by Kayla Krantz
“Well, well, Jackie boy, looks like you’re up,” Rhys’ voice drifted into the scene.
“Okay,” he said, eyes frantically sweeping the space around him.
Like Milo, he wanted to help Shawn. That was always the thing he wanted to do, but some part of him knew that to do that now meant he would have to beat the creature first. He correlated that in some way these demons would fall to whatever their biggest sin was. Afterall, if sin was enough to doom a human to suffer in hell for eternity, then it had to have some negative effect on the demons who caused it.
“What is it?” Milo asked, eyes watching his every movement.
Jack didn’t answer him. The weakness of someone greedy would be the items they hoarded. For Mammon, it would be the stacks of gems, of gold, of copper. The weakness was all around them, and Jack knew then that his stalagmite would never help. None of their weapons would. That was why Rhys had been so giddy about passing them out. He wanted them to believe they were fighting a fair fight while he sat gleeful with the knowledge that they did not.
Jack turned to the bag at his waist again. It had helped them once, maybe, just maybe it could help them again. “Fighting fair is not going to help us win this battle,” Jack said to Milo as he searched. “Just like with Nidhogg, so I’m going to do what a Rogue does best—shady shit.”
“Ah, now that’s like the Jack I’m coming to know,” Rhys said.
Jack grit his teeth in his best attempt to keep himself from saying something in return. Rhys didn’t know a thing about him, and now wasn’t the time to teach him that lesson. His next move depended on Rhys’ blessing to see it through. Angering him two minutes before that would be foolish, even for him. He didn’t know if Rhys actually rolled a pair of dice to determine their fate or if he just pretended to and messed with them as he saw fit. Either way, Jack wouldn’t risk it. He rifled through his bag, pulling out an empty glass bottle before he used his free hand to continue searching.
“What are you doing?” Milo asked.
Jack ignored him, holding the bag open to peer inside. The first time he had dug through this bag, it had seemed stuffed to the brim with endless items, but now it was oddly empty. He tossed a few things aside, disappointment blooming in him before he found the next item he was searching for—a rag. A moment more of digging produced the other two items he needed, a match and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
His first move was to put the alcohol in the glass bottle, swishing it for effect. Milo watched on, expression changing from confusion, to admiration, to hope. The demon turned its massive head in their direction at the sound of the liquid moving inside the container, and Jack had a heart lurching moment where he assumed the beast would charge him, knocking everything out of his hands before he could move the plan into action.
It didn’t though. It stayed in the middle of its hoard, protectively hovering close to Shawn as if his armor was enough for the beast to add him to its collection as well.
With shaking fingers, Jack stuffed the rag into the bottle, ensuring it was as tight as it would go.
“Are you sure about this?” Milo asked as Jack turned his attention to the match.
“No,” he said, and struck it, letting the red-orange flames begin to devour the rag.
He cocked his arm back and threw it. The explosion when it landed at Mammon’s feet was deafening, the effect worse for the enclosed space. Jack held his hands to his ears too late to block out the damage. The radiating sound of the explosion rocked him through to the bone. Pieces of the cave walls and floor fell away, crumpling to dust that sprinkled across the pieces of treasure and Shawn too. While Mammon disappeared temporarily into the cloud of smoke, Jack was horrified to see he was unharmed when it cleared.
The fire smoldered, growing larger and larger as it ate at the blood Mammon had spilled earlier. Jack’s heart soared at the idea that this would work, that they would win, but the hope didn’t last long as he realized that the fire was moving away from Mammon and blazing toward Shawn, the blood he had left across the gold.
“Your move is up,” Rhys’ said. “You must sit and wait for another player to make what you are considering.”
Tears welled in the corners of Jack’s eyes, but he said nothing. Despite the warning, he still tried to charge forward and found that he couldn’t move. A million curses ran through his mind. Milo frowned, eyes darting around the room for a new plan.
“I would say it’s the Paladin’s turn, but he looks a little...” Rhys trailed off, considering. “...unconscious.”
