Warlock: Reign of Blood

by Edwin McRae

  Dayna opened her mouth to disagree but Mark halted her with another warning glance. Besides the fact that he hated hearing Dayna take potshots at Vari about her “reiverness”, he also wanted to hear what else Vari had to say about the Barrens. If Dayna couldn’t be smart enough to listen, she could at least be smart enough to let Vari talk. In response, Dayna scowled and then lay down, making it clear that she would rather sleep than be part of the conversation. Mark rolled his eyes, drawing smiles from both Braemar and Vari.

  “So, these settlers. Did you hear anything more about them?” he coaxed.

  “No, except that they were invariably shipped off to the farthest flung colonies.”

  “How convenient,” said Braemar with a healthy dollop of sarcasm.

  “Exactly. And the inquisitors claimed that the homesteads and villages were burned after the evacuations, in order to purge whatever corruption there was left over.”

  “And what did the rumors say?” asked Mark.

  “The smell of burning flesh can carry a long way when the winds are blowing just right.”

  Mark shuddered. He knew that fact well. His father had worked for a while as a farm laborer on a sheep farm. There’d been a large burner in one of the valleys, an old diesel-fueled tank in which the farmer and Mark’s dad had burned sheep carcasses. Usually they’d drowned in one of the creeks or died of birthing complications during lambing season. Mark’s dad said he was careful not to light the burner on windy days, but sometimes the wind would pick up anyway, carrying the stink of burning meat all the way down to their house on the edge of the farm.

  “Shit! They burned those people?” Braemar’s blue eyes were now wide with horror.

  Mark was surprised by Braemar’s shock, but then reminded himself that things were very different in Garland. Mark had lost count of the times he’d seen charred corpses in movies and video games, and even on the news. But it sounded like people in Garland weren’t exposed to that sort of thing, apart from in the odd dark reference in a fireside tale, or perhaps a macabre painting or sketch. They were kind of like children in that regard, protected from the violence and horror that was pretty much ubiquitous in the adult media of his ‘real word’. Actually, Mark had to admit that twenty-first century kids weren’t always sheltered from that stuff either. Sheryl, one of his supermarket storeroom ‘colleagues’, would happily announce her six year old son’s progress in the latest installment of Grand Theft Auto. Between puffs on her e-cigarette, she would lay out her plans to turn her boy into a child prodigy YouTuber. Always wary of conflict, Mark had simply nodded and smiled.

  “Inquisitors are do-what-has-to-be-done kind of people, high on ambition and low on empathy.” Vari’s brows furrowed, her brown eyes growing even darker. “A few grunts and slaves in exchange for the glory and security of the empire. That’s a good deal in their eyes.”

  “Well, it’s not how things are done here in Garland, I can tell you that much,” Braemar assured her.

  Vari smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

  Mark nodded in agreement, but his thoughts were already racing ahead. He realized what had been missing up until now. An “overarching quest”. A driving narrative. Usually games supplied the “big goal” up front, or at least something that looked like the “big goal”, only to reveal an ever bigger goal later on. Sure, he’d saved some villagers from some reivers, but that questline had culminated with Citadel. His Volcanic Bastard Sword was still a work-in-progress while the materials were being gathered from Calder’s mine. He would have to make trips back to Citadel, to learn more spells as he leveled up and to make sure that the rangers Denniston had summoned were successfully protecting the villagers. But aside from all that, it was looking like this “spreading corruption” thing was his next major point of interest. He would find its source and destroy it, before it polluted Garland. But where to start looking? They couldn’t physically trace the path of the ghast queen, and the wraith rift had offered no navigable pathway to follow either. That only left the Barrens.

  “How far to the Barrens from here?”

  “About three days through Hawker’s Pass,” mumbled Dayna sleepily, her back to Mark and the others. “And you’re fucking nuts if you think we’ll just find the source by wandering around the Barrens. Place’ll eat us alive first.”

  Forget the Barrens. He could feel Dayna’s negativity eating him alive. “Any constructive suggestions then, Dayna?”

  “Go to sleep.”

