She lowers her weapons ever-so-slightly.
“Let us go and live to fight another day. What’s your name, milady?”
The woman gulps. She still has her blades pointed at me, but a flash of light behind her eye tells me she is considering what I’ve said. “Desdemona.”
“Lady Desdemona,” I say with a soft smile. “Call your guards off. You will not win this fight – not now, not ever. We have a Solar Mage and an Hourglass Mage. A giant too, for what that’s worth.”
“Temporal Decay!” Sam shouts from about forty feet away, completely oblivious to our conversation.
The guards surrounding Lothar take a step back as their weapons crumble to ash.
A pink trail of magic hovers above Sam’s wand as she turns to us. The pikes and short swords pointed at me crumble into a fine dust, leaving the female warriors weaponless with a pile of dust at their feet.
“Enough!” A dash of cunning spreads across the face of Lady Desdemona. “We will let them leave,” she says in an authoritative voice, her lips curling, “and they shall never be allowed to return.”
The warriors around her turn to their newfound leader.
“If this is an issue,” she announces to those gathered, “you can bring it up with me tomorrow, after my coronation ceremony.”
The two women warriors next to Lady Desdemona take positions at her sides. They keep to her as she walks to the dais, and they stop in front of it. Weaponless yet fierce as ever, the two women stare down anyone who dares look as the new governor of Metica takes the stage.
Lady Desdemona kicks aside the shriveled body of Lady Blacknor and calls one of the attendants over. The manservant gives her a dagger made of gold, and she cuts her finger and drips a bit of the blood on Lady Blacknor’s body. Once she’s finished, she points at the nearest group of mounted warriors.
“Escort them to the city limits.”
(^_^)
“I wasn’t expecting that!” Lothar says once we’ve reached the outer limits of Metica. “We just witnessed a Metican coup, apparently the second in the last few weeks.” He runs his hand through his tangled red hair. “How crazy was that?”
The mounted warriors that escorted us here keep a perimeter about two hundred feet away from us. The two from the battle are still weaponless, thanks to Sam’s magic, but the others who have joined them are loaded to the teeth.
“Let’s just get to a place we can rest for a moment,” I tell the scholarly giant. “We can hash things out once we get there. Truth is, we got lucky. Really lucky. Lady Desdemona could have continued the fight and there are more of them than us, so eventually we would have been overwhelmed.”
A cold breeze blows past.
“The weather seems to be getting worse.” Lothar lifts his big foot and places it on a table-sized rock. He takes off his oval glasses, polishes them on the front of his blue tunic, and focuses on Sam. “I never thought it would be possible to speed up the decomposition of a weapon. Have you tried it on a structure such as a wall or a building?”
“I have not, but it’s not a bad idea.”
“Humans?” Deathdale asks.
“No,” Sam says tersely.
I hop off Wolf and he sits on his haunches. He pants for a moment, stands, finds a standing puddle of water that was likely frozen last night, and drinks from it. “What other spells do you have?”
“I have been given several spells.” She equips a large, leather-bound book filled with loose paper. “But I’m not able to use some of them yet.”
With a grunt, she opens to a page filled with symbols and Unigaean writing.
“Can you read that?” I ask.
“No, but I understand it. Weird to say.” She flips to another page. “This part is mostly about Time Mages of the past, their history. There can only be one at a time. Apparently, they all use the same book, this one, which is why there are advanced spells I can’t read. Again, I understand it, but can’t make out the details. It’s like reading a wet newspaper.”
“A what? Kidding. And that technically means you can read it.”
“You know what I’m trying to say,” Sam says as she stops on a particular page. “Earlier, I cast Metastasize Wound on Lady Blacknor. This apparently works with any injury,” she says, pointing at a diagram, “and it leads to instant death. There are some other strange spells in here, like one that can turn a person or creature back into a baby.”
“A baby spell?” I nod.
“It’s called Fountain of Youth.”
“Can you freeze time or anything?” Lothar drops his meditations box to the ground and sits on it. He peers over Sam’s shoulder as best he can at his size.
“Not yet, but the spell is in here.”
“What about Speed Time or Reverse Time?”
Sam hesitates. “They are both in here, but I’m not at the correct level to use them, and I don’t think I’d use them anyway.”
“Why not?” Deathdale stands in her Tagvornin fur jacket with her arms crossed over her chest.
“There’s a caveat with those two. When I use it, my hourglass cracks. Once it breaks, I die. The Obelisk explained this to me. As my hourglass wears, I age; if it’s cracked, I age even faster. It’s my handicap – the ultimate handicap if you ask me.”
“I wouldn’t wear it around my neck if that were the case,” I say.
Sam removes the necklace and places it on a stump. “Try to break it.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
A lasso made of light cracks into the side of the hourglass. The antique doesn’t even wobble. We both look to Deathdale.
“She’s right,” the Solar Mage says as her weapon filters away.
Wolf whines as he senses some tension between the three of us. “What is it?” I ask him. “Hungry?”
“Like I said, it won’t break.” Sam glares at Deathdale for a moment and turns to Wolf once he barks again. She places the hourglass necklace back over her head and equips a large bag of jerky.
Wolf practically does a backflip, so excited he is to slam some jerky.
“Here you go, boy!” she tosses him a piece and he leaps into the air to retrieve it.
“Where’s my piece?” I ask.
“Will you catch it in your mouth?”
“I’ll try.” I take a good-sized hunk of jerky from her and pop it in my mouth. “Where’d you get this stuff? Shit is good!” I stop chewing. “Wait a minute, this stuff isn’t from Grope the shed guy, is it?”
“Who?”
“I wish I had some jerky my size,” Lothar laments.
Sam laughs. “Sorry, no giant-sized jerky today. And who’s Grope the shed guy?”
“You should know,” I tell her as I chew another piece. “He’s the guy who makes all the shed jerky back in Tangka. The same guy whose shed I beat down when we infiltrated Tangka, the guy who keeps making himself known in my little narrative.”
“Well, he’s not in my narrative. Never met him.” She takes a bite of the jerky. “I picked this stuff up in Tin Ingot.”
Wolf eats as much jerky as Sam will give him. Once I’m finished gnawing on a particularly chewy piece, Sam turns to me and asks, “So, fearless leader, what’s your plan?”
I smirk. “I thought you were the leader.”
“No, that was my last avatar. Now I’m just a lowly mage.”
Lothar snorts. “That’s not true!”
My face grows serious. “You two know very well what we are planning next.” I clear my throat. “We are heading to Drachma and it will take us a day to reach there. You both are still invited.”
“You’re serious?” Sam asks.
“Dead.”
Deathdale nods in agreement. She takes something wrapped in seaweed from her inventory list and starts eating it.
“I don’t agree with your actions,” Lothar says, “but there isn’t anything I can do to stop you, so we’ll stick to the plan. We’ll go to Tael and wait for you two to come that way. We have a handy magnifier
in our library there for smaller texts. I may be able to help interpret parts of Sam’s Book of Time.”
“Good idea, you two go there and we’ll meet you.”
His glasses drop to the end of his nose. “It is a pity you’re choosing revenge over the Red Plague, but at the rate it is moving – theoretically, of course; we won’t know until we get up to the northernmost part of the Rune Lands – I believe we do have a bit of time. Not much though. So you two should hurry.”
“We will.”
“Be safe, Oric,” says Sam, her eyes filling with worry. “We need you. The Obelisk chose you, for whatever goddamn reason, to try to fix the source code bomb.”
“She’s right,” Lothar says, “be safe. I don’t want to see any harm come to you or your wolf. He seems very smart. Smarter than any dog I’ve ever met.” He sighs. “I wish the powers that be gave us giant dogs. There are other giant animals, but not dogs. I’ve always wanted a dog.”
Quest update!
You have decided to continue to Drachma with Deathdale. Sam Raid and Lothar Shane will ride to Tael, and once you have completed your personal quest, you will join them in Tael.
