Chaos Rising: The Realms Book Six: (An Epic LitRPG Series)

by C. M. Carney

  Lex rushed down the alley and into the plaza. He crept around the rubble of damaged buildings and several broken crates fallen from an overturned cart. The others followed and soon they were in earshot of the makeshift militia.

  “Keep yer eyes peeled folks,” a deep, throaty voice said. “We cannot let any of those chaos bastards past us.”

  A surge of warmth flowed to Lex’s heart as he recognized the rough voice of his friend. Nahrman will know what to do. Lex glanced back at the others and nodded. Then, hunched low, he ran towards the line of defenders. It took a few seconds before anyone saw him coming, but then a farm boy yelped and drew the string of his hunting bow. An arrow zipped in Lex’s general direction but missed by several feet.

  “Woah, woah, I’m human,” Lex yelled. “Don’t shoot.”

  “You don’t look human,” the boy countered and knocked another arrow.

  Lex scowled at the boy’s insult but stood tall and raised his hands over his head. “I’m looking for Constable Nahrman.”

  A grizzled older man, likely the farm boy’s father, put a steady hand on his son’s arm and forced the bow down. Several shouts of “Mister Nahrman” and “Chief Constable” and even “Mayor” filled the air. A moment later a large, burly man pushed his way through the crowd and glared at Lex.

  The constable looked awful. He was filthy, a badly sutured gash on his head was crusted with blood and his clothes were a torn mess. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, but his grip on his large one-handed axe was firm. Like the man, the weapon had seen more than its fair share of action.

  “Of course, you’re mixed up in this.”

  “Am not,” Lex protested, annoyed that he sounded so defensive. “This has nothing to do with me. We'd only just got here when that damned dome slammed down around us.”

  Nahrman grunted, his way of saying he believed Lex. “Then what in the abyss are you doing here?”

  “We’ve got to get in there,” Lex pointed up to the tower. “And talk to Sean.”

  “Why?” The Constable’s expression was one of blasé suspicion as if he knew he should care but couldn’t quite muster the energy to do so.

  “We’re hoping he can help us find Gryph.”

  “You lost him … again?” Nahrman shook his head in disbelief. “You are really horrible at this NPC business.”

  Lex opened his mouth to retort, to defend himself, but the Constable wasn’t saying anything Lex wasn’t already feeling. He was just saying it aloud and with a very large audience.

  “We think his disappearance is connected to all this.” Lex waved his hand around the town. “We’re hoping if we can find him, he can stop it.”

  Nahrman nodded. “We can get you into the tower. Your friend Sean has been a positive influence on the new archon, at least where lives are concerned. We’ve been working together to fight all of this.”

  “What is all of this, exactly?”

  “Not sure. It started with disappearances a few weeks back. One or two at first, and then more and more. Yesterday was the first time any of them returned. But they are changed.”

  “Yeah, we saw that,” Lex said, feeling the man’s pain. “For what it is worth, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, but there is no reason to apologize. You aren’t responsible for this.” The Constable paused as if reconsidering that opinion. “Are you?”

  “No, no, I swear. In fact, we fought off an incursion not too long ago. Trust me, we hate these guys as much as you do.”

  Nahrman nodded again and greeted Vonn and Errat, both of whom he’d met the last time the gang had been in Harlan’s Watch. His eyes widened at Simon’s odd coloring, but if he recognized the kid was undead he said nothing.

  “Well come on, don’t just stand there looking all dopey. Get behind the lines.”

  Lex nodded his thanks and motioned for the others to follow him. He reached Nahrman and shook the burly man’s hand. “Good to see you again … Mayor?”

  “It’s a long story,” Nahrman said. “And one we do not have the time to parse over now.” His eyes widened at something over Lex’s shoulder. Lex followed the Constable’s eyes to find Furrick, huddling awkwardly behind Errat, as if he were desperate to avoid the Constable’s notice.

  Well, that settles it, this fake Furrick is definitely not trustworthy. Before Lex could comment, Nahrman spoke.

  “Furrick? I thought I told you to keep an eye on the prisoners, where it's safe. Why did you disobey me, boy?”

  The anger and worry in Nahrman’s voice were touching and the obvious affection the man had for Furrick warmed Lex’s heart. He wanted to tell the Constable of his suspicions, but he feared faux Furrick would run, and Nahrman would follow, and that would lead to all kinds of problems.

  “Ah, he’s with us. We went to your office, and he told us you were here. He wanted to join us, and I didn’t see the harm in it. Sorry.”

  Nahrman eyed Furrick and then Lex, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching as he assessed Lex's lie. Lex felt like a teenager awaiting his father’s decision on whether he could go 'study at a friend’s’ knowing full well the kid was planning to go to a party.

  “Go. You’ll be safer in the tower with the children and the aged, anyway.”

  A typical teenage scowl crossed Furrick’s face, but whoever was wearing his form was wise enough not to question their good luck.

  “Don’t worry Constable, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Because you’ve done such an up and up job protecting people to date,” Nahrman said with venom but paused his rant. The Constable’s shoulders slumped and his face, if not his words apologized. “I have no time for this. I’ve got a defense to muster.” He glared at Lex. “You keep him safe, or this time I won’t allow you to escape the noose. And you, boy.” He pointed his axe at Furrick. “You and I will have words if we survive the day.”

  Furrick bowed his head in assent but said nothing. Lex grabbed the kid by the shoulder and began leading him to the tower when a cry echoed across the plaza.

  “To arms! To arms!”

  10

  All eyes snapped towards the shout. Instincts took over, and Lex and the others readied weapons or spells. A moment later a burst of deep orange light exploded less than twenty yards from their position.

  A spinning, aerial rune-form expanded from a singularity point and then vomited forth a dozen streams of liquid lightning. The tendrils impacted the ground and pulsating sacks of chaotic effluence expanded into human-sized pods. They burst, discharging their malformed chaos spawn like some horrid caricature of the miracle of birth. The vile creatures stumbled to their feet or stood on their hands and advanced, chittering, screaming and howling as they came.

  Stones, arrows and other projectile weapons zipped from the defenders into the approaching enemy, but none were very effective. Another voice rose, yelling “Torches! Torches!” Flames blossomed up and down the defensive lines, as several dozen torches burst into flames.

  Nahrman turned to Furrick, his eyes fierce. “Stay behind us.”

  “I can help,” the teen protested.

  “No!” Nahrman roared. “If I see you move, I’ll smash you myself.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” Furrick protested but backed away on seeing the Constable’s fierce glare.

  Nahrman held his axe high, roared a guttural battle cry and rushed to meet the new threat. Lex and the others were right on his heels. The people of Harlan’s Watch ran bravely towards an enemy they had little hope of defeating, in a war stacked against them.

  The chaos spawn slammed into the first row of defenders and a dozen of them fell in the blink of an eye. Screams rose then dimmed to bloody gurgles and the sudden, heavy silence of the dead. Nahrman swung his axe in a wide arc, decapitