Threadbare Volume 2

by Andrew Seiple

  Cecelia looked to Anise. She looked to Graves, who had his shield out, and she knew his hand was on his sword’s hilt, under it. “I trust your judgment, Ragandor.”

  She looked to Pulsivar, who sat under the table, tail lashing, eyes narrowed as he stared at Anise.

  And she looked to Threadbare, who stared back at her.

  “What should I do?” She whispered.

  “I love you, Celia. I’ll love you whatever happens, whatever you decide.” Threadbare told her. “Now that I’ve found you I’ll never leave you again. Not if I have any choice in the matter. But...” he looked out the window. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy if you do what your father wants you to do. If you try to be who he wants you to be.”

  “My happiness doesn’t matter,” Cecelia said. “Not when you balance the lives of everyone in this kingdom against it.”

  “It does matter,” Threadbare said. “If you don’t want to rule them, you shouldn’t rule them. How can they be happy if their queen never is? Is the King happy?”

  “No.” She said, closing her eyes. “He hates it. He hates every day of this.”

  “Like you would, if you took the job.”

  “Yes,” Cecelia said, and her heart throbbed within her chest, as a final sob forced its way out of her throat. “Yes!”

  “Then don’t take the job if you won’t be happy. Celia, I want you to be happy. Nothing matters more to me.”

  “This kingdom will burn if I don’t.”

  “Then stop it from burning.” Threadbare said, walking around the table, to stretch his paw out to her. “You don’t have to be a ruler to do that. We saved everyone here who was innocent, because the ones who were guilty atoned and laid down their lives to buy them time. Because we helped them see what was right. And that was just me and my friends. Think of what we can do together! You don’t have to do it alone, either! I’ve made so many friends, and some of them are people you know, too. Some of them still are your friends, Celia. We all want to help you. We want to help you so much...”

  Celia’s sword quivered in her hand. She looked to Anise, smiling, with eyes colder than the space between the stars.

  Then she looked to Threadbare, mouth quivering, eyes black and made of buttons but more expressive than most human eyes she’d stared into.

  “You’ve never lied to me,” she told him. Then she glared at Anise. “You have.”

  And casting her doubts to the wind, she grasped Threadbare’s paw.

  Casting the last five years, the training, throwing everything away, duty and fear and the confused tangle of emotions that was her father and all of that, away, she took up the paw of her oldest, truest friend, and raised her blade against the demon.

  Graves’ sword rasped as he drew it, and he fell in next to Cecelia. The skeletons shifted to block the door. “This is treason, you know,” he told Cecelia.

  “I know,” she said, and sighed as her code of chivalry broke. Thirty-two points down from all defenses, at a really inconvenient time. “Sorry.”

  “Eh. I lost my fiancee to the dwarves,” Graves said, glaring at Anise from under his helm, the skulls on his pauldrons writhing in response to his cold anger. “I pledged allegiance to a realm that doesn’t deserve it. So I figure it’s only fair if I take it back.”

  Anise clapped her hands, gently. “Bravo. Happy ending. Except oh, there’s one little loose end, isn’t there? The nasty old daemon.” Anise smiled. “Do you know why he pacted a succubus, using his dead wife as the vessel? Do I have to spell it out for you? Not that he’s had much free time to enjoy those benefits.”

  “You shut up about him. You’ve twisted him all up, driven him mad,” Cecelia said. “All for your own amusement, fiend.”

  “Me? Driven him... Ha!” Anise slapped her thigh. “Oh, you have no idea how fucked he truly is, and how much worse it’ll be for him and everyone else, soon. On the shoulders of the king, the world rests. When he falls, so does this miserable little land.” She sneered. “This situation wasn’t his doing, and he tried to stop it, but he was just weak enough and here I am. Along with all the others.”

  “Others...” Graves said. “The Hand?”

  “If you’re looking for the part where I confess all my evil plans because you’re going to die anyway, look again. Most of you are going to die here, but I think a couple of you could make it out if you really tried hard. So I’ll shut up now.” Anise reached up and they flinched, as she put her hair through a scrunchy, making a ponytail of it. “Shall we?”

