by Pirateaba
Toren was in the way. She dove, but the mother leech must have identified the skeleton as a threat, for all Toren had no blood to suck. Grimly, the skeleton waited for the big leech to leap on her—it would be messy, but Toren would kill the leech if it tried to smash her into bits. But she heard a shout as someone leapt at the leech.
“Watch out!”
Pekona dashed forwards and cut into the giant leech’s side. Greenish-yellow blood spurted out from the slight wound. The leech turned, twisting towards the swordswoman but Pekona pirouetted and spun.
That was it. Toren watched, jaw agape as Pekona leapt and twirled, sword slashing down as the leech dove at where she had been. The [Blade Dancer] landed, twisted, and cut out, slashing another worm creature as it leapt towards her face. She spun, leapt again, and once more avoided the mother as it charged her like a bull.
Toren watched, entranced. She had never seen sword fighting like that before! But Pekona moved unlike any other warrior she’d seen. She didn’t hold her ground, but directed her opponent, attacking from odd angles, avoiding, rolling—
Like a dancer. Only Toren had never seen someone dance before. She stood up and charged the mother leech, hacking into her back, dodging back. Enraged, the giant leech turned to Toren. It gathered itself and leapt—
And he copied Pekona. Toren twisted, sprang. One hand touched the ground, and she cartwheeled through the air—
And into a wall. Toren’s momentum halted abruptly, and she fell back down.
“Watch out!”
Dasha charged into the mother from the side, hacking and cursing as more blood spurted. The other threw the part-Dwarf woman away with one shake of its body and turned to Toren. The skeleton got up.
Well, that wasn’t it. She’d have to try again. But the mother was coming towards her. Toren didn’t have time for fighting, not when she had something else to do. The skeleton stared at the mother in annoyance. Her body blurred—
And she flashed past the mother, a tear opening along the giant leech’s side. It keened in silent agony as Toren stabbed it a few more times for good measure.
[Mirage Cut]. It had done the job. The mother died as Dasha got up and hacked it to bits from the other side. Insill, Larr, and Anith were finishing off the larger ones, and Pekona was still dancing among the leeches. None of them had touched her yet.
Toren watched her fight. Pekona twirled, and rolled, spun and cut. She didn’t treat her sword as a thing that moved separately from her body; it and she were one. She moved to get around her opponent’s flank, to strike at them from behind. Okay, that wasn’t ideal for leeches, but Toren saw the way it could apply to almost any situation. It wasn’t a single Skill or sword move; it was a way of fighting.
She admired that.
When it was over, Toren looked around and saw the adventurers staggering back, out of range of the remaining leeches who still wriggled determinedly at them through the guts and blood. Dasha was swearing, trying to unhook her armor so Insill could help her get the leeches that had crawled into the gaps out, and Anith and Larr were helping find the ones hidden in their fur.
“Dead gods. What kind of trap was that?”
“It was like a nest! Some kind of home for those things!”
“They triggered it. I’ll swear it!”
The adventurers were babbling, upset. Toren was calm. It was just leeches. She could have killed them all herself, mainly because there wasn’t much they could do to harm her, except for maybe crush her in the case of the mother. But she was surprised when they turned to her.
“Miss Swordswoman, that was pretty incredible! That Skill you used—was it [Mirage Cut]? That’s a good one! You were fighting through all those bloodsuckers as if you didn’t fear a thing!”
Insill beamed at Toren, and the skeleton didn’t know what to do. She turned away, adjusting her mask unnecessarily. Was it hot? No—why would that matter? Toren was dead! Then why did it feel hot?
“Not bad. I guess you are experienced enough to survive down here alone, huh? But what was with that crazy move where you ran into the wall?”
Dasha looked curiously at Toren. The skeleton hesitated, and then pointed at Pekona. Everyone looked at her. The young woman frowned.
“Wait, were you trying to do what I did?”
Toren nodded. Pekona shook her head, looking amused.
