by J M Hamm
The ball pulsed as it spoke, “Gus, my boy. I knew you couldn’t stay away.”
I reached out with the Eldritch Manipulation skill and I squeezed the energy as strongly as I could. “You will never use that voice again! Do you understand?”
“Oh, perhaps this one then?” The voice was deep and scratchy, like a thousand nails on a blackboard. It reverberated through my skull and shook my teeth. My eyes watered, as salty tears mixed with two lines of blood flowing from my nose.
“Gah,” I screamed as I reached out once more with my skill. The ball began to compress as I squeezed. My muscles tensed, and I could feel my grip slipping but I refused to let go. If this thing was going to share my mind, I would be the dominant personality. Or I would be destroyed in the attempt.
“Fine,” said a deep and soothing voice, “You never did have a sense of humor. I’ve seen your whole life, you know? All your memories, your dreams … and I must say — Gus is a dull boy.”
“Then you know what I want?”
“Of course,” the sphere said. “But will you pay the price?”
Chapter Nineteen: The Band Sets Out
“What is this place?” I asked.
I floated through an infinite grey void on an island of iridescent glass. I stood on a perfectly circular disk perhaps a dozen meters wide. In the distance, I could see a hexagonal column crackling with lighting. Atop the pillar sat a man hid within the folds of a billowing black cloak.
“I thought you might not recognize it. Kind of empty, don’t you think?” The laughter was like a peal of thunder, intense and foreboding. “This is your mind, or at least the part of it you kindly made my home. We bargain for knowledge, what better place to impart it?”
“Name your price, Demon,” I said. “I’m tired of games.”
“Price? Demon?” the voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I think not. Does the angler bargain with the worm? No, he guides his bait upon the hook and like the hand of fate casts out his line beneath the frigid waves.”
“I’m no fish to take your bait,” I said. “What is it you’re hoping to catch?”
“An enemy, old and new,” the creature said. “At the heart of that which binds you, dead my quarry waits … dreaming. His visions unfold, twisted and stolen by the fleas that walk upon his pallid flesh.” His voice took on an acerbic quality dripping with rage.
“No more,” it said. “Three questions asked, thrice answered a boon of words I seek. Three words whispered at my call, three answers now I’ll speak.”
“I’ll play,” I said. “You give me my answers, and in return you want me to say three words? That’s it?”
It felt wrong, too easy, and yet I couldn’t imagine how just speaking three words could be dangerous. There wasn’t even anything keeping me from prefacing the words or adding an explanation after.
“An accord, then? Freely given?’
“We have a deal,” I said.
The creatures cloak fell back away from his face revealing a skeletal smile upon a bleached skull.
“Then ask and be done.”
“For now, I just need you to guide me through the best way for me to create a class with my current resources. It needs offense and survivability and should preferably combine Reactive Adaptability with my ability to manipulate eldritch energy.”
“Best? No … No. I can lay no guarantees, your mind still lost might be. But to be your guide, that I can do. A catalyst you require, a vessel to carry your intent. Three drops of blood and freedom I petition.”
“What kind of freedom? I’m not setting you loose to kill or infect others. I’ve already committed to shedding my own blood, but I don’t want the blood of others on my hands. If I’m to set you free, I’ll require promises.”
I stood up straighter trying to confront the creature. The wind began to pick up, twirling around me. I could feel a force pressing down upon my shoulders, trying to bend not only my body but my resolve. The air became colder as the pressure increased again. Then again. Still, I refused to bend.
“You have your answer, creature!”
I let out a gasp as the pressure lessened, not even realizing I had been holding my breath. The creature looked from its perch with empty eyes and a permanent, skeletal grin. Its cloak pressed tight against empty bone as it rose and fluttered, stretching far behind the creature likes Death’s battle standard.
“The catalyst requires blood, I can give you naught without. My freedom is a simple matter, I desire to be set upon the world, but we are bound. Let my eyes follow your path and my talons strike your foes. Your allies need not fear my wrath, for I shall temper my nature in friendly garb.”