  “You’re very confident,” Threadbare said, spreading out to the right, as Pulsivar faded back into the shadows under the bed, readying for a pounce.

  “No, I truly don’t care. Fifteen years I’ve been stuck in this miserable shell, fighting the willpower of the last vestiges of Amelia fucking Gearhart, trying to break free so I can finally have some FUN. If your father hadn’t been so rushed with the Pact I wouldn’t have been able to do even that, so thank Vhand for small favors there.”

  They looked at each other, across the room. Each of them knew that the first command, the first skill invoked would set off violence.

  “Tell me this, at least,” Cecelia said. “Is there truly nothing of my mother left within you?”

  “A few childhood memories. Makes this house painful, slows me down a bit,” Anise said. “I’ve managed to grind down the rest. Make room for new experiences. New jobs.”

  “Wait. Demons can’t take jobs!” Graves burst out, and for the first time he sounded worried.

  “First Pact daemons, no. Imps, hellhounds, no. Second Pact daemons? It takes a while, but yes, yes we can.”

  “That goes against every bit of lore that—” Graves shut his mouth.

  “That we told you.” Anise said, grinning. “Or implied through skillful omission of the truth. Oh, I love my passive skills, they make you people forget to question things you really, really should.”

  “And your job is...” Cecelia asked, staring, feeling the tension balance on a knife edge.

  “Well, my main one is cultist, actually.” Anise winked at her. “High enough to cast the Second Pact, finally. Remember how I told you how I would make sure you became the person you needed to be?”

  Then she moved, faster than she’d ever moved before, faster than Cecelia had thought she could; A burst of motion, too fast to process, an impact that exploded against her chest like Reason’s sword against the gate, an impact that SHOULD have sent her flying backward but didn’t, and her breastplate broke open like cardboard, as Cecelia felt her limbs go numb.

  She looked at Anise’s face, inches from her own.

  And she looked down, to see the daemon’s arm disappearing into her breastplate.

  And through her chest.

  Her sword clattered to the ground. She couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

  “I really only need two parts of you to do that, Cecelia,” Anise told her, and kissed her gently on the lips before grabbing her neck and tearing and Pulsivar was howling and Threadbare and Graves were shouting, but they were too late, too late by a hot, horrified second.

  ...and Cecelia died, with her head and heart in Anise’s hands.

  CHAPTER 12: THE DAEMON’S DEADLY DANCE

  “No!” Threadbare’s voice was last in Graves’ hoarse yell.

  “She’s got Silent Activation! She’s fully buffed! Pile on her quick!” The death knight followed his own advice, stabbing at the daemon as his skeletons charged her from behind. Pulsivar pounced from the side, and with her arms still tangled around and in Celia’s corpse, Anise blocked frantically, turning Graves’ blade aside with the girl’s armored corpse.

  But Threadbare had other priorities. Shoving down his sorrow, biting back his rage, and keeping his head despite the pain, he knew what he had to do. “Speak with Dead. Soulstone. Celia, get in here quick—”

  It shattered, and his paw went with it as Anise somersaulted over Graves and kicked his arm off. Threadbare flew back, bounced off
the wall, and coughed in shock as a red ‘64’ rolled up from his shoulder.

  Your Golem Body skill is now level 24!

  CON +1

  Your Toughness skill is now level 18!

  Max HP +2

  Anise whirled as Pulsivar’s claws raked her back, and hissed as a red ‘32’ rose up. She spun in place, lashing out with one heel in a sweeping round kick, and the cat cried out in pain, knocked backward.

  “She’s a glass cannon!” Graves yelled. “Keep on her!”

  Threadbare didn’t know what a glass cannon was, but he was pretty sure he’d seen Pulsivar straight up murder soft targets before, and Anise sure as heck wasn’t one.

  “Mend Golem,” he said, and as his arm dissipated from the floor and reappeared, he snapped his scepter out to face her. “Harden. Flex. Self-Esteem. Guard Stance. Bodyguard Pulsivar!”

  And THEN he launched himself into the fray, just as she shook Cecelia’s body to the floor, her hands still full with her grisly trophies.