“I’m a [Blade Dancer]. It’s not like a normal [Warrior] class, or like the [Blademaster] class. It’s—well, it’s a class from where I’m from. I don’t think you can get the class just by copying the moves—there’s an entire set of footwork and sword techniques unique to that way of fighting.”
That was probably true. But Toren watched Pekona as she helped the others clean up. She didn’t want the class. She already had a class like that. But why couldn’t she copy Pekona? After all, she didn’t have to have a Skill to have a skill. So could she learn to fight…without a class?
It was an intriguing thought. Toren waited until all of Vuliel Drae was ready, and they set off once more. The adventurers looked like a mess, covered in slime and blood as they were. Dasha was speaking as she poured a tiny bit of healing potion over a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.
“I don’t have it in me for another battle like that, Anith. That wasn’t hard, but it was disgusting. I need an hour’s bath, and I think there are still more of the things on me in places I haven’t checked.”
The Jackal Beastkin nodded.
“Nor I. But we should at least explore a few more corridors before we return. We haven’t found much and we’ve only been here for an hour—”
Anith broke off sharply. Toren turned her head. Larr had heard it as well.
“Seems like our fight attracted something. There’s a group coming.”
The adventurers backed up, the warriors and Toren in front, Larr, Anith, and Insill in the back. They saw vaguely humanoid shapes, moving as Dasha swung her lantern out.
“Who’s there!? Are you friends or—”
Howls, deep and roaring, answered her. Toren saw the hulking bear-like not-Gnolls appear out of the darkness. And running ahead and around them were—
“Goblins!”
Yes, Goblins. Only these one weren’t like Rags’ people. Toren stared at first. He stared at very pale green skin, glowing red eyes, and hunched forms. These Goblins were different. Smaller, more ragged, and far paler than their cousins.
Cave Goblins? Inhabitants of the dungeon? Then Larr spotted the not-Gnolls and shouted.
“By the tribes! What are those?”
It was a pity. Toren had hoped the Gnoll would know. She eyed the warriors. They were eight in total, and adding the group of Goblins there was over twenty monsters coming their way. Not all were armed; some Goblins had only their hands and rocks, but one of the Gnolls had a huge stone mace, carved so that the head looked like a screaming skull.
“Get ready! [Seeking Arrows]!”
Anith raised his hand and shining magical arrows shot from his open spellbook and finger. They struck the Goblins and bear-things, and Toren heard bestial screams. Three Goblins fell; none of the not-Gnolls did. They came on.
“[Triple Shot]!”
Larr felled one of the not-Gnolls with his Skill. Dasha ran forwards.
“Let’s go! [Impact Charge]!”
She smashed two Goblins aside as Pekona leapt forwards. Toren used her own skill [Daring Charge] and rushed into the group of monsters. Unlike Dasha, her Skill didn’t give her physical momentum, but rather strength and speed. She cut a Goblin down and then slashed at the first bear-creature who struck at her with a crude mallet of stone and wood.
It was a battle, as the adventurers fought to push back the monsters. Insill was cutting at the Goblins, circling around and stabbing unguarded flanks as Anith used his barrier spell to keep others away from Larr and himself. Pekona spun and fought four enemies at once as Dasha fought with her back to a wall.
They were outnumbered, and perhaps, outmatched. If Toren had
n’t been there, perhaps the adventurers would have died. But Toren was there, and so she killed.
A Goblin ran up and stabbed Toren in the back. She turned, beheaded the Goblin, and felt someone smash her in the back of the head. She staggered, turned, felt at her mask, and stabbed with her sword with the other hand. The not-Gnoll gurgled as Toren’s sword found its throat.
The thing about clothes was—one of the not-Gnolls knifed Toren again and twisted the blade. Toren laughed silently and stabbed the creature through the chest. The thing about clothes was—a Cave Goblin slashed at Toren’s arm but hit only cloth and bone.
The thing about clothes was, it made people think you could be hurt by mere cuts. Toren beheaded the Goblin and turned. The largest not-Gnoll was advancing on Dasha, despite Larr’s arrows striking it from behind. It had that strange mace in its hands and as it raised it, Dasha grimly raised her axe to block.
