by Rachel Aaron
Slowly, tentatively, the giant monster reached up to pluck the dirty object from James’s hand. When his armored fingers brushed away the muck, James saw it was indeed a small locket made of bone and red stone, just the size a female gnoll would wear.
“Loved once,” the giant gnoll muttered, the words shockingly gentle even with the harsh resonance of the translation collar. “She loved, yes, but gone now.” He closed his ghostfire eyes. “Not want to see me like this.”
James let out a huge breath of relief. He had no idea if the quest had actually weakened Gore Maul or not. The giant certainly didn’t look any less scary, but though he still had his axes, the gnoll looked as if he’d rather cry than fight. He’d already dropped James in the mud so he could cradle the locket in both paws, keening pitifully through his broken teeth. He was curling himself into a ball around the trinket when an arctic chill fell over the pit.
Every hair on James’s body stood on end as eerie blue light flickered above the undead warrior. Moments later, a ghostly image of the canyon’s lich boss appeared in the air. The undead sorcerer had once been an elf. One of the true ancient elves from the Age of Skies. Even ravaged by undeath, he had slender, achingly beautiful features and a grace that made the current elves look like bumbling children, but there was nothing beautiful about the cutting malice that shone in his ghostfire eyes as he glared down at his battered champion.
“Get up.”
The giant gnoll whined pitifully, and the lich bared his black teeth. “You will obey!”
Clutching the lost locket, Gore Maul roared in defiance, spluttering blood and teeth through the lich’s ghostly projection.
“Obey!” the lich’s image shouted again, thrusting out his hand to launch a plume of ghostfire down the warrior’s open mouth.
The gnoll choked as the white flames poured into him. Scrambling away from the giant’s kicking feet, James hid his face from the glare as terrible white light began to pour from Gore Maul’s eyes. This wasn’t part of the quest that he remembered, but the lich was clearly trying to get Gore Maul back under control. If that happened, James’s advantage from the locket would be lost, and he’d be dead. He needed to shut this down fast, so he pushed himself back to his feet and used his staff as a cane as he hobbled in front of the spasming Gore Maul and picked up the locket the giant gnoll had dropped when he’d fallen.
“Hunter!” he cried, holding the trinket out. “Remember your name! Resist!”
It hurt to say such cheesy lines, but Gore Maul was listening intently. Even with the lich pouring ghostfire down his throat, the gnoll’s burning eyes were locked on the necklace in James’s hand. Unfortunately, James had now reached the end of what he remembered from the quest text. Racking his brain for something else to say, he looked up at the gnolls for inspiration only to see that the crowd had changed.
When he’d glanced at the rim of the pit before, it had been nothing but warriors. Now, though, the edge of the drained lake was packed with all sorts of fearful hyena people. For the first time, James was able to spot women and children, stupidly adorable pups with little floppy ears. But though some of them were clearly very young, not a single one made a sound. The whole pack was watching Gore Maul and the lich as if their lives hung in the balance. Then as if a signal only they could hear had been given, they all began to howl.
It was a haunting sound of loss. Closing his ghostfire eyes, Gore Maul answered in kind, lifting his broken face to the starry night sky in an earsplitting, heartbreaking cry as he grabbed his ax out of the mud. James jumped back instinctively, but the weapon wasn’t pointed at him. Instead, Gore Maul turned the blade on himself, plunging the giant metal spike deep into the hole James’s lightning had made in his chest.
There was a squeal of metal on metal as the monster gnoll punctured his repaired chest plate. This was followed by a sucking noise as the ax broke through, its curved blade digging deep into his chest cavity. Black blood began to pour from the wound as the monster dropped his weapon and shoved his hand inside instead, moving his fingers around as though he were searching for something. Then with a sickening snap, the monster gnoll pried loose something that was lodged inside.
A gory lump fell out of the giant gnoll’s chest. When it hit the mud, James saw it was an amulet. A beautiful, curving black metal knot that pulsed with necromantic magic like a heartbeat. The moment the amulet came free of Gore Maul’s flesh, the image of the lich vanished, and the Chief of Chiefs fell over into the mud.
