That thought just made my side hurt even more, so I stopped thinking completely and turned my brain off as much as I could.
For a long minute I ran in partially blissful silence. Then my bastard of a brain turned itself back on.
“Avalon,” I panted. “How clear is our route?”
“No hostiles currently present on route to the Horde Pit or designated shelter. Current closest hostiles are still located near the Challenger's original point of entry to the shelter, approximately a hundred miles away. Hostiles appear to be adjusting patrols but are not currently moving closer.”
That was awesome news.
“Horde Pit appears to be responding to the death of its Spawn. Fluctuations suggest it is attempting to create a new Pit Champion.”
That, not so much.
“Avalon, is there any way to speed up Guineve's recovery?”
“Lady Guineve's body has already recovered extensively from the damage suffered upon contact with the Umbra contaminant. Conditions inside the shelter should be sufficient to recover the last of the damage within a month at most.”
I winced when I heard that. She had already been recovering for several Avalonian months. This woman had been injured far more than I had realized. And I had already thought she had suffered a lot.
We reached the Pit just before everyone's second wind gave out. As we tried not to collapse, I noticed the muck boil and writhe.
“Okay,” Virtus said as everyone else panted. “How do you want to do this?”
“That's a good question,” I whispered quietly.
“You mentioned getting out the people trapped in there,” Virtus whispered back. “How are you going to do that? Most of your team is tired. I can probably carry a handful of people on my own, but the rest of you are about to fall over as is.”
“Yeah,” I panted. “I know. Guineve,” I said to the woman in my arms. “How are you?”
“Cold,” she muttered.
I swore under my breath and tried to hold her tighter. How did I fix this?
A bubble near the edge of the Pit burped loudly, and in a way I recognized all too easily.
“Come,” it begged. More bubbles belched. “Come... lead.”
Right, I remembered in revulsion. That again.
“Come,” it begged again. “Offer...service.”
Wait, I thought. Could I...
Guineve shivered again in my arms, and reached out the cloak and padding I had bundled her in. She pointed a trembling arm toward the abominable filth.
“Wait,” I whispered. “It's got people in it.”
“Can't save them,” she whispered back. But then her eyes widened. “Wait...you...”
“Yeah,” I replied quietly. “Exactly.”
Okay, I thought as I took another breath. Here goes nothing.
“Do you truly offer me service?” I said out loud.
“Wes?” I heard Breena ask from where Karim was. I didn't answer her.
“Do you submit to me, unconditionally?” I asked slowly. “As servant, and not master?”
The disgusting bubbles answered me.
“Pit... must...serve...”
It was made to do no less, Pain's sharp, stabbing voice whispered into my brain. The ultimate tool, if you would just take it.
“Then, contingent on your obedience, I accept your service,” I said carefully, and my stomach tried to crawl down my legs at that statement.
“Wes?” Weylin's voice asked from behind me.
“He's trying to do it again,” Virtus muttered.
But the roiling muck in front of me was ecstatic, and it began splash and bubble in excitement.
“Yes!” a loud bubble burped. “Yes! New...lord!”
“First,” I said as imperiously as I could. “You will prove your value, and offer me tribute.”
“Anything!” several loud pops said. “For...lord!”
“Surrender all of the lives that you currently possess, and deliver them to my feet as unspoiled as possible.”
What? Pain's voice shouted angrily into my mind. No! That will ruin everything!
The rolling mud stilled slightly at that comment.
“Well?” I demanded. “Have you not been waiting for my return? Don't tell me you have only nothing!”
Don't listen to him! Pain's voice screamed uselessly. Don't listen!
“Will... serve,” the bubbles finally burped. “Here... tribute...”
Shapes began to rise from the muck. One by one, then three by three, then ten by ten, they were lifted out of the pool and deposited at my feet.
Most of them were just small black balls, small enough that they could fit into my hand, even though there were dozens and dozens of them. Four though, were human-shaped clouds that solidified when they left the bank into two men and two boys. Their figures lay limply on the ground, looking emaciated. Their bodies flickered between solid and vapor-like states every few moments.
