The air around me darkened slightly as the Mark of Matir surged. I felt the tug of energy that began low in my gut, rippling up through my body and then along my weapon. Ebon flames briefly flickered over the bluesteel blade, then vanished. It didn’t feel bad. To the contrary. I felt… stronger. Fiercer. I felt the way I felt on the stunt track, when the bike I was riding did exactly what I made it do, no matter how improbable the maneuver seemed. I had command.
I got Jump by default thanks to Jasper's quest, so I didn't have to spend anything on that. I had enough points to select four skills, and after reviewing them and matching up the various potential combos, I took Shadow Dance, Whirlwind Butcher, Blood Sprint, and Blood Storm. Dictum and Whirlwind Butcher were nearly matched for damage, but extra AP meant more special attacks, which meant more damage in the long run. 2% regen on a hit was so-so, and the maneuver didn't have as much mobility as Butcher. I was better off healing with pots.
Of the Herald skills, I decided fairly quickly on the first and last: Life for Life and Blessing of the Raven. Healing others would be good, but there were items that could do that – items I could craft if I was better at Alchemy, which Blessing of the Raven would facilitate. I was pretty sure it was stackable, and a 10% EXP buff that stacked with other items was going to be awesome at all levels. In the games I’d played, you could usually craft profession outfits that gave you a 5-10% bonus on certain skills, plus consumable life skill buffs. Plus 30% skill experience to crafting? Yeah. Hell yeah.
I gathered my wits and closed the window. I was preparing to walk back to Cutthroat’s hitching post when a great winged shadow passed overhead, kicking up gravel and dirt and making the awnings and flags flap. I shaded my eyes, ribs vibrating with the power in Talenth’s wings as he turned on a wingtip and landed in a cloud of dust. The huge dragon made his descent look effortless, even if he couldn’t disguise the booming rumble of his weight settling on the ground.
Skyr Arnaud vaulted down, and to my surprise, Sergeant Blackwin followed. They both looked mildly surprised to see me.
“Why aren’t you out foraging, Tuun?” the knight-commander demanded.
“I went on a recon pass, came back to prepare properly, and am about to go out again, sir.” I saluted the way he’d told us to, right fist over left breast, and stood to attention. “Did a short quest for the librarian to gain some necessary skills before the Trials.”
“Hmm. A more tactical approach than what I expected of you,” he said.
I remained at attention, looking through him. “We barbarians love tactics, sir.”
His eyes narrowed.
“The Tuun make for good soldiers,” Blackwin spoke up, and winked at me from behind Arnaud’s shoulder. “We fought alongside them in Bulang Kettu. Tough as nails and as fearless as the cold iron they’re made of.”
“Though surely lacking the discipline and stature of our knights,” Arnaud added crisply. “Which reminds me. I needed to talk to you about your assessment and the exercise at Camp Prichard.”
“My assessment?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Come, I will walk you to the gate. Alone, if you please, Maesuire Blackwin.”
“Yes, sir.” Even she sounded confused.
Arnaud jerked his head, and I followed, leading Cutthroat by her nose on the other side.
“You have been judged worthy of taking the Trial by the council of assessors,” the commander said, once we were out of earshot. “But I have some lingering concerns. First, your fighting style is unorthodox. Second, Baldr Hyland mentioned that you went to fraternize with the locals at Camp Prichard. Why?”
I wasn’t sure what I thought of Baldr tattling on me to the K.C. Nothing good. “I didn’t know going to the general store counted as fraternizing, sir. I went to buy supplies for alchemy and potion making.”
Skyr Arnaud nodded. “And what did he say? The shopkeeper?”
I sensed a trap in his words. “He was grumpy... he didn’t want much to do with me.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I’m foreign,” I lied.
“Hmm.” Arnaud’s fine brows creased. “Ethan – the merchant – fought in the Civil War on the wrong side. He was imprisoned, reformed, and then released back to Camp Prichard after he confessed valuable information. There are still Royalists everywhere. You know that the Skyrdon used to be the Crown’s elite force, don’t you?”
