Absalom’s Fate

by J. D. L. Rosell

  “Sorry to disturb you,” I rushed to say, feeling a bit embarrassed for barging in. After all, this wasn’t Farelle’s house, but the shop of an established merchant. “I believe you sell spells?”

  The man’s eyebrows rose a fraction higher. “And?”

  This mage wasn’t going to make it easy for me, I could see. “And I’m looking to buy some.”

  “Hm.” The man dropped his gaze back to the book open in his hands, seeming content to ignore me as he wished.

  I looked awkwardly about. There were a few neat stacks of books and two short rows of tightly bound scrolls arranged on the counter next to him, while the rest of the walls were bare. How did he make a living, especially when he did his best to drive customers away?

  “So are you open for business?” I finally asked, too annoyed to wait any longer.

  “Patience,” the man said without looking up, “is a wizard’s greatest asset.” His eyes flicked up, then fell back to his faded words. “Patience indeed is the single greatest thing that keeps most away from the mystical arts.”

  “It’s easy to be patient if you’re boring,” I observed. My charisma had clearly abandoned me just when I needed it.

  “I don’t believe there’s anything for you here,” the shopkeeper observed, turning a page. “Good day.”

  I reached into my pocket, and bringing the two amethysts from my inventory, I withdrew them and put them on the counter. “Maybe I’m also here for a sale.”

  The man adjusted his spectacles to eye them without much interest. “You wish to woo me with cloudy opals?” he asked dryly.

  “Amethysts, actually. And these aren’t just gems.” I leaned forward and pitched my voice for dramatic effect. “They were used to animate a skeleton knight that lied deep within the lair of the Night Sisters.”

  The mage’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed,” he said evenly.

  “However…” I swept up the precious stones and pocketed them. “Since my magical jewels don’t interest you” — That came out wrong, but I plowed ahead — “I’d best proposition another, more insightful prospector.”

  The mage licked his lips, and finally I knew I had him hooked. Now to reel him in.

  “I’m just supposed to believe they animated a skeleton knight?” he complained.

  “You're the wiz’,” I countered. “Isn't there a spell for that?”

  Forgetting to be stern, he nodded absently as he stared at the amethysts. “I suppose allowances could be made for impatient adventurers.”

  Finally, he opened up as I'd hoped. After some negotiating, we came to the agreement that two amethysts would be exchanged for two spells. Considering my paltry spell list, I was more than happy to accept. I may have invested attribute points in belief, but that didn't mean I didn't want to explore the magical options available in the Everlands.

  As his counter implied, the mage had a small collection, but as a beginner, it had what I needed. There was an apprentice-level spell for the three elements to this world — Fire, Air, and Water — as well as for Mesmer, the illusion branch of magic, and Light, the basic branch for spells like Magic Missiles and Magelight.

  I decided to go with a Water spell for several reasons, not the least of which I was already craving ice in my water, no doubt an impossible luxury here. But I'd always thought ice spells were the most useful defensively, given that they usually slowed enemies as well as dealt damage, and this one was no different:

  Icy Plume (Lvl 1)

  Affinity: Water

  Cost: 25 mana

  Effect: Cast a cone of frozen air lasting 5 seconds, slowing enemies for -50% movement for 3 seconds and dealing 7 damage per second.

  “Now that’s what I call a snow cone!”

  I also considered picking up a Fire spell for some added damage and a fall back for starting fires in case Farelle wasn't too sharp on her survival skills. But as I carefully thumbed through the scrolls and books, one Mesmer spell caught my eye:

  Invigorate (Lvl 1)

  Affinity: Mesmer

  Cost: 30 mana

  Effect: Excite the current emotions of the target; effective if targeting level 7 sentient, living beings. Excitement can take a variety of forms, such as fury, enthusiasm, or terror. “Just don’t rely on Invigorate when you’re at the whorehouses!”

