Sense of smell needs some nerfs!
He heard Gabrielle ask, “Why didn’t any of you go berserk?” Her face was calm, playful.
Liluth let go of a breath. “Divinely blessed races are immune to many magical maladies.” Her eyes were afraid. “But we can feel the manic anger of your magic when you stand near.”
“Then don’t stand so near to him,” Gabrielle said sharply. “Ya might as well be huggin’ him right now. Back inside, hussy.”
Liluth stepped back.
“Better,” Gabrielle quipped.
How musing their antics were. Rowan chuckled and returned his attention back onto the fight.
Luthias punched a crow square in the eye with a callused fist. Then snappy movements seized broken wings and ripped those moldy claws off the top of his shield. Cartilage broke with audible crunches. He strangled it to death.
A smaller crow that had lagged behind swooped down, but a jet of hellfire incinerated it whole. Blackened ash dispersed onto the grass.
Luthias grunted a thank you, then turned on his heel, picked up one of Skylar’s impaled crows. He threw it high into the air with a pained growl, his forearm gushing blood. When the crow reached the apex of its arch, Skylar’s arrow ripped into that feathery chest, clean through the chest.
Sudden pain ripped into Rowan’s lower back. Claws caught on his spine. His knees folded, the heat of the wound cutting deep.
Someone yelped from behind. “Get off him!”
Not a second later, the squawking crow was pulled away. Hot blood flowed down Rowan’s backside, his legs numb, every muscle under his stomach tingling with electricity. He could barely feel his toes or curl them. But he pushed straight, a tremendous effort summoned, and ignored his flashing Health bar, which had lost a fair chunk, draining.
“My bad,” Gabrielle quipped. “Thought ya had it under control.”
How sadistic she could sometimes be. “You’ll see who’s in control tonight.”
“But right now it’s clearly not you. Hehehe.”
He breathed through a scowl.
One crow remained, high in the air, retreating. Blood and feathers littered the wind while it soared with frantic wings, one damaged beyond repair.
Rowan wasn’t going to let it off so easily without punishment. Hatred surged. The entirety of his Demonic power gathered into his palm as a compressed ball of white-hot fire. As his mana bar neared zero, he instinctively threw it at the crow with deadly accuracy, the fireball expanding as it flew.
It missed.
But a monster of fire swallowed the crow whole. Its health bar disappeared.
Searing winds stormed the field. A line of trees caught fire, incinerated in second. A mushroom of black smoke floated into the heavens. Regrettable destruction, honestly.
It was over.
Mutated Crows—zero. Rowan and Gabrielle—six. The Elves, of course, helped.
A corpse by his feet spasmed. It detonated in a firework of earthy mana.
Bits and pieces of guts, cartilage, and bone hooked into Rowan’s face. Thick mucus-like fluids splattered into his mouth and up his nose, horribly sour and bitter. The smell of disease was overwhelming.
He hurled his breakfast as another corpse went off. Then another. All five.
When the scene calmed, Rowan was standing in a pool of his own blood mixed with maggots and gunk. Numbed pain throbbed on his face and back.
“Row,” Gabrielle said from behind. “Ya alright?”
“I hate this game.” The corners of the world darkened, but he held on to consciousness, denying the urge to flee this world. A remaining thread of sheer willpower stopped him from hitting the logout button. This was for her, for their MyTube channel.
Pine trees tipped sideways.
Gabrielle caught him, her Shroud off. “I gotcha, stinky. Hehehehehe.”
A maggot crawled by his eyelashes near his health bar. A splotchy green icon was glowing.
Infection
Severity: Minor (Progressing)
-10% Constitution, Resistance, and Flow
A part of his male psyche strangled his tongue, not wishing to divulge this new annoyance, but he knew better. He said in a whithered voice, “My wounds are infected. Get the honey.” She wouldn’t let him down, never.
“Right after a wash,” she said, carrying him toward the nearest stream.