  “Very helpful,” answered Mark with as much sardonicism in his tone as he could muster.

  “You’re welcome,” was Dayna’s answer, barely audible.

  Mark, Vari and Braemar lapsed into silence for a while as they pondered the challenge ahead. Braemar broke the silence with a “well” and then with a long stretch of quiet.

  “We’ll likely see a lot more rifts like the mist wraith one,” he finally offered. “And that one looked like it’d opened up over a matter of weeks, maybe even a few months. The tearing of the earth, it was gradual, not all at once. Bigger ones would be far older.”

  “Following that logic,” added Mark, “if we keep searching for larger rifts, we’ll find older sources of corruption-”

  “Until we find the original source,” interrupted Vari.

  Braemar tugged at his beard. “Yup, that makes sense.”

  “Of course,” warned Mark, “the older the rifts the stronger the monsters spawning from them. We’ll have to level up on the smaller rifts as we go, building ourselves up so we’re capable of taking on the source when we get there.” He aimed this last part at Braemar. “You’ll have a bloody great chasm to close at the end, Braemar. Are you up for that?”

  Braemar shrugged. “Suppose I’ll know when I get there. If I get there.”

  “We’ll make sure you do. Right, Vari?”

  “Bloody right, yes.”

  Mark chuckled and then leaned forward so he could see the prostrate Dayna. “Right, Dayna?”

  He got a soft snore in response.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  You have received the “Chasm of Corruption” quest.

  Locate the Chasm of Corruption within the Barrens and close it.

  Special Requirement: Druidic Elementalist specializing in Earth Magic.

  “Did you guys see that?” Mark asked Vari and Braemar.

  They both nodded, and Vari’s smile was almost ear to ear. “Chasm of Corruption? Sounds like a legendary undertaking. We’ll be famous if we pull this off.”

  “Shit, never wanted to be famous,” worried Braemar, his face going almost as red as his hair.

  “But you’ve got such a great face for song, Braemar,” quipped Mark.

  “If I had to choose between a donkey’s ass and your portrait for my wall, Mark, I’d be forced to flip a coin.”

  Mark laughed. “Alright, mate, you win this round.”

  They settled down to sleep after that, huddling to stay warm throughout the cold, wet night. It took awhile for Mark to drift off. His mind twisted and turned through a labyrinth of thought as he tried to picture the Barrens and the challenges they might all face there. He’d spent countless hours exploring and plundering ruins in dozens of RPGs. But this time was different. These NPCs he now traveled with, these “people”, they cared for him and he cared for them. He’d never encountered this depth of feeling before in a game, the strength of his growing attraction to Vari, the mateship that he was developing with Braemar, and even Dayna’s caustic personality now had a familiar, almost comforting feel to it.

  Although he could come back to life, respawn as he went, he knew that none of them could. The thought of losing one of them… It didn’t bare thinking about, so he stopped. He simply told himself that he was going to do everything in his power to keep them alive, and it was that thought that finally sent him off to sleep.

  27

  Mark opened his eyes to mountain peaks that gleamed gold in the morning light. A gentle breeze rustled the silver leaves o
f the nearby beech trees, causing a soft undulating effect that was quite hypnotic. He would have lain there all morning, snuggled up with Vari, soaking in the gorgeous sight, had his full bladder not been threatening to burst.

  He got up as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the others, and made his way over to a low ridge. A series of pools greeted him as he reached the top. Tarns, he remembered they were called, mini lakes situated high up in the mountains. They shimmered and steamed invitingly, clearly heated by thermal activity within the rocks below.

  Mark found a suitably thick patch of scrub behind which to conduct his morning ablutions, and was just about to head back to camp when he noticed a dark-haired head bobbing in the water of the largest tarn. A hand broke the water and waved, accompanied by that beautiful, gleaming grin he’d come to like so much.

  Startled, Mark waved back. How had Vari made it to the pools so quickly? he wondered. She must’ve been pretending to sleep. Perhaps she’d ducked into the pool while he was doing his business behind the bushes.

