I heard a sigh of relief behind me, but my hands still trembled.
They did fall. But being spiders, they were attached by a thin gossamer string like a rappeler and hoisted themselves back up as soon as the threat had passed. Grim Jack, to his credit, showing a small, miniscule piece of decency, assisted his people by redirecting the dragon back to tackle the Griffins out of the sky.
“Are you sure we still want to get in on this?” I said to Yvonne, having to raise my voice over the din. “I mean, what can we do that the Keep Guardians can’t do, exactly?”
“Heal, for starters,” she replied, elbowing me in the side.
I gulped.
The courtyard of the Keep was unrecognizable, covered in stringy white threads of the Spiderkin. I spotted cylindrical cocoons of what I assumed were their victims: food for later. A little snack to reward the spiders after they massacred us. Those that could stand though, and even those knocked to their knees, fought, whether with bows or ranged magic. They kept a defensive cover fire to knock the spiders back. The ambushers responded with their own magic and arrows for the Griffins—balls of golden flame, spears of glacial ice, and more shadow bolts.
The dragon locked onto one Griffin in particular. Two streams of power filled the sky—one eye-searing white, the other raven-wing black—and collided in midair like a plane crash. A massive explosion of swirling light and a thunderclap rocked the air, followed in short order by a tremendous shock wave. The backlash from the detonation ripped one of the Griffin’s wings off. Pieces of debris and hunks of stone spun free as the creature plummeted.
More shadow magic and Sunfire clashed in the sky until finally the dragon landed and the rider, Grim Jack, dismounted. I took one look at his Health bar and determined it was deep enough to drown in. We could’ve had a whole raid of twenty-five fighters and not been prepared to face him.
We debated the best course of action, but unless we could get over the wall or through the portcullis, we were locked out. Any moral or philosophical or tactical argument about whether it was better to abandon the thirteen civilians with us in favor of saving the guards to save the town was dead on arrival if we couldn’t get through that gate.
I pulled away from the arguments. My head was ringing and I didn’t like the heat prickling my skin from the fires around us. I fell against the wall and slid down to my haunches.
I had one new notification that I had hit level 14.
<<<>>>
x1 Level Up!
You have (5) undistributed stat points
You have (1) unassigned proficiency point
<<<>>>
I stared at it hard and steepled my fingers. I sunk three stat points into Vitality, for the extra hit points. I was torn on where to put the last two. The Affka nerfed my Intelligence and Spirit, which were my main stats. Most people here were low enough level that three good heals saved them. I didn’t need the spell power, though it didn’t hurt. A deeper Spirit pool didn’t hurt either. I sunk the other two stat points into Spirit.
I pulled up the skill tree next and sunk my proficiency point into Divinity.
<<<>>>
Skill: Divinity
Acts of faith are not unnoticed by the gods, and can, at times, grant miracles to their servants.
Skill Type/Level: Spell/Novice
Cost: N/A
Range: 40 Meters
Cast Time: Instant
Cooldown: N/A
Effect 1: Your actions as well as those in your party gradually fill your Miracle Meter, allowing for unusual, context-sensitive spells in a pinch. Be mindful not to waste the gods’ goodwill.
Effect 2: Adds a bonus 10% to spell power x Divinity level when casting Holy magic per meter full.
Effect 3: Meter will be renewed upon use.
Effect 4: Allows up to two meters to fill. Higher-level miracles may have stronger effects.
<<<>>>
Divinity already gave me a 10% bonus to holy spells. Now it gave me 20%. Plus, I was with a crowd. This would fill quick. And if this was the last chance I got to wield the might of the gods, then dammit, I was going to cast as many miracles as I could. We needed one.
A Griffin three times larger than the rest soared into view and slammed into the dragon like a freight train. Unlike the guardians’ crude, animated stone, this was a mythical beast of flesh and blood with golden lion’s fur and brown eagle wings. The creature wore silver armor crested with blue gems and carried on his back our new hero and answer to our prayers, High Commander Aleixo Carrera of the Imperial Inquisition and leader of the Knights of the Holy Light. He may have been a smarmy, awful tipper, but he had impeccable timing.
