by R. J. Batla
“Dealer?” Royn asked.
She stopped, turning her head just enough where Royn could see her profile. Mouth tense, brows pulled together, she said, “Yes. One who deals out Death.”
Chapter 5
The Skeptor waved his hand and the telestone lit up. A man picked up after one ring. “Yes?”
The Skeptor bowed, despite the Master being unable to see him. Even his voice deserved respect. The Skeptor couldn’t believe he was taking orders from a human. If his grandfather could see him, the punishment would be severe. But the Master was no ordinary human. He could do things the Skeptor had never seen before. His power was unmatched, even among his people. He bowed again. “Master, it’s working. The energy is holding steady in the stones, and it’s becoming easier and easier to siphon from the humans. They are viable, and we’re able to use them to fuel anything we wish.”
“Excellent job. That's what I like to hear! Tell me, how exactly does it work?”
“Once I devour their flesh, I’m able to concentrate their energy into the stones. After they have stabilized, I regurgitate them.”
“An amazing ability. Truly your people are one of the most powerful in all of Terraunum. How do you like your assignment?”
“It’s glorious, Master! The killing, the blood, the fear in the feeble humans as they cower before me. The slaughter is exhilarating, just as you promised.”
“Perfect! Let’s proceed with the plan. We need many more stones to power the army we’re creating if we’re to bring down the Wall.”
The Skeptor bowed again. “Yes, Master, it shall be done.”
“Have there been any issues?
The Skeptor shifted slightly, “There’s a Ranger snooping around. He found our cave, saw the stones—”
“Then he must be eliminated. Find him. Destroy him.”
“Yes, Master.”
“And take it out on the villagers. They should know better than to let the Easterners intervene. Make. Them. Bleed.”
Chapter 6
Royn retraced his steps back to the cave—or where he thought it should be—at least a dozen times. Each time, he ended up someplace different, someplace he’d never been, and he’d have to teleport back and start all over.
“Damn,” he said, scattering a few birds out of the bush next to him. He hadn’t gotten a good enough read on the cave to teleport back to it! Apparently he couldn’t even get close. The damn Skeptor’d scared him so bad he’d totally lost himself. Forgot all his mental training and preparation. Always be able to teleport anywhere. That was a key advantage of his Quantum Power: go anywhere once, get back there anytime.
I’m only a private, damnit! I’ve only had a few months of training and a few months more of deployment. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I’m not as good as I thought I was.
His stomach hurt. But he couldn’t let that distract him.
Yet, it did. A lot. This wasn’t a normal stomachache. His vision was blurry. His head hurt. He was going to...pass...
GASPING, ROYN TRIED to raise his head but couldn’t. His whole body ached, sore and dehydrated. The sun was low on the horizon. Hours. He’d been out hours, stuck in the forest, vulnerable. But what had happened? Was he sick, some sort of West Side virus? He’d never felt like this before. But something about it reminded him of something.
Rubbing his head, trying to clear it, Royn searched his memory.
Then suddenly it hit him. Another Quantum Power! The stomach pain, the loss of consciousness, it all fit! That’s what happened when you got a new power without the aid of the Awakening Stones. It was rare, yes, but not unheard of.
Here was the issue: there was no way of knowing what the new power was. Without the Awakening Stones, a Senturian has no idea. He’d just have to figure it out on the way. But first, he had to get out of this funk, out of this state of mind—and out of the damn forest. Checking his map and using his Ranger badge as a beacon, he found his location. Thank God there was a village not three miles north of his current location.
Hitching up his pack, he hobbled there, falling several times, using the trees as support. The pain was constant, burning a hole inside. Emerging from the forest, the small, ramshackle village might as well have been the grandest palace in all of Terraunum. And outside one building were the three words he needed badly: “Bar and Inn.”
Shuffling more than walking in—barely sliding his feet across the dirt floor—he grabbed the first grubby barstool he found and heaved himself upon it. “Water, beer, food,” he managed to get out. “Please”. The bartender nodded and served the drinks, then went to the kitchen, bringing out meat and cheese. Not great quality, but Royn didn’t care, and he slapped down payment and tucked in. He was just happy they served him at all, being an Easterner. Maybe the mud and sweat covered it up. Or he looked so pathetic the bartender felt sorry for him.
Several different groups of people milled about—some old, some young—of various descent talking amongst themselves, paying him little mind. Like it was common for someone to amble in barely alive. Royn savored the food and drink, feeling more like himself with each bite, as if each bite removed some of the hurt.
The old man next to him told his fellows: “This has happened before! Jim, you remember—people disappearing, rumors of Dealers roaming the forest dispensing their death sentence on any they came across.” The man grabbed a glass of water, and it frosted as he brought it to his lips. The man was a Senturian. He could manipulate water. The West Side was full of people who’d been kicked out of the East as punishment for crimes or failure in the Senturian Corps. That they survived, reproduced, and continued the Senturian line made total sense.
Royn grabbed his own glass, and it frosted too. Whoa... This had to be it—his new Quantum Power! But that was odd–usually these extra powers weren’t elemental. Fire, Air, Water, Earth, Healing, and Energy. The Six Powers you either got or you didn’t. They were the consistent, main powers of any Senturian. Quantum powers could be anything—like his Teleportation and Mindspeak—and few people got the same ones if they got any at all. But no matter. Now that he knew what it was, he could learn to use it, incorporate into his arsenal.
“Aye,” Jim said, “I remember! That was right before all those other monsters showed up.”
Royn froze mid-bite.
“Monsters?” one of the others asked.
“Loads of them,” Jim continued, taking a long draw from his beer. “Werewolves, orcs, goblins, trolls—you name it, they showed up. And stronger than normal too, like they had some kind of power boost.”
The jewels! Had to be! Royn reached for his glass again. But this time it moved away. He cocked his head. Two Quantums? That doesn’t make any sense.
“And then another Dealer showed up...”
Royn spit his water and tried to stand, but the dirt floor stuck like glue to his boots, rising with his foot and causing him to fall to the floor in a heap. Earth too? Three new powers? This is too weird! And it had never happened before, as far as he knew.
“You all right, sonny?” someone asked him, extending a hand to help Royn up.
“Yes, sir, thank you, but if you’d beg my pardon, did you just say another Skeptor showed up?”
“You ain’t from around here are you?” A huge man covered in tattoos reached down, picked Royn up, and set him on his feet. With one hand.
“No,” Royn said, “but all this talk about Skeptors... er, Dealers has me a little worried.”
“And right they should,” a creepy old man said. “They devour people, steal their souls, and use it to fuel some kind of dark power. These glowing stones that burn you to ash if you even look at them! BOOM!”
Royn jumped, literally crashing into the ceiling boards fifteen feet up, where he became stuck, feet dangling and kicking. Water, telekinesis, Earth, and strength? No way. Not possible. Has to be something else...Mimic! My Quantum Power is Mimic! The people on the floor had to jump up and grab him to pull him down again. Dusting himself o
ff, he thanked everyone and hustled out the door, as revived as he was going to get after the meal.
Mimic. The copy power.
Turning onto the main road, he oriented himself and headed toward the Ranger base.
Chapter 7
As soon as he was in the forest, Royn teleported, emerging in the forest right outside the base. At least I appeared where I wanted to this time. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and headed to the captain’s office. The secretary looked up, then immediately looked down, talking into the mic attached to his headset. Royn never stopped, opened the door and saluted. “Permission to report, sir!”
Captain Crane’s eyes narrowed, but he waved his hand. Royn stepped forward, closed the door, and stood at attention, waiting. “Proceed, private.”