“I suspected, sir,” I replied. “Because the Skyrdon would have served their country regardless of the individuals ruling it, and if a monarchy was in power, they’d have served the King or Queen then as loyally as they serve the Warden now.”
“Indeed,” he said. “We were a decisive force in the revolution. Did Ethan voice anything suspicious?”
Other than his abiding hatred for the new regime that had tortured him? “No, sir. But I don’t know enough about the Revolution to really be able to look for particulars. There may be cultural terms I missed...”
“The Revolution was instigated by the mage who advised - or one might say, wrangled, the last King of Ilia, Rovsin Illandi the Fifth.”
“Okay.” We were within sight of the gate now.
“Rovsin was insane,” the commander said sternly. “Consumed by strange crazes, convinced he could predict the future, prone to fits of delirium and lethargy. His heir, Johannen, was not much better. He made decisions which turned the populace against him, and then decisions that turned the nobility against his family. His own court wizard denounced him and secretly gathered a force for the coup, which was successful. Johannen managed to escape - though we do not know if he managed to get far, or whether or not he is now dead. Pritchard is still a hotbed of hidden Royalist sympathy, which is why we do our exercises there, and at other towns that survived the war. Nothing to quash thoughts of rebellion like boots on the ground and dragons in the sky.”
The thought of the dragons being used to oppress people like Owen and Kira made me distinctly uncomfortable. They were the nuclear missiles of this world’s military... weapons so powerful that they instilled compliance through their very existence. I thought of Talenth and the others laying waste to a village, the people dying of burns or turning into monsters, and my thoughts drifted naturally to the sights I had seen during wartime in the real world.
“If you remember anything, report to me,” the knight-commander said, as we neared the gate. “Preferably before the Trial. I suspect the Mata Argis will want to talk to you as well.”
I decided to keep on playing dumb. I glanced at my quest timer. It was close to three p.m. “The who?”
“The Mata Argis are the eyes and ears of the Council.” Skyr Arnaud watched with some amusement as I tried to mount Cutthroat. I got my foot in the stirrup, but as I moved to pull myself up, she stepped to the side and forced me to hop after her. “Hunters of heretics and investigators of treason.”
Secret police, in other words. Skyr Tymos hadn’t been exaggerating. “Ah.”
“Yes, ‘ah’.” He inclined his head slightly to the guards as they saluted. “But that may not be of concern for you much longer.”
“Thank you, sir.” I finally managed to get onto my hookwing as she pranced and fluttered, and pulled her head up into a short rein. “Before I leave, may I ask you something?”
The knight-commander regarded me peevishly. “If you must.”
“Did you notice anything weird about an hour ago?” I asked. “Like… a brief blackout? Loss of time?”
His brow furrowed. “No. Why?”
“Then it must have been when I picked the king’s sorrow.” I grinned sheepishly.
“I doubt it. If you touched that plant with your bare hands, I doubt we’d ever see you at the Eyrie again.” He sounded almost regretful.
“Thank you, sir.” I saluted again, and watched from the saddle as Skyr Arnaud swept his gold-trimmed cloak and stalked back down the path to where his dragon waited.
Chapter 34
The monsters of Archemi had
been underwhelming so far, except for the barghests at Camp Prichard. They’d really been nerfed, and most of the creatures I found in the swamp – the dragonflies, bugs, foxes, even frogs - were nothing but target practice for my new Dark Lancer skills.
I Blood Sprinted and Whirlwind Butchered my way through the mobs like a scythe through wheat. A violet-and-black fire scythe. In some ways, it was just as well that the mobs were easy, because it wasn’t just enough to take the combat abilities and the Path. The knowledge and basic body memory had been drilled into my head, but putting the Dark Lancer moves into practice, tactically, was a whole other ballgame. I drew out fights with the weak but extremely nimble dragonflies, letting my adrenaline points build. Then I practiced Jump and Shadow Dance to dodge and flank as well as attack. Jump let me spring into the air; Shadow Dance practically teleported me along the ground in any direction, and my first few tries using it were hopelessly disorientating. It was an extremely useful skill, though: the fraction of energy it took to scoot around was easily made up by smashing my spear into an enemy’s back. It was fast, it was brutal, it was flashy, and I loved every minute of it.
