by Pirateaba
Keep running. I just wish whoever’s casting the spell would give up. It’s getting annoying. But I can turn up the music and the garbled speech tunes out. Okay, what else?
I’ve got the details of the open request memorized and written down, for all the good that does me. It’s a request to deliver a package, but what the package might be or who’s requesting it isn’t clear. That’s the uncertainty of an open request, and the reason why few Runners want to accept them. But the pay’s extraordinary, so that’s enough.
With open requests, I go to the location marked and I’ll receive my pay in advance. The sender tells me where to go and we can negotiate a second fee, or I tow the delivery back to the Runner’s Guild where someone else can finish the job.
It’s not the greatest system, but it works when dealing with areas where identity and safety can’t be assured. Apparently, all deliveries used to work more or less like this, but the new system in the Runner’s Guild is safer for Runners.
I could be walking into a trap. Please don’t let me be walking into a trap.
Anyways, I’m looking for a cave down the main road* of the High Passes. It will be marked by a yellow banner of some kind.
*I use the word road only in the loosest sense. Rather than a road, you could call it the only vaguely flat terrain that winds through the mountains and through stone passes and the network of caves.
That’s all I have to go on, and I’m only a few miles away from the High Passes. Now I can see the mountains looming ahead of me, rust-colored rock towering in the sky. And they are huge. I can look up and not even sense the mountain getting smaller before it disappears into the foggy, clouded sky overhead.
A mountain taller than Everest? Perhaps not, but it’s probably close. And that’s just one mountain of the countless ones here. Together they form an impenetrable barricade, save for the small gap that winds through the passes.
Well, a small gap here is a road about as wide as two football fields placed side by side. And again, if it’s a road it’s the most crap road in the world. This one has boulders scattered through it taller than fully grown oak trees. But it is semi-flat, and that’s enough.
I really hope I don’t cut my feet on the rocks. I should be fine; my calluses are really tough, but—
Something flashes past my face and hits the grass. Instinctively, I duck, and that’s when I see them. A horde of little green men, except these ones ain’t aliens.
“Shit.”
I guess listening to loud music really isn’t a good idea when you’re supposed to be watching out for trouble. That’s probably why I never noticed the group of Goblins until they were right on top of me.
They spread out around me, a mob of Goblins. Not too many, at least by their standards but a lot. I can’t spare time to count. Twenty—thirty of them? Some have bows, like the one who just shot at me, but most are carrying weapons. Rusted swords, daggers, and even a buckler or two. But they’re unarmored, ragged.
They could dice me up in seconds. And they’ve got me flanked this time.
This is bad. But I raise my hands and make fists. I haven’t needed to fight before, but it’s not because I couldn’t. And today I’m at the top of my game.
The Goblins grin. They only see a human female, alone, separated, and unarmed. Not a threat. That’s fine by me. I see a bunch of guys who I can hit as hard as I want and who have way less muscle and reach than a normal group of thugs. And I know kung fu*.
*I do not know kung fu. I practice a version of Muay Thai geared towards MMA, although I don’t do any actual mixed martial arts. Damn overprotective parents.
Widen my stance, tilt my body forwards and down, hands up and loosely clasped into fists. I put more weight on my front leg. I bounce up and down, ready to move at a moment’s notice.
I’ve been in fights. Not many; definitely not the kind of straight up bloodbaths you hear about in inner cities, but I’ve had to defend myself more than once. More than that, after my first fight when my parents had me learn martial arts to defend myself I studied how to fight.
The Goblins are still spreading out around me, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Maybe they can tell I’m not like a normal girl because I’m not screaming or trying to run. Instead, I dodge back and forth, keeping my distance, trying not to let them get my back.
One of the rules of fighting a group is never to let them surround you. Lead them on in a line if you can. Second, never let an opportunity to attack slip by. Be sure you know when they’re about to come at you.
And striking first is good. So as the first Goblin decides it’s time to get the ball rolling and darts forward with a shrill cry I step forwards.
