by J. R. Ford
I threw my entire weight into the punch, the weight of my anger and desire. He toppled, and I fell atop him, both of us rolling over the edge of the ridge. We tumbled down the scree, both too stunned to hurt each other, until several breathless seconds later we splashed to a stop in a puddle at the base of the slope.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. Fog clouded my mind. My entire body ached. The cuts and bruises I’d sustained from Yao, in the cave, and in the Durg seemed meager in comparison to my beaten, bloody self now. I heard Edwin climbing to his feet. My groping hands found only empty sheaths where my rapier and dagger had hung. My vision swam, and I shut my eyes tight against a wave of nausea.
I could die here. No one could fault me for it now. I’d rescued Heather and nullified the Hex on Ana. Edwin wasn’t getting back up that slope any time soon.
My parents would say, “We’re so proud.” A million people would admire my sacrifice. I’d fought and fought and fought. I deserved a rest.
Footsteps beside me. A foot drove into my side, and pain coursed through me, sharp as ice. I rolled over, cheek pressing against cold wet stone. Another kick, this one into my bruised and sliced back. I curled up and tried to groan, but water splashed into my mouth.
His next kick dug into my kidney. I gasped, coughed, and fought to catch my breath. The world was a vortex of stone and water.
My fingers twitched. Any arcane gesture was beyond me, but a few simple index and middle finger presses took me to the final menu option: Log Out. It was only a matter of time before my body gave out anyway. It seemed Edwin had lost his weapons, but enough time would do the job, and painfully.
I’d found my river to drown in. With Ana’s curse nullified, Heather could cast reverse transformation. They wouldn’t have suffered for nothing. Together, they could defeat Edwin.
The odds I’d ever see Heather again were close to nil. Ana at least seemed to have some modicum of freedom. Perhaps she’d come visit me, or at least hang out online, in five years when this world kicked her out. We could pine about how close we’d been to all surviving.
Another kick broke my reverie. I coughed and coughed, the rain pelting my eyes and throat.
Edwin’s once-brilliant red robes were tattered and stained and soaked, and they hung off him like rags as he leaned over me. Death looming. He reached down and forced my head underwater.
My eyes focused once more on those two words, “Log Out.” What little air was left in my lungs left as a stream of bubbles.
Edwin lifted my head enough to rasp in my ear, “Heather’s next. I’ll make her regret trusting you,” before shoving me back down.
That ignited something within me. Call it the power of love, the power of friendship, or just plain anger, but it was none of those things.
It was the dread certainty that Heather would know, when she saw him again, that I’d given up on her. On us. On myself.
I somehow managed to get him off me. Scraped, bloody hands pushed me out of the pool. Edwin staggered after me, his movements weak, but his face resolute. I stepped to meet him, swayed, and remembered what he’d said to Heather. I threw myself forward, driving my fist in an uppercut. It connected with his chest and sent him sprawling. I stumbled after. He scrambled away, pushing with all his limbs, managing to get his feet beneath him just in time to catch my fist in the jaw. He fell back, onto the slope, and pushed back up. Blood leaked from his gaping mouth and spattered into the puddle like rain. I leaned for him, drew my other fist back, and punched again. It smashed his nose, then my hand was chopped off.
Blood sprayed. I reeled back, shocked, then the pain reached me. I screamed, clasped my forearm, and fell onto the bank of the pool. Yao stepped between me and Edwin, sheathing his bloody sword. His robes were stained dark, and he limped as he picked Edwin up in a fireman’s carry and headed off. My vision faded.
24
I jerked awake. Everything hurt. I tried rubbing my eyes, but something was wrong. I couldn’t reach the left one.
I opened my eyes, and it all came crashing back.
White bandages were stained pink just past my left wrist. It made me want to puke. My mind objected, screaming, it’s not real, it’s not real… How pathetic.
Every ache in my body, every lie I’d told, every scrap of fear and anger and joy I’d felt here had been real as could be. This was no less.
“Oh, Pav,” Heather said. I looked up. Her yellow eyes brimmed with pity. The starry night sky glistened above.
I took a deep breath. The air stank of soot and vomit. We were in the burnt husk of the stone inn. “Ana,” I said. “I already nullified her. Try reverse transformation.”
Heather smiled. “Already done. Ana!”
Ana beside me groaned. Her skin was clean of goop, and all her limbs were separate entities. Further off was a slurry of slime, vomit, and ash. I handed her my canteen.
She drank greedily then clambered up and stretched out. “I knew you two could do it,” she said, looking at me and Heather still sitting on the ground. The tears in her eyes suggested she might’ve doubted. But she’d had faith enough to hold on, to suffer pain and humiliation in the hopes of us rescuing her. Warmth flooded my chest.
Then she noticed. “Pav! Your hand! What happened?”
Her drawing attention to it brought a stab of dull pain. “Yao got me, right when I was finally putting the smackdown on Edwin. They got away.”
Ana shook her head. “We’re all alive, and we’re all together. That’s what counts. We’ll get Edwin next time.”