There was only one problem.
I was a Dark Lancer, and I’d probably screwed the pooch where the Skyrdon were concerned. There was a very good chance these Mata Argis people would throw me in the brig as some kind of heretic… but that was a problem for another day.
A couple of hours of killing bugs later, the sun was sinking toward the horizon, and Cutthroat and I retraced our steps to the hexagonal pillar where I’d spoken to Matir. Not far from there, we found our first Aesari ruin - a crooked stone archway, half-sunk into the bog, but otherwise surprisingly intact. As we pressed on, more half-sunken stone emerged from the shadows. There were broken walls, columns, and spires, all of them elegant and coldly beautiful under layers of moss and hanging vines.
There was a large, round, empty patch on my map surrounded by tiny debris marks flagging the remains of buildings. We traveled along what might have once been a busy city road. Most of the structures had sunk so far down that only cornices remained. I had a quest location marker up, and it highlighted the remains of an enormous, round, white stone hall.
Wide-eyed, I reined Cutthroat some distance away and looked it over. This building would have soared up hundreds of feet if it hadn’t sunk. Only the very top of it was visible, the rest submerged into the bowels of the earth. The swooping arches and upper level of the temple - I was pretty sure it was a temple - jutted through the knee-high mist that had risen from the swamp as night fell. The top doorjamb of the main entry to the building was visible, half buried in the muck. The doors were sealed. I would have to find another way in.
I dropped from Cutthroat’s back, landing in the stinking water. It was warm and thick from all the decaying organic matter in the swamp. The splash had barely passed when a bird launched itself from the roof into the air, startled by the noise. A big bird... and a named enemy. It was an eagle. A [Crowned Eagle]!
Excited, I slogged as quickly as I could to the edge of the building. I began to search around it, looking for a way up. It was too high for a normal jump in most areas, but I could jump higher than the average noob. When I found the lowest part of the roof, I tensed my body and bunched my legs, resisted the urge to wiggle my butt like a cat, and sprung lightly up into the air like I’d been slingshot. My adrenaline points burned down as I Jumped to my maximum height limit and landed on the slippery roof like a ninja. There wasn’t a single damn knight who could have pulled that off.
Feeling pleased with myself, I advanced carefully over the slimy tiles, half-crawling my way over toward the spot the eagle had startled up from. As I reached the apex of the roof, I saw a ragged hole, a place where the tiles had been smashed and the underlying timbers had rotted away inside of the stone shell. More surprising was the light I saw burning inside the building. A glowing sphere hovered over an altar of some kind. The familiar smell of ozone hit my nose a moment later, soon followed by a flashing blue warning. Magic.
Slowly, I worked my way around the hole toward the nest. It was big, and occupied. A Crowned Eagle waited there, the second of the mated pair. That meant it was sitting on eggs, and it didn’t look pleased to see me.
“Here, chicky chicky,” I crooned, sidling over the tiles. One of them slipped under my boot, but I kept my balance.
The eagle flared her - or his - crest feathers. “Crowned Eagle” was an apt name for this bird, a beautiful brown and gold-flecked creature with brilliant gem-like eyes. It probably weighed at least twenty pounds and a wingspan of ten feet or more, and as I got closer, I saw it had a health bar with a red skull. It was just an ordinary beast, not a monster, but...
I wedged my feet against some of the more stable tiles and greenery, and turned my spear around so that the blade was pointing away from the bird. I didn’t want to hurt it if I didn’t have to. Experimentally, I jabbed the butt of my weapon at it.
I didn’t even get in one poke before the first eagle struck, falling out of the sky like a sledgehammer. It raked me across the head with its claws - an incredibly powerful blow that threw me onto my back. I slid across the roof, trying to break my momentum as my vision blurred with messages.
[Crowned Eagle King lands a critical hit! 56 damage!]
[You are stunned!]
[You are bleeding!]
“Oh you ass-blowing piece of-!” I had barely gotten over the hit when it dove again: this time, with a piercing shriek. Claws raked me again, taking another 50-ish damage off my HP, and was followed up by a blow from the second eagle. Mama had joined the fight. Three hits took me down to below half HP. Something was wrong.