  Being able to manipulate others’ emotions would be invaluable, even if this one was a blunt tool that exacerbated whatever emotion they were already feeling. Still, the versatility was apparent, as I remembered how that power worked in Sanderson’s Mistborn novels to great effect. Excited myself, I snatched up the scroll and, reading it, felt the knowledge contained within it seep in. It evaporated into blue mist when I was finished reading it, as had the first.

  “It was a pleasure.” The mage didn't look up from his magnifying glass as he bent over the amethysts. I just shook my head and left. I got what I came for.

  12

  An Auspicious Embarkment

  When I arrived back at Farelle’s hut, I hardly recognized the navigator. She had replaced her soiled clothes with fresh ones, and had donned leather armor as well. An unstrung bow hung off one shoulder, and a sizable satchel hung from another.

  “Took you long enough,” the Satyr said with a smirk. There was just a hint of clumsiness to her now; I guess the prospect of work and adventure sobered her up. I wondered what had brought about the drunken bout, and hoped it would stay away. Though from the flask at her hip, I doubted that would happen.

  I noticed a second, smaller bag by her hooves, and gestured towards it. “That for me?”

  “I don’t see a luggage ass, do you?” She tossed the satchel to me and I lunged to catch it. “Got the basics in there for you, just in case a bag gets lost or we get split up.”

  I scanned the items inside through my inventory. Some dried meat, flint and stone, and some other survival odds and ends were inside, nothing too exciting. “Fair enough. Though I’d prefer we not get split up.”

  I wasn’t really fond of the idea of carrying that thing halfway across one land and halfway through another, so I brought up my inventory and stored it. As it evaporated into blue pixels, Farelle’s eyes widened. “What did you just… What magic was that? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  I winked at her. “That’s the least of what I can do.” I wasn’t lying either — resurrection would probably make me a demigod in her eyes.

  She just shook her head. “I guess it’s good we’re on the same side.” She hefted her satchel. “Come on. If we’re leaving today, we’d best get a move on before the gates close for the night.”

  I wouldn’t argue with that. It had been many hours since I’d heard from the outside world. I thought guiltily perhaps I should be responsible and log off. But when would I ever get this opportunity again? I couldn’t leave yet.

  “Let’s go then,” I said, and we set off for the gates.

  We left by the east gate, as J’anteau, capital of the land portion of the Cerulean Empire, was nearly due east from Stalburgh, even if the various river crossings, plateaus, and mountain range that stood in between would make it far from a straight shot. By the time we got outside the city, the sun was just shy of kissing the horizon. Farelle turned to me as she pulled out her map. “What kind of pace can you keep?”

  I shrugged. I genuinely didn't know in this world. It seemed I didn't need sleep the same way as in normal life, and the days seemed to pass more quickly. As for my energy, my belly was grumbling, but my stamina bar was full and my status was unimpaired. “I could probably go as fast as you,” I boasted.

  She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “I may have been drunk for the past month, but that doesn't mean you could outstrip a Wilder.”

  “A Wilder?”

  “What you humans might call a ranger.” She tossed her head again almost the way a horse might. I thought it best not to point this out; Satyrs might be sensitive to being compared to farm animals.

  “Anyway,” she said, unr
olling her map and holding it up for both of us to see, “we need to set our course. I already have one plotted out, but if you have any additional places you'd like to go along the way, let me know.”

  A map — if only I could get it on my overlay. As if the game were listening in, almost as soon as looked over Farelle’s shoulder at her map, a small version of my map overlay, but this time, it was more fleshed out. Curious, I brought it up, and saw that the area Farelle’s map covered was now mirrored on mine, though it was less colored than what I'd explored. Unconfirmed lands, I guessed. Still, it was more useful than a complete blackout, and a ranger — or Wilder rather — ought to have a fairly accurate map.

  As I minimized my map again, the navigator pointed. “I plotted to follow the Silverrun — this tributary here — until we reach the Ghoe, this large river. We follow the Ghoe to the mountains here, the Black Crags, cross over these meadows to take Helene's Pass through. Then it's just going through the Mired Groves — these many pockets of woods all across this swamp here — to arrive at J'anteau, which is nestled in the White Tors. Any questions?”

