Spear of Destiny

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “Why?” I took my Spear and poked the armor with the tip, testing it against the razor sharp bluesteel point. “I’d be shitting myself with delight if I was a general, and someone came to me with stab-proof armor that could stop a musket round.”

  “Two issues,” Yaola grunted. “I am an artisan, not a saleswoman. I must hire others to do that work. And second, there is a lot of red tape. The army is led by a cabal of old lords who think the same way they did fifty years before. I swear every soldier must visit a scribe and file paperwork to take a shit on their Royally approved toilet seats, which must have been reviewed and expressly approved by the Volod. Innovation is slow to gain traction in a bureaucracy.”

  “Jeez. Tell me about it.” I winced.

  “However. If a popular and prominent human lord were to wear it into battle and report its efficacy to the Royal Court, that would be of great benefit, both to me and to the soldiers whose lives this armor could save,” the smith continued. “I would be willing and able to reward you if you were to test the armor, and drop a kind word in His Majesty’s ear.”

  “You don’t have to do that, but sure.” I jumped as a new Quest Alert chirped in my HUD.

  [New Side-Quest: Field Research.]

  New Side-Quest: Field Research

  Yaola Tlaxi’Zanya, one of the Master Armorers of Taltos, has requested that you test her new flexible chiton-scale armor, an innovation in materials development the Royal Army has been slow to consider. To receive your reward, report your results back to Volod Ignas Corvinus II after surviving three combat engagements while wearing this armor.

  Rewards: 500 EXP, Armor Upgrade.

  I mentally swiped for ‘Yes’ and walked around the armor stand, studying the back as I listened. The armor had articulated titanium down the spine, testament to the fact that quazi riders—and dragon riders—were more likely to be struck on the back or sides while in the air. “No helmet?”

  “No. I am working on a design,” Yaola said. “It has to be economical enough to be viable, but sophisticated enough to protect soldiers from firearm injuries to the head. I am researching ways to make a sightglass or sightsteel visor that can withstand the impact of a bullet.”

  I rubbed my thumb over the mail. It was so smooth that it almost felt slick to touch. “Are there magical add-ons or material enhancements you can make?”

  “Certainly. Though they are expensive. To improve the physical protection, I will need you to field-test the armor before I can judge which metals will work best for improving it.” The smith folded their arms over their chest. “You can browse the store menu for magical enhancements.”

  I brought up the Armor stats and had a look over what I was signing myself up for:

  Stormrider Scale Armor

  570 Armor

  +30% Damage Reduction from falls or Bludgeoning weapons

  +35% Resistance to Piercing Damage

  -15% chance of vital or mortal blows landing on the wearer.

  Special: Unarmed strikes made against enemies deal lethal, instead of non-lethal damage.

  Medium Armor

  Body Slot

  100% Durability

  Level Required: 25

  Price: 1100 gold Olbia

  An experimental armor design which relies on precisely machined scales woven into an interlocking matrix. This armor offers exceptional piercing and bludgeoning resistance, but is very expensive due to the expertise required to create it.

  The Stormrider armor was easily the best suit I’d seen since arriving in Archemi. Just the body, gloves and boots had more armor than the entire Raven Suit. I opened my HUD and queried the Store Menu. The Buy and Sell Windows opened up to my right, displaying all the different purchases I could make. I surfed to the Modifications and Add-Ons section and read through them.

  “Elemental air, light and water protection covers lightning, doesn’t it?” I asked.

  “Yes, my lord.” The smith inclined her head.

  Each elemental enchantment cost 50 olbia per 5% enhancement, to a maximum of 30% total resistance. There was also a stealth augmentation available, Dampening, which further decreased the noise of the armor. There was no mobility enhancement option for medium armor: that was for light armor only.

  “Okay. Let’s get the Stormrider with the lot.” I selected all my options and added them to the cart, then some armor and weapon care supplies I was lacking. All up, it came to just over 2000 olbia. “Can you tint the armor to match this?”

  I held out the Raven Helm. The smith took it, and looked it over curiously.