The newcomer’s talons ripped through the dragon’s scaly hide with ease. Like a predator lashing into prey, the Griffin pulled out spools of ropy intestine and purple blood. Its hooked beak went straight for the dragon’s throat and tore it with one vicious bite. The dragon hovered in the air, then plummeted to the ground in a rain of his own inky viscera. He exploded upon impact into soot.
I had to admit, we broke our stealth to cheer. I leapt to my feet and even hugged Yvonne tight.
Carrera approached Grim Jack with his full height and the gleaming armor of the Ever-Victorious Viridian Empire. He drew an oversized sword and lifted a massive tower shield off his back.
Kismet let out a relieved sigh. “What you don’t know about our commander, Soror, is that he’s a Light-Bringer. He specializes in killing Shadowmancers like Grim Jack.”
Her eyes narrowed. I followed her gaze and spotted a Risi warrior and a ranger with Jack. Carrera was outnumbered.
“We need to help him—” said Kismet.
This time, I grabbed her arm to stop her from running out. I wanted to hope as much as every other broken person here, but this was a bad idea.
“Jack is level 25, Kismet,” I said. She pulled at my arm, pulling me off my feet, but I grabbed her wrist with the other hand. “Listen. Every other Inquisition agent is in that Keep, and they’re already so overrun, no one else is free to help their own commander.”
“Even more reason we should go,” protested Kismet.
My face fell as I took in the weight of the words I was about to say. “We are outmatched. A lower-level group, half of them civilians, isn’t going to change that fact. Maybe we do help Carrera win the duel. Maybe he does need our help. But the fact remains we are not getting that Keep back. If we barely have the manpower to defend it one time, what makes you think we’ll be able to take it back, let alone hold it a second time?”
Kismet stared at me in silent judgment, but I knew her well enough to know what she was thinking. I disappointed her. Maybe she was right that if we had gone straight to the Keep like she’d wanted, we could’ve helped them hold it better.
Come on, Liset, I told myself, forcing my breath to steady. I wanted to be a priest. Priests lead people. I couldn’t keep running around indecisively looking for the next safe place. I had to commit to something, and if we couldn’t save the city, at least I could try to save these people. Like the Temple of Areste, maybe the Inquisition would deem me a coward and a traitor and a deserter. Let them say such. It wasn’t worse than what they said about me regarding my patients at the hospital. I wouldn’t hold myself guilty for saving lives, even if they did.
I lowered my grip to take Kismet’s hands in mine. “I know you don’t like it. But if the focus is on the Keep that means we might have a chance to flee. We can get these people out.”
Kismet recoiled and drew her lips up in a snarl. “How dare you?” she whispered. “We have a duty to defend this city and its people, and you want to desert? You’re asking me to abandon my High Commander?”
I was. I knew what I was asking of her. I’d had to make a similar decision back in New York City just a few days ago. I softened my voice. “Imperator, we’ve lost. Let’s save as many lives as we can.”
Kismet scoffed and shook my hands off. She said something in Imperial under her breath, but I had bee
n cursed out enough to know when someone told me to eff off and die in fire. She turned on her heels in a sharp military fashion, and I threw myself in front of her. If she left, she would die. I was sure of it. Even with Rainer tanking, I couldn’t pull off my plan without her.
“Then come here and screw me yourself, you coward!” I yelled, holding my arms out to the side. Kismet stepped back, confused. I didn’t relent. “Throw me in that fire right over here with your own hands because I am not going to let you get yourself pointlessly killed. Our only option is desertion of some sort, and it sucks, and I know it does, but either we desert the man in a legal duel fighting a losing battle, or we desert the citizens you have sworn to protect.”
I felt sweat drip down my neck from the flames of the buildings and stared at Kismet. To my side, I heard a scuffle and spotted Corvus holding back some of the warriors who were aching for some action, while Yvonne held back the citizens who thought they could protect me from an Inquisitor.
Kismet glanced at them, too, then shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms. “You’re calling me a coward?”