  “Oh, if you could have seen the look on your faces,” she sneered, dodging like a champion, and taking down the three skeletons with three fast scissor kicks. Pulsivar danced around and she feinted at him, then slammed her heel into Graves’ chest, so hard that he grunted. A red ‘24’ floated up.

  Then she turned to Threadbare, ducking under Graves’ retaliation. He waved the scepter at her. “Nice toy,” Anise purred. “Disarm,” she snapped, her bloody hand blurring down and punching it free from his grasp.

  “I don’t need it!” Threadbare yelled, and charged her, claws swiping. “You murderer!”

  With Celia’s head she fended off Graves’ blade, and she laughed as she hopped easily over Threadbare’s swipes.

  But eventually, one got through.

  Your Brawling skill is now level 34!

  Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 23!

  Your Weapon Specialist skill is now level 16!

  A red ‘17’ rose up, and Threadbare frowned. Her flesh was tough, tougher than humans were supposed to be.

  And every time he succeeded against her, he gained a stat or a skill. With the full power of his intelligence, and a rising dread, he knew what that meant.

  She was way, way stronger than he was.

  He’d kind of gathered that, from the way she’d killed... killed... He shoved that from his mind, and fought harder.

  Then as she tried to crush Pulsivar’s spine with a quick stomp, he found himself moving, lightning fast.

  Your Bodyguard skill is now level 7!

  Was all the warning he had, before she smashed him to the ground, knocking his hat free.

  But he had no bones to break, or organs to squish.

  Your Golem Body skill is now level 25!

  He clawed her ankle for the trouble, in the split second before she hopped away.

  DEX+1

  Your Brawling skill is now level 35!

  Your Claw Swipes skill is now level 24!

  Your Weapon Specialist skill is now level 17!

  It hurt him more to realize how weak he was against her. How he’d failed Celia in the clutch. If he’d spent the last two days training, instead of making golems and helping the town prepare, then maybe, maybe... but no. There was no time for regret. He’d gained levels, lots of them, but they’d all been in caster jobs, for the most part. All he had combat wise were raw bear levels and his duelist tricks.

  So why fight her like a warrior?

  He rolled to his feet, as Graves rained down Dolorous Strikes, and Anise parried with her forearms, catching the flat of the blade and knocking it away, hands still full of her gory prizes.

  Time to get creative.

  “Soulstone-” he started, then switched words. “Animus!” he yelled, and though he wasn’t fast enough to dodge, that wasn’t the goal.

  Her shoe met his paw, and the damage was worse this time, but it didn’t matter. He’d cast the spell, and touched the target. That was his goal, and it was worth the soulstone’s destruction, and his arm hanging by literally threads.

  He staggered back, holding it on. “Invite shoe!”

  Your Animus skill is now level 35!

  Anise paused, a strange look on her face, then she gasped as her now-conscripted footwear constricted.

  The strength of an animus is influenced by the creator’s will, and enhanced by the Creator’s Guardian buff. In Threadbare’s case, this was pretty considerable. Bones cracked, and a red ‘97’ rose up. More damage, smaller red numbers from behind as Graves and Pulsivar pressed the advantage.

  Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 26!

  But Anise was strong, very strong, and had tricks of her own. “Flexible Stance!” she called, and twisted out of the shoe with a quick boneless hop and kick, then kicked her other shoe free for good measure, backflipping onto the giant bed.

  “Animus!” Threadbare yelled, slapping the sheets, “Invite sheets!”

  “Ah ha ha ha ha no,” Anise said, squirming free with a quick movement, and hopping on one foot up to the bedpost, perching on it, balancing on her unbroken appendage and sneering down at them. “Probably the most amusing part of this? You seriously think you have a chance! Let’s have some music for the shattering of your hopes and dreams! Dark Chant!”

  And an unholy wailing arose from nowhere, a wailing chorus, as dark, deep music swelled and pulsed.

  “Cron, Cron, Vhand Syncd, Cron, Cron Vhand Ypbind!”

  The music skirled and gnawed, but not at their sanity, as the old ones’ dark chant did. No, it targeted their moxie, and Threadbare felt his courage slowly leaking from him.

