by Cale Plamann
Internally, he wondered if his reaction on the day of his blessing had been too harsh. He hadn’t told anyone that his blessing was actually Mythic, still ashamed of its fairly modest nature. That said, having perfect notes of his instructors' teachings to study each night combined with the 20% skill bonus served as a much greater boon than he’d given it credit for.
He blew out his candle and lay down. Cornell was right. If they were convening a newbie team, he’d have a big day tomorrow. He’d want to put his best foot forward when he met the people that in all likelihood would be his companions for the foreseeable future.
6
The First Quest
Butterflies filled Micah’s stomach as he walked into the training room to meet the rest of his team for the first time. As a spellcaster, he’d mostly been trained on his own by Gustav, but occasionally, when he sweated under Cornell’s kind gaze, he’d see some of the Lancers’ other candidates working in the training hall. Cornell never gave him a moment to talk to them, but Micah couldn’t help but wonder which of them would be members of his new party.
As he walked into the room, Micah saw Cornell talking with another black man. Where Cornell was thin but well-muscled, focusing on agility and balance over brawn, the new man was a giant. He towered over Cornell, his bare torso covered in well-defined and bulging muscles accented by various tattoos. Complementing his mass was a gigantic single-bladed cleaver, almost as long as a short man’s body, which the newcomer held over his shoulder with practiced nonchalance.
Micah wasn’t sure, but he could vaguely make out some Durghish features in the stranger. In addition to his size and skin tone, he had slightly wideset eyes and less prominent ears than the average human. Of course, this was all speculation. You didn’t just ask someone if they had Durghish blood in them. Gods help you if they did. Everyone knew the Durgh were prone to violent outbursts, and inquiring about their ancestry sounded like the perfect way to discover the truth behind the rumors firsthand.
Nearby, two women whispered together. They were pretty, Micah supposed, in the same way that most young and physically fit women were. He was more interested in their equipment. Both wore robes inlaid with runes, obviously at least slightly magical. One had two shortswords strapped to her hips, as well as a bandoleer of thin, needlelike daggers crossing her chest. The other held a bow, currently unstrung, with a matching quiver on her back and a shortsword at her hip.
Both moved with a grace and fluidity while talking that stirred envy in Micah’s gut. He was hardly clumsy—it was hard to be a proper adventurer with bad reflexes, after all—but both of them made him look like a newborn colt, all stumbling and knees.
Seeing him enter, Cornell stopped talking and waved him over.
“Silver, this is Drekt,” Cornell introduced the towering bald man. “He’s blessed by Ankros and pretty serious about it. I know that you aren’t some sort of champion of Luxos, but I wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be any sort of problem. He has seniority and I was about to make him your team leader. You can always turn down your team assignment, but that would just mean that you would return to training until another team becomes available.”
“Nice to meet you, Drekt.” Micah extended his hand. “I’m actually blessed by Mursa, but when I acquired my blessing, I also received an offer from Ankros. As long as you know your business, I’m not going to hold your patron against you.”
“Good!” Drekt boomed, slapping his hand into Micah’s with bruising force. “Ankros is woefully misunderstood in human lands. Most can’t see beyond the stifling order that Luxos demands. They just see the dungeons and monsters created by Ankros and assume that those challenges make him evil. No one bothers to think that the mediocrity enforced by rigid laws is the real evil. Luxos prunes humanity like a hedge, growing us into a specific shape to match his desires. He never bothers to actually ask what form would be best for humanity as a race, instead just substituting his will for the natural order.”
“You know the rules, Drekt.” Cornell shook his head in exasperation. “No politics. Just because I was able to pull together a team without any ardent Luxos followers doesn’t mean that they aren’t out there. There are still plenty in the guild’s hierarchy just waiting for you to fail so they can jump all over you.”
Drekt opened his mouth to respond, a hangdog expression on his face, when the door to the training room burst open. A portly teen ran inside, huffing from exertion as he hastily tried to adjust a poorly fitted suit of chainmail hanging loosely from his bulging torso. In his hands, he awkwardly held a large shield and a small warhammer.