Royn launched into a detailed depiction of everything he had found, seen, or heard. Everything from the first time he ventured to the forest to the new information he’d just found out in the bar. “Sir, if they’re right, we’re in great danger! We have to do something—try to kill this thing, at least evacuate—”
“That’s quite enough, private,” he said, slowly standing from behind the desk, fists clenched. Stepping around the desk, he walked straight to Royn, staring down at him, eyes ablaze with fury. Oh no. In his hurry, he’d forgotten how much the captain didn’t like him. And that he was not a rational man. “Private, I’ve told you several times now that you’d better not make a mistake, that you’d better clean this mess up. Well you’ve failed, private! And now, since you have disobeyed no less than three direct orders, I’m going to have to—”
The secretary popped his head in the door. “Um...sir, there is an, um...situation, sir.”
“Not now, Jones.” The captain turned back to Royn, the Skeptor bone just visible, still hanging on his neck. “I will not tolerate this made up mumbo jumbo from a half breed who thinks he’s better than everyone else just because he’s got two Quantums—”
“Sir, there really is something. The sentries are saying they’re detecting movement on the perimeter, and—”
“Jones, I said not now—now get out! You, Crowell! If you think for one second I’m going to let you disrupt my unit, disregard orders, demonstrate a complete lack of skill, well then you’d better—”
“Captain!” the secretary yelled.
He spun on the secretary, fire blazing in his hands, then swirling through the room. “Jones! You’d better have a damn good reason to—”
The secretary had his hand on the headset speaker covering his ear, listening to the radio chatter. “Sir, we just lost a...no, make that three sentries. Something is out there, sir. Something is killing our men.”
The fire in his palms died immediately, the captain regaining his poise. “Then let’s go figure out what it is. We’ll continue this later, Private Crowell.”
“Sir,” Royn said, following him out the door, drawing his sword and sending energy into the steel, encasing it in power. A slight hum issued from the blade, and it glowed a faint yellow. All Senturians—no matter what their powers—could energize their weapons, making them stronger and more powerful.
They heard the screams just as they exited the building.
Explosions and fire lit the dwindling sunset so it was almost as bright as day. All around him men ran calmly to their posts. Battle roars echoed all around the camp, and flashes of yellow energy on weapons sparked as steel rang on steel. “Orcs,” the captain said, “and a lot of them from the sound of it. To the perimeter!” He drew his own sword—the yellow energy glowing brightly—lighting up the night around him. Any Senturians within earshot dropped what they were doing and launched themselves toward the edge of the encampment, Royn in the middle of the pack. Rounding a building, he knew he had to be getting close to the front lines.
But he wasn’t ready for it.
Orcs—their grotesque bodies puffed up with power from the glowing jewels stuck inside their chests—were engaged in mortal combat with the Senturians. Normally orcs would be no match for even a novice warrior, but these had been altered, been given power. They were stronger, faster, and uglier than they should be.
Just like the old man said in the bar. Now he knew what the stones in the cave were used for.
Royn dove in, beating down his fear as the first orc approached with a hiss. He went for Royn’s throat, but a quick teleport directly behind the creature caught it off guard. Royn kicked one leg out from under it, stabbing it with his sword as it went down, the sword blazing bright white as Royn issued the killing blow.
He jumped off, parried a battle ax, and said, “Air Spear!” He punched, sending the missile directly through the orc, splattering those behind with blood. Teleporting again, he came down on top of another, impaling it in a flash of yellow. Turning, he said, “Air Ram!” Thrusting his arm out, he bowled over three orcs with a blast of solidified air that were on top of another Senturian. Crushed by the impact, the orcs didn’t move.
An ear splitting screech echoed through the base, and fear crept into Royn’s heart. By the looks of the others, it had the same effect on them. The Skeptor had arrived.
Royn saw the creature as the horrifying mass of teeth and claws stalked through the battling orcs and Senturians. One tried to attack it, but a swift claw swipe decapitated the soldier. Another Senturian dove in, only to be slain just as quickly, the Skeptor punching through his chest, spewing lifeblood everywhere. It paused to take a couple of bites, and Royn teleported.