And though her words were cheerily sarcastic, her face, her bagged eyes, held loving concern and care for him. A hint of possessiveness as well—because Liluth and Viola were nearby, hovering to intervene. A coup? It didn’t feel that way.
Neither was Luthias, off to the side by a dozen yard. His face was worrisome, not unkind. The blood in his health bar was leaking, now at eighty-two percent. He had plenty of fight left.
Their slave bindings, all their slave bindings, were not strained, friendly even. They weren’t close to rebellion. They weren’t drawing swords during Rowan’s moment of vulnerability. Spending all that time showing kindness hadn’t been in vain. He could count on them, trust them to an extent.
He asked, “Where’s Zaine and Faenin and—”
“Went off to the mine. Skylar’s cleaning up the base.”
“Good, good.” He smiled in content. “We didn’t need to order them.”
“Nope. They’re smart boys!”
Luthias said, “My wound has developed an infection.”
Rowan nodded. “Anyone else?”
“Same,” Viola said.
“Liluth, can you tend to her?”
“Yes. I am carrying her this moment, if you can’t sense through the slave bonds.”
Gabrielle glanced leftward, her face smug. “There are maggots in his eyes.”
Someone gagged. “Disgusting,” Viola said. “Rowan, next time open with that fire blast. You could’ve done that when they were parked over our heads.”
“Yes,” Liluth said, tone annoyed. “He should have.”
“Yup.” Gabrielle flicked a maggot off his forehead with her pinky finger. “He’s a dummy.”
“I do agree that was a significant tactical error,” Luthias said. “I was wondering why you stalled for so long.”
“I wanted to see how we faired as a party.”
“Dun’ give us that,” Gabrielle said. “I know ya messed up.”
The nagging. The nagging! He felt like a young boy in his parents’ house again.
Gabrielle went on, “I hope ya learned a lesson, Row. Next time, it could be much, much, much, much worse.”
Oh, the nagging! Rowan pretended he didn’t hear, his face drooping. And if they were such experts, why hadn’t they spoken earlier?
Because they were masters of hindsight, nothing more. Assholes.
Gabrielle poked his nose. “Did ya hear us, Row?”
“What?”
“We got a Loot Gem. I thought it was just a shiny pebble.”
His mood was instantly lifted. “Give me.”
“Nope. I’m the one with the Luck, silly.” She grinned like a birthday girl.
The loot gem rolled between her fingers in front of his eyes. She let it slide onto her palm, and in a mute glow of white light, an item formed from plasma-like magic—a small round item. It was a silver ring with a cut onyx the size of a bloated raisin. Two glittering runes were engraved onto the band.
Enchanted Onyx Silver Ring of Luck and Health
Type: Accessory (ring)
Quality: 689 (Excellent)
+9 Luck (Quality: 456)
+7 Health (Quality: 372)
Tip: Accessories do not carry Armor ratings, but may have up to two basic and one advanced enchantments. All other equipment types may only have one basic enchantment. Main-hand weapons may also carry up to one advanced enchantment.
Tip: Armor only protects against physical damage
Lucky her. And excellent tips as usual.
“We’re gonna be rich in no time, I tell ya!” She fitted the ring onto her middle finger, then placed a thumbs-up in
front of his eyes. The two runes lit up for a moment.
“Maybe,” he said, smirking, “your build is actually genius when you have a Demon lord and slaves protecting you.”
“Yup. Told ya.” She lowered him into freezing trickling water, his back stinging less than he had imagined.
Viola asked from some distance, “Are we lowly slaves ever going to get a share of the loot?”
Rowan stole a moment of consideration, then said firmly, “Gab and I are first pick, then you’ll get anything we don’t think we want; however, if you get something class specific, like a longbow or whatever, you can have it if we think you’ve earned it.”
Viola scoffed, “Wow! That’s a lot of ifs and thinks.”
“Hehehe. You’re a slave. No complainin.” Gabrielle’s forked tongue peeked between her lips, wagging.
“Hmph.”
“If you value your security,” Luthias said, “you will allow me all knight equipment.”