  My eyes were glazing over trying to take in all that information. Fortunately, my map was filling the details in the corner of my vision as she spoke. There was one pressing thing though: I remembered my side-quest from the Night Sisters to gain that additional channel. As I thought about it, my map highlighted the town where the sanctuary was supposed to be, Halduran. But considering the Night Sisters’ reputation, I'd have to approach this carefully until I knew how Farelle’s own alignments dealt with them. “What towns are we resupplying at?”

  The Wilder peered closer at the map. “Before the Black Crags, just Vindal—”

  “What about Halduran?” I interrupted, seeing she'd passed it over. “It looks like it's along our route.”

  The Wilder frowned, and I had a bad feeling the Night Sisters weren't her favorite faith. A quick check of her stats reminded me she subscribed to a belief in Yalua, whoever that was. I didn’t need to know much more, though, when Farelle said darkly, “You don't go to Halduran unless you need to.”

  “Sounds like a place of interest to an adventurer,” I said lightly.

  A mess of emotions crossed her face. “Fine,” she said. Then she put away the map, clearly not wanting anymore input. “We’d best be going. Time to see if you can keep up like you think.”

  She took off down the hill towards the woods below at a run. I grinned and started after her.

  When we stopped running two hours later, it was dark, which was good because I probably looked halfway to death. My stamina meter was flashing as it struggled to refill, as it had for the past hour and a half. My status read Exhausted, and I felt it — I had stitches between every one of my ribs. The only way to get rid of the status was to rest, so I hoped we were close to making camp.

  Farelle came up cheerfully next to me. Because the sun had set and the moons — there were three here, all of which were larger than Earth's Moon — were blocked by the forest canopy above, I couldn't see her well, but I bet she looked as fresh as if she'd come out of a dip in the river.

  “Well! That was a brisk little jog!” She slapped me on the back as I bent over, panting. “Ready to go for another one?”

  I choked out an incomprehensible reply. Farelle laughed.

  “Now, now, don't choke on your tongue. Though I do recall you saying you could keep up with a Wilder…”

  I fumed mutely from my bent over position, and she just smirked.

  “Anyway, since we’ve really had to slow our pace” — was she ever relentless — “we’ll have to travel a few leagues more before we make camp for the night. Best not to wander after dark, but these woods surrounding the city are safer than most. Grab a drink from the spring over there then we’ll get a move on.”

  I lurched over on rubbery legs to the nearby spring and only barely refrained from plunging my whole head in. I drank from my hands, wondering whether or not germs were a thing here. I hoped not — I’d played enough Oregon Trail to know that dysentery was the last thing you wanted.

  After too brief a rest, we moved on through the moonlight dappled forest. We hadn't gone far, though, when Farelle suddenly motioned for me to crouch. Slowly coming up next to her, I followed where she pointed. “Bandits,” she whispered.

  I wasn't so sure. Yes, I saw the weapons propped up against a log. Yes, the four men I saw looked like they'd leave a man starving in the road just for the hell of it. And they did seem to have a shifty way of looking about. But we were in dark woods at night — who wouldn't be looking about suspiciously?

  “How do you know?” I asked quietly. “They could just be travelers like us.”

  She was so serious she didn't even deride my ignorance. “The fire — it's covered, which masks its light and smoke, though it makes it a lot less pleasant to be around.” She pointed to a log displaying a litany of weapons. “Those aren't exactly innocent either, out and at the ready.” She pointed at a figure standing in the shadows. “He could be a watchman, but more likely he's watching for victims.” She sniffed the air. “And they reek.”

  Despite her greater breadth of experience, I wasn't convinced. “Any of that could be explained away. Maybe they're just ready if bandits happen upon them. We should move around them.”

  Then it occurred to me that I might be able to glean more information about them if I tried. Concentrating on a man with his back to me, I tried perceiving his information, an overlay popped up.