“Fine,” I said. “You can have your freedom, but I will banish you right back to this void if you so much as give me an inkling you might harm anyone I don’t tell you to.”
“A mercenary life, then? It shall be as you say,” the creature fell to its knee as if pledging service to a king, “I shall heed your call and spare your allies.”
“Then we have a deal.”
As I said the final words a knife appeared in my hand. I slowly drew it across my palm, holding in a wince. I flung my palm out, casting drops of blood at the creature.
“Take my blood then and fulfill your part of the bargain.”
“Gladly.”
***
The sun was beginning to come up. It painted the world in more natural light, drowning out the unnerving blues and purples that had lit the night. I stood outside the gates of New Charleston waiting for the others to arrive. Catayla and Pat had been waiting since long before I arrived, and Tiller had arrived with Rachel Pickman only a short time later.
It wasn’t long before a group of three guards walked out from the gate, led by Worthy the Witcher Wannabe. His red mohawk was now combed down over one side of his head, leaving the other side bare. The two guards following him wore a combination of scavenged tactical gear, sports equipment, and leather padding. I recognized one of the guards from the bridge, a blonde Amazonian woman wearing football pads with a club nearly as tall as she was strapped to her back with a looped hemp rope.
“How ya doing, Sam,” I said.
“It’s Worthy, motherfucker. And don’t forget it.”
He had the casual arrogance and posture that seemed to say ‘hey, look at me’ as if he believed everyone was here just to worship him. I suspected that many, those like him, were secretly glad for the apocalypse, as it allowed them to get away with bullying and pushing their physical superiority onto others.
Some might not like such attitudes, but I understood that sometimes that is the exact kind of guy you need in a tough situation — if you can keep him pointed in the right direction. Shouldn’t be hard with literal monsters trying to tear us apart.
“Alright, Worthy,” I said. “What’s the plan? You in charge?”
“Of you? Damn straight. Right now, we listen to Boss Lady over there.” Worthy craned his head slightly to the side to indicate where Pat was standing.
Pat had walked forward as I spoke with Worthy. The crowd naturally formed into a half circle splayed out before her. She was wearing an eggshell-white pantsuit with a thin black tie. Her hair had been done up into a bun with a pair of chopsticks. Her posture and gentle voice gave her an air of quiet competence.
“That should be everyone, yes?” said Pat. “Catayla will lead this mission, you are all on loan to her — do you understand?”
A low murmur of assent rose up from all of us before she continued. I noticed a few cold glances cast towards Catayla. Worthy, in particular, did not seem happy.
“Good, your immediate task will be to break the siege at the Ravenel Bridge and secure a path of retreat for the guards currently stationed there. Once you have successfully crossed the bridge, Catayla will lead you on a scouting mission to make contact with whatever remains of her people, the Peacekeepers. Any questions?”
“Are we you still planning on blowing the bridge behind us?” Asked Tiller. “Wi
thout it, we may not have a way to retreat.”
“It has become untenable; Captain Smith made the call. We can’t hold the bridge any longer and you’re the last reinforcements we can risk sending out. You’ll have to find your own way back. If you find the Peacekeepers, our hope is that they will be able to assist your return. If not? Get creative.”
“And the people here?” Said Rachel Pickman. “Aren’t those monsters going to come straight here once the bridge is lost?”
“Perhaps, but it will slow them down and we are much better equipped to deal with a siege here. Our walls will hold. You do your jobs and we will do ours.”
She gave us each a careful gaze making sure to make eye contact. Her eyes were green and strangely intense. She seemed to be looking at something more, something beyond what just her eyes could see.
“Now, no more arguments. Sun is already up, and you know what you have to do.”
We lined up, with Worthy’s group taking the lead while Catayla disappearing to scout ahead. Tiller, Rachel, and I grouped together and hung back slightly from Worthy and his group. Better to let the meat shields go first.