Shawn groaned, eyelids beginning to flutter as if the word had been enough to bring him back from wherever he had gone.
“Shawn!” Jack yelled, still trying to move against the invisible binds. “You have to move!”
Shawn’s eyes opened as the fire moved toward him, burning less than a foot away from his boot. The heat had him lifting his head, and he stared at the fire as if he couldn’t comprehend what it was or what it meant. A second later, the confusion was gone, and he struggled against his body to stand on shaky legs. Blood matted his hair to the back of his head and the lens on the left side of his glasses were cracked, but slowly, he moved himself away from the fire, collapsing beside Milo and Jack the second his foot disconnected from Mammon’s treasure hoard.
“Ah, Paladin. It seems that for the time being, you have luck on your side,” Rhys cooed. “Enjoy it while it lasts because I assure you it will run out. Luck always does.”
All three boys shivered at the sound of that. Never had they received a clearer warning in their lives.
Mammon screamed out then, enraged by the loss of his prisoner combined with the fire that was steadily melting the gold beneath it. The demon flapped its massive wings, but the airstream only succeeded in making the flames larger. Smoke made Shawn, Milo, and Jack cough, desperately trying to cover their noses with their hands and sleeves.
Mammon took to flight. Like a horribly large bird of prey or the dragon slumbering somewhere back in the cave, he swooped at them, clawed hands extended to grab any of the boys that he could manage. For not being able to see, he moved with a precision that was frighteningly accurate. Milo’s precision was just as fierce. As it approached, he ducked out of the way, stabbing through the fleshy part of the wing on the downbeat when it got too close. Screeching, the monster dropped to the gems, desperate to dislodge the spear from its wing. With the distraction, it didn’t pay attention to the fire.
They watched in horrified silence as the creature stepped backward, the bleeding wing catching on fire first. The screeching started again as Mammon wobbled trying to escape the flames that were now all around him. They turned his skin mottled and purple, bubbles forming on the surface before it began to melt away, the scent of burning flesh making Jack dry heave. Milo was emotionless as he watched the creature struggle for a minute longer before the flames swallowed it completely.
9.
“CONGRATULATIONS, BOYS. IT seems as if you have defeated your first demon,” Rhys said. “Now get the Hell out of the cave before this dungeon becomes your last.”
The boys didn’t need more encouragement. After watching the flames nearly melt the massive demon to ashes, it didn’t take them much to imagine the same thing happening to them. Milo and Jack started to race away in the direction they had come, but Shawn lagged behind. His pupils were dilated, and Milo recognized the concussion that weighed him down. Desperate to move, Jack hooked his arm over Shawn’s shoulders on one side, and Milo did the same on the other. Nidhogg was still asleep where they had left him, and with Shawn hardly able to move on his own, getting past the dragon without waking it turned out to be difficult. Progress was slow, but it was faster than the flames roaring behind them. By the time they made it past the creature, the flames had exited Mammon’s chambers.
“Go, go!” Jack roared.
Nidhogg’s eyelids peeled back, its beady eyes revealed. It looked at the boys before its attention turned to the fire, and it roared in fury. The
boys used its moment of distraction to hurry the rest of the way to the exit.
When they emerged outside of the cave, it was dark, the sweet clean air washing away the fumes and dust that had accumulated in their lungs. Milo looked up at the moon overhead and then the woods around them. For the moment, it looked calm enough, but all of them knew that could change at a snap of Rhys’ demented fingers.
Shawn groaned, and Milo turned his gaze to him, concerned. Between him and Jack, Shawn was managing to walk, but he wasn’t holding his head up. It was as if his neck had lost all strength. His shoulders were slumped, his face angled toward the ground, and Milo had the feeling that if he moved his arm off his friend’s back, Shawn would simply slam to the ground.
He shot Jack a panicked glance over the top of Shawn’s head. “What do we do?”
Jack frowned at him then looked up at the sky. “Yo! He’s hurt. Like bad hurt. How are we supposed to fight demons when he can’t even stand?”