Micah winced as the newcomer jerkily shifted the hammer to his armpit, narrowly avoiding a gash on his forearm from the spike on the hammer’s reverse end, before the stranger doubled over and began panting for breath.
“Now that all of us have finally arrived”—Cornell shot a withering glance at the struggling new arrival—“we can finally begin introductions.
“Some of you”—Cornell indicated Drekt and the two women with his free hand—“have served together in the past, but we do have a pair of new arrivals, so I think I should re-explain how this works. My name is Cornell Dover and I am in charge of D Company for the Lancers, which consists of three combat teams and a reserve team. Present in this room is our reserve team.
“As you are probably aware,” he continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone, “a combat team consists of between three and six individuals. Right now, the three combat teams in my company are full, but injuries and promotions happen often enough that all of you will get your chance once you get a few levels under your belt. Hells, if you do well enough together, you might all be promoted to combat status as a unit. Until then, you’ll be dispatched on mostly low-profit missions in the hopes that you can hone yourselves enough to earn a spot on a combat team.
“Although I am your boss”—the tone of Cornell’s voice put the last word in quotation marks—“your day-to-day operations and orders will come from Drekt here.”
Cornell slapped the larger man on the back. Despite his comparatively slight stature, their difference in levels gave the blow enough force that the hulking man stumbled forward a step.
“Now that I’ve said my piece, why don’t you go around the room and introduce yourselves, your class, and your blessing.” Cornell smiled, his teeth a brilliant white in the training room’s dim light.
For a second, no one spoke. Then Drekt rolled his mountainous shoulders and shuffled forward.
“I am Drekt Garrul,” the large man said proudly, his voice a deep, clear bass. “I’m a Ravager, a class devoted to all-out attacks with heavy bladed weapons and some limited spellcasting ability, mostly related to enhancing myself. My blessing is from Ankros, and it allows me to ignore pain in combat and absorb a small amount of the skill levels of enemies that I kill without aid. From time to time, I may ask you to leave an opponent to me alone. I do not do so out of hubris, but instead out of a desire to grow stronger.”
“Josephine Redflower,” one of the two women said, stepping forward slightly. “Call me Jo; only my parents call me Josephine. I’m a scout. Most of the time, I’m finding our targets for us, but when I fight, I use stealth and agility more than brute strength. Well, that and I have a little Water affinity. My blessing is from Nysatress, Goddess of Water and Travel. It’s nothing super impressive, but lets me walk silently. Useful for sneaking up on people, but not much else.” She shrugged. “Not that I need it, given how much the rest of you tromp around and raise a ruckus.”
“Sarah Redflower,” the other woman said quietly but without a hint of nervousness. “I’m Jo’s sister and the team’s archer. My gift is from Tennema, God of Wood and Life. When I fire my bow, living things shy away from my arrows. Cover behind a tree or bush is more or less meaningless against me. I can also ‘target’ someone within sight and I won’t lose track of their location as long as they stay within a certain range of me. A useful ability when Jo keeps trying to get
the jump on me.”
Jo smirked, a lively grin flashing across her face. “If you didn’t throw a fit every time I dyed your hair in your sleep, I’d probably stop doing it.”
“One of these days, I’m going to actually follow through on my threats and shoot you,” Sarah responded, unamused.
“Your words wound me more than any arrow.” Jo clasped both hands to her chest. “To think that you’d respond to my sisterly love and mild pranks with threats of violence.”
Cornell cleared his throat, silencing the two women with a glare. Once he was sure that they were done with their digression, he motioned for Micah to continue.
“Micah Silver,” Micah spoke up, trying to keep the catch from his voice as the entire room trained their focus on him. He’d never been all that great with crowds; that’d always been more of Trevor’s thing. “Wizard and healer. I have affinities in Wood and Wind, and I’m told that I’m acceptable with a spear in a pinch. I’m blessed by Mursa with a book that lets me learn skills faster and take notes.”
“Uh,” the overweight young man stuttered slightly, “my name is William Grantly, but everyone calls me Will.”