Step in, rotate hips, and put all that motion into a punch. I catch the Goblin in the head right as he charges. It’s a satisfyingly solid punch and I feel it go right through the bugger.
He folds up. No confused blink, no comedic prat fall. The Goblin just falls down and doesn’t get up. That’s what a proper punch does.
The other Goblins blink in consternation. That shouldn’t have happened. But they’re fighters. They look cute in an evil sort of way, but they’re all killers. Probably even normal street thugs aren’t as vicious as these guys. So when they see the first guy go down seven come at me at once.
I back up. And then I turn and punch. Not to really hit a target, but to get the other Goblins behind me to back up. They were about to rush me but they flinch away and I dash past them. Okay, now my back’s safe. So I turn and let the others come at me.
A line. They’re doing the stupid tactic of rushing me without doing it all together. So I jump forwards, punch once, twice. Two Goblins fold up and I hop back, letting them trip up their friends.
A Goblin leaps over his friends and I hit him in the stomach in the air. He starts throwing up even as he lands. Another comes around the side and this time he’s smart enough to start swinging before he gets to me. I wait. Swing, swing…
As his knife goes too far left I step in and hit him. I’ve got a longer reach if I extend, way longer than his short arms. Another unconscious Goblin.
The last three Goblins slow, but one of them is dumber than the rest. He keeps coming, and I decide to get fancy. Instead of punching I back up, and then do a roundhouse kick.
Muay Thai is a martial art that emphasizes really strong kicks. And one of their famous kicks is the roundhouse. Naturally, it was one of my favorite moves to practice.
The Goblin lets me set it up. He’s watching my hands, so he never sees my leg flash up. I can kick nearly as fast as I punch and I catch him right across the head. Short as Goblins are, my kicks are more head level than at their side or chest like normal humans.
My foot connects with his head and I feel his flesh squish. And then I feel something give way and hear a crack. The Goblin tumbles, flies, and rolls to a stop in the grass. He doesn’t move. And my heart stops.
The other Goblins look down at their fallen friend and up at me. I know I should be watching to see if they’ll rush me, but my eyes are fixed on the Goblin. I—I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. Not in the head.
He’s too still. The fallen Goblin doesn’t even twitch. He—he’s—
He’s dead. I killed him. I’ve never killed another creature before. I’ve hunted for fun, but I don’t shoot animals. Even in fights I only broke bones. I don’t kill.
But he’s dead. And it was so quick, too.
I stare down at the Goblin and then see a black shape speeding at my head. I duck and the arrow misses my cheek by a few inches. The Goblin archer lowers his bow and shouts something at his friends.
Damn it. I have to focus. I have to think! The Goblins are moving again, trying to surround me. They don’t want to get close this time, but the archers are all pulling out their short, stubby arrows.
I need to run or fight. I’ll blitz the Goblin archers, hit them, and then run for it. My eyes narrow and I start weaving and dodging left and right, giving them less of a
target.
The archer in the back, the one who shot twice at me is their leader. I need to hit him and maybe the Goblins will give up on me. He’s got a few Goblins in front of him, but if I rush the group.
The Goblin pulls an arrow and sights at me. My body tenses—
And the Goblin archer’s head disappears. Not disappears in a cute way like he ducked down or he fell over. No. The entire neck and skin pulls away as a massive jaw closes over his head and rips his head clean off.
“Holy—”
The Goblins turn. One screams, raises his sword and a claw cuts his stomach open. I back up. The Goblins back up. And the gigantic wolf casually grabs another Goblin, bites down, shakes him around, and tosses him to one side like confetti.
A wolf. A huge, giant wolf. Not the kind from my world; a proper, Big Bad Wolf of the plains, nearly as big as I am. Bigger. He’s got more mass.
The wolf sniffs and eyes me. The Goblins are already running, but he’s not interested in them. He’s looking straight at me.
Calm down*. It’s not the same as a Dire Wolf from George R. Martin’s books. Those things are big as horses, right? This one’s – this one’s only twice as big as a normal wolf. Only twice.
