by Tim Moon
The wolf’s powerful muscles tightened as its head whipped forward to land another devastating blow on Jaron’s face. The bone plates on its head impacted with crushing force. Stars flashed in Jaron’s vision and the taste of blood filled his mouth. He tried to focus on the group of wolves that suddenly appeared around him… He blinked rapidly in surprise. No, his vision had blurred. It was just one wolf standing over him.
Jaron thought he held on through the pain. When his vision cleared, he was on his back and the dread wolf alpha loomed over him, staring down with baleful eyes. Drool dripped from the corner of its mouth as trickles of blood streamed from its ear stump.
The wolf smashed its head into Jaron’s chest, knocking the air out of him, followed by a second strike that Jaron was pretty sure cracked at least four ribs. He gasped in terrible pain. His breath made a disturbing wheezing sound. All he wanted was to breath.
The alpha sensed its victory, placed its front paws on Jaron’s chest in dominance and tilted its head back to howl. The sound of victory filled the air, echoing among the rocks and across the forest below. Jaron muttered something but the sound was drowned out.
The victorious howl cut off abruptly and devolved into a choked gurgle. Jaron pulled the stone spike out of the wolf’s throat to strike again.
The dread alpha looked down at him in wide-eyed rage. Jaron rammed the spike under the wolf’s chin, plunging it deep into the beast’s snout through the roof of its mouth. A mist of blood and snot erupted from the wolf’s snout as it tried to breath, forcing Jaron to turn his head aside.
He released the spike and gripped the shaggy fur of the alpha. The creature thrashed desperately but found that its mouth didn’t respond the right way and its body was losing strength. Jaron reversed mount the way he had drilled so many times on the jiu jitsu mats. From the dominant position, it was just a matter of ground ‘n pound. The alpha drowned under a flood of elbows and hammer fists to the face and neck.
The beating continued as jaw and facial bones cracked and popped and the beast stopped fighting. A deep sigh escaped the wolf’s snout, its body went slack and the light faded from the its eyes.
The dread wolf alpha was no more.
Jaron breathed heavily. He rocked back on his haunches, resting atop the wolf’s chest and glanced around. He was alone.
Barely able to muster the strength, he raised a victorious fist in the air for half a second before his arm dropped. Weary to the bone, and battered to hell, Jaron slid to the side and crawled away. He leaned back against a rock. The only sound were his wheezing breaths.
Jaron looked out over the vast forest below and then watched a flock of birds take flight and wheel away into the distance. The sun was high in the blue sky while thick, fluffy cumulus clouds drifted by. Even half delirious from exhaustion, starvation and blood loss, he couldn’t deny it was an amazing view. He was grateful to be alive.
Jaron pulled himself onto the boulder, holding it for support as the ground swayed beneath his feet. He tried to take a step, but his jelly legs gave out and he slumped back to the ground. He fought back nausea and the urge to sleep.
Crunching gravel and huffing breaths caught Jaron’s attention. His heart lurched. He couldn’t fight anymore, his body refused to stand. It was all he could do to turn his head as something emerged from behind the rocks. What Jaron saw was such an odd sight that he knew he had to be hallucinating. As the dark shroud of unconsciousness closed in, Jaron said, “Hey, whattthsss arngh yadoinlths-”
His body slid sideways, and he splayed across the ground with a dull thud.
29
Consciousness returned to Jaron in a snap of sensations. The warm sun and chirping birds were a contrast to the stench of death that stung his nostrils. The sun flirted with the horizon. His brow furrowed and this his eyebrows rose. He’d been out cold for at least several hours. At best he would only have a few more hours of daylight.
Jaron searched the ridge for any sign of the remaining dread wolves. He pushed away from the corpse of the alpha and breathed a sigh of relief that he was still alive. He wasn’t wheezing anymore. Much to his surprise, Jaron found that he wasn’t in any pain. He reached up and prodded his jaw. Nothing hurt and all his teeth seemed to be where they should be.