“He got the Storm’s Breath,” Heather said.
“So? I saw you two. You were more than a match for him and his punks, even without me.”
“Not without you,” Heather said. “I know you wanted to make me a warrior like you, and I don’t think that’ll ever happen. But whether or not you meant to, you showed me there’s more to strength than how hard I can swing a sword. I feel like you’ve lit a fire in me.”
Ana smiled. “Maybe I gave you a spark, but fires don’t burn without fuel. That goes for you too, Pav. You kicked ass!”
“Yup, definitely made me a more proficient killer. But it’s good having you back. I’d never lost a single hand before you were paralyzed.”
“I think we can improve on that record,” she said. “Can you transform his hand back, Heather?”
Heather seemed uncertain. “I can try. Hold still.” She made a few gestures, then pressed a finger to my forearm, just above the bandages. Nothing happened.
She shook her head. “I think a magical transformation is different from a physical one. But remember, back in the castle? Pradeep said that Visceral magic could heal wounds. Like a powerful version of Farrukh’s potion.”
“Then it’s settled,” Ana said. “We’ll find Visceral magic next. I call dibs on this one, you two already have neat new powers.”
“Deal,” I said, feeling tears well up. What had I done to deserve friends such as these?
To think, it had all boiled down to that one moment. When Ana had stood up for Heather, against Edwin and his thugs, and I’d chosen to stand beside her. I could look upon that moment with pride, at least. No one else knew it had just been because I’d wanted to sacrifice myself for a pretty girl.
Had I stayed still, I’d be whole. Two hands. No asphyxiating fear of ants. Far fewer enemies.
And friendless. I’d take this fate over that mediocrity every day of the week. The smiles on my companions’ faces sealed it.
“I’ll come with.” Farrukh stepped into the threshold, brushing back his hood. His entire outfit was black with soot, but he seemed all right, besides the broken arm. He scratched the back of his neck. “That is, if you’ll let me.”
“How long have you been eavesdropping, exactly?” Ana asked.
“He watched over you while I went to get Pav,” Heather said.
Ana looked a bit sheepish, but still uncertain. She, Heather, and I exchanged glances. He’d betrayed us once.
He clear
ed his throat. “And Ana, I wanted to say, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. You proved, back in those caves, that I was wrong about you.”
“What, hours before you double-crossed us?” Ana asked.
“What was I going to do from there?”
“You were going to leave us anyway,” I said, remembering what he’d told me before Ana had woken.
“I had to keep my own self-interests at heart,” he confirmed. “I need points. Unless I can rake some serious cash out of this game, I won’t be able to afford university. If it helps, I was planning on ditching them as soon as I got the chance, preferably after nabbing the Storm’s Breath for myself.”
“Then why did you betray him?” I asked. “You nearly got yourself killed.”
“I told you when we first met. Just because I want to win doesn’t mean I’m a jerk. No points were worth watching him kill you.” He looked at Ana as he said the final words.
“Thanks,” she grumbled, “but not wanting to watch me die is a pretty low bar for letting someone into the party.”
“Look, I said I’m sorry,” Farrukh snapped. “But I came back, didn’t I?”
Ana squinted at him, then nodded. “You can tag along, but don’t try anything funny. Shouldn’t be hard. I don’t think you have a funny bone in your body.”
Farrukh, wisely, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he padded a little closer to us. I thought I could see a slight smile on his face. Probably just wishful thinking, but on my part or his?
“Why haven’t you healed your arm?” I asked.
“Do none of you pay attention to anything I say? I told you in the clearing, I only had an emergency dose left. You drank that after your fall in the quarry, and the one I got from Heather’s trollbat kill went to her.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Without both of those potions, we’d probably all be dead.”
“Sincerely,” I said. Another sacrifice I couldn’t have lived without. What had I done to deserve friends such as these?
“Yeah,” Ana said, “Thanks.”
That made Farrukh grin so wide Ana actually blushed. “It all worked out. But if we’re going to be a party, our first quest is going trollbat hunting. I’m hurting over here.”
I smiled. “I know the feeling. You’ll be all right, just stick with us.”
Heather said, “Pradeep — Vedanth — said that boss monsters drop Artifacts. Considering their abilities, I think it’s likely that a trollbat boss will drop the Visceral Artifact.”
“Then that’s the plan,” Ana said.
“What happened to Absame?” I asked, suddenly remembering seeing the Lancer captain shuddering facedown in the dirt.
“A few Lancers survived and are taking care of him in another building,” Heather said. “He’s alive. Most of the Enlightened fled once they realized Edwin wasn’t going to win. One of the Lancers helped me carry you up here — I think she was Canadian?”
I leaned back so I could see through the charred threshold. Emily waved at me from across the muddy path.
“Jacques?” I mouthed, and she answered with a shake of her head.
He hadn’t been my friend, but his death still twisted my gut. I blinked away tears.
Lots of people had died today. Few had deserved it. I let out my breath, long and slow.