The mace fell, and Toren heard a strange sound. It was a faint shriek, and it came from the mace. Then it struck Dasha, breaking her guard, battering her to the ground, and Toren heard the scream. It came from the mouth of the stone club, a wave of sound.
It was deafening, horrible shriek that sent every adventurer—and the Goblins and other not-Gnolls—to their knees, clutching at their ears. The bear-thing with the club raised it triumphantly as Dasha lay on the ground, her plate armor bent. He aimed at her head to finish her off and Toren stabbed him in the back.
The not-Gnoll turned, small eyes widening in shock as it found Toren was still upright. It swung the club—but slowly. Toren heard the warning shriek from the club and leaned back. The club passed over her head, and she cut at the leader’s side. It snarled and swung with its own hand. But now Toren dove and rolled.
She came up, stabbed a kneeling Goblin in the back of the head, twisted, and spun away from the not-Gnoll’s mace. It struck the ground and again the ear-splitting shriek filled the air. But Toren was unaffected. She leapt, and slashed, and the not-Gnoll holding the club howled in pain and fear as Toren landed and danced away.
—-
“Get up! Get—”
Insill felt someone shaking him as he rolled on the ground, his head splitting open. He twisted, and saw Pekona, face white, ears bleeding. She pulled him up and he grabbed for his dagger.
“Behind you!”
Pekona turned. Insill threw, and the not-Gnoll staggered, the dagger in his chest. Pekona slashed twice quickly, and it fell back.
“We have to help her!”
“No—Dasha!”
Pekona pointed, and Insill saw their friend slumped on the ground. He ran towards her, tearing at his pouch. Pekona guarded his back as Insill frantically dumped the healing potion over Dasha’s chest.
“Dasha! Speak to me!”
He lifted her up and felt one hand grab at him. Dasha gasped at him, face pale and bloodless.
“I’m fine! Get that monster before he uses the mace!”
“She’s handling him! Pekona—”
Insill turned, about to suggest Pekona help, and saw the [Blade Dancer] standing with her sword lowered. She was staring at the mysterious adventurer, at Toren.
“Pekona?”
“Is she copying me?”
The young woman breathed the words in incredulity. Insill turned, and his mouth dropped open. In the middle of the corridor, a masked swordswoman dove and leapt, kicking off a wall to vault over the beast with the enchanted mace. Her sword flashed down, and she cut. The creature howled and stumbled.
“How?”
The other monsters were stirring. Insill grabbed Pekona.
“Ask later! Come on!”
—-
It ended when Toren grew bored of the battle. She knew she could do it. She bent and dove and twirled, just like Pekona. It was a good way of fighting, and Toren felt she could do it again. But she was getting tired of having to avoid the not-Gnoll’s wild swings, so she positioned herself so her back was away from the other adventurers and used one of her secret weapons.
For just a second, the skeleton’s eyes blazed purple. They shone brightly in her mask, as the not-Gnoll raised its mace for a swing. The beast froze as the [Fear] spell struck it and Toren leapt forwards. She rammed his blade into the creature’s chest, and it choked. It fell, grabbing at the blade and Toren pulled her sword out. She turned, and saw the battle was over.
The last two Goblins were fleeing; the other not-Gnolls were dead. The adventurers stared at her, and Toren saw Pekona staring at her with wide eyes. Only Insill spoke.
“Wow.”
In the minutes that followed, several things happened. Larr and Anith belt over Dasha, making sure the healing potion had cured the worst of her injuries. That done, they went over to the not-Gnolls to confer.
“I’ve never heard of a species like this. They almost look like you, L—”
“They do not.”
The Gnoll snarled at Insill, making the Drake back away with hands up. Anith stared grimly at the dead bodies.
“We should take one of their heads. I know Liscor isn’t offering a bounty on any monsters killed in the dungeon yet, but this is important.”
“I’ll do it.”
Larr bent and began sawing at a head with a dagger. Dasha, now on her feet, turned and spat weakly as she saw the grisly sight.
“Can’t believe you lot do that.”