Looking over his body, Jaron found that all the wounds on his arms and legs were healed. He didn’t have so much as a scratch. Dusting himself off as he stood, Jaron couldn’t find a single wound. Even the scrapes on his knees and elbows were healed. He prodded his rib cage and grinned.
Jaron vaguely remembered seeing something appear just before he lost consciousness. What or who it was eluded him. Jaron searched the area, even behind the rocks, elated at his good fortune. When he didn’t find anyone, he checked the ground for footprints. He saw a few things that might have been signs but he had already trampled the area.
Jaron checked his combat log for clues, hoping it would reveal his savior. In a way, it did. One line from his combat log said, “Jaron was healed for 42 health by unknown.” Each heal was by “unknown.” Odd but not unwelcome.
Could it be the same person who helped with the goblins? The possibility was intriguing, but why hide from him?
“Thank you,” Jaron shouted. His voice choked with a rush of emotion. “Thank you,” he repeated softly.
The healing he received didn’t cure his exhaustion, hunger or thirst. In fact, the effort of fighting the wolves made him hungrier than ever. Two carcasses were on the ledge with him. They would yield a lot of meat but to cook them he would have to get them down to the forest since the ridge didn’t have any trees or deadfall.
Simple enough until Jaron looked over the edge of the ledge he was on. It was a near vertical drop for about thirty feet and even then the slope was too steep and rugged. He carefully backed away and considered his options. He could toss the wolves over and then climb down. Impacting the stones could rupture the intestines and spoil the meat with fecal matter. That would be a terrible waste.
Instead, Jaron decided to cut a few good pieces and carry them down with him. Using the cutlass, he removed the hind legs. They would make fine roasts and would give him plenty of meat to dry for the remainder of the trip to Oakenport. At the last second, Jaron also decided to take the alpha’s head as proof of his encounter. The skull, or at the very least a few teeth, would make a great trophy. He had a few ideas about how to use the bone plates on its head.
Jaron tied the legs together by the paws using the rope from his backpack and slung them over his shoulder. Honestly, he was amazed the backpack had survived all the fighting. He looked over the edge again and decided it was dumb to risk the cliff and opted to continue along the ridge until he found another navigable draw.
By the time he reached the ground, the sky was dimming, and Jaron was exhausted. He found the first reasonable place near the stream, skipped making a shelter and got to work collecting wood. Before the stars came out, Jaron had a fire roaring and meat roasting.
One hefty chunk of meat went on a spit while he cut strips of meat and laid them out like bacon across a pair of sticks. The strips would become his trail rations, similar to what he made with the first wolf. The meat wasn’t especially tasty, but it kept his body going. When he made it to Oakenport, Jaron planned to find the best restaurant and inn he could afford and stuff his face like a total glutton.
The alpha’s head sat on a rock near Jaron, its hazy, half-lidded eyes stared at him. Cleaning it for the skull was going to be rather tedious. If he could use it as part of a helmet or his sword arm pauldron that would be perfect. A house wasn’t in his immediate future, but if he had a small house it would look great mounted above the door. From there, his mind somehow jumped to Little Red Riding Hood.
“My what big teeth you have,” Jaron said with a grin.
Picking up the head, he moved the jaw. “All the better to eat you with.”
“Except you’re dead.”
“Oh no, you’re right,” the head lamented.
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Jaron chuckled and set it down. Letting out a heavy sigh, he knew he had to find his travel companions quickly, before he lost his grip on reality.
30
The next morning, Jaron broke camp early and continued to skirt around Fang Marsh on his intercept course. According to his position on the map, he should be able to reach the King’s road in a day or two.
Jaron strolled through the forest, gnawing on wolf jerky, without a care in the world. Killing the alpha lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders and now all he had to focus on were his friends. Together they could complete his quest — Free The Lucky Seven II.
Helping to bring about justice for the children was going to be satisfying. Well worth the effort. Jaron’s eye twitched with suppressed emotion at the loss of Oubin. The poor kid never had a chance once the stupid chakbu head-butted him.
