lying unconscious on the other slab. Vindicator Dita continually healed the miner, who moaned from time to time.
Sweat trickled down Setnana’s face. A pittance compared to that covering the girl. With a flick of the haladie,
Setnana peeled off a strip of Gilda’s skin along one leg. Gilda cried out. She writhed, but the shackles held her firmly in place.
Days had gone by since Setnana captured the girl and brought her to the keep. Days of torture. Days of the girl not relenting. Not surrendering her friends’ whereabouts, the whereabouts of Benediction. Days of Gilda spitting defiance in Setnana’s face.
It was so tempting to kill the girl. It would be easy. Less than easy. But every time Setnana had the thought, she reminded herself of Perihy.
As much as the memory of Perihy’s transformation evoked pure odium, the desperate need to heal him tempered the hate. No matter how slim the chances of success were, she had to do everything in her power to try.
“Pardon me, my nomarch.” The deep voice belonged to Ihuet.
“I said I was not to be disturbed.”
“I know. And I would not have done so if it was not of the utmost importance.”
“Speak.” She removed another strip of skin from Gilda’s leg. The girl shuddered.
“Two things. First, we found Perihy.”
Setnana’s breath caught in her throat. She had to fight to bring her emotions under control. “Where’s my son?”
The sky-colored Blackguard leaned on his storm lance. “Our trackers picked up his trail from the mountains. He is still headed west. They believe he is going to the Forsaken Crypts like so many of the draconids and corrupted since this all began.”
Setnana frowned. “Why there?”
“The trackers spoke to one who was in the early stages of infection, when the corrupted are still coherent. The corrupted claimed something draws them. Something only they can feel.”
Setnana stared ahead, thoughts straying to Perihy and her fervent desire to heal him. “Tell the Sky Swords to head directly to Apur while the trackers follow Perihy. As soon as we have Benediction, that is where we will go. What was your other bit of news?”
“The very thing you just mentioned. A gurash relic hunter claims he can deliver Benediction, Drelan Frost, and the others.”
Setnana froze. Her heart thumped. This was the reason she had appointed Ihuet. The man knew her so well. It took all of her willpower to remain calm.
Staring into Gilda’s eyes, which shifted frantically, Setnana allowed herself the ghost of a smile. “I might not need you after all.” She turned to Dita. “Let her suffer for a while.” Without acknowledging Dita’s response, Setnana gestured for Ihuet to lead the way, the thrill of anticipation running through her.
When she returned to Gilda’s side, Setnana was full of hope. Vengeance was hers. And so much more.
She plucked a vial from a pouch on the belt that once belonged to the gargant alchemist, Esben. The blood in it was a deep purple threaded with black and silver, the latter shifting of its own volition. Smiling cruelly, she unstoppered the vial and emptied the contents into a gash on Gilda’s stomach.
“Now, you will suffer as my son did.” Setnana waited for the first screams, for the first gray splotches, the first signs of corruption.
CHAPTER 15
Connected to Keenan Costace’s cam feed, Sidrie watched the end of the assault on the First Ward in Downtown Brooklyn. Random chatter from various sources piped in through the feed. There had been numerous fire fights.
Smoke billowed from a few structures. Old style weapons fire and the discharge of pulse weapons echoed sporadically. Soldiers in full tactical gear emblazoned with NAIL or SDF stalked down streets, pointing weapons this way and that. Human-like MX5 androids scouted buildings.
Watermarks from superstorm floods stained every structure. As did moss and algae. The marks reached up to the tenth floors, the divide where the First Ward ended and the Bottom Wards began.
She sighed, disappointed that her men had failed to find where her former employees were hiding. Or the bulk of the DeGens. She was even more upset at no sign of Dr. Hank Kim or his work.
The few DeGens they encountered had led NAIL, SDF, and her personal troops on a frustrating chase through the city’s bowels, often popping up in the many crumbling buildings along the abandoned streets of Downtown Brooklyn and Manhattan. None of the buildings had revealed anything about their homes, much less their headquarters.
Until now.
Keenan’s company had taken the rusted, derelict remains of the Barclays Center stadium and apartments. The fight here had been the most intense. They’d killed at least a score of DeGens and were now in the old subway system beneath the stadium.
The subway’s roof was missing. The entire structure was hollowed out. As Keenan looked up, Sidrie saw the space led into the belly of the old stadium with its rings of rusted seats where mold and moss flourished like spongy green skin. Along one crumbling wall were the words Brooklyn Nets and the dark stains of watermarks.