“Yes,” I said. “You think you’re upholding the law, but if the law lets innocent people die, you’re not lawful, you’re obedient.”
“We have to try even if it kills us,” said Kismet with finality.
“And then everyone dies for nothing,” I screamed. “The city is lost no matter what we do. Right now, we have two options: we die trying to save one person, or we save twenty-five.”
“Did Cian get into your head after all that you’re thinking of people in numbers?” she asked coolly, not moving a hair. “It doesn’t matter. The Ever-Victorious Empire doesn’t concede cities, and we certainly don’t flee.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not fleeing,” I argued. “Think of it as a tactical retreat to regroup.”
Kismet snatched my robes and lifted me off the ground. “Retreat is your solution to everything! You retreat into the bottom of a bottle. You retreat to let someone else stronger handle your battles. You retreat from your own temple to the point you get yourself arrested. You can’t even make a decision about when to turn in a quest item,” she snarled. “And now you want to argue morality and tactics with a Templar while doped up on Affka?”
I winced and kicked my legs futilely. She had a point, but it wasn’t my original intention to be on Affka. “This isn’t about me,” I protested.
Kismet laughed in my face. “Oh, it’s always about you, though.” She set me down and towered over me. “You always make it about you. What about me? Huh?”
I froze.
“You’ve been worried for days you’ll be excommunicated from your temple, but now you’re asking me to desert my post and my duty, to lose everything I’ve worked hard for over years, on your whim?”
I gulped hard and lowered my head. If the events of Manhattan taught me anything, it should’ve been that I couldn’t save everyone, especially from themselves. I couldn’t keep Kismet forever. She wasn’t my NPC, after all. She wasn’t mine to keep. She was her own person. I uncurled her hands off my robe and stepped aside.
“I’m sorry, Kismet,” I said, my voice cracking. “You don’t have to come. I can’t make you.”
Kismet stood upright and readied her tower shield.
“But I could really use you to protect these people,” I said.
She paused her steps and sighed in exasperation.
“What’s more, I can never replace you,” I continued. “Not as a tank. Not as a friend. You’ve been with me from the start. You’ve always supported me and been by my side, no matter how reckless my ideas were, and we always came out on top because you were there to protect me. I’m eternally grateful for all you’ve done, and I will never forget you. I know I can’t dictate what you do, and I shouldn’t have tried. I shouldn’t ask any more of you when you’ve done so much for me already.”
Kismet’s wings slumped.
I stepped forward to meet her. “You say you’re sworn to protect the city. To me, the people are the city. Without them, it’s just buildings that can be rebuilt. People can’t. I am going to get these people out and get them safe if it kills me, but please, before you go, there’s something you should know—”
A flash of light from the heavens interrupted my confession.
<<<>>>
Faction Alert:
The Crimson Alliance has captured the Rowanheath Command Center—the Faction Seat of the Knights of Holy Light. If their faction holds the Command Center for (30) minutes, they will control Rowanheath and displace the current ruling faction.
Countdown: 29:59
<<<>>>
The color drained from Kismet’s beautiful face. I saw in her eyes the same calculations I had made.
“Liset,” she said. It felt good to hear my name in her mouth and my ears pricked up. “I wouldn’t care a bit if I died. I want others to live. It’s why I became a tank,” said Kismet, lowering her sword. “I remember that promise I made you: that I would die before you do. Kondja Mia, I meant it with all of my heart.”
Kismet let out an oof as I hugged her waist. She chuckled and held me, lightly kissing the top of my head. I buried my face into her chest and kept my eyes shut tight to keep it together.
“The Plague Tunnels might still have some Spiderkin in them, though,” she said.
Our charges finally relaxed to see us reunite. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Rainer’s yelled out, “Kiss her already!”
Yvonne let the people go with a sigh and rolled her shoulders to work out the kinks. “That may be true. If that’s the case, there’s some old Inquisition tunnels we can take.”