We walked for about fifteen minutes without anyone speaking. The terrain changing effects prevalent further east were starting to take hold here as well. We climbed up a road that had once slopped downward. The pavement was splintered and broken with weeds and small trees beginning to grow between the cracks.
As we crested the hill Rachel stopped to catch her breath and pulled out a clear blue water bottle. “Anyone need any of this?”
“Brought our own, thanks,” said Tiller reaching for his own canteen.
“So,” said Rachel. “What’s up with the bird? Some kind of familiar? You a witch, Finn?”
The bird perched on my shoulder screeched and regarded the girl with pitch black eyes. Its feathers were blue-grey with a white band around its neck and a striped tail. Tufts of dark plumage crowned its head.
“It’s a belted kingfisher,” said Tiller. “Bigger than most, but the crest and the band around its neck are unmistakable. Notice the white belly, with no chestnut coloring? That and the higher crest means it’s a male.”
Tiller kept on like this for the next minute or two while Rachel and I shared a look. Sighing, I set my hand on Tiller’s shoulder to get his attention.
“Look, man, I knew you were a nerd. But birdwatching?”
Tiller looked slightly embarrassed but quickly straightened himself. I met Rachel’s gaze as a throaty laugh escaped her control. It soon joined in. Tiller just ignored us and kept walking.
“My gram was a birder, took me along sometimes. Besides, There’s nothing wrong with ornithology. It is a rich and respected field.”
“Alright, nerd,” said Rachel. “You never let him answer my question. This your familiar?” She reached out to poke the bird with her index finger.
I caught her hand, holding it in my own. “I wouldn’t touch him. He’s much more dangerous than he looks.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. “Can I get my hand back now?” She lifted one eyebrow but made no move to pull away.
“Sorry,” I whispered as I dropped her hand. “Just don’t provoke it okay? It’s not really my familiar, but I guess that is a close enough analogy.”
“Well, he’s cute,” said Rachel. “He got a name?”
“A few, but don’t get him started. He’ll go all day.”
Rachel and Tiller gave me a confused look before Worthy called for us to keep moving. It wasn’t long before we reached the top of another hill, and the bridge came into sight.
Chapter Twenty: Conflicted Crossings
Roots and undergrowth poked through what had previously been level roads and smooth sidewalks. I’d walked these streets before and what had once been a casual half-hour stroll, now took hours of tireless effort. Collapsed buildings, pushed aside by hills and growing trees, now spilled their contents from broken walls and shattered glass. Designer clothes and bags laid in piles like unwanted refuse.
A thick growth of vegetation covered everything in green while threating to bury what few landmarks I remembered. Trees and cliffs towered over the horizon, where once nothing was allowed to be built taller than the highest church steeple.
The Charleston that I knew was lost. I was among the few of her citizens to remain.
As we crested each hill the bridge would come into sight, only to disappear as we climbed down the other side. Catayla had appeared, in her usual silent fashion, just as we reached the top of one such overlook. The bridge was close, and only a final descent down a winding trail remained.
I felt my breathing increase and my hands clench as I looked at the far side of the long suspension bridge. Thousands of beasts were charging through barricades as they merged into an ocean of flesh. Individual forms were lost among the hoard. The roar of thousands of voices crying out together was interrupted only by the echoing barks of gunfire.
Despite the difficulty in picking out individuals, some among the horde were large enough to stand out. Among the wash of bodies could be seen massive humanoid with odd proportions — bulbous heads, overlong limbs, and twisted bodies. They were nude or wore simple furs. Behind them they dragged trees and telephone poles as if they were clubs.
Standing above the horde were beasts of fantastic size that would dwarf their common cousins. Other, stranger creatures were harder to describe and had no common animal with which to compare. One such beast seemed to be a massive ball of eyes and tentacles set among rubbery, wrinkled skin.
The sky above the battlefield was nearly as full as the ground below. Forms too far away and packed too densely to be clearly seen blackened the sky, like storm clouds full of twisting shadows and the occasional glimpse of fang and talon.
