Brace For the Wolves

by Nathan Thompson

  “So they can be as strong as we are,” I concluded, even though I was still getting a feel for everyone’s fighting potential since my last Rise. Myself included.

  Eadric snorted.

  “Probably not, but they might be close. And they outnumber us, without counting their three-dozen strong backup of ankle-biters.”

  The idiot in me wanted to point out that Eadric was short enough to be a target for shin-biters, not ankle-biters. But I was wise enough to save that insult at least until we were done running.

  “Okay, stop running,” I finally said. “This is a stupid way to talk.”

  Weylin and Eadric both nodded in relief. Karim gave a small smirk that probably would have earned a spot on my sister’s punch list if she had seen it.

  I tried to think of a decent plan that would accommodate dealing with thirty-odd small fry that we had no trouble killing whatsoever, five potential champions, a few of the remaining Malus Members and two other Horde that hadn’t done anything but howl at us and be creepy. I came up with nothing.

  “Confession time,” I decided to say. “I have no idea what to do here. How do you guys think we should do this?”

  “But the legends say you battled your way past hundreds of Horde bare-handed,” Weylin protested with a raised eyebrow.

  “It was only about a dozen,” I corrected. “And I had a tree branch for at least half of that Challenge. I’ve never even seen a Mongrel, so I’m going to need some recommendations on how to handle this.”

  “Save them for last,” Eadric said with another grunt. “Mongrels have high vital pools. I’ve seen heroes with ten Rises struggle with putting them down with a single attack.”

  “So go through the chaff, since we know we can take them out of the fight for sure?”

  The dwarf nodded.

  “Assuming we can take most of them out at the start. I’d like to save the rest of my figurines until I can make more, though.”

  “Fair enough. As long as you use them if it turns out we need them. This time I’ll account for all ten Wretches right at the start,” I said on a hunch. I still couldn’t assess myself via my mind-screen, but I just knew my basic lightning spells had gotten stronger. “If I don’t kill them all outright, I’ll at least knock them out of the battle.”

  “Can you throw in another one of your spinny death-disks?” Eadric asked.

  “Friction Slash,” Karim corrected. “It’s from the Ideal of Air.”

  “That’s nice,” Eadric noted. “So can you throw in one of your spinny death-disks?”

  Karim rolled his eyes. I just shrugged.

  “It will take me an extra few seconds, but yes. I’ll target the biggest batch of Ilklings with it.”

  “That should do then,” Weylin said. “Karim and I will knock out another dozen between the two of us, and then we can use bladework to deal with the rest. We’ll deal with the Mongrels and other unknowns then.”

  “Alright, then,” I said. It sucked that we couldn’t come up with a plan that dealt with all the unknowns we were about to face, but the gamer in me just said to treat it like fighting a new boss. I chose to listen to that part.

  Because the rest of me was still screaming in worry over Breena.

  Nothing more needed to be said, so we relied on Avalon to give us a concealed route close to the weakest patrol. We stopped for a moment to use our abilities to augment ourselves, and I was incredibly grateful that I had a giant magical supercomputer on my side for this. Once again I tried to engage the powerful form I had wielded in the dungeon, but nothing happened. I’d just have to stay comfortable with my normal enhancement spells.

  When we were finally ready, we moved forward slowly, and just as we predicted, howls began to sound out. I heard Eadric grunt in annoyance, and then the predictable chant for my annoying new nickname sounded out through the night.

  “Traitor-prince! Traitor-prince! We have found the traitor-prince!”

  “You’re going to need to explain why they call you that,” Karim said as he began creating magical floating script in front of himself.

  “I’ll share what I know later, but the short of it is that I don’t know why either,” I said as I slowly spun my hands around to make a Friction Slash.

  Thankfully, we caught another lucky break, and things went according to plan. The weak Horde acted predictably stupid and charged in mass, chanting their name for me in creepy, violent rhymes. I ignored them and counted all the Wretches to make sure all ten of them were coming. Behind them I heard human voices call out in surprise and deeper, guttural voices call for them to come back.

  “Those are the Mongrels,” Eadric snarled as he readied his hammer. “We need to kill this group quickly.”

  Weylin began singing, and I released my spell. The Friction Slash tore right through a clump of seven Ilklings, shredding the monsters into oily, wrinkled clumps. I saw blue streaks and arrows lace through another pack out of the corner of my eye. My main focus, though, was the ten armed and armored Wretches charging up the hill at us.

  This pack actually wore small shirts of chainmail, but it wouldn’t help them. I activated all ten charges from my Shocking Digits spell, sending a finger-sized lightning bolt into each one’s throat. Again my new magic surprised me as blackened holes replaced the monsters’ throats, giving me ten kills with one attack. I blinked away my shock to quickly create another Friction Slash and sent it into a surviving pack of Ilklings.

  By that point the monsters had begun to scatter, so Eadric and I rushed forward. I unsheathed both my long arming sword and silvery short sword, tearing tiny bodies apart with each swing. When I kicked out at one I felt its ribs crumple apart, and it flopped down in a heap.