  Vari waved again and beckoned for him to join her. Her shoulders were bare, olive skin glistening wetly. The smooth upper slopes of her breasts were gorgeous islands within the silvered water.

  Well, thought Mark, if this is where she wanted to go with their relationship, he was happy to follow.

  He walked down to the water’s edge, hurrying, while doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t. Vari’s smile broadened a little as she gestured for him to remove his clothes. Although the mountain air was damned chilly, Mark could feel the comforting heat emanating from the pool.

  Trying to be as graceful about it as he could, Mark stripped off his sword belt, armor and clothes. He almost tripped on his breeches, but with a little ungainly wobbling, managed to save himself from a mortifying faceplant. The nippy air brought out goosebumps across his skin so he quickly waded into the pool, gritting his teeth against the sudden shock of heat.

  Vari waited where she was, opening her arms to invite him into her embrace, an offering Mark was more than happy to accept. Her large, soft breasts pressed against his bare chest as her fingers traced tingling lines down his spine. She nestled her face against his neck, her wet hair cool against his cheek.

  It felt so lovely to Mark, something he realized he had been wanting ever since watching Vari dance with the village girls at Citadel. Perhaps even earlier, perhaps when he’d first laid eyes on her as she’d stalked out of the forest, having just saved them from the reiver ambush. Yet, for some reason, his body wasn’t responding as he expected. Vari felt nice, smooth, soft and warm, but not...arousing. There was something about her skin and hair that wasn’t quite right. Not how they felt, that was perfect. It was how they smelt, a faint, acrid scent that caught at the back of his throat, that spread a quiet, dull ache up the back of his head. It was a strangely familiar smell.

  The memory emerged from the growing pain at the base of his skull, of an old basement flat in Wellington that rarely saw the sun. After several weeks of hacking coughs and pounding headaches, he’d torn his bedroom apart in search of the cause. He found it upon moving his bed away from the wall. Thick, black mold, eating away at the wallpaper. He found out later that water was leaking down from the bathroom in the flat above, creating the perfect conditions for a healthy population of fungus. It was that same smell, without a doubt, and his now pounding headache confirmed it.

  With a growing sense of dread, Mark tried to gently pull away from Vari, but she held him tight, with more strength than Mark expected her small frame to possess.

  “Vari?” His voice trembled as he spoke. Vari didn’t answer, her face pressed hard against his neck.That’s when he realized that his shoulder had gone numb, and that he couldn’t move his arm.

  “Vari?!”

  Nothing. He tried to push her away with his other hand. His fingers sank into her flesh, going far deeper than was natural. There was no bone beneath the skin and muscle. Her body was as yielding as a gel-filled stress ball, and yet it was wrapped around him with such strength that he was helpless in its embrace. His headache was worsening, jabbing like nails through his skull, and with growing terror, Mark realized that he could no longer feel his legs.

  “Mend Flesh!” Vari’s voice, not from the Vari-thing wrapped around his helpless body, but from the shore behind him. He felt pins and needles flood across his skin as sensation returned, control coming back to his limbs, headache receding to a bearable level. Vari’s healing spell was restoring some of the life-force that Mark now knew was being leeched away by this foul simulacrum.

  “Get clear so I can take a shot!”

  Dayna’s voice this time, sharp and calm. He pictured her standing there, arrow nocked, bow string taut, ready to fire, a disdainful scowl on her face as she quietly scoffed at Mark’s ongoing idiocy. He didn’t have time to feel offended. His mind raced through his options, settling upon one that he wished he’d thought of as soon as he sensed the danger of the situation.

  “Ethereal Flesh!”

  His body dissolved away, rising up from the water with the geothermal steam. He gathered himself into a thick cloud and struck out for the shore of the pool, ponderously but surely gaining distance from the vampire Vari.

  Dayna’s arrow passed through him and struck the impersonator in one of its dark eyes, plunging deep into its sable jelly. The thing’s head jerked back with the impact and then...changed. Hair retracted, face smoothed away, skull, neck and shoulders all melting into a single, snake-like appendage.