  “Hmm. Black sightglass. This is the work of House Azpatl. Dara Tlaxi’Azpatl is the favored armorer of the Royal Court.” Yaola turned it in their hands. “Yes, I can tint my armor to match this.”

  “Brilliant,” I said.

  “Excuse me, then, while I make the modifications. Wait outside, please.” The smith bowed, confirmed the sale, and went to pick up the armor stand and carry it back over to the forge.

  Twenty minutes later, I was back to strolling through the streets of Taltos beside Cutthroat, looking every inch the well-to-do Lancer.

  “Have to admit, I’m almost jealous,” Suri remarked from behind me, jerking Cutthroat’s reins as she tried to turn around, for the millionth time since we’d left the castle. “That’s some nice-looking gear.”

  “Want to try it on? See if you like this style of armor more than full-plate?”

  “Nah. Too clingy. I’d feel underdressed.”

  “It’s not like anything’s uncovered,” I replied. “You know, other than my face.”

  Her mouth quirked in a sultry, playful smile. “Yeah, but why do you think I asked you to walk ahead of Cutthroat?”

  I could see the hookwing in my peripheral vision, staring daggers at me with her beady yellow eyes. “So she doesn’t rip my guts out and use me like a sock puppet?”

  “Nah. You’d get out of the way in time,” Suri said. “It’s because that suit fits nicely around the back.”

  “In other words, you’re staring at my butt?”

  Soberly, she nodded. “Correct.”

  I made a show of thinking for a moment. “Quick question: why didn’t we get that bikini again?”

  “Do you have any fuckin’ idea how uncomfortable they are? No support for your boobs at all, and the crotch of it rides up your cunt like a bandsaw. No thanks. I’ll stick to looking like a tin can with legs.”

  “This sounds like something you know from experience.”

  Suri let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I know it from experience, okay? I was a gladiator. A female gladiator. What do you think my manager made me wear out in the ring? And why do you think I quit?”

  Our next destination was the apothecary. I gratefully stocked up on King’s Grass and Cats Eye Mushrooms for the Dragon’s Blood Potions, then picked up at least five of every other herb they sold. From there, we went somewhere we hadn’t ever been able to afford until now: an accessory shop.

  “Oh!” The man at the counter—an unusually tall, aristocratic Lysidian man with neat silver hair—jumped as I walked in through the door. “I remember you! Both of you!”

  “Uhh… I didn’t do it.” I held my hands up, Suri looming over my shoulder in confusion.

  “No, my Lord, it’s nothing you did. You were at that horrible auction at the winery!” The jeweler exclaimed. “You and the red-haired battlemaiden, you saved my life!”

  It took me a moment before it clicked. “Ohh, hey! You were selling accessories at the cocktail party before it turned into a royal clusterfuck. How are you, man? You doing alright?”

  “I was most fortunate to escape with my life and limbs intact,” he replied, leaning on the counter as I stopped in front of it. “But thanks to you, I returned to my wife and children in one piece. What about you? Are you still a mercenary for the Royal Court?”

  “Nope. Well, kind of? We were both made counts by the new king,” I said. “I’m the Voivode of Myszno, and she’s Voivodzina
.”

  “And before you apologize for not ‘Your Gracing’ us, don’t sweat it. Neither me or Hector think of ourselves that way,” Suri added.

  “A Voivode! Khors’ breath! A title well-deserved, I say.” The man beamed. “Ahh, to think that I knew one of the lords of the realm before he attained his station! And you, lady? Are you well?”

  “Doin’ all right. Lost an arm in the fight. The Masterhealer grew it back for me,” she said.

  “That is wonderful to hear. The regrowing, not the loss.” The jeweler splayed one long hand over his chest and bowed from the neck. “I am Viel Falka, in case I never introduced myself at the party. What are you looking for?”

  “Anything that increases mobility, evasion, stealth, or that protects against knockdown,” I said. “Anything that helps with water elemental resistance.”

  “We have some things you might be interested in. And I will give you a substantial discount, in thanks for saving my life.” Viel turned to the wall of drawers behind him, pulling out a number of small boxes. “Let me see... oh yes, this might be good...”