Jaron came around a bend that followed a long rocky cliff face as he thought through the quest and how best to tackle the problem of the orphanage. Still gnawing on wolf jerky, Jaron nearly ran into a goblin taking a piss. He froze in place, nearly choking on the jerky and stared at the wretched green creature.
“Grahhhgglll,” the goblin gurgled in surprise. It turned towards him with one finger up its nose, mouth agape and dick in his other hand.
“Gross,” Jaron hissed as he dodged out of the way of a bright yellow stream that arced in his direction.
The wretched looking creature extracted the finger from its sharp, crooked nose and reached towards a weapon sheathed at its waist. It didn’t even stop pissing before attacking.
Jaron cursed and raised his spear. He coughed up the jerky and spit it at the goblin. It struck the goblin on the chest with a wet splat. The goblin swung its dagger at him. Jaron pivoted away and jabbed with his spear, aiming for a kidney.
The strike was blocked by a wildly flapping arm. Unfortunately for the goblin, the block deflected the spear tip down where it scored a long cut across his skinny green thigh.
A massive roar seemed to shake the very earth. Jaron winced at the sudden noise, ducking instinctively.
“What the fuck was that?” he muttered. The goblin? Surely not.
The goblin had also ducked in reaction to the noise and glanced over his shoulder.
“She is already doomed,” the goblin said, turning back to face Jaron with an evil sneer.
Who’s doomed, Jaron wondered. Then, once again, he marveled at his omniglot ability.
Jaron jumped back. The goblin continued to squirt like a sprinkler, piss arcing and splashing against the rocks. The sounds of battle erupted in the distance and another massive roar echoed off the rocky cliffs around them.
What have I walked into? He thought.
His thoughts were cut off by a loud scream of pain and another chest rattling roar. The ground shook underfoot, throwing the goblin off balance. Jaron took advantage of it by hurling the spear at the goblin from point-blank range. The weapon lodged deep into the goblin’s stomach, a good eight inches at least. The goblin curled over the wound, with a gasp. Blood ejected from his lips, splashing against the rocks, and dribbled off his chin.
Before his enemy could call for help or cry out, Jaron drew the cutlass and delivered the coup de gras. He swung hard and the blade struck with surprising accuracy right where he aimed. Unlike in the movies or games Jaron was familiar with, the head didn’t come off right away.
“Cheap ass sword,” he muttered.
The goblin’s head was canted to the side. Jaron withdrew the blade and a jet of arterial spray erupted from the wound. The goblin dropped to his knees, staring up at him. Another hacking swing took the head off and it bounced away with wet squishy sounds and a dotted trail of blood.
Critical strike for double damage against level 2 goblin. You have killed level 2 goblin for 50 XP.
Sickened by the gruesome kill, and the horrible stench of the corpse, Jaron quickly searched it for loot. All he came away with were four copper coins, a necklace made of small bones, and a short sword with a broken tip. He dropped the coins in his satchel and left the rest, opting to stick with his cutlass.
Dropping his backpack with the bulky dread wolf pelt, Jaron retrieved his spear and crept forward to investigate the battle. Nervous excitement coursed through his veins. The rush of the sudden fight had his senses on high alert. He had to admit that he relished the battle energy. He wouldn’t mind ending a few more goblins too. They were attacking someone and apparently “she” was in trouble. He would lend whatever aid he could against the foul creatures.
Another roar and a bone chilling war cry drew Jaron’s attention back to the issue at hand. Multiple voices could be heard shouting, and most sounded like goblins. If “she” was alone, he had to help before it was too late.
What he found in the hidden valley tucked between the cliffs took his breath away. Jaron found himself facing a dragon fighting a goblin warband reinforced with a few larger creatures that he couldn’t identify. There was no one else around. Jaron watched the dragon move, utterly fascinated by its sheer size and grace. It must be the “she” the goblin had referred to.