Everyone in the room stood, still looking at Will. The silence dragged on until Sarah clicked her tongue.
“What is your class and blessing, Will?” she asked curtly, a cutting tone barely concealed by her melodic voice.
“Oh, oh, sorry.” Will blushed. “I’m a Vanguard, so I guess I, uh, stop people? My blessing is from Dunn, Goddess of Earth and Artifice, and I, uh, I get hard?”
“That sounds useful at parties,” Jo snickered, punching her sister in the shoulder while Sarah just shook her head.
“What Will meant to say,” Cornell interjected before things could get out of hand, “is that he has a Rare Blessing from Dunn. He turns his skin into stone, making him resistant to most damage and his strength almost doubles. He just received his blessing a little under a month ago, but there’s pressure from the top to get him into the field as soon as possible. With a blessing like that, there’s no use letting him languish away in a training hall. After all, with that ability, even if he screws up, it’s not like he’s going to get hurt.”
With that introduction, Jo’s snickering stopped and Sarah looked at Will appraisingly. Micah smothered a pang of jealousy. With a proper Mythic ability, that would’ve been him. He knew that he’d be better in the long run without the fawning and preferential treatment, but that didn’t mean that some part of him didn’t long for it. After all, what child didn’t grow up dreaming of being special, a hero that could keep his community safe while being showered in attunement and praise?
“But what about us?” Drekt asked, a frown on his massive face. “His skin is made of stone, but what happens if he screws up and we get hurt?”
“Micah’s a healer.” Cornell waved vaguely in his direction, drawing a series of unwanted and curious gazes to him. “That’s a lot more than most parties get, reserve or combat.
“Now,” Cornell continued, pointedly ignoring the women’s antics, “it’s time to talk about your first mission. Our guild has a standing contract with Basil’s Cove to keep the road to Westmarch clear. There’s a nightwasp hive in the area that we periodically send combat teams into for royal honey, so we don’t want to wipe it out if at all possible. Instead, we regularly send reserve teams to sweep the area and keep their numbers in check.
“It’s a bit of a hike”—Cornell began handing out crude vellum maps of the area—"so you should probably set out fairly soon. We want you to stay in the field for three days clearing the area. You’ll be rewarded with attunement for each stinger you retrieve, but remember: don’t go to the hive. Even though individual nightwasps aren’t terribly dangerous, they will swarm you and you will die. The guild has spent enough time and energy training you lot that we’d prefer it not all come to nothing.”
Micah nodded as he looked over the map. Already he could feel the vague itching sensation in his wrist that signified that the Ageless Folio was automatically making a perfect copy of the drawing. Nightwasps were about a foot long, and although their poison wasn’t fatal, it was incredibly painful. The perfect enemy for a new team of adventurers.
Plus, he’d heard from his father how the great swarms could drive away merchant caravans, interrupting trade. Even if the mission was a simple quest for beginners, it would tangibly help out Basil’s Cove. Micah might not be a hero yet, but finally, after months of training, he was ready to begin doing his part.
7
Adventure
The blade of condensed gas from Micah’s Air Knife sliced through the nightwasp’s wing, bringing it to the ground before it could close within fifteen feet of Will. He grimaced as he took in the overweight boy, swinging his hammer wildly at the wasps swarming him. He hadn’t hit one yet, but it hardly mattered. His stone armor deflected all attacks, including Sarah’s arrows, allowing her to shoot the nightwasps off of him with impunity.
Checking up on Drekt, Micah swore. At least three nightwasps lay bisected at the huge man’s feet, but his oversized cleaver and bare chest did little to protect him. Two large lumps pulsed an uncomfortable red on his back where a pair of wasps had penetrated his defenses and stung him. Drekt was in the middle of a frenzy, likely unable to feel the effects, but Micah knew from his anatomy lessons that the venom would attack his nervous system with the potential to paralyze their victim’s lungs and heart in large enough doses.
Ducking under a nightwasp that buzzed toward him, Micah ran over to the besieged Ravager. Quickly, he put his hands on the man’s back and cast Mending and Refresh in quick succession.
