The other two also removed their helmets. The trio shook out their long blond hair as if they shared a single soul.
Trophimus rounded on them. “You ladies will have cause to regret that attitude.”
One of the blonds shrugged. “It’s just a girl.”
“A wizard warlock girl,” said Trophimus.
“Fuck,” said Cerdic. “Right, Kid, dig a grave for the corpse.”
“But…”
“Shut up kid,” said Axe Girl, “you’re not in some fancy boudoir now.”
“Say,” said Rufus, a cocky young man whose team Trophimus had only reluctantly included. “The kid could take a turn as the target.”
Axe Girl scowled. “No. He could twist an ankle, somebody might get too enthusiastic with a club.”
“She’s right,” said Trophimus. “Plus it’s not practice if we’re going easy, is it?”
Rufus shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t deserve us going easy.”
“Maybe,” said Axe Girl, “you want to fight me?”
“You still have the axe,” said Rufus, “but you’re no girl. I’m younger, faster, and stronger.”
Cerdic’s net draped over Rufus and tightened.
“Hey!” cried Rufus. “What the fuck?”
Cerdic yanked the rope and Rufus went down on the carpet of fallen leaves.
“Screw you, man!” said Rufus, thrashing around.
“No,” said Cerdic moving to put his foot on the downed man’s chest, “Screw you. This is our big score, mine and Trophimus’, and you’re not going to fuck it up for us. Once it’s done and you’re rich then you can fight Axe Girl if you really want, if you don’t mind her probably killing you, or if you win, a knife in the dark from Dekan or the Kid.”
“Hey,” began Dekan. “My honour…”
“Shut the fuck up,” said Cerdic.
Trophimus raised his voice. “We’re all going to get rich over this, but we can’t get rich if we’re dead from going in against the girl unprepared, or because we killed each other because we got hot and bothered. Everybody probably owes everybody an apology, so let’s skip that part and get out of here.”
“What about the dead guy?” said Cerdic.
Trophimus shrugged. “What’s one murdered hobo, eh?”
“Okay!” said Cerdic. “Pack your kit…”
There was a familiar disembodied fanfare.
“Shit fuck,” said Cerdic.
Gronchard the Flayer manifested in their midst.
The spectral boy looked around him, eyebrows raised. “Trophimus! Who are these people? I told you discretion.”
Trophimus’ mind raced. “This is my normal team, Master.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cerdic nod encouragingly at the others.
Everybody mumbled things like, “Yes…Usual team…Absolutely. Always together.”
Gronchard moved forward. It was a disquieting effect because his big legs passed through fallen trees and the occasional bush.
Everybody shifted back, like jackals staying clear of a lion.
Gronchard’s gaze lowered to the corpse. “And who might that be, Mortal?”
“Oh,” said Trophimus. “That’s Tom Loosetongue. It turns out he told everybody about your quest for the Holy Angelica, and we were so shocked…”
“Absolutely fucking shocked,” said Cerdic.
Everybody muttered, “Yeah, shocked.”
“…so we executed him,” said Cerdic.
More murmurs of confirmation.
“Told everybody my secret?” grated Gronchard.
Trophimus flinched. Could the demi-god work destructive magic via his manifestation? He’d seen no sign of it. Even so.
“Yes,” said Trophimus. “But I swear nobody really believed the story…there are so many rumours about the Powers of the Ten Thousand Realms. Once we have all returned from our mission, it will all be forgotten….”
“Hmm,” said Gronchard. It would have sounded more impressive if his voice had been lower pitched. Also, the demi-god seemed to have been suffering from acne.
“Oh!” said Trophimus.
“What?” said Gronchard.
“Well, I suppose if we don’t return from our mission, then people will talk about the fact we’ve disappeared and that will keep the story alive. So it would be in your interest, Master, to ensure we go get home safe, perhaps by providing some kind of magic item.”
Gronchard’s out-sized face frowned. “You have the lodebone. That should be enough. Do not trouble me again.”
He vanished.
Everybody looked at Trophimus.