  I waited as he came back and laid out the selection of items on the counter, opening the clam-shell boxes so I could scan the contents.

  Improved Brawler’s Wristband

  50 Armor

  15% Evade

  +10 Str and Con

  300 gold olbia (25% discount)

  Can be upgraded.

  Simple wristbands studded with enchanted blue crystal.

  Ring of Peace

  Protects against the Fear and Hypnosis debuffs.

  150 gold Olbia (25% discount)

  Amulet of the Berserker

  After receiving 150 points or more of damage, this ring increases your attack power and AP regeneration by 15%.

  200 gold Olbia (25% discount)

  Amulet of the Spark

  Boosts AP regeneration by 20%; regenerate 1 point of Adrenaline per minute when outside of combat.

  350 gold Olbia (25% discount)

  Ring of the Ocean

  Blessed by priests of Rusalka in their dark rites, this ring offers 15% protection against the Water element.

  200 gold Olbia (25% discount)

  “I’ll grab them,” I said, looking back to Suri. She nodded.

  “Certainly.” Viel closed the boxes and handed them over. “I will have a different selection of between three and five items suitable for Starborn every week—assuming you are only interested in Artificed goods. For normal jewelry, you can simply browse the store selection.”

  “What about…” I trailed off as my HUD chirped: a call from Rin. “Sorry, give me a second.”

  “No problem.” Viel shrugged.

  “Hi guys!” Rin said once we picked up. “Okay, so, I spoke with Ebisa, and she’s fixed a meeting for us at the Viper’s Pit!”

  “Sure. When do we meet?” I asked. “And where’s the Viper’s Pit?”

  “Oh! It’s the big pit fighting club in the International District. Kind of the hub for the city’s thieves’ guild, too. Anyway, we have to be there after seven p.m., so we have a bit of time. Ebisa said that if you have any questions, you should go back to the castle and ask her.”

  “No worries,” I said, looking to Suri. “And thanks. I think we’ll go and do just that.”

  Chapter 34

  Ebisa was able to confirm what I’d already suspected. Karalti couldn’t fly us to Meewhome. For one thing, the Azure Passage, the trans-oceanic flight to the island, was simply too far for her to make in one trip. For another, Meewhome was a sealed territory. A mini-Caul of Souls protected the claw-shaped island, which lay about two hundred miles south of the Shalid. To pass through the barrier, you had to have a special token of passage linked to the barrier. The token was not something you could fit in your pocket. They were figureheads—literal figureheads, as in, a full-sized sculpture mounted on the bow of an airship. The only way we could get there was to be smuggled in.

  That’s how the four of us ended up in the International District at night. Cat Alley, as it was known by the locals, was one of the few genuinely dangerous places in Taltos. The neat cobbled roads and colorful apartments that were the norm in the city ended at the heavily guarded district wall. On the other side was a slum: huts and old rowhouses, lean-tos, covered wagons turned into houses. A sluggish canal ran through Cat Alley, splitting the neighborhood into roughly equal halves. Women and their young children occupied the entry side of the canal, and the other side, closer to the city wall, was where the males lived.

  We kept our purses close and our swords closer as we moved through the district, sticking together to deter gangs of sharp, hungry-eyed cutpurses eying us from the shadows. All the while, Cutthroat snorted and huffed, baring her teeth at anyone who looked at her the wrong way. We crossed a bridge and turned down a broad curved street, which ended in a courtyard with high, spike-topped walls. It was lively at this time of night, the air full of the smells of beer and fried fish and aggressively fast, high-speed fiddling.

  A gang of five Mercurion toughs hung outside the rusted gate leading in, checking people for weapons as they streamed in and out. It was a fight night, and people from all over the city were sneaking in to see the show.

  “Halt, Sanghi.” One of the Mercurions stepped out in front of Suri and Cutthroat, their face hidden behind a battered mask. “You can take your ghora to a public stable. It isn’t coming inside.”