“It’s not like Terandria, Dasha.”
Insill turned to her, looking defensive.
“We don’t have truth crystals, so adventurers can’t prove what we kill. We need to take proof, and in this case—”
“Yeah. Got it. Don’t mean I have to like it.”
Dasha turned away. She blinked as she saw Pekona slashing with her sword, twisting her body and slashing at the air.
“What’s she doing?”
“Teaching Miss Swordswoman her style.”
Insill pointed. Dasha murmured quietly.
“By my beard.”
Pekona leapt and spun, moving from position to position, assailing an imaginary foe. She went through basic strikes, moving into advanced rolling slashes and ways to leap from walls, or vault through the air after a handspring. And Toren copied her.
It wasn’t effortless. The skeleton had to think hard to figure out how to move. But Toren’s body moved exactly as she willed it, and what was better, she didn’t forget.
Toren was a good watcher, because she didn’t blink. Within a few minutes she had memorized every move the [Blade Dancer] had made, and was trying it out herself. The other adventures stopped and starred as Toren and the young woman turned, pivoted and slashed with their swords in a curved, graceful arc with the exact same timing.
By the time Larr straightened with the not-Gnoll’s head, Pekona had stopped, panting heavily. She stared at Toren with a mixture of admiration and fear.
“You’re no normal [Warrior], are you. Are you Gold-rank…? Some kind of prodigy?”
Toren just shrugged. Pekona stared at her and shook her head.
“You saved us back there, so this is the least I could do. I don’t know if you’ll get the class—but if you do, please don’t tell me. I couldn’t bear to be passed up by someone who can copy everything I do just by watching.”
She turned, sheathing her sword. Toren watched as Larr went to confer with Anith, and as the adventurers hesitantly approached her. The Jackal nodded to the bodies.
“We didn’t recover much. But that mace—it’s good loot. And we’ve taken enough damage as it is. We only came down here to survey the area, and we’re in agreement that it’s far too dangerous to continue. We’re heading back.”
Toren nodded. She followed the group, still thinking about all the sword techniques Pekona had shown her. When the group stopped in front of the hole in the ceiling, Toren was surprised to see the ropes hanging down. But then—how else would they have gotten down? She stared curiously at them as the adventurers argued at the base of the hole. Dasha seemed to be in a heated argument with Anit
h and the rest, but then she reluctantly bowed her head. They approached Toren again, and this time she saw the mace they had taken from the dead leader of the not-Gnolls in Larr’s hands.
“We think you should have this. You saved us not once but twice. If you’re willing to sell it, we’d gladly split the costs, but if not…we’ll earn something for the information from us exploring the dungeon anyways.”
Dasha looked bitterly disappointed, and Toren saw Insill’s eyes on the mace. She eyed it, took it from Larr, and lifted it up. Toren could manage to lift it thanks to her [Lesser Strength]. She swung it once, and the adventurers winced as the mace shrieked as it cut through the air. Toren shrugged and handed it back to the adventurers.
Larr looked flabbergasted.
“What? You do not want it? But it is worth much coin, yes?”
What was coin to Toren? She couldn’t use it. She shrugged and waved a hand at the mace. If she couldn’t swing it fast, it wasn’t worth anything to her.
“Thank you.”
Anith turned towards Toren and bowed his head. She stared at him as he went back towards Dasha, asking whether she would need help ascending or if she could manage it on her own. And Toren felt…conflicted.
She could have stabbed him in the back. She could have plucked out Anith’s eyes. She could have—
But she wasn’t going to. For some reason, Toren was reassured by that knowledge. She didn’t need to kill these adventurers. They were an asset. Like his undead.
What a strange thought. But the [Blade Dancer], no, Pekona had taught her new things. And they had offered her a share of the treasure.
It wasn’t as though Toren had to kill them. She could make an exception. And so, for the first time, Toren did. She turned away, and walked back into the darkness. And she felt good. Something was in her head, a curious thought.
They thought she was Human. They thought she was alive. They thought she was someone who would help them, be their friend. And Toren had been.