James clutched his staff, unsure of what to do. He was about to try sneaking quietly away when Gore Maul opened his eyes. His dark eyes. The white ghostfire was gone, leaving two dark-brown eyes staring at James through a grayish film of death.
The poor gnoll looked so tormented that James’s heart went out to him. He stepped closer, crouching down in the mud beside the broken chief. “Do you want me to kill you?” he asked quietly.
The giant gnoll nodded, his sad eyes closing in pain.
James nodded back. “I’ll send you on, then, Hunter of the Endless Grass.”
He rose to his feet and began to gather the lightning, dragging out the casting time as long as possible to give a bit of ritual to the mercy killing he was about to perform. But lightning didn’t like to wait. In a few moments, his hands were crackling ferociously, forcing James to unleash the full torrent onto the former gnoll chieftain.
Once again, the night was split by a flash of white brilliance. Thunder echoed across the village, leaving a heavy silence in its wake as the undead giant slumped into the mud, blackened almost beyond recognition. As he died, remnants of the ghostfire flickered from his fur like a pyre, the blue-white flames dwindling smaller and smaller until no more remained.
When the last of the fire died, James looked around nervously to see what the rest of the village was going to do. There had to be a thousand gnolls surrounding him at this point, but no one looked ready to make a move. They all just watched him fearfully, noses and ears quivering.
When it became clear no one was going to come at him, James decided to make another stab at escape. Hurrying toward the pit’s broken wall, he tossed the staff up to the ledge then pulled himself up, cursing as the move put pressure on his injured arm. The gnolls at the top made room for him, shuffling warily. It wasn’t until James had pulled himself all the way out of the pit, though, that he realized he’d come up right next to Thunder Paw.
Bile and pity rose in his throat. Gore Maul’s stomp had split the old gnoll’s head wide open. The rest of his body had been crushed into the ground, his limbs turned at horrifying angles. It was a cruel, pointless death that no one deserved. Especially Thunder Paw, who’d only been trying to save his grandson and free his people. But when James turned to apologize to the gnolls for getting their Naturalist killed—assuming such a thing could be apologized for—what he saw stopped him cold.
All through the crowd, furry paws were passing green magic back and forth between them, weaving the glowing strands of earth and water like a rope. It was so beautiful, James didn’t recognize it as the Raise Ally spell until it went off, lighting up the night sky with a golden flash even brighter than his lightning. When the golden light faded, Thunder Paw’s body was back together like nothing had happened. He’d just sat up, blinking his one good eye, when the whole pack rushed him, yipping and barking in excitement while James stared in bewilderment.
Of course, he realized, too dumbfounded to notice the Naturalists who were now pouring healing magic into his wounded arm. Why wouldn’t NPCs be able to resurrect? Raise Ally was just another spell, the same as lightning, and they cast plenty of that. They also weren’t NPCs anymore. They were alive, just like him. Why wouldn’t they want to bring their friends and loved ones back from the dead? If James had been thinking or had the mana left, he would have cast it himself. The fight with Gore Maul might have felt like forever, but it couldn’t have actually been more than a few minutes, well within Raise Ally’s six-minute window.
&nb
sp; Still, this opened up a world of possibilities. He already knew the graveyard respawn system was gone, but if Raise Ally worked, that was a whole new ball game. He was going through all the implications when he heard a polite growl.
James looked up to see Thunder Paw standing in front of him, the same as ever. Better than ever, because the old gnoll was grinning, showing James all of his small, sharp teeth as he raised his hands.
“James defeated Gore Maul!” he declared loudly, his translation collar’s words barely audible over the loud bark that had actually come out of his mouth. “All hail James, Chief of Chiefs!”
The crowd exploded in ecstatic barking. The gnolls rushed James, paws up to offer him semiprecious gems, crystals, herbs, feathers, and all sorts of other valuables until he could hold no more.
They were piling it up at his feet by the time he managed to get free enough to ask, “What is going on?”