Ana said, “We’ve had some journey, and we have another ahead of us, that’s for sure. Well, I need a stretch.” She hopped from one foot to another, seeming to revel in the regained use of her body. “Come on, Farrukh, I’ll help you walk off some of the pain. Let’s let these two get some rest.”
He was keen enough to understand her meaning. Better than I would’ve done in his position. As it was, I looked at the ground as all the blood in my body rushed to my cheeks. A quick glance out of the corner of my eye told me that Heather was likewise mortified. Ana had the nerve to wink at me, and Farrukh even gave me an encouraging smile, before they sauntered off.
Heather’s fingers twitched. Disabling her feed, I imagined. I opened my own menu and said sorry, not sorry, to my 1,000,000 viewers.
Heather was looking at the ground. “Pav,” she said, then stopped. The stars gazed down upon us, our only audience.
Silence rose around us, a circle of mirror screens. Everywhere I looked, I saw myself, the reflection of a coward, all the more pathetic for the heroic image beside me. The only words in my mind were “say something,” and I couldn’t say those. So instead, I thrust, “I almost did it, down there. I almost logged out.”
She tried to hide how my words hurt her, but I could tell from her slight shudder. I’d almost left her, again. Maybe she was starting to understand that one day, I would.
I leaned in. “My cursor was on the option. I almost pressed it. I thought, no one could blame me if I did.”
The ring of screens played the memory afresh, stone swirling as if mocking my conviction, water so eager to accept me into its embrace. I focused on Heather, while she focused on her feet.
I extended my leg, completing the lunge, driving my point home. “No one but you.”
And, once again, I was at her mercy. The screens went black, still and reflective as water. She must be preparing for the death blow.
What did I expect her to say? What did I want her to say? She’d absolved me before, when I hadn’t deserved it, and I still didn’t.
Maybe I just wanted her to finally see me for what I was. The revelation would be disappointing, but I was tired of living with its shadow looming over me. Once she understood, I couldn’t hurt her anymore.
Then she shook her head. “Well, you didn’t.”
She’d forgiven me. Again. I should’ve felt relief, but instead, frustration spiked — she still didn’t get it! I attacked again, “You can’t trust me.”
“You chose to come after me, didn’t you? Without you, neither me nor Ana would be here. And you survived.”
Now she had me on the defensive. “Only because you two needed me.”
“Then as long as I need you, I can trust you. And I’ll always need you.” She finally looked up, into my eyes. My reflection there seemed less sorry than silence’s image. I looked battered, torn, beaten, and maimed, but my expression was earnest. “You can’t convince me otherwise, Pav.”
“Nothing’s changed in me. I’m still the same.” Still a lecherous, cowardly, hypocritical weakling, as my continued existence would surely prove. I’d still choke under panic’s grip. Shame would still dog every hated step.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
She was so wrong it made my heart hurt. She’d learn the hard way, sooner or later.
All this was a distraction, anyway. The warm-up before the real fight began. “About what I said in the castle…”
Her eyes met mine, full of pleading.
I didn’t know what to say. I sat there, mouth open, looking like an idiot with his sword point in the dirt.
“About if I like you?” she said tentatively.
I shut my mouth and nodded.
“Do you like me?”
I couldn’t remember how it had happened. A slow tightening, until before I’d realized it, conviction gripped me tighter than any infatuation. She had dealt me some of the most difficult questions in my life, but this one was an easy riposte. “Yes.”
Her eyes were crystal clear and hot yellow under the starlight. The silence might’ve been comfortable for once, had my heart not dangled from a shoestring.
Finally, she leaned against me. I put my arm around her. Guess that was that. Elation flooded me. No notification popped up, no “Find someone who likes you back: +10,000,000.”
“Do you know how happy you’ve made me?” she asked.
From the feeling in my breast, I could guess.
“You do know,” she said, “this means you can’t die, no matter what. However heroic the sacrifice, however noble the cause. I’d never forgive you. We only have our five years here, and I want all of them.”
; “What if it were to save your life?”
“I want you to promise me, Pav. Promise me that you won’t seek death. Not for me, not for Ana, not for anything.”
“What happened to the faith from two minutes ago?”
“If you have the same faith, you should have no trouble promising me.”
I took a drink from my canteen. The sky yawned above us.
I didn’t feel any different. If anything, her belief was another burden. One more person to disappoint, and worse, one I cared about. But when I spoke, my words were clear, free of the uncertainty, fear, and shame I associated with promises. Even I believed them.
Afterword
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed Storm’s Breath, please consider leaving a review, following me on social media, and/or joining my newsletter. Visceral, Book Two of Nullifier, is coming in 2021 — the best way to not miss it is by signing up to the newsletter via my website. Regardless, thank you so much for your support!
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About the Author
Jacob R Ford discovered his passion for writing in high school despite dreadful English teachers and completed his first novel when he found himself surprisingly unemployed one university summer. Since then he has worked tirelessly (and sometimes tiredly) to craft a novel worth selling. With Storm's Breath, he believes he has succeeded.
When not writing, he can be found engineering software, making music, or teaching Historical European Martial Arts.