The ceiling above the seats held her attention. Hanging from beams, an intricate network of wooden partitions, scaffolds, pulleys, and catwalks connected together to create structures with wooden floors hundreds of feet in the air. It was an engineering feat she’d not have thought capable by such uneducated beasts as the DeGens.
“You seeing this?” Keenan’s baritone piped into the comms. “We might finally be on to something after all the decoys.”
“I hope so.” Sidrie inadvertently tilted her head as if she was standing beside Keenan. “Can you get up there?”
“One sec. This is Commander Costace. Send a dropship to my coordinates.” Keenan paused. “Yes, the Barclays. I’ll meet you outside on Atlantic Ave in front the old mall.”
Keenan pulled out a round black device the size of a hockey puck. He pressed its center and flung it across the ground. It bounced several times before coming to a stop some hundred feet or more inside.
The commander turned to his fellow soldiers. “Haven’t picked up anything on infrared, but if something moves up there that ain’t us, kill it.”
“Yes, sir,” the men answered, voices muffled by their oxygen masks.
Keenan made his way through a series of halls, the walls of which were covered in mold. Water and sewage had settled in many places. Sidrie could only imagine the smell.
A rat the size of a dog bounded from a dark passageway. Sidrie jumped. Keenan did not react. The rat bared its teeth then fled. Keenan continued up and out of the remnants of the Atlantic Center Mall by way of broken staircases and the skeletons of escalators.
One of Equitane’s EVTOL Personal Transports lowered to the ground, its engines humming. Two men stood at the wide, open side doors. Several more soldiers were seated inside the PT.
Head down, Keenan jogged to the PT and climbed aboard with the assistance of the waiting men. The vehicle lifted off.
Drones hovered above the oval building that was the Barclays, missiles like porcupine quills. Keenan turned his armored forearm to expose a rectangular display. He swiped over the screen.
“Activate scanner and track.”
A holo flickered to life from the display, hovering above his forearm. It was a replica of the stadium’s interior. A red dot blinked in the area of the subway tunnel.
“Transfer to ship’s logistics.” He paused, attention still on the holo. “G Thirty-two Hundred,” he yelled over the whine of the PT’s engine. “I sent the info from the tracker to you. Go to that spot.”
“Got it.” The pilot gave a thumbs up.
The PT drifted slowly toward the stadium’s east end. The holo showed the PT in green, gaining on the red dot. The two merged.
“In position,” G Thirty-two Hundred called out.
Keenan signaled to the four waiting soldiers. Like him, their gear had SDF on the chest and back in white letters, although they belonged to Equitane. “Place some shape charges, then come on back.”
The four soldiers moved to the doors, threw out ropes, and rappe
lled down. In a few minutes, they’d done as Keenan ordered. When they returned, Keenan nodded.
Explosions rumbled from below. The crash of glass and debris followed. When Keenan looked down, there was a gaping hole on one side of the roof. Smoke drifted into the air.
He gestured to the men and pointed down. “Shouldn’t be any contact, but keep your eyes peeled.” He took his pulse rifle from his back, inspected the weapon, replaced it, then took two steps to the door.
The four men joined him, two on the PT’s opposite side. They rappelled down to the roof. A strong wind buffeted the men, howling in Sidrie’s ears.
Watching this type of work sent a thrill through her. One of excitement and fear. The soldiers lowered themselves into the building’s guts.
Keenan touched down on one of the catwalks, surrounded by dappled sunlight and shadows. He held onto the rope. The dark interior made Sidrie marvel at Keenan’s ability to identify things around him and wonder how it was he made out anything. Until she reminded herself that what she saw with normal vision through the cam, Keenan was seeing with infrared and motion detectors.
Keenan adjusted his rope then jumped up and down on the four-foot wide walkway. It hardly budged. He gave the men a thumbs up, disconnected his rope, and then swung his pulse rifle from his back, brought it up shoulder high, aiming as he panned it from left to right.
One soldier brought up his rear. The other three were on catwalks to his left and right. They crept toward a doorway in one of the many partitions, Keenan’s breathing loud to Sidrie’s ears.
Keenan moved like a snake through the open door, pulse weapon quickly swinging one way and then the other before again pointing directly ahead. “Clear in here. Looks like some kinda living quarters.” His head shifted and Sidrie caught a glimpse of cots.
“I always wondered how the DeGens who failed to report to the Bottom Wards survived the storms,” Sidrie mused. “Now, I know.”
“Clear. Clear. Clear.” Each call was from a different soldier. They all reported living quarters.
“Move in, nice and slow. How’s it looking from down there, G Forty Thirty?” Keenan slunk forward.
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