I suppressed a shudder at the sight. Memories of the last person I had pulled from the pit still haunted me. Breena's adopted niece had been a screaming wreck when I had fought to drag her out, but she had eventually recovered. She had been inside for less than an hour. These people, if I could still call them that, had been in there for much, much longer. And they had turned into plumes of smoke or small orbs.
Vital signs detected within all former pit residents, Avalon mentally informed me. Recommend medical assistance for all former inhabitants.
Is that even possible? I thought back.
New data files indicate Pit damage and other trauma are repairable at certain facilities inside the Shelter. Further merger with old files discovered within the last hour have enabled the recreation of repair rooms for intense damage caused by magic-induced trauma. The first repair room is now back online within the shelter.
That was unbelievably good news, and it almost made me look like less of an idiot.
Avalon, I thought back, do you think I can put the...people-balls into magical storage?
Confirmed that the orb-shaped residents are currently not requiring oxygen, Avalon messaged back. Containment is currently possible and advised. Recommend that the four half-transitioned sentients be physically carried.
“Virtus,” I said while trying to sound imperious. “Collect the tribute for transportation.” Then, while still holding Guineve, I ruined my stately image by awkwardly rummaging for my magic handle, finding it, and using it to store all the balls that Avalon insisted were still people.
I hated today. But it looked like I had managed to pull off the impossible. I had kept my team alive. I had saved Guineve, though I kind of wound up needing her help at the end to do it. I had even saved everyone from the Pit, even though they were all balls and smoke and that was creepy as hell and I'd probably spend some time screaming about it tomorrow morning.
Now to get everyone home before I jinx myself.
As Virtus collected the four smoke-like people that thankfully stayed in his arms, the Pit addressed me again.
“Master,” it burped. “Hungry... lacking... need... prey...give...army,”
“An army is not needed at the moment,” I replied firmly.
That confused the black mess. I could tell. After all the insanity I had been dealing with, reading the expression of something that wasn't human, or didn't have flesh, or didn't even have a head, wasn't so hard anymore.
“Master,” the slush tried again. “Army...always...needed...prey...always...needed.”
“Are you challenging my authority?” I asked, trying to figure out how I could do this. But Guineve seemed to sense my concern, as she raised her trembling arm back at the Pit. But then she hesitated, looking at me with a tired, but pensive look.
“No...master...need...master...choose...master...” the muck finally burped.
“Then you agree to accept my decisions,” I commanded. “Do not argue with me again.”
“Yes...master,” the slurpee from Hell belched in submission.
> Why am I still talking to this thing, part of me asked myself. Did I not learn my lesson already?
Yes, Pain shouted, sounding more panicked than it had ever seemed. Leave it alone! You don't know what you're doing!
That firmed up my decision.
“What can you do other than consume prey and create Hordebeasts?” I asked.
“Can...strengthen...you...enter...master...become...champion.”
I really hated the way this thing talked.
“Don't” Guineve shuddered in my arms. “Don't do it.”
“I know,” I said back gently. “Sorry. We're almost done here.”
“But... need... prey,” the rolling mass gurgled.
“Can any other power source work for you?” I asked carefully. “Do you truly need prey to live? Can anything else keep you alive?”
Silence.
The slime went completely still at my question. As if it was trying to hide from me.
“Answer me,” I demanded.
A tiny bubble broke on the tar-like surface.
“For-bid-den,” it said in a small, and surprisingly non-disgusting voice. It spoke slowly, drawing out every syllable. “An-swer... is for-bid-den.” The exact same bubble formed, and broke again to answer me. “Question is forbidden.”
“Why?” I asked. “And by who?”
The tiny bubble popped again.
“Why... can't... say...”
The oily surface of the liquid quivered.
You're ruining everything, Pain growled, and I thought I actually felt panic from it. Just stop! Just blow it up like you did with the other one! For a brief, sudden moment it felt like my veins were burning. Fortunately, I've had plenty of practice dealing with my unwelcome guest by now, fatigue notwithstanding.
“Please,” the little bubble popped again.
“If the question is forbidden, then the answer must be 'yes,'” I declared. “You are hereby ordered to seek other sustenance than prey.”
A wave of muck suddenly lashed backwards.
“Master,” it moaned in its old and disgusting voice, seeming to protest my command.
“Do it,” I ordered. “Even the most savage carnivores still need other things than meat. Water, light, oxygen, rest, warmth. Without any of those things a creature will still die even if it eats all of the meat it wants. It is impossible to get everything you need out of life just by consuming or hurting someone else. Check right now and see what you're missing.”
No, Pain stabbed at my mind. No-no-no-no...
“Master,” the big bubbles croaked. “This...will...change...us.”
“That's a good thing,” I said quietly, then shifted my arms a little. Guineve was getting heavy. That was a bad thing. I needed to hurry this up.
“Please...no,” the large bubbles begged. “Please...”
“Seek other sustenance,” I commanded. “See if you can derive anything from light, from breath, from a state of rest, from the moisture in the air, from a small amount of mana. Anything that doesn't require you to hurt someone else.”
“Noooo,” the bubbles wailed. “Changing...losing...”
The bubbles began exploding in front of me. Pain wailed inside of my mind and veins.
“Nooo... murder... betrayal...”
One massive, horse-sized bubble formed in the center.
“Traitor...” the bubble gurgled at me, “...prince.”
It popped, and the pit made one final, massive, disgusting splash. I turned away to shield Guineve, but thankfully the oily sludge never came close.
When I turned back around, I saw the black sludge shrink in on itself, evaporating quickly, losing a foot or more every single second. In under a minute the hundred-feet deep pool had completely evaporated.
I had killed it. By asking it to be more than it was.
I wasn't sure I felt about that.
“Fa-ther,” a voice said by my boot.
I shifted my feet so that I could see around Guineve. Next to my foot was something that looked like the little bubble that had spoken up earlier.
“Fa-ther,” the little thing said, popping, and then forming again. “Di-rec-tive?”
Guineve gasped.
“I don't believe it,” she said, wonder overwhelming her fatigue. “It's not possible.”
“Di-rec-tive?” the little bubble asked again, in that weird, popping-and-reforming fashion. “Sick? Life? Heal? Di-rec-tive?”
“Guineve,” I asked quietly. “Do you know what this thing is?”
“No,” she whispered. “Only legends. But what little I know says it should be harmless.”
“Di-rec-tive?” the bubble repeated. “Sick? Hurt? Play? Di-rec-tive?”
“Breena?” I called behind me. “Testifiers? Any records on this thing?”
“No idea,” Karim shook his head.
“Not in a thousand elven legends,” Weylin added.
“We don't get that drunk,” Eadric protested.
“Cheated,” Breena explained tiredly from Karim's hands. “Wes cheated again. It happens.”
Wasn't sure how I felt about that.
“What the hell,” I sighed. “We're out of time anyway. Come on over, little buddy.” I stuck out my boot for the little bubble to hop onto. I had no idea if it needed air, so I wasn't going to risk the magic storage space. “Come on,” I repeated. “Climb up. We have to leave.”
“Di-rec-tive!” the little bubble shouted in what I hoped was glee. It moved surprisingly quick, hopping up my boot and leg, clinging without making everything damp. “Fa-ther! Di-rec-tive!”
A moment later it had snuggled into a spot on my belt.
Hostiles changing patrol, Avalon noted in my mind. Discovery suspected.
Right, I thought. Time to go.
When I asked Guineve if she felt like walking, she tiredly mumbled that I put her down, then leaned her head against my chest and closed her eyes. So I just shifted her weight, made sure we had all of our passengers secured, and took off.
My arms began to burn. Guineve was not a heavy woman, and I was supernaturally strong, but carrying a human being awkwardly across one’s chest for miles and miles while running is still difficult. This was further complicated by the fact that my recent decisions had somehow come up for debate by certain unwelcome parties.
I’ll kill you, Pain growled in my mind. You have no idea what you have undone.
Sure don’t, I replied. Now please go back to shutting the hell up.
Brace For the Wolves Page 40