Neither spell had quite enough power to cure the stings on their own, but Mending would cleanse most of the venom and Refresh would restore the towering man’s stamina. At least at his current level, Micah didn’t have enough mana to freely use his second-tier spells such as Augmented Mending. It wasn’t a life-or-death situation, so slapdash first aid would have to do.
Drekt dodged backwards as another wasp swooped at him, knocking Micah to the ground as the big man almost accidentally rammed into him. Too enraptured by his battle frenzy, Drekt didn’t even acknowledge Micah as he bounced off of the larger man’s thick and tightly packed muscles.
Micah's head struck the ground, stars swimming across his vision. Ears ringing, he stared blankly at Drekt swinging the cleaver at a frantically dodging nightwasp. It slipped past the cleaver with almost depressing ease and dove toward Micah. From his back, he swung his spear awkwardly, barely managing to smack the cat-sized insect with its haft and knocking it away from his exposed torso.
The creature buzzed angrily, circling around toward Micah once again as he did his best to roll away from Drekt. Heedless of Micah beneath his legs, the big man stomped his feet into the ground, exerting all of his strength into another mighty swing of his cleaver at the weaving wasp. Desperately, Micah began summoning mana as he tried to cast another Air Knife to ward off the nightwasp.
A shortsword sheared through the diving wasp as Jo danced by. She twirled with a fluid motion, her blades flicking through the air and warding off one of its companions.
Micah pulled himself to his feet. Already he could see the angry lumps on Drekt’s back beginning to fade as the healing magic continued to work.
Checking his mana reserves, Micah switched to his spear. He had enough for a couple more Air Knives or a single Augmented Mending, but as far as he was concerned, the job of a healer was to be prepared for a potential emergency. If someone on his team needed immediate care, he needed to be ready. Quick reactions could easily close an artery and save a party member’s life. Micah wasn’t as good with the spear as he was with Air magic, but it would have to do until his reserves regenerated.
He thrust with the spear, forcing a nightwasp that was weaving toward Drekt to dodge. Unfortunately, Micah just didn’t have the agility or training to hit the tiny target. Luckily, Jo stepped in again, beheading the wasp as it tried to escape
from Micah. He nodded to her in appreciation and then whipped around as he heard Will scream in pain.
There was only one nightwasp near him; the rest writhed on the ground with arrows lodged in them, but Will had run out of mana. He collapsed to his knees, hammer and shield forgotten, clutching his bicep and wailing as an angry red lump grew rapidly on his arm. Micah swore to himself once again, swinging his spear through the air and slamming it into the wasp. This time, the force of the blow cracked its exoskeleton, crippling the insect.
He ran over to Will and put his hands on the young man’s arm.
“Make it stop!” Will bawled, tears streaming down his face as he begged Micah. “It hurts so bad. Don’t just make it kind of better; fix it entirely!”
“But—” Micah began, only for Will to cut him off.
“It doesn’t matter,” he whimpered, rocking back and forth. “It feels like there are nettles everywhere under my skin. I don’t care what you have to do, Micah, but make it stop.”
A quick survey of the clearing revealed that Jo and Drekt were working together to bring down the last two nightwasps, functionally ending the encounter.
With a sigh, Micah gave in to Will’s petulant demands, shifting his spell from Mending to Augmented Mending. The casting almost wiped out his reserves, but it did its work. Under his hand, the wound spat out a stream of black venom as Will’s body expelled it. Before his eyes, the swelling and puncture wound faded away, leaving nothing but a slightly red lump on Will’s pudgy arm.
Micah rocked back onto his heels, still crouching next to Will’s huddled form, and sighed. This was their second battle against the nightwasps, and both of them had followed roughly the same pattern. Drekt struggled against the agile foes, but did his best, often at the cost of trading a painful sting for a clean blow on a wasp. The Redflower sisters more than held their own, killing the majority of the insects with their precise, controlled attacks. Micah did what he could, killing a nightwasp here and there in between keeping the rest of the team on their feet.