Darkness Prevails
More people joined us on our way to the tunnels. Really, we hailed anyone and everyone who looked like they didn’t know where else to belong and needed a place to run. So what if it added to our group? The dragon was dead. The city was about to fall, and us with it if we didn’t get the hell out. Like Chef Boyle would say, “If you can’t stand the heat...”
Yvonne led us to tunnels just behind Aesop’s Tables. The café, like just about every other building in Rowanheath, was on fire. We checked inside and found Chef Boyle cowering with a young Hvitalfarian girl cradling her kitten. Shiraz’s ice magic took care of the flames and let them join us.
The tunnels were hidden under a lilac bush. Yvonne moved several mechanisms, a puzzle I would’ve taken ages to figure out, until the locks clicked into place and several golden runes lit up around the circular metal frame. Corvus volunteered to make sure the coast was clear. When their bird-mask peeked up over the edge, we sent a few volunteer fighters, and then the civilians.
Kismet and I remained.
She saw the mercenaries at the same time I did. And they saw us. If the Crimson Alliance had almost no honor—which was a safe assumption, judging by the fact they murdered priests in the streets and set the city on fire—the mercenaries had even less. The Crimson Alliance had a goal: to secure the Keep. Mercenaries, glory seekers, and player-killers who didn’t bother wearing the purple and red of the Crimson Alliance were in it for money and the thrill. Killing me or Kismet, an Inquisitor, would be a trophy and a story to boast about at the inn later. They pointed at us and laughed as they drew their weapons.
Neither of us had to explain this to the other. Kismet and I took hold of each other’s hands. I pulled her closer to me and looked her in the eye.
“Leave any willing Traveler behind with me. Yvonne says the tunnels are a maze. We’ll buy you time, and then I’ll meet you in Ravenkirk.”
Kismet shook her head. “You ask me to abandon Carrera, and now you, too? I made a promise.”
“I know. I believe you,” I said, squeezing her hand. “But I’m a Traveler. Not even Gaia herself could kill me in any meaningful way. I’ll see you in eight hours or so.”
She faltered as the implication of my first statement sunk in.
“Go,” I insisted.
Kismet bit her li
p, then pulled my head forward to gently kiss my cheek. Her lips lingered. “My Light, my Faith, what right did the gods have to make someone like you?” she whispered in my ear.
I blushed deep. I wished we had time to continue that conversation, but the mercenaries were running now. She climbed the ladder into the tunnel. I heard her voice echo in the passage, rallying a group for me and sending the others forward.
I followed after and slammed the cover to the tunnels with a heavy thud. The magic of the runes sealed it shut with an eerie whir. Eventually, they would break through. They were rogues after all. No lock was unpickable. But it would buy us time to set up a trap.
When I got to the bottom of the ladder, only four Travelers waited for me: Rainer, the Risi tank with his bardiche; Judia the Dokkalfar archer and her falcon, Shiraz; the Imperial Frostlock; and Corvus, my favorite Plague Doctor. I took a deep breath and gave them a quick bow to thank them. I didn’t know what to say. It didn’t seem necessary to tell them the stakes or the plan. We would get as far as we could into the tunnels, create traps behind us, and hope no one in the mercenary group knew how to break magic seals.
We got perhaps a hundred yards away before we heard the screech of the metal cover scraping open. I grumbled and cursed our luck. The stomping of boots and jingling armor echoed down the corridor and then... nothing. They had slipped into stealth. We didn’t have much time for traps like we’d planned. Time felt like it slowed for me as everything faded to gray. My mind shifted to the way I’d approach an emergency at the hospital. Things came in pieces, as facts, another equation to solve. I used to joke it felt like I had the same ballgame announcer in my head that our security officer back at the hospital played on his radio.
Judia threw what she could: an Explosive Trap to alert us to their approach. A Hunting Trap to break their legs and leave them vulnerable. A Viper Pit to poison them and slow their movement by half. There wasn’t a lot her falcon could do for us here, but his keen eyes scanned the dim tunnel to help how he could.
Viridian Gate Online: Schism: A litRPG Adventure (The Heartfire Healer Series Book 2) Page 23