“What the fuck?” I dodged claws and beaks, trying to get a bead on them. Now that I was in combat, I could see the monster’s levels. Both eagles were Level 20.
Wait. What? There were no Level 20 mobs in Archemi!
Cursing, I spun my spear around and swung it like a baseball bat in desperation. The weighty haft knocked one of the huge eagles out of the air, sending it spinning away with a squawk. I found a fighting stance just in time to block another set of vicious talons with my spear. The bird was so strong that he nearly pulled it from my hands.
These weren’t like the barghests. There was no way to cross the level imbalance, not with creatures nearly three times my level. I was just getting ready to run when the eagle closest to me screamed, a sound that drilled behind my eyes and wiped my vision.
[Crowned Eagle uses Fury Scream! You are blind!]
“Can you not!?” I wasn’t sure if I was chewing out the HUD or the psycho bird that was bashing into my head and face. I instinctively blocked the next slash as its wings beat around my head. I triggered Blood Sprint and hit, sending dark fire splashing over the eagle’s feathers. It squalled, knocked back, and screeched as I followed up with the Blood Storm combo. Its health ring didn’t budge. I Shadow Stepped away from the next aerial strike, shooting past the bird as it dived… and then I realized something. They were both focused on me. Fighting these things was for suckers.
“Thanks!” Before either of them could react, I turned back and sprinted for the nest.
The eagles shrilled as I dove for the untidy mess of twigs and bones. There were three spotted brown eggs in there, each one the size of my clenched fist. I only needed one. I ducked and rolled under the sharp talons of the enraged parent bird, and victoriously clamped a hand on the nearest egg.
[Quest Updated! The Trial of Marantha. 2/4 Ingredients Obtained!]
I irritably brushed the HUD closed, and in the moment of distraction, one of the eagles bodily tackled me from behind and knocked me face-first into the roof. My face slammed onto tile, and pain - and blood - blossomed as my nose burst like an overripe berry. Bleeding everywhere, I scrambled up and away with the egg clutched to my chest, dodging and weaving away from the swooping eagles to the edge of the roof. I was just about to reach it when I took two blows to the head and shoulders, one after the ot
her. They were only glancing blows, but they pushed my already-unsteady ass forward. Before I knew what was happening, I’d slipped. With the spear in one hand and the egg in the other, I fell down the hole and right on top of the glowing orb of light.
I crashed onto the altar on my back – there went another 20 HP - and as soon as I touched the orb, a tall cage sprung up from the floor around the altar and a piercing alarm screamed to life around me. It drowned out my moans as I picked myself up, clutching my back with one hand and the egg to my chest with the other.
“Okay! I suck! I get it!” I shouted aloud in frustration, trying to get my bearings. My eyes were running, my nose was spouting blood, and I was fairly sure I’d broken my spine if the pain was anything to go by. “For fuck’s sake, stop already!”
To my surprise, it did. The orb sunk toward the floor and disappeared - but the cage remained. It was high - about twelve feet tall - but if I Jumped from the altar I could make it.
I was just getting my bearings to make the leap when a loud ‘clunk’ reverberated through the ruin. An entire section of the floor broke away and tipped down, revealing nothing but yawning black space.
“You have to be fucking kidding MEEEEEE!” I scrabbled with my heels, trying to leap for the edge, but to no avail. The trap spun all the way over, and I slid and then tumbled helplessly into the abyss.
Chapter 35
The wind tore at me as I plummeted down with extreme realism, spinning head over ass in an uncontrollable, fatal dive. I fell past ledges and bridges, howling cave mouths, and then joined a thin waterfall that tumbled down into a hole that seemingly went forever. I spammed health items, but it was the water that shocked me out of panic. Waterfall meant water. Water landing? Water landing!
I managed to straighten out in the loose cascade of water. It wasn’t enough to break my fall, but it was enough to guide me in the darkness as I unexpectedly dived into a huge cavern, headfirst, and crashed into the shallow, icy underground lake.
Dragon Seed: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (The Archemi Online Chronicles Book 1) Page 29