“Got it,” I mumble as I instinctively swipe the quest update away.
Chapter Seventeen: The Snow Must Go On
It’s hard to shake the look Sam Raid gave me before I turned east. A mix of apprehension and disappointment, her visage continues to burn a hole in my psyche as Deathdale and I make our push to the coastal city of Drachma.
It isn’t long before we are greeted by a mild snowstorm, nothing to write home about, but it is cold, and I’m kicking myself in the ass for not getting a jacket or something …
“Wait!” I call to Deathdale, who levitates before me.
A quick scroll through my inventory and I come to the lavender cloak I picked up outside Tin Ingot. I put the cloak on and bring the hood over my head. Warmth doesn’t come instantly, but at least the wind isn’t as cold as we continue on our way.
“What?” I ask when I see a grin lift her cheeks. “It’s all I have.”
Rock formations pepper the landscape between Metica and Drachma. No mountains, but there are tons of small caves in which we can take shelter, caves famous for the psychedelic mushrooms that grow in them in the early morning.
A wind separates Deathdale and me, carrying with it an avalanche worth of snow. I squint, looking for the bit of light that surrounds the Solar Mage’s feet as she moves.
“Hold on, boy,” I tell Wolf as I pat him on the neck. He slows, the black fur on the back of his head covered in specks of glittery snow.
He barks and his ears press back.
“What do you see?” I ask, my hand instinctively going to the hilt of my Splintered Sword. I’ve seen this type of snow in real life, back in Chicago, snow so cold it presses through your clothing and chills your bones.
We travel forward slowly, waiting for some indication of Deathdale.
As soon as the winds settle, we see the Solar Mage now a good seventy-five feet in front of us. She’s still in her coat and her dress-like armor, the tips of which flutter in the wind as she speeds forward.
“Hey!” I call and Wolf picks up his pace, his feet kicking up what looks like white dust. He pants now, the snow thickening at his feet but not yet past his ankles.
Once we’re caught up and the wind has finished, I turn my thoughts to Drachma, and what I know about the coastal city. Man-made islands linked by canals and bridges make up the eastern half of Drachma. Most of the guildhalls and homes of richer merchants are in the Canal District, as it is known, which is infamous for its pricey real estate.
That’s where they’ll be.
The Drachma Killers practically own Drachma, and anyone that so much as looks at them funny, quickly meets their death. The politicians, the governor, the merchants, anyone who is anyone in the city pays tithe to the Killers.
I nod as an odd plan solidifies in my mind.
It could definitely work, but we’ll need to scout the place out first.
This was why I took my avatar, why I became a Player Killer, and sure, it is brazen as hell to go up against a guild three times my current level, but there are more ways to skin a cat than direct confrontation.
Something moving in the distance catches my eye. The wind picks up, and I catch the black fin of something twice as large as Wolf moving towards us.
(^_^)
A fin?
“Deathdale!”
Snow spins into the air as an enormous creature leaps into the path between us. The orca-wolf hybrid snaps its teeth at us and for the first time in as long as I can remember, Wolf yelps and backpedals away from the creature.
[Akhult, Level 13]
A blast of light knocks the akhult to the side, but does little to cut through its thick, black skin. Below its eyes are white circles – its orca ancestry, also evident in its tail that ends in two flukes. The rest of the creature, including its intimidating stance and razor-sharp teeth, is all canine.
My Splintered Sword in hand, I dismount Wolf so we can add an extra combatant to the fight.
Another blast from Deathdale turns the snow to water and cuts off the tip of the akhult’s fin.
-35 HP!
The towering creature lets out a roar that would wake a dormant volcano. Its lips pull back as it turns to Deathdale, baring and gnashing its teeth.
It goes for her just as Wolf attacks it from the side. Wolf manages to get hold of the creature’s back, and holds on just long enough for me to get in close and drive my Splintered Sword into its flesh.
-68 HP!