  “She’ll wait out here.” Suri slung her leg over and dismounted, pulling Cutthroat’s reins over and dropping them. “We’re here on business. Red made an appointment for us.”

  We couldn’t see the Mercurion’s expression, but they straightened up at Ebisa’s street name. “Prove it.”

  Suri pulled a small sheathed dagger from a pouch: the [Ravenstar Dagger], a relic of the Royal family that Ebisa carried with her as a badge of office.

  “Understood. Someone will be out to take care of your mount.” The Mercurion waved us through.

  We passed through the gate into a compound with a ring of run-down houses. Strings of brightly colored lanterns hung between the hipped Chinese-style roofs, casting rainbow light over the crowd of people talking, drinking, dancing and brawling on the filthy straw-covered pavement. Suri bulldozed a path to the largest house at the end of the courtyard, bouncing a couple of drunk Vlachian teenagers off her armor on the way up the stairs. We entered to find the place just as animated as the outside. The floor was crowded, staffed by attractive human and Meewfolk bartenders. Every table was taken. Downstairs, the sounds of fighting could be heard: shouts, the ringing of a bell, the thump and crack of fists on flesh.

  “Phew! Smells intense!” Karalti clung to my arm, sniffing the air. “Hang on, okay? I want to get a drink and some fried fish!”

  “I ain’t stopping you,” I replied, glaring at a drunk Vlachian thug angling toward us. He turned and stomped away, looking for a better mark. “Have you ever actually drunk alcohol before?”

  “Nope! I’ll get whatever seems tasty.” Karalti wiggled happily, then let go of me and slid through the crowd toward the bar. “Do you want anything? Suri?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Whiskey if they’ve got it, vodka if they don’t.”

  “Grab me a beer as well, would you?” Suri called out to her over the noise. “Oh look: I think that’s our table.”

  I looked in the direction she was facing and spotted what she had: a group of gaudily dressed Meewfolk seated at a booth, gambling with cups and drinking themselves into oblivion. One of them had a small, fluffy dinosaur of some kind perched on his shoulder. More telling was the golden quest icon that hung over his head.

  “That’s not all,” I said, glancing at the next booth over. “Look at the table next door. Starborn.”

  Suri’s head turned sharply. The Starborn in question sat in front of a row of three NPCs, playing cards with the single-minded concentration of a serious gambler. He was older, with a rough beard and stringy grey hair pulled into a short half
-ponytail. He wore a long brown duster over a red satin vest that looked like it had seen better days. A pearl-handled pistol lay on the table by his elbow.

  “I’m impressed,” I said. “It takes real effort to look like a grimy cyberpunk character in a fantasy game.”

  “Doubt he’s got anything interesting to say.” Suri said. “Anyway, you want me to do the talking? Or you want to do it?”

  “I’ll do it,” I said. “Gotta get that street cred somehow. You and Karalti watch my back.”

  “It’s your funeral.” Suri equipped her helmet and fell in by my left.

  We rolled up to the Meewfolk as the leader slammed his cup down and pulled it up to reveal a pair of sixes. His companions roared, thumping the table and cursing him good-naturedly as he laughed and quipped something to them in his native tongue. When he spotted us, his blue eyes turned sly, and he fixed a toothy fanged grin on us.

  “Ahh, you must be Red’s guests!” He cried out to us, waving us with a ring-encrusted hand. “Come, come, sit with us!”

  “Thanks.” I dropped into the seat, looking back to see Karalti weaving back toward us from the bar. “Red didn’t give us your names. I’m Hector. This is Suri. What can I call you?”

  “My name, dearest human, is Samboon Taksin, captain of the Wattana,” he replied, leaning back in his seat. “I am told you seek passage to the land of my people?”

  “Sure do. We need to arrange an audience with the Avatar.” I smiled at Karalti as she set our drinks down and plopped into the chair beside me. Her plate was stacked high with fillets of breaded fish and a bowl of what looked and smelled like tartar sauce.

  The Meewfolk at the table all did a doubletake. Captain Taksin, who had been taking a pull off his mug, sputtered on his mouthful of beer.