  “We have to shut that down or she’ll play keep away until we’re quivering wrecks!” Graves yelled, as green numbers fled upward from his skull. “Do you have anything, bear?”

  “What is she, exactly?”

  “A daemon!”

  “Then I’ve got this!” Threadbare said, rummaging in his pockets until he found the sole twist of green reagent that he’d been keeping since Taylor’s Delve. “Ward Against Daemons!”

  Your Wards skill is now level 2!

  He slammed his paw to the ground, and the powder traced into arcane sigils, stretched out to trace patterns over the room...

  ...and the music slowed, and faded into a bare murmuring that they could safely ignore. Anise, on the other hand hissed in pain as red ’1’s started to curl up from her. “Fine!” She spat.

  And that’s when Pulsivar pounced. He’d spent a precious twenty seconds leaping up to the bed and creeping through the covers, going after the woman who’d murdered his kin. With a Caterwaul that failed to yank any sanity at all from her, he struck, raking his claws down her back—

  —and coming up short suddenly, as she twisted, caught his throat, and grinned. “Transfer Wounds,” she told him.

  Pulsivar howled as his foot cracked, his back exploded into pain, and he twisted free. That was one of his lives down.

  Anise cast him aside, then put her formerly-wounded foot down, with a sigh of relief. But the gnawing of the wards continued, and she smoked faintly as her flesh burned.

  “Clever. And I don’t have anything with me to dispel that right now,” she said, casting a frown at Pulsivar’s limp form, and at the animated sheets that were moving him to safety, handing him down to Threadbare.

  “Innocent Embrace!” Threadbare said, hugging his friend.

  You have healed Pulsivar 120 points!

  Your Innocent Embrace Skill is now level 13!

  Anise rolled her eyes. “Pathetic. Well... not so much. You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would.” She hopped down, dodged the sheets. “I was hoping you’d go down as easily as that mewling bitch did. But then, I DID use my tier two job skills on her.” She waggled her hands and blood dripped from their contents. “And now I don’t have to waste moxie with silent activations.”

  Graves inhaled sharply, and the color drained from his face. “What! Tier two? Oh no.” He looked at the remnants of his skeletons.
“Bony Armor!” he said, as the few unbroken bones flew up to replace the cracked ones overlaying his armor.

  “Crane Style! Focus Chi to Feet!” she called, and hopped away from the still questing sheets, grinning. “Oh, and Drain Life!” she yelled.

  Pulsivar screamed, as black energy crawled over him, scarlet blood flying from him to the daemon.

  “No!” Threadbare said, as the cat fell, a glaring red ‘123’ exploding up from the feline’s body. Another life down.

  But his tail twitched, and he was still in Threadbare’s party screen, still alive, so the little bear kept his cool. The focus was Anise. Anise had to die. Only then could he help Pulsivar. Only then could he save Celia. Save her soul, even if her body was gone.

  “Drain? I can do that too!” Graves yelled. “Drain Life!” and he pulled bloody health back from Anise, who hissed and changed directions to land next to him. “Shield Saint!” Graves yelled, blocking a flurry of vicious kicks, that struck with a force they hadn’t had before. His shield and armor dented and buckled every time they hit square on, and Threadbare raced to try and take some of the pressure off of him. But how?

  Healing Pulsivar was out. The cat was faking death, and healing his friend would just draw attention to him. The bobcat’s hit points were no match for Anise’s damage potential, if she shifted her aggression to him.

  No, he had to keep her busy until the gnawing damage of the ward did its work. “Animus Blade!” he yelled, flipping his dagger into the air and diving towards the fight. Sneering, Anise dodged easily...

  ...but she wasn’t his target. “Innocent Embrace!” he called as his arms wrapped around Graves’s armored calf.

  You have healed Herbert Graves 130 points!

  Your Innocent Embrace Skill is now level 14!

  Anise managed to kick the dagger out of the air, wasting a few seconds. “Ah, Crane Stance is no good for finishing things quickly. Can’t Tiger Stance, because, well, my hands are full. Of your little girl. Awww... too soon?”