  A tentacle, thought Mark with disgust. I was about to make love to a fucking tentacle.

  He tried to dispel flashes of Japanese monster porn from his mind as he concentrated on pulling his body back together. Vari and Dayna had the good grace to avert their eyes as he hastily pulled on his pants.

  Out in the water, the first tentacle was joined by several more, and a trio of stalk-eyes, individually swiveling to fixate on a separate target, one each for Mark, Dayna and Vari.

  Mark looked to Vari who offered him a faint, quizzical smile. Yes, they both knew that Mark had just been in a hot pool, naked, with a thing he thought was her. That was going to require some discussion later, but for now, she simply nodded, letting him know that it was a fight-now-talk-later moment. Mark smiled his gratitude and then turned back to Dayna who was nocking another arrow.

  “Where’s Braemar?”

  “Here!” came the out-of-breath answer as Braemar appeared over the rise.

  Mark slipped on his undershirt and armor as he spoke. “There must be a rift under the water. Can you close it while we keep that thing busy?”

  “Dunno how big it is, but I’ll give it a go.”

  “Cool. With luck, Miss Tentacles there is partly in the rift, so closing it might squish the bitch.”

  While Mark and Vari waded up to their knees in the water, Dayna took up a flanking position on the shore, giving herself a clear shooting line that wouldn’t endanger her companions.

  “You ready for this, Vari?” asked Mark.

  “As ready as you are to go skinny dipping with a naked doppelganger of me.”

  Mark felt his face flush hot with embarrassment. Vari grinned and handed him an Essence Potion.

  “Here, can’t have your performance flagging halfway through. Don’t want to disappoint your lady friend.”

  “Vari, I…”

  Vari put her finger to her lips and then gave him a gentle slap on the butt.

  “It’s time you and her broke up. She’s too needy.”

  Mark’s grin was fierce as he eyed the looming beast out in the water, its few tentacles now triple in number, its stalk-eyes now numbering a dozen.

  “Couldn’t agree more, Vari.”

  Garridar’s Punishment glowed brightly with Arcane Edge as Mark sliced through tentacle after tentacle. The clear blue of the water turned to a thick, bloody burgundy, and not all of it from the monster. Like the mist wraiths, the creature sprouted claws from its sinuous appendages. While Se
cond Skin and Garridar’s Ironhide bore the brunt of the beast’s attacks, some still made it through, gouging and skewering his flesh. He roared “Avalar’s Leech!” and clawed back some health, second by gruelling second as he continued to swing his sword and press his onslaught. Yet with every stab and swipe he received from those flailing claws, Mark’s health was dropping six points for every three he gained back. He was about to drink one of Vari’s healing potions when the fires of pain guttered and went out.

  You have been healed for 41 HP by Vari of Karajan.

  Mark stole a glance at Vari, flashed her a grateful smile, and turned back to the bloody work at hand.

  The monster lashed out with several tentacles at once, wrapping Dayna in slimy, crushing agony. The ranger screamed as bones cracked within her. Adrenaline flared through Mark’s muscles as he dove for those tentacles and hacked at them with all the speed and might he could muster. One after the other they fell into the water, writhing and bleeding, until Dayna was free. He saw Vari rush to the beleaguered woman’s side and then turned back to face the towering creature, his breath ragged, his lungs burning. Mark was so tired that his sword felt like a steel girder in his hands as he tried to raise it, tried to defend himself against a fresh flurry of tentacles.

  Those same tentacles fell limply at Mark’s feet as a fountain of viscera spouted up from the heart of the pool. He felt the rumbling beneath his feet as Braemar’s spell brought the submerged edges of the rift together, squeezing the life out of their titanic foe. Stalk-eyes wilted and sank into the fetid quagmire of offal and pulverised meat. Staggering, gasping for air, Mark waded to the shore and collapsed in a heap upon the fine-grained gravel.

  He felt a tug at his belt as Vari retrieved the Essence and Healing Potions she’d given him. She downed the first, tipped the second down Dayna’s throat, and then undertook the gruelling task of sculpting the ranger’s bones back into their rightful shape and place.