The dragon’s copper scales gleamed brilliantly in the light and her form was massive, though not as big as he expected a dragon to be. Her majestic form moved with speed. Light glinted off her scales in a flash of movement. Jaron winced as the dragon spread the talons of one foot to stomp on a goblin, crushing it.
A shadow dropped down and landed on the dragon’s back. Her long neck snaked around and snatched the creature off her back and flung it away. That was when he saw that a large harpoon had pierced one of her shoulders. Jaron was forced to duck as the body hurtled towards him and slammed into the cliff a mere five feet away. Blood splattered across the rocks in front of him.
When he peeked around the corner of his rocky hiding spot again, the dragon had partially turned away from her attackers to shield the wound. It was clear that she was cornered. Half a dozen corpses already lay on the ground, several bodies were melted like candles with steam still rising from the goopy mess. Yet it was clear she was being pushed to the limit.
The urge to help was overwhelming, as though the dragon’s presence urged him on, calling to his soul. He would answer the call. But first, he used analyze.
Name: Vayvnu
Race: Copper Dragon
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Height: 5’ (152 cm)
Length: 48’ (1,463 cm)
Weight: 4,287 lbs (1,945 kg)
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Level: 10
Health: 110/390
Mana: 80/270
Stamina: 100/210
Defense: 180
Damn, she’s running low on everything, Jaron thought. The harpoon really did a number on her.
After quickly analyzing the goblins, he realized they weren’t much higher level than the one he just killed. Most were level 3. Given how easily he dispatched the group in nature’s temple, he didn’t worry about them too much. They clearly weren’t the reason Vayvnu was in such a tight spot.
The big beasts with the goblins might be a problem though. Jaron focused on one of the largest and meanest looking of the creatures and triggered analyze.
Name: Magdud
Race: Orkkan
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Height: 6’2” (188 cm)
Weight: 196 lbs (89 kg)
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Level: 5
Health: 168/180
Mana: 110/110
Stamina: 120/180
Defense: 38
His high level and blood red armband marked Magdud as the leader. By Jaron’s quick estimation, Magdud’s health was rather high even for being level 5. The other two orkkan were level 4 with 160 health points, which was also impressive. Jaron chalked it up to a racial bonus to constitution.
Have I got a surprise for you, Jaron thought with a vicious grin.
A moment later, all three orkkan were sink
ing into putrid mud. They roared in surprise and anger as their movements slowed and the damage over time effect kicked in. One of the goblins spun around and spotted him before he could hide. The little goblin rallied a comrade and the two ran to attack him.
Jaron cast stone buckler and intended to terraform a pit beneath the other goblins when a spear suddenly shattered against his defensive spell. The buckler exploded into a shower of golden sparks and disappeared as Jaron ducked for cover.
“What the-”
The buckler re-materialized after half a second. Jaron stood to find his attacker and it shattered again from another projectile.
“Come on!” Jaron shouted and threw himself to the ground.
Rolling once before rising to a knee several feet away from where he’d been, Jaron peered around a rock and spotted his foe. The goblin javelin thrower leered at him and hurled the last of his weapons. Jaron ducked as it whizzed just past his face and clattered against the rocks behind him. When Jaron looked back, the goblin had already drawn its sword and joined the other two creeping up on him.
Three on one. Not great odds but he should be able to manage.
Jaron stood and feinted throwing his own spear. When the goblin jumped sideways to dodge it, he threw for real and nailed the fucker right in the meatiest part of his skinny green leg. The goblin dropped the sword and threw his hands down on either side of the spear, gesturing at the source of agony protruding from his thigh and unleashed a shrill howl. The awful shriek elicited nervous glances from the other two.
Analyze identified the goblin as Venkurza, who gestured at the spear again.
“AAAAaaagghhh! Aaggghhh!” Venkurza staggered backwards and in the most pitiful voice said, “It’s in the bone. It’s in the bone.”
The goblin tipped over and screamed again when he landed on his back. Venkurza’s companions turned as one, with rage contorting their faces, and charged Jaron. Unfortunately for them, he had not been idle.