“You shouldn’t have gone and embarrassed him,” said Axe Girl. “If he could reach us to deliver some magical dodads, he wouldn’t need Bounty Hunters. He could just drop his own people on the ground.”
“Yeah, asshole,” said Rufus. “I thought you were supposed to be the diplomatic one?”
Trophimus chuckled. “I thought asking for favours he couldn’t supply was probably better than straight up blackmailing him.” He cleared his throat. “Oh Mighty God, if you eliminate us, then rather than quash the rumour about you being a whiny little bitch who lost his girl toy, it will confirm it.”
“Fucking genius,” said Cerdic.
“I guess that was pretty smart,” said Rufus. “But it didn’t sound smart.”
“Best kind of smart,” said Trophimus. “Gather round everybody—not you dead hobo guy…”
Everybody laughed.
Trophimus waited for the uneasy silence to settle. “You’ve seen one half of the problem—Gronchard the Flayer. I think I convinced him not to eliminate us, not least because my reasoning was honest.”
“Except you’re the wanker that spread that fucking rumour,” said Cerdic.
More laughter.
“Yes,” said Trophimus. “However, if Gronchard finds out he’s been played, he’ll probably come after all of us and our families and our neighbours. The same goes if we mess up and don’t bring him back his precious Angelica. You saw him! For all that he’s an immortal, he’s stuck in a pimply adolescent body. Imagine what happens if he reverts to type and has a tantrum.”
“Crap,” said Rufus.
“Indeed,” said Trophimus. “Now the other half of the problem. Anybody here met a warlock before?”
“Not counting Phantom Pluke Face,” added Cerdic
Much shaking of heads.
“Well, I have,” said Trophimus. “I once teamed up with a Warlock girl who was down on her luck. The thing is they all have this voice in their head that tells them how good they are…I don’t mean it praises them, I mean it literally gives them a ranking for their skills. So, you’ve all—most of you—seen me fight. How do you think she rated me with a sword?”
“A pork sword?” said Rufus. “About a one.”
Everybody laughed.
“A gentleman,” said Trophimus holding up his hand to silence them, all the while grinning to show he shared the joke, “does not speak of some matters. Let’s just say I was not deficient in that area and move on to considering martial matters. Fighting with a sword, how did she rate me?”
People called out random numbers: “Fourteen…One hundred…Ten…”
Trophimus shook his head and everybody suddenly sobered.
“My worst,” he said, “is a six, sometimes I can manage seven or if I’m on really good form, eight. It took me something like twenty years to get this good. Now bear in mind that a warlock is remembering skills from past incarnations, how did you think my young warlock whore rated?”
Uncomfortable silence.
“She was young, might have been eighteen or nineteen, but her worst was four. That’s as good as most professional fighters, you folks included.”
He gave them a moment to absorb that.
“It gets worse,” continued Trophimus. “Once we got in a bar brawl and she just killed everybody in the room. I asked and she said she was fighting as a nine. It turns out that, whereas us o
rdinary mortals can sometimes fight a rank higher on a supremely good day, Warlocks usually fight at least two ranks higher. Stop and think about that for a moment.”
“So when we going to train some more, Trophimus?” asked the Kid.
“Soon as we find another hobo to murder. Now let’s mount up and get going.”
Everybody laughed as they gathered their stuff.
“You scared them, Tro,” said Cerdic, once they were back in the saddle. “But you brought them together as well.”
“Indeed,” said Trophimus. He was checking the lodebone. “We’ll have to double back to the other portal. She’s obviously moving around.”
“We’ll catch her though?” asked Axe Girl.
“Sure,” said Cerdic.
Trophimus surveyed his little army and nodded. “You’ll have your rose garden.”
Chapter 14: Poltergeist Rodents
The wind whistled behind the shutters. The lamps flickered.
Torstag rolled over on his narrow bed and stole a look across the Dormitory.