“Shit!” I scream as Wolf is tossed off. The akhult flat out ignores me as it hops over to Wolf, its four paws leaving deep prints in the gathering snow.
More wind and more snow flurries make it hard to see the action taking place before me.
I can hear Wolf crying out for help as the beast gets its jaws around his neck.
Rage.
I run towards the sound, my fists shaking with rage, my body filled with an anger I can barely contain. The power given to me by the Obelisk comes over me, multiplying my strength and my defense.
Blurred vision.
Rage!
A numbness to my very core.
I scream with fury as I descend upon the akhult and bring my blade into its side.
-98 HP!
The orca-wolf hybrid cries as I pull my blade out, its dark blood flicking onto the snow. Wolf scurries away, his neck wet with ichor. The creature goes onto its back legs and comes down on top of me, its tail whipping in the air above its head.
My actions no longer my own and with time at a rapid eye-blink, my new electrically charged shield appears in my hand. I slam it into the monstrosity just as a blast from Deathdale’s eyepatch cuts through anything in its path.
The blast takes the akhult’s tail off and I meet its front side with my electric shield.
-351 HP! Critical hit!
The orca-wolf goes to its side and I leap on top, my hands on its jaw.
As unadulterated power rages through me. I begin prying its jaw apart as if it were a crocodile, even as its razor-sharp teeth cut into my flesh, even as it swipes at me with its claws in a fit of terror.
My muscles bulge as I snap the creature’s mouth open.
Instakill!
“No … ”
The snowstorm spins around me as my thoughts coalesce. My knees buckle and my strength gives way.
Blackout.
Chapter Eighteen: Deathdale Moves in for the Kill
The hourglass shatters and the glass splinters away as my mind twists into an endless knot. There is a light in the distance, a faint beacon of ill-gotten hope. Oric Rune, Eric Renfro – we are one. I am he and he is me, and there’s nothing the crimson sky or the jagged Chicago skyline can do about it.
Confusion contusion.
My mouth is dry, my throat is parched, and my bones are cold but my skin is on fire; the Proxima Galaxy beckons me closer
with open arms, her stars knifing my psyche. A whirling galaxy on repeat, a screensaver of biblical proportions, a snowstorm of sharp stars.
I blink my eyes open and suck in air.
My nostrils flare and the scent of rock and ash registers. Digital dream existence blurs into focus, and I feel something warm at my side, something familiar.
Wolf makes a whimpering sound as he stands over me and starts licking my face. His breath smells like shit, his tongue soft and sticky. I push him away half-heartedly, my hand naturally landing on the hair of his neck.
The blood from earlier is gone, and I’m just about to ask what happened when I see Deathdale’s shadow looming before me, a shadow created by a fire she has started at the entrance of the cave.
You’re in a cave, I think. I sit up and lean my back against the cave wall. You’ve traveled some distance, somehow. She must have done it. Wolf too.
It helps to analyze how I’ve gotten here, to get a grip on my tainted neuronal reality. Another breath in and I remove Deathdale’s blanket. I gaze at her with true appreciation on my face.
“My rage … ” I start to tell her. She simply nods, having seen it before. “I still don’t understand it fully. But I had to do something; that thing had Wolf by the neck. It would have killed him.”
The Solar Mage offers me a bowl of warm liquid.
“What is it?”
“Healing.”
Deathdale gets to her knees next to me and lifts the bowl to my lips. There is no taste, but the liquid is thick, fibrous. I finish guzzling the goo and the bowl disappears as it returns to her list.
+215 HP!
“Thanks,” I say, my mind going from sheer delirium to heightened awareness now that Deathdale is close to me.
“I like you,” I tell her in a whisper. I curse myself in my head – where is my MIND ability when it comes to romantic crass? I clear my throat.
“What?”
“Never mind what I just said. It’s the, um, medicine talking. Whatever you gave me. It’s buzzing in my stomach like strong kombucha … Feels good, though.”
“Glad to hear it.” She smiles as she presses the hair out of her face.
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