“Grand Pack have three chieftains,” Thunder Paw explained, his face smug. “But need big chief, too. Gore Maul, real name Hunter of Endless Grass, was Chief of Chiefs. You kill him, so now you big chief.”
James stared down at the gnoll pups clutching his legs. “If you’re all so happy about this, why didn’t anyone help me fight Gore Maul? Or you? Why didn’t they rez you earlier so you could lightning Gore Maul in the back?”
There was a bunch of yipping and barking from the nearby Naturalists at this question, which Thunder Paw translated. “Chief of Chiefs killed Me. They cannot defy. Same for helping you. To defy big chief is death, even if he bad for everyone. But you killed big chief, so now we all help you.”
James stared at him openmouthed as all the implications of that statement finally clicked together. “Waaaiiit, you mean I’m the new Chief of Chiefs? But I’m not even a gnoll!”
Thunder Paw shrugged. “Not-gnoll outsider not supposed to be big chief. But we happy you kill Gore Maul, so we make exception. We follow you for a while.”
There was lots of happy yipping in agreement to this statement, and James ran his hands through his fur in bafflement. “So what does that mean, exactly? Like, can I ask the Grand Pack for help? Because I really need to get down into the canyon where the lich—”
He was cut off by a chorus of whining and growling. His first thought was that they didn’t like his question, but then he realized the gnolls weren’t growling at him. They were growling at the new figure who’d just appeared from between the storage buildings behind them.
Standing a few dozen feet away, up the hill by the buildings where the undead kept their weapons stockpiles, was Arbati. He was blood-splattered and dirty, and his tail was comically puffed up, but there was nothing funny about the lit torch in his clenched hands or the large barrel under his boot labeled Wind-Fire Powder.
James sucked in a breath. Wind-fire powder was the FFO equivalent of magical fuel-air explosives, and it was crazy dangerous. Typically, the stuff appeared only in highly unethical quests to raze enemy bases, usually with a follow-up quest in which players would have to face the horrible consequences of using weapons of mass destruction. This, however, was not a quest, and from the deadly look in his eyes, Arbati was not playing around.
Swallowing, James looked down at the gnolls, who were perfectly packed in around him. Behind them, the lake bottom was muddy, but every other bit of the village was as dry as kindling. Add in the winds from the savanna, and even one barrel of wind-fire powder would be enough to turn this entire fortress into a fiery tornado.
“All right, dog-faces!” Arbati yelled, lowering his torch. “Time for two hundred years of payback!”
“Arbati, no!” James cried, waving his arms frantically. “I’m okay! Don’t light it! We won, man!”
The tall warrior scowled in confusion, and James ran toward him, pushing his way through the gnolls. Fortunately, being Chief of Chiefs apparently meant he was now head butt-kicker, and the crowd parted immediately, practically shoving him to the front before forming up behind him in a massive, menacing pack.
The sight made Arbati sneer. “I see you’ve betrayed us and sided with the Red Canyon.” He spat on the ground. “I knew you’d show your true colors eventually. I will take pleasure in watching you die!”
“God dammit, Arbati, that’s not how it is!” James yelled. “They just made me their leader, which means we don’t have to fight them anymore. They can help us save your sister!”
James didn’t expect his words to get through Arbati’s wall of hatred, but to his surprise, the warrior pulled his torch away from the barrel. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘They can help us save your sister,’” James repeated with a relieved breath.
Arbati shook his head. “Not that. The other part. How did you become leader of gnolls?”
“Oh,” James said. “It’s a combat thing, apparently. Gore Maul was Chief of Chiefs, so when I beat him, the title passed to me.” His face split into a smile. “But this is great! We don’t have to kill each other anymore! We can fight the lich together instead!”
To his enormous relief, Arbati dropped the torch into a nearby brazier and set the barrel of wind-fire powder on its end so it wouldn’t roll down the hill into the waiting gnolls. James was about to thank Arbati for being so understanding when the cat-warrior stomped down and got right in his face.
“I challenge you to a duel.”
“What?” James said, stumbling away. “Why?”