  Just like that, another battle that would have given me trouble in the past had ended in less than a minute. My new magic, speed and strength surprised me, and I began to wonder if there was any creature on Avalon that was my match.

  I really should have known better.

  “Hey, cripple-head!”

  I turned just in time to see a blurred shape slam its blades into my barely-managed parry. The blow knocked me back a step, and I made out the sight of a human face sneering at me.

  “You’re supposed to be in your fucking cell!”

  The leather-clad man snapped a knee into my stomach, and I felt the blow even through my armor, wards, and enhanced skin. I had to step back again to keep my balance, and then my face was full of rapidly slashing short blades again.

  I turned away each one, but my arms suffered a number of small nicks for my efforts. I stepped back yet again and slashed out with my long arming sword to get a bit of distance. The leather-clad jackass dodged out of my reach easily.

  “Good god you’re slow, cripple-head,” the man mocked. “Did you actually escape, or did they just let you out to pee?”

  “Hi, Dead Asshole Number 28, I’m Wes Malcolm,” I growled back. “Have we met before?”

  The man laughed again. There was a twitchiness to his stance that suggested his new power had come with a price he hadn’t realized he’d paid.

  “Right, they said you used to be the shit. Let’s see if you can keep up with one of us now!”

  The man blurred forward again, and once again small nicks worked their way all along my arms. His short blades were well-crafted and incredibly sharp, able to strike me along my armored and warded limbs and still draw blood. I parried and riposted as best as I could but he just danced away from every counterattack I made. He snickered when he heard me snarl in frustration.

  “What’s a matter, cripple-head? Did having a couple months off ruin your A-game? Or were you just never that good to begin with?”

  “Dunno,” I replied. “None of my opponents ever stuck around to fill out a performance survey afterwards. You wouldn’t happen to have some spare time and a pencil, would you? Because your fucking feedback is really important to me.”

  Language, my conscience admonished me.

  Murder first! the rest
of me snarled back.

  The man snickered again.

  “Yeah, so far I’d give you a ‘B’ for ‘little-bitch.’ You want some advice? Next time spend less time saving cats out of trees and licking the boots of those frigid little princesses of yours. Maybe that way you’ll grow enough balls to actually grab the real power.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m in total awe of your super-awesome and creative Dexterity build,” I said in a deadpan voice as I pointed my short sword at him. “Say, do you like magic?”

  I remembered that none of my surviving enemy humans had ever seen me use spells.

  This time the idiot tensed for a moment, but then he just snorted arrogantly.

  “Whatcha got, cripple-head? You gonna save the day by pulling a rabbit out of a hat?”

  “What? No, dumbass,” I replied, dropping my weapon to unleash my stored Shock Bolt at point-blank range. The arm-thick beam of electricity took him straight in the head, knocking him off of his feet and making him twirl through the air several times before flopping head-first onto the ground in a boneless, charred heap. His body twitched several times as current continued to run through it, but he made no other movements and a moment later I realized he was dead, despite all signs of his power being on a level around mine. Either he was hiding a quarter in his ear, or he had completely neglected his Constitution and vital guard.

  My connection to the other fighters on my team suddenly pulled on me, and I looked up to see them all locked in battle with muscular man-things that were almost as tall as I was. Thick brown fur covered their bodies, and their faces resembled an ape’s snout with tusks protruding from their lower lips. Their hands dripped the same black oil I had seen on all Horde up to this point. They wore a jumbled mess of leather, plates, and chain links, and they fought with large, single-edged chopping swords.

  “Superseding normal warning for foreign contaminants,” Avalon said in my mind. “Foreign contaminants are advanced Mongrel-class Horde having undergone at least one Descent. Possesses additional power granted by the Dark Icon known as the Raw-Mawed Wolf. No data found on the Raw-Mawed Wolf.

  “Superseding normal message implying caution with the following message: Foreign contaminants detected. Engage and destroy.”

  “I can do that,” I whispered back quietly as I scanned my companions. Weylin had drawn his looted combat daggers and was currently tumbling around one of the massive ape-orcs to stab at the back of its knees. Eadric and Karim were both battling two of the monsters each, and the Mongrels were forcing both of them to give ground. Thinking as quickly as I could, I snapped my hands into the gesture for a spell I hadn’t really used yet, Tremor. The spell caught Eadric’s leftmost opponent completely by surprise as the ground heaved him up and off his feet. My dwarven ally used that opportunity to smash his hammer into the wrist of the other Mongrel’s weapon arm with a loud crack.

  Karim was faring even worse with his two opponents, struggling to keep them at bay with his spear with one hand and furiously writing blue script into the air with his other. Every now and then he looked close to completing a word, but then one of the ape-men’s machetes would sweep at his hand and the script would fizzle apart in a blue flash.