  Bandit (Lvl 6) - A common thug looking to make a quick buck, they’re often cowed by higher level foes. “Give me your purse, or else… I might just leave you alone.”

  Well, that answered my objections. These men really were bandits.

  “You're right,” I whispered to my companion. She cocked her head, but just nodded and started leading us away at a crouch.

  I didn't breathe easily until the glow of their fire was out of sight and I could no longer smell a trace of smoke. I knew Farelle was level 7, but as I was level 4, I wasn't too certain I could take one of them, let alone four. “We keep going until we're far away now, right?” I said.

  Farelle shook her head, and as she did, I noticed the weariness etched in her posture too. Examining her stats, I saw the same Exhausted condition was on her too, and I was glad for the darkness to conceal my smirk. “We have to think about the long run,” she said. “If we scurry away at every dangerous sighting, we won't last long out here.”

  I nodded, though I was still uncomfortable, remembering the hungry looks in the bandits’ eyes. But even bandits needed to sleep sometime, and they'd have a hell of a time finding us in the dark.

  We settled down to a cold dinner of mush, which barely shifted my stamina bar, then tucked down into cloaks Farelle produced from her pack to sleep. Despite my armor still being on, I fell unconscious immediately.

  13

  Ambush

  It was his BO that woke me. Garlic and onions and cheese — god, the man reeked.

  Good thing, or the knife in his hand would have ripped through me like a Taco Bell burrito.

  I shouted in alarm and rolled out of the way as his knife came down, stabbing into the cloak still half twisted about me. The cloak catching, I tripped and tumbled to the ground, but I dragged the bandit off balance too, enough so that the knife slipped from his hand. The man cursed as he fumbled for it, while I desperately untangled myself from my cloak and dove for my sword. It hadn’t occurred to me to simply put it in my inventory, it feeling far more natural to just take it off. If I had, it would have simply been a matter of equipping it.

  I barely withdrew my sword from its scabbard before the bastard was lunging again. Sleepiness made my sidestep drag, and the bandit’s knife scraped against my steel scaled armor, barely dinting my health. Glad for my investment, I struck back clumsily, landing a glancing blow on the bandit’s leg, but I could tell he wasn’t anywhere near to down.

  I tried thinking through my options as we circled e
ach other, but my sleepy mind had gone blank. The bandit made a decision for me, darting forward with his knife leading, and I let my body think for me. My hand went up. Shivering in the cool night air, I thought of ice.

  The bandit screamed in pain and frustration as blistering frost poured over him. I smiled grimly as he tried to force his way forward, knowing I was whittling away at his health and stamina. When Icy Plume ran out, I darted over the frost-bitten ground and ran the bandit through with my sword. The bandit too slow to defend himself, I got a critical hit and he went down.

  Farelle had killed her man as well, but more bandits poured through the trees. “Cover my back!” I yelled to her, and we backed up against each other. And just in time — four men came from the brush. One of them looking bigger than the others, and wore better armor, plus clasped a spiked hammer in both hands. It wasn’t hard to guess that this was the leader. A hasty check told me he was level 9, 3 levels higher than his lackeys and 5 higher than me.

  I swallowed, but put on a hard expression. Toughs like this only understood strength.

  “Don't make this harder than it has to be, boy,” the bandit leader growled.

  “Same goes for you,” I countered. “Walk away and no one else dies.”

  The grizzled veteran laughed, and his men laughed a moment later. They cut off almost exactly when their leader did.

  “Let's see what you're made of then,” the bandit leader said, hefting his warhammer with what looked like an effortless gesture, even though it looked to weigh a ton.

  I didn't intend to find out how easy it was for him. Raising my hand, I cast Icy Plume again, catching the leader and one other bandit in the spray. But I wasn't ready a moment later when a dart popped painfully into my upraised arm.

  An icon flashed on my screen, a green skull and crossbones. I'd been poisoned.