From the outside, the building looked like a massive beehive, the stonework tapering in to form a roof. However, the inside was hollow with shallow sleeping cubicles lining the walls like giant nesting boxes in his castle’s dovecote. The central observation tower rose almost to the vaulted ceiling, blocking his view of Ingar’s sleeping place. From the tower’s top, the monks could monitor the Acolytes as they slept. There could be no succumbing to the Tempter, not without a beating or worse. Nor could there be any wandering around at night…which reminded him.
He checked his Conscience.
The crude terracotta statuette had started to weep blood, as it did whenever his Tempter manifested itself during sleep hours.
Of course, even if the Monks saw the blood from their watch tower—they had a big spyglass for when they really wanted to monitor an acolyte—they would not intervene until it had trickled down in sufficient quantity to tip a delicately balanced pair of scales, causing a cascade of marbles to hit a drum.
Torstag wrinkled his nose. Now he had stopped meditating, the sickly sweet stench of dead rat become overpowering. This was the result of his new Forage feat.
Unlock Warlord, Goblin Rat Eating Ritual?
Seriously, shut up! How much Potestas do I have?
Potestas 8 of 4.
Meditation had worked then.
What about everything else?
Torstag, Human Warlock, Youth, Agile, Empathic, Cautious, Marked.
Potestas 8/4. Will 4. Cowardice 1/6. Horror of the Unquiet Dead 1/6.
Vitality 3. Toughness 1.
Vocations:
Warlord 1: Tea Drinking.
Warrior 1: (Sidearm, Shield): Wrath Strike +1, Split Shield 2/6
Scout 2 (Mountains, Forest, Jungle): Climb +1, Spider Climb, Stalk 4/6, Forage 2/6.
Necromancer 1 (Cantrips): Repel Shade, Shade Cloak 3/6.
Various General Skills including Meditation.
Torstag checked that the twine was still where he had tied it to the shutters.
Next, he checked on the pair of Monks on the tower. Were they keeping an eye on him? Hard to tell. Certainly not using spyglasses yet.
What fate did Brother Neutrality have in store for him? More than a severe beating. Being forced into some boring vocation such as Gardener. No, they would execute him or—worse—perhaps wall him up alive. It definitely happened from time to time. ‘Immuration’, they called it.
Now the monks were both looking the other way. His Conscience, meanwhile, had one drop of blood half way to the scales, but was otherwise almost dry. He should—probably—get away with what he was about to do.
Necromancer!
Form 4.
Performing Necromancy at Level 5.
His heart lifted. That was a brilliant start!
Then he was aware of bleak thoughts and mounting despair.
He sprang out of bed, and there was the ghost of a slight looking boy. As he watched, the ghost spasmed, racked by a long-ago cough.
Torstag flinched, then the blood rushed in his ears and his fists clenched. The boy had been killed by homesickness as much by disease. Was I that young and frail when they took me?
Wrestling with Horror of the Despairing Dead 1/6. Resisted. Hardening advances to 2/6.
Even better!
He stumbled off and used the bucket in the back of his cell. When he turned, he could also see plump spectral rats snuffling around under his bed near where he had slung the sack of their corpses.
To manifest the ghosts of a dozen rats to poltergeist level is a Level 6 challenge.
MANIFEST!
Using Necromancy Cantrip, Manifest Shade 2/6. Cost 2 Potestas. 6 of 4 Potestas remaining.
Challenge = 1 (Animals) +3 (Dozens) +2 (Poltergeist) = 6.
Result = 5 (Performance) +1 (Luck) -6 (Challenge) = 0.
Effect = Shades manifest as poltergeists for 1 hour.
Manifest Shade advances to 3/6 Grasp.
The rat ghosts…solidified and started squeaking.
Rat poltergeists, a dozen. Invisible with normal sight.
Perfect! Got it first time!
He had planned to repel them, but could he save some Potestas? Again, he glanced at the observation tower. Nobody was watching.
He moved briskly back toward the bed, flapping his arms and hissed like a cat.
One of the Night Watchers called over, “Acolyte Torstag? What are you doing?”
Torstag froze. A beating now would…complicate matters. “Rats, Brother,” he called back. He clapped hard.
The ghost rats squeaked and hurried away.