  I kicked my short sword back into my hand and rushed a Mongrel just as it was cutting into the magic scribe’s blue warding shield. Both of my weapons dove into the creature’s haphazardly armored back. I felt the beast stiffen, as if I had pierced through most of its vital guard. But as I pulled to remove my blades and finish it off, one of its massive hands reached behind to grasp at my neck. I felt my feet lift off the ground, and the monster grinned as it looked at me.

  “Traitor-prince,” it said in a deep voice. “Are you the little one that ran away?”

  “No… idea what you’re talking about,” I choked out. “But…do you realized you grabbed… a walking taser?”

  That said, I closed my eyes and activated yet another spell whose change I had inherently noticed. I felt my Outer Current spell activate and completely discharge in a rush. The monster arched its back and completely locked up, and I hacked and sawed my way free of its arm. That done, I gripped my long arming sword in both hands to swing at its neck. I felt my weapon lodge into my enemy’s spine, and I pulled to tear it back out. The monster collapsed to the ground in a spurt of black blood, and then I turned back to Karim. The dark-skinned mage was breathing heavily, but his last opponent was wrapped up in blue-glowing bands, much like he had done to Mr. Shepherd. The mage then wrote more script into the air and blue glowing darts fired off into the back of Eadric’s remaining opponent. The monster staggered forward long enough for Eadric to slam his hammer into the Mongrel’s skull three times in rapid succession. When the ape-thing’s skull crumpled on the third blow, we all looked around to realize we had cleared the field of enemies again. Weylin had handled his single Mongrel on his own and Eadric had killed the one I had helped down by taking the piercing end of his hammer to the thing’s temple.

  “Why do you call him traitor-prince?” Karim asked the bound surviving Mongrel. “And who is the Raw-Mawed Wolf?”

  “Because he’s bad and wrong!” the monster said as it spat at me. “False teacher! Tried to lead us all astray! Father made the Raw-Mawed Wolf to bring him home!”

  “Home?” I asked, curious in spite of the fact that we had no time. “I’ve never even seen you things before I started fighting you. Who is your father? And what home? And where is Breena?” That last question came out with a growl.

  The monster just chuckled at me. Then it began chuckling in its deep guttural voice.

  “Lost stray, forgot his home. Turned his back on blood that beats. Bring him home, take back his flesh and kill the traitor-prince!”

  “That’s all we’re getting out of it,” Karim said quietly. “They lose their reason once they start to chant. But we have learned much.”

  The scribe’s face stayed pensive even as he rammed his spear down the Mongrel’s throat and twisted it back out. “A new Dark Icon has risen, for the first time in centuries. The other nations must know that we now battle new threats along with old legends. The revelation of this knowledge is hereby witnessed in script…”

  “Witnessed in song,” Weylin added as he walked over.

  “...and witnessed in stone,” Eadric finished.

  I remembered that they had done this same recital when they had found I was the last Challenger and still alive. It still puzzled me, but I shook my head.

  “We need to find Breena. Let’s go.”

  “Update,” Avalon intoned. “Lady Breena of the Fair Folk is engaging in combat with the two remaining members of the Order of Malus. Detecting a drastic drop in her vital guard.”

  I swore.

  “Direct me to her location immediately!” I snapped. Not waiting for the other three to react, I sped forward as fast as I dared. Air whipped past my face as my feet pummeled grass out of the way. I saw shapes and bright colors of light flash to my left. I snapped my swords back into their scabbards, summoned my spear from storage, and slammed it into the largest shape in my way without even slowing down long enough to perceive the features of the man I was attacking. I felt my spear thud directly into his center mass with a dull clink, and he staggered a few steps backwards. Then he looked back at me and grinned.

  “Well, look who we got here, Jude.”

  I realized far too late just how huge this last guy was.

  He had at least four inches on me, putting him easily at six and a half feet. His build was just as bulky as the Mongrels we had fought earlier, and in his hands was a large wooden club with various bits of metal sticking out of the otherwise blunt end. My spear had broken some rings in his tightly stretched mail shirt, but other than that he looked almost completely unharmed.

  I cursed myself for stupidly wasting all of my momentum on an attack directed right at a foe’s most guarded area. I also wondered how thick his vital guard had to be to absorb that attack.

  “Avalon,” I whis
pered under my breath. “What am I dealing with here? Why is this group of Malus Members not being suppressed by you?”

  “Assessing,” the planetary intelligence whispered back. “Current group of opponents is able to ignore Avalon’s restraints to a much greater degree than normal. Opponents have undergone at least six Descents and are considered to have reached the second stage of empowerment.”

  Meaning they had to be at least as advanced as I was, despite the massive increases in power I had just undergone. Fantastic.

  “What’s a matter, cripple-head?” the giant man sneered. “Surprised that you’re not the biggest badass in Candyland anymore?” He took a step forward. “You took two months off and—”

  “Sorry, I just had this conversation with your friend, Fried Fred,” I interrupted. “You remember him, right? Cocky, fought with two short blades, had a large, crisped hole recently burned into the center of his face?”