“You have everything you need for your quest at your disposal,” Rhys responded simply.
Jack had murder written across his face as he surveyed the scene. They didn’t look to be anywhere near a town. There were trees for possibly miles around them, wildlife moving in the night the only sound Milo could pick up.
“We’re in the middle of a forest. What kind of medicine could we possible have?” Jack sneered.
Milo blinked and realized this was his arena. He had limited access to healing spells. If only he knew how to use them. Milo bit his lip, staring helplessly at the nearest trees before he turned his attention to the tiny pouch that was strapped around his ankle.
“You got him?” Milo asked, not waiting for Jack’s response before he pulled his arm off Shawn.
Jack staggered to keep their friend from crashing to the ground. “You have an idea?” he asked once Shawn was balanced.
“Maybe,” Milo said, digging through the things in the tiny bag.
There wasn’t much. A small vial of clear liquid. An assortment of leaves arranged in tiny bags. A stone. A mortar and pestle. If Rhys wasn’t just lying to them, these supplies should be enough to heal the damage to Shawn’s head, but nothing was labeled, and he couldn’t identify them by sight alone. Puffing up his cheeks, he grabbed the mortar and pestle, the liquid, and the first few leaves that he saw. He didn’t know what any of them were for, and he didn’t know if this would make things worse, but he had to try something. He smashed the leaves in the bowl, adding the liquid to make a green paste. Cursing under his breath as it began to dry, he stirred it with more swiftness, more need, watching as the solid particles turned to a syrupy paste.
“What is that?” Jack asked, lying Shawn down on the ground beside him just as Milo rose to his feet to approach them.
“I don’t know,” Milo admitted, dropping to his knees.
Being that close filled Milo’s blood with the unpleasant smell of blood, and even in the silver moonlight, he could see the extent of the damage. Shawn’s red-orange hair was matted with blood, the center point a dark mess of gore. The more he looked at it, the worse he began to feel about the entire situation. This was a wound that could possibly require surgery. For all they knew, Shawn had a skull fracture...some leaves and water certainly wouldn’t be enough to heal it. If anything, it might just make it worse by making it susceptible to infection.
Milo glanced up at Jack, but his friend was staring back at him without those doubts. He stared at him intensely, hope shining behind his dark eyes, and suddenly, Milo realized that he was the best chance Shawn had of surviving. Swallowing down his nausea and doubts, Milo dipped his fingers into the cold green liquid and lifted it to Shawn’s head, smearing it through the hair and into the wound. He thought about dumping the substance over his head but didn’t want to risk the chance of wasting a single drop. Even when he wanted to do nothing more than pull his hand away, he kept touching the poultice and the wound, rubbing it across his scalp over and over until none of the green paste remained in the bowl.
Jack peered at what Milo had done with a frown. “I don’t know what I expected,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s working.”
Defeat surged through Milo, and he dropped the bowl, frustrated. He lifted his hands to his temples, smearing the paste across his paper-white skin. There had to be something they could do unless Rhys had done all this knowing it wouldn’t. Had he really lied to them? Could a Game Master do that?
This is no ordinary Game Master, he reminded himself.
It seemed that Rhys was capable of doing whatever it was that he pleased, and they were helpless to do a thing about it other than grit their teeth and endure.
On the verge of pleading for help on Shawn’s part, Milo’s eyes darted around when he heard a gasp from Jack which pulled his attention back to Shawn. The wound on his head was beginning to heal, the green paste disappearing as the gap underneath slowly faded away. It was nothing short of magic, and Jack was grateful. Maybe it meant that there was part of Rhys who did care if they lived or died...even if their reason for living was just to provide him with entertainment.
Milo blinked, and that was all the time it took for Shawn’s wound to disappear completely, his red hair covering the spot as if he had never been injured. Shawn still didn’t move though, head lolling forward to press his forehead to the dirt, and Milo wondered if his poultice had come too late to prevent the internal damage that had been done. On the surface it looked as if all was well, but there was no telling how much damage had been done to his brain while they were fighting Mammon.