Coming in from above, sword first, Royn braced for impact. At the last second, the thing looked up, sidestepped Royn and backhanded him, sending him spinning into a mass of wooden buildings. His armor took the brunt of the hit, but there would still be a large bruise where he’d been struck. The splintered wood collapsed on top of Royn, pinning him down, leaving him only a limited field of view once the dust settled.
He tried to teleport, but immediately regretted it—blue flashed around him, but nothing happened other than a splitting headache that latched onto his brain, and a searing pain in his leg. What the hell? He couldn’t move much, but then found the problem: he’d been skewered by one of the pieces of wood, right through his calf muscle. That piece must still be attached to a lot of other pieces. And all that mass meant Royn couldn’t teleport. Normally he could teleport himself and another person thousands of miles, two people hundreds, three people a couple dozen. But the more mass he had to move, the more his power was limited. All that debris attached to him in his weakened state meant he was trapped.
The sounds of battle were dying down around him. Through his porthole he saw the Skeptor taking bites of random dead Rangers, while it allowed the orcs do the final killing. So many bodies! How many Senturians were dead? Were there any even alive?
Suddenly it turned, and there was the captain, decked out in a full suit of armor. Royn didn’t like him, but he had to admit he was intimidating. Twice as big as the Skeptor, he was clearly a formidable opponent.
With a step and punch, the captain launched a fireball at the creature, which it dodged swiftly before attempting to close the distance. But the captain threw up a stone wall with a spinning kick, the Skeptor smashing into it when it couldn’t stop in time. Seeing an advantage, the captain launched several more fireballs, each slamming into the creature, sending it backpedaling until it was up against another building.
Keeping it pinned with fire blasts, the captain grabbed a spear lying on the ground, preparing to throw. He’s gonna beat it! As he threw, the creature ate the last three fire blasts, caught the spear just before it pierced him, closed the distance in a blink to the stunned captain, and stabbed him in the throat. Blood oozed from between his lips, a horrible squelching sound the only noise he could make before he was slammed to the earth.
The Skeptor cracked its neck, then looked oddly at the captain. It reached down, grabbed the bone fragment from the necklace that hung around the captain’s ruined throat, and reattached it to its own forearm.
Then everything was suddenly silent. Oh crap. That’s never good. Where are they?
He caught movement through the small opening—one of the sergeants had survived! He was making his way out of camp, trying to dodge the vast number of creatures milling about after the slaughter, bleeding in several places.
But the Skeptor was directly in his path. If he moved now, he would be caught! What can I do? Wait! “Sergeant!” Royn said in his head, projecting the thought to the other Senturian, who recoiled slightly but composed himself quickly.
“This is Sergeant Brady. Identify yourself.”
“This is Private Crowell, sir.”
“Thank God you’re alive!”
“Barely. I’m buried under some debris. Listen, don’t move! The Skeptor is just around the building you’re hiding behind, and if you go now, you’re dead. Don’t make a sound!”
“Confirmed. Get me out of here, private. I’ve got to report what happened here.”
“Understood, sir! Go to the next building on my mark. Three...two...one...NOW! Then stop again at the next building.” Royn cut off the communication for a couple seconds, breathing hard. His vision was tunneling, and he was having trouble staying awake. His leg hurt, and his foot was wet with blood.
The sergeant leapt to action, clearing the opening just before two orcs came around the bend.
Reestablishing the connection, Royn said, “All right, move in three...” Royn guided him all the way off the base to the forest, second by agonizing second. If he had any hope of survival, it was with the sergeant getting out and sending help. “Good luck, sir!” Royn said as he slipped into the concealment of the trees.
“Thanks, private. I’ll send help as soon as I can. We will avenge the loss here today. Stay safe, son.”
Thoroughly exhausted, Royn passed out.