“Go back to bed, Acolyte Torstag,” ordered the Night Watcher.
That would have been a warning to him just on its own. It was unheard of for nocturnal misbehaviour to not result in instant punishment. It followed that the Monks were just waiting until he fell asleep to seize him.
Torstag got into bed, felt the endlessly dying boy seep through his consciousness.
Wrestling with Horror of the Despairing Dead 2/6, cost 2 Potestas, 4 of 4 Potestas remaining.
You have hindrance “Disquieted”.
He shivered.
Come on come on come on. Behave like live rats.
A Conscience drum went off in a cell somewhere to the right.
“Acolyte Hohen!” roared the Chief Watcher. “Stop this instant!”
“I’m not doing anything, Brother!”
A ghost rat must have scented blood weeping from the eyes of Hohen’s Conscience. As it climbed the statuette, it would have had just enough physical presence to tip the balance and set off the drum.
From the direction of Hohen’s cell came yelps and pleading, then protests punctuated by the thwack of wood on flesh.
Another drum rattled. Sandals clattered as a second monk ran to administer punishment.
And another drum. And another. The ghost rats must be fleeing to a different cell every time they heard approaching footsteps.
Will 2. Hindrance “Disquieted” shaken off.
Torstag rolled off the bed, landed on his hands and knees.
To fully manifest a single human ghost is a Level 5 challenge.
MANIFEST!
Using Necromancy Cantrip, Manifest Shade 3/6. Cost 1 Potestas. 3 of 4 Potestas remaining.
Result = 5 (Performance) +1(Luck) -5 (Challenge) = 1.
Effect = Shades manifest as poltergeists for 1 hour.
Manifest Shade advances to 4/6 Grasp.
Torstag cursed under his breath. That feat had burned two Potestas!
A child whimpered, half aloud, half in Torstag’s head.
He suppressed a guilty qualm and rolled over the floor.
There on his bed was the ghost boy, softly solid and twitching. Beyond him, the watch tower was empty save for a single monk who was looking to Torstag’s left from where more drum sounds were coming.
Torstag rose and walked over to the window. He leaned into the narrow aperture and pulled
back the shutter to reveal a square of night.
Once—perhaps in the ghost boy’s time—it been barred, but the iron had long since rusted away. Only a few Acolytes jumped each year, so perhaps the Monks hadn’t thought it worthwhile making repairs.
He vaulted up and wriggled through the cramped passage in the thick masonry.
His face emerged into dark. Hailstones stung his cheek. He squirmed around onto his back. Fingers tingling, toes curling, he very slowly eased himself to stand upright on the window ledge, pressed against the sloping masonry with the hundred foot drop just beyond his bare heels. The stone chilled his soles, the cold air prickled his bare legs. The icy pellets bounced off the masonry and stung his face. However, he couldn’t make himself move.
Wrestling with Cowardice 1/6. Resisted.
Torstag grinned as the fear receded. He’d beaten the odds twice tonight. But had he truly slipped out unnoticed?
He stood for a moment, heart hammering in his chest.
The cold breeze made his nightshirt billow. He teetered, flailed his arms, then somehow managed to lean in even closer to the masonry.
With shaking hands, he drew up his shirt between his legs and tied it into a makeshift breech-clout. Then, shivering, he felt for gaps in the gently sloping stonework. Once, the outside wall had looked forbiddingly perfect. Now, he could feel plenty of handholds.
You have Scout 2 (Mountains, Forest, Jungle): Climb +1, Spider Climb, Stalk 4/6, Forage 2/6.
Current Form 4. Performing Scout at Level 6.
Climbing the exterior to the top is a level 9 Challenge and will take minutes.
Doable, as Ingar would say, with Luck. At least his Tempter wasn’t complaining that this wasn’t actually a cliff.
Using Scout, Climb +1. Cost 1 Potestas. 2 of 4 Potestas remaining.
He squeezed his fingers into a crack, lifted his right leg, found a toe hold and pulled himself up above the level of the window.
The Jungle Tomb of the Ice Queen (The Flying Tooth Garden Book 1) Page 9