Just as Milo opened his mouth to voice his fears to Jack, Shawn groaned and lifted his head. His pupils were blown, and Milo narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if that was from the darkness around them or the head injury he had barely avoided dying from.
Shawn’s gaze swiveled from Jack to Milo. He blinked, and his pupils shrunk a bit before he asked, “What happened?” His voice was slurred, and his hand shook as he reached up to touch the sticky strands of blood left in his hair, but watching him move left Milo with the distinct impression that he was going to be okay after all.
“Mammon hit you, and when you landed, the impact cracked your skull,” Milo said. “You were unconscious for a while.”
“But Milo fixed it like a pro,” Jack said and patted Milo’s shoulder.
“I don’t remember any of that,” Shawn admitted, poking carefully at the back of his head again as if he thought they were lying. He sat up then, staring at his hand before he looked up at the moon above them.
“Probably for the best,” Milo said, thinking of the creature exploding into smoke and ash. The smell of its melting flesh would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Did we win?” Shawn asked.
“Yeah, and again it’s thanks to Milo,” Jack laughed and scratched the back of his head before peering at him. “You’re really earning your spot in the group.”
Milo blinked at him appreciatively.
“So where are we now?” Shawn asked, doing a full scan of the dark woods around them. They had traveled far enough from the mouth of the cave that it had been lost to the shadows.
“We’re somewhere outside the cave. We made it out just before the Nidhogg woke,” Jack said.
“Oh,” Shawn said, shoulders slumping with relief. He would never think of dragons in the same way again.
Jack turned his gaze to the sky as if a new thought had just occurred to him. “We beat the first demon, Rhys! What now?”
“Hold on for just a minute,” Rhys said. “I’m tweaking your skills a bit based on how you did. Milo, I have to say, I am generally impressed with you. Not only were you good with combat, but you were spectacular at healing as well. Bravo.”
The tone of his voice sent chills straight down Milo’s spine, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever would come next, wouldn’t be good for him. Reflexively, he reached up to touch the bit of mud covers still clinging to his ears. Rhys had already tried to ge
t rid of him once, right?
Milo could feel himself shrinking inward. Most of his life, he had gotten by simply by keeping to himself, by not standing out which, considering his condition made him physically stand out no matter what, seemed ironic now. He said none of that out loud. Rhys let out a throaty chuckle that made him positive he had read the thoughts regardless.
“Answer the question,” Jack said.
Rhys snapped his fingers. The grungy cave and surrounding woods vanished. They found themselves standing beside an oasis, bright sparkling water at the center and beautiful picture-perfect trees all around.
“What is this?” Jack asked, seeming more uneasy in this scene than he had the previous one.
“For that show, you’ve earned yourselves a brief respite,” Rhys said. “You have five minutes to rest, collect supplies, drink some water...whatever it is that’ll get you prepared for demon number two.”
“Who is that going to be?” Shawn asked, plopping down next to the oasis without hesitation. He cast his shoes aside, letting his swollen feet touch the water. The second they made contact; the swelling started to go down.
“You’ll find out when you get there,” Rhys replied.
Shawn’s eyelids drooped in annoyance.
Jack looked just as annoyed but layered over top of that was exhaustion and fear. Those were things that he would never admit out loud, but Shawn could recognize them just the same. “One down, six to go, right?” Jack asked with a scoff as he knelt beside the oasis, filling his canteen. He capped it and went to work tossing a few handfuls of the water onto his face, washing away the dirt and ashes that clung to his cheeks.
“I wonder what order Rhys is using to determine which demon comes next or if there’s any reason to the pattern at all,” Milo said.
“If he’s working easiest to hardest, that means Mammon was the easiest one, and I barely made it out alive. I’m scared to see what the hardest will be,” Shawn said, reaching up to stroke the phantom wound on the back of his head.