“You insulted me on the plains earlier,” Arbati replied with a lift of his chin. “You, an outsider, slighted the honor of the head of warriors for the Four Clans. I have not yet had my redress, so I challenge you here and now to a duel to the death.”
He drew the two-handed sword from his back as he finished, but James was too busy trying to figure out if the cat-man had gone crazy to be afraid.
“We don’t have time for this!” he cried, keeping his eyes on the five feet of perfectly straight, very sharp steel between them. “We’re supposed to be saving Lilac!”
“I am saving her,” Arbati growled. “Without you.”
With those words, James finally understood what was going on. “You asshole,” he whispered, clutching his fists. “You want to beat me so you can be chief.”
Arbati’s smile turned cruel. “And you’re out of magic, Naturalist. It’s time for your reckoning. I will kill you for all that your kind has done to us, then I will command these gnolls to fight the undead while I sneak into the lich’s chamber and smash his orb to save Lilac. This way, my enemies will kill each other, cleansing the entire savanna. The only thing left in my way is you.”
By the time he finished, James was angrier than he could ever remember being. Behind him, the gnolls began to growl as well, but James waved them back. “What about the barrier?” he asked.
“Already taken care of,” Arbati said proudly. “I killed the other two chieftains myself while you were off playing with gnolls. Ambushing them from behind was far easier than your stupid quests. You’re the only chief left. Once I kill you, there’s nothing keeping me from walking into the lich’s stronghold with a disposable army at my back.”
“The gnolls won’t follow you,” James said firmly. “They only follow me because I killed Gore Maul. If you kill me, you won’t be their leader. You’ll just be dead.”
Arbati sneered at that, and James growled in frustration.
“We’ve already got this in the bag, dude. We could be on our way to save Lilac right now, and you are messing it up.”
“You players were the ones who messed everything up!” Arbati yelled. “You players ruined my home worse than the gnolls ever did, and they’ve been raiding us for two centuries! You all deserve to die, and I’m proud to be the one who does it.”
James’s mouth tightened to a hard line. He should have known reason wouldn’t work with Arbati. He was every bit as stubborn, angry, and hotheaded in real life as he had been in the game. If he fought James and won, it wouldn’t just be their mission that failed. He’d be scre
wing the gnolls over, too. With Gore Maul gone, this might be their only chance to take on the lich and win their freedom. They had to push now, before the lich recovered and took back the town, but they couldn’t, because Arbati was being a colossal dick.
“These gnolls deserve better than you,” James said coldly, wiping the mud from his hands. “You want a duel? Fine. Let’s do this. Thunder Paw can start us off.”
With that, they turned their backs, and each walked to the edge of the circle the gnolls had formed around them. As Thunder Paw carefully stepped into the middle, James gave the one-eyed gnoll a determined nod.
The old Naturalist nodded back and grabbed a pebble from the ground. “When it falls, you fight,” he said, holding the little rock where they could see. “Ready?”
When James and Arbati nodded, Thunder Paw dropped the pebble and dove for the sidelines.
The split second the little rock touched the dusty ground, Arbati leaped at him, swinging his monstrous two-hander high over his head to chop James in half. Even knowing how strong the cat-warrior was, the speed and ease with which he moved the giant sword still caught James by surprise, leaving him no time to dodge out of the way. He was tired of dodging, in any case, so James gripped his black metal staff and swung. Not to deflect as he’d done with Gore Maul, but a straight, hard strike that slammed his staff directly into the sharp edge of the oncoming blade.
James’s new Eclipsed Steel Staff was a relic of the Once King’s fortress, a treasure forged of corrupted sun metal by processes no mortal could understand. It smashed into the sword with a thunderous ring, but unlike Gore Maul’s enchanted axes, Arbati’s blade had no magic protecting it. For all the warrior’s strength, the mundane metal stood no chance. One strike was all it took to explode the sword into a thousand pieces.
The watching gnolls shrieked and ducked as shards of metal flew over their heads. Arbati stumbled forward, looking in horror at the broken nubbin of blade that remained in his hands. Then he tossed it aside with a snarl, putting up his clawed hands instead.