*Calm down! Don’t panic! Holy gods it’s huge!
It has rust-red fur. Why the hell—is it because of the blood? It paws the ground, sniffs again, and then slowly begins to circle me. It’s so big, and unlike the Goblins I can see muscles rippling under its fur.
No time to run or even think. I raise my hands again. Wolves can outrun humans, just like bears. And running makes me prey. I need to get it to back down or leave.
“Bring it.”
Trouble is, this wolf isn’t like normal ones. Wolves from my world don’t hunt humans in general. But this one just ate a Goblin’s head. So maybe the ones here have a taste for humanoids.
It sniffs at me again. And then the wolf lowers its head. Oh shit. It’s gonna—
I barely see the wolf move. It launches at me and I throw myself sideways. The wolf lands, turns, and I run forwards and punch it in the head.
No thinking. Just action. I’ve practiced these moves enough that my body overrides my panicked brain. Punch, punch, step back. The wolf snaps at me and I twist. My leg flashes up and sideways and catches the wolf in the wide of the head. A solid strike.
Roundhouse kick. I once watched a documentary about the power behind Muay Thai kicks. Getting hit by one by a world champion’s roundhouse kick is like being hit by a car at 35 MPH. Well, I’m not world champion but the giant wolf still blinks and shakes its head. It wobbles on its paws and I step forwards.
Another kick that’s illegal in a MMA is hitting your opponent with your knee when he’s down. That’s a lethal move. Actually, all of Muay Thai moves are meant to kill, but knees and elbows are really nasty. I was taught a hundred times not to hit anyone in the head with a knee unless I wanted to kill them.
I just hope my teacher wasn’t exaggerating. I run forwards and knee the damn dog as hard as I can in the face. I heard something crunch. It feels like my knee.
The wolf blinks, backs up a few steps, and then snarls.
—Ah.
It’s funny. Back in my world I thought I was pretty hot stuff. Certainly, I’ve never lost a fight with the other stupid kids my age. And I was talented.
I reached 4th dan, which is insanely hard to get to, especially at my age. At that level I could teach martial arts myself if I didn’t want to be sexually harassed and laughed at all day long. Reaching that level at my age is extremely rare*, and I know how to fight.
I’ve been in street fights, or at least, school fights and being jumped while running. There’s a difference between knowing martial arts and having a black belt at a Mcdojo**.
*Having a personal gym and near-perfect memory helps, though. Also, parents who let you practice martial arts as much as you want if it keeps you out of trouble.
**Mcdojo. Great term. It describes every cafeteria and gym for kids who just want to show off rather than learn actual techniques. I kicked a black-belt ‘expert’ once and broke two of his ribs. Good times.
I know how to fight. And even if I’m not nearly as good as someone who walks in and out of brawls or has trained longer, I’d put money on me beating most of the adventurers below Gold-rank. Because they’re human, or humanoid. And marital arts doesn’t exist in this world, at least as far as I know.
But martial arts was never designed to fight monsters.
The wolf I just roundhouse kicked and kneed in the face gets up and shakes itself like nothing happened. Then it looks at me and growls. It’s nose looks wet, but I don’t think I hurt it much. In fact, I think I just pissed it off.
It advances fast. I punch, but the wolf snaps at my hand and I nearly lose it. It dashes around me and I spin to keep up. It’s so damn quick!
The wolf snaps at my leg and I back up, kicking. But it’s too fast and the fur on the wolf is like armor. It rushes me again and this time I can feel it’s hot breath on my front as I leap back.
Muay Thai was never meant to fight a creature that fights with its teeth. I try to get my distance but the wolf advances.
Fuck. It’s not gonna let me get away. And I don’t know what to do. If I was faster I’d try to poke its damn eyes out. But the wolf is dodging left and right.
I try to punch the wolf, but again, the fur takes all the force away. And then the wolf twists it’s head and closes its fangs over—
Aaaaaaah!