“You can have the tank stuff, Luthias,” Rowan said. “You did very well back there.”
Gabrielle blinked. “Hmmm. I guess he did.”
Luthias grunted. “I am merely holding my end of the deal. I expect you to do the same.”
Rowan said, “I am a fair leader.”
“I am a fair leader,” Gabrielle mimicked.
“I am.” He looked to the left of her leg. “Luthias, does your taunt work on everything?”
“Yes. All targets, including adventurers.”
Good to know.
Gabrielle asked, “What deal were ya talking about?”
“Well, we are going to meet with Synaptic Entertainment to discuss…” he began quietly in a measured tone as though he alone out of millions of players could influence the game’s design. As if. Luthias wasn’t going to ever see his friends and family again, poor guy.
* * *
Boring rest was the agenda for Rowan thanks to his injured spine. Feeling like an old man, he sat on a rocking chair in his bedroom. He wove a bowstring by hand, watched the sun fall behind whitening mountain peaks. The twin moons were fading in. Day six was coming to a close.
So was his infection, which was at a healthier minuet severity. That honey was extremely potent; it even dulled the pain of his wound.
Thank you, gods of nature.
Outside, a butterfly with glossy mana-covered wings danced across the window as though the gods were saying he was welcome.
And in the distance by that spiky rock formation, a ghostly creature streaked through the grass into the forest—Gabrielle’s kitten from the other day. Except it wasn’t a kitten, more like a big cat. A young mountain lion? It had came and went too briskly.
He eyed the chat box.
Rowan LeMort: Your kitten grew.
Gabby LeMort: Huh? Where?
Rowan LeMort: Ran into the forest by the big rock.
Gabby LeMort: Awww…
Hopefully it wasn’t going to grow into a level sixty elite tiger, which wasn’t impossible. There was a tiny chance, so Rowan threw the kitty onto the back burner for now, hoping he wouldn’t actually have to burn it in the future.
These days, he was suddenly hoping for many things.
Pressure was mounting. Although the Elves were lifeless AI, they were counting him. No stupid mistakes could be made as they would not respawn, and he deserved a fair return for all the blood, sweat, and pain he was investing in them. And admittedly, he enjoyed their company. So what were they to him? Just AI slaves? Or something more?
He couldn’t say.
But they were his charge, his burden to protect and care for. He both thrived and shied away from these new responsibilities. Most of all, Gabrielle was counting on him more than ever.
“This is one heck of a game,” Rowan said under his breath.
“Ya can say that again,” Gabrielle breathed on his neck.
A flinch jolted up his wound. “Aren’t you creepy this afternoon.”
She laid a warm hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got some bad news. Please dun’ react badly.”
He took hold of her fingers. “You know I probably will.”
“Hehe, that’s true.”
“What is it? Spew it all out until it feels better.”
She sucked in a massive breath, then said in a rush, “Skylar stored the spider meat with the bear meat last night, and the spider meat’s unlucky magic made everything go moldy, so ya have to burn it all. Please don’t give him lashes or anything, kay?”
Relief cooled his head. “No problem. He can go hunt for more to make up for it.”
“Also bits of the exploding crows landed on the apple tree. All the apples are rotten, and the tree’s pretty much dead.”
At least no one lost another arm. He put on his best smile. “We have an orchard growing, remember?”
Her hands clapped together. “We did!”
“We did?”
“Crow bits landed on it and tainted the soil. The saplings are all dead. We have to replant our crops like a hundred yards down the fjord.”
When it rains, it pours. “We don’t have any seeds?”
“Nope.”
“There are no other fruit trees nearby?”
Her eyes wandered. “Nope.”
“Then how much food do we have? How much can we hunt?”
“Skylar and Viola just returned with nothing—except for their usual two baskets of roots and flowers.”
“Nothing? Did I hear that right?”
“Yup.”
“How? We killed over fifty animals for that Corpse Hound.”