“Tiller,” I said. “Can you make out anything useful? What about those birds up there?”
I was relying on Tiller’s Reaction and Perception heavy build. It made sense that Perception would increase his vision, but I’d never really asked him about it in detail. He had once tried to show off his stats by shooting the wings off a mutated fly the size of a mouse— I must admit that what was left after his attempt had been wingless.
“Dinosaurs,” Said Tiller. “Pterodactyls with gold and red feathered wings and scaled bodies. It’s really quite amazing…”
“I get it, Tiller,” I said. “We can both nerd out together when our lives aren’t in danger and we don’t have a horde of demons to fend off. Now. Focus. What are the birds… I mean dinosaurs. Tell me what they’re doing.”
“Nothing,” he said shaking his head. “I mean they are circling, obviously, but they are not fighting. Some are breaking away from the group and fleeing, but they aren’t attacking. They may be scavengers.”
“I don’t like it,” said Rachel. “Whatever has them spooked is something we should stay away from. There must be hundreds of those things, thousands! Yet here we are moseying on in like it’s a day at the park.”
“More like moseying on into the Alamo,” said Tiller.
“You wanted to be here,” I said. “It’s too late to back out now. Besides, those are our people on that bridge. We need to get down there and find a way to punch our way through or at the very least cover their retreat.”
“Look,” said the tall amazon with the ridiculously oversized club. “None of us want to be here, but it needs doing. Besides, I’ve got friends on that bridge. There is no way we are leaving them alone to die.”
“Bridgette’s right,” said Worthy. “Those are my friends out there and I’m not letting them go out without taking out as many of those monster bastards as I can. Plus …”
Worthy smiled as he looked towards the blonde Amazon, “Bridgette and I had a little wager and I’m not letting her back out now.”
Bridgette glared at Worthy but said nothing. The rest of us exchanged glances but made no move to do anything despite our tough words. The numbers were overwhelming, possibly in the hundreds of thousands. The brid
ge funneled them into more manageable numbers, but the horde covered its length like ants swarming a rotting log.
It was Worthy, of all people, that started moving first. He spat before signaling his companions to follow with a simple grunt. The rest of us were not too far behind.
Crossing the bridge required going up a ramp and climbing over several makeshift barriers of stacked cars and debris, but we covered the ground quickly. The sound of gunfire and the roar of voices, both human and otherwise, slowly began to drown out my ability to pick out individual sounds. My other senses were obscured as well, smoke and the smell of burning hair nearly overwhelmed me for a moment. It was disorienting and isolating in a way that made my heart begin to race and my hands shake.
It wasn’t long before I was met with a close-up view of the battle. The defenders had fallen back to a secondary barrier about halfway down the bridge. This focused the stampeding monsters into a narrow area creating a ‘kill zone’ where the defenders were able to concentrate their ranged fire. Despite the advantage this gave to the defenders, most of the guards had abandoned their rifles. The guns still firing had blue lines tracing the trajectory of their shots, much like Tiller’s guns did when he was using mana rounds instead of physical bullets.
Worthy and his two companions immediately ran to the top of the barricade and began shooting. Catayla quickly disappeared again as she shimmied up one of the bridge’s suspension wires. It didn’t take her long to find a perch on a cross beam and begin to rain death upon the horde of monsters. The rest of us were slower, but not by much.
I stepped onto the hood of a car before jumping off it and landing on the top of a three-car high barricade. Jesus, it felt good. Even with all the danger around me, I reveled in my new strength. Might had only increased by 3 points, but my body weight had stayed the same. This, combined with the multiplicative effects of physical training, made me feel like a superhero.
I began raining down Arcane Missiles. The self-correcting orbs allowed me to minimize my time aiming, and it was one of my most mana efficient spells. I would activate Analyze sparingly to pick out the strongest, or at least the highest level, monsters. I focused my spells on bringing them down so the others could take down the cannon fodder that were threatening to overtake us through sheer numbers.