Fireworks. I hammer at the wolf’s face and then mash one of its eyes. It lets go then and howls in agony. I do too.
My arm! It bit down for only a second, but I think it cracked the bone! I stagger away from the wolf and mercifully, it doesn’t follow. It’s shaking its head and I can feel something wet on my fingers. I think I destroyed its eye but I have to get away.
I start running. From a standing start to a sprint I’m running. Behind me I can hear the wolf howling. In agony? No—this sounds worse.
It sounds like a call to the pack.
Just as I think that I hear more howls, this time in the distance. But they start getting louder so I run on. My arm is bleeding freely, but I run on. No time to stop.
Glancing over my shoulder. I can see the wolf following, but only to keep me in its sight. It wants to gather the pack. And here they come. Blurring shapes race over a hill, fast, fast.
My arm! I can’t—the wolf tore away a huge chunk of flesh. I need a potion.
They’re in my pack, strapped to the outside for easy reach. I grab one, pop the cork and down it, choking on the liquid. Then I hurl the bottle at the nearest wolf, making it dodge away.
The foul liquid goes down and I wait for relief as I sprint desperately for the High Passes. The landscape changes beneath my feet. Suddenly I’m running across what feels closer to clay and the soil and even rocks turn a dark orange-red. And the mountains are right in front of me.
The wolves follow, howling even as more of them race out of the plains. They’re coming.
I’m never going to lose them on the open ground. I hear a growl and run left as a wolf jumps. It hits the ground and I scramble up the rocky ground. Up the slope. Aren’t wolves supposed to have a harder time climbing or something?
It works. The wolf packs slows and I can see them having a harder time scrambling up the rocks. But they are coming. And they’re still howling, making my blood run cold.
Gotta run. Must keep moving. I scramble up the incline, cutting my legs and hands against the jagged surface. And I feel sick? Why? My arm still burns. It should—it should be healing.
Up. I see a ledge and leap for it. Its high, but I grab the edge and hoist myself up. The wolves charge, but they’re too late. I’m above them, safe for the moment.
On the ledge I back away from the wolf pack and lean against the rock face, breathing heavily. I feel sick. Sick, tired, and the adrenaline in my veins is making me shake. And I’m still bleeding? Why?
Another potion. I fumble at my pack, pull out the bottle of red liquid and down it in one go. I wait for relief. Nothing.
Confused and sick as I am, I down another potion before I realize something is seriously wrong and at that point—
I throw up. Something is—the potion I drank is burning in my veins. What the hell? It’s not a healing potion. What is—
Something hops down from the rocks above me. I shout, hurl the potion bottle and nearly slip in my own vomit. The goat stares reproachfully at me and bahs loudly even as the wolves keep howling and snarling below.
“A goat?”
A goddamn goat. It scared the crap out of me. But it doesn’t appear frightened of me or the wolves. In fact, it takes one look at the wolf pack trying to make its way up to where I am and bahs again, loudly.
More bahs. This time they’re all around me. I look up and see goats lining the cliffs and rocks on the High Passes. They hop up and down the cliff faces easily, making for me and the pack. What the hell? Are they not afraid of the wolves? But now the wolves are backing away from me and snarling at the goats.
Why—
The goat near me bahs again, loudly. In fact, it sounds more like a scream at this point. A scream, and now it gets real close. Suddenly I have a really bad feeling. I back up and the goat advances.
The goat opens its mouth and I see its teeth. Goats should not have pointy teeth. And its mouth is unnaturally big. It screams and I scream and run but they’re all around me and—
—-
“The High Passes.”
Lady Magnolia breathed the words as she stared at the man standing in her foyer. He was—well, knowing what she did of who the man was, Magnolia would have expected him to be wearing pure black clothing and armed to the teeth, but then he wouldn’t be very inconspicuous would he? And [Assassins] were supposed to be stealthy.
But this man was so ordinary looking he was forgettable. Magnolia was sure it was some sort of skill, just as she was sure she was not happy with the current situation.