“Luthias thinks all the dark magic scared off wildlife. That, or the spiders cleared it out last night. Probably the former. I saw a big flock of birds fly away yesterday.”
Well, that wasn’t too bizarre. Or even unrealistic. Back on Earth, birds and dogs and other urban fauna were known to flee en mass before earthquakes and other disasters. Here, Rowan was their disaster, and they had sensed his Demonic power.
A headache was coming. Rowan massaged his temples and the back of his neck with firm circular strokes until ideas started flowing. “Have you talked to Tasha?”
“Logged out.”
Rowan scratched his chin. “We’re in a forest. There should be edible roots and flowers everywhere.”
“Not in this world.”
“What about the bee hive?”
“Apparently, it’s pretty rare. We got lucky.”
What the heck?
On second thought, all this inconvenience did make sense from a game design perspective—to make wilderness survival more fun and challenging. What would be the fun if you could eat half a forest? Though he wouldn’t mind a cheat code right now. How about a code for steamed flounder? One his favorite dishes. He blurted, “What about fish?”
“Viola already looked. The sea water’s super salty and barren here.” She exhaled. “Ya really think we’re incompetent? Do ya have any cleverer ideas in that big head of yours?”
And when it pours, it floods. This fjord wasn’t as plentiful or safe as it had first seemed. Now, the only saving grace were the mountainous walls and single narrow pass through.
“So.” Gabrielle’s foot shifted on the floor. “Any ideas?”
Rowan scoured his brain for a solution. Anything. Any suggestions. He flipped through a mental catalog of forum posts, but no suggestions were found. Few players had started in colder climates. And in a moment of salty frustration, he blurted, “What about that cat?”
Her mellow smile flattened. Her eyes became crazy as her fingers twitched toward the mithril dagger at her hip. “Are ya suggesting to eat my kitten?”
He leaned back. “No,” he said, but he couldn’t stop himself: “I’m just saying we have six mouths to feed, and the cat’s growing pretty big—”
“Don’t ya dare eat my kitten.” Her nails dug into the back of his hand.
“Relax, I’m just kidding. Your pet is definitely off the menu. Relax.”
“I’m watchin’
ya.”
“Seriously, relax. I’m not a savage.”
“If ya say so.”
He breathed deeply through his nose, twice. “So how long will it be until we’re out of food, assuming the cousins don’t find any game?”
“Hmmm… Maybe a day. Two if we eat all the bees’ honey.”
One day until starvation. One. The word reverberated in his skull, the gravity of the situation pulling him closer to the edge. He hadn’t ever experienced something like this. Food was aplenty on Earth, even for the poor and homeless. Here, he was at the mercy of nature, and nature could be a crazy bitch.
“Row?” Gabrielle nudged his arm. “Ya okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. We’re fine.” He donned his confident face. “We’ll go on a hunting trip tomorrow morning. We’ll go as far out as we need to. How far did the cousins go today?”
“Like five miles.”
“Then we’ll go fifty.”
“Kay.” She also put on her confident face. “So I can go tell Skylar he’s not in trouble?”
He considered it seriously, but said in a upbeat voice, “He has two more strikes until he will die without a mate.”
“Alrighty!” She turned and skipped out the door, humming an upbeat tune.
Rowan downed a lump in his throat. The thrill of the pressure was something else indeed.
28
Dawn saw Rowan practicing Archery once again.
Though his back was not fully healed, his aim was precise enough to hit a fist-sized wooden block from fifty yards away. He was going with the cousins—against Gabrielle’s protests—for an all-day hunting trip. An extra bow of fire arrows was the difference between life and starvation.
He plucked an arrow from a bark quiver at his back, pushed fire magic into the iron head until it was glowing red. He nocked, pulled, and released in a single motion. Waves of hot air rose from the arrow’s path before it pierced the block an inch off center. Wood blackened but did not catch fire like he had imagined.
Behind, Luthias’ slave thread shortened. He said in a deep voice, “I would advise against fire-tipped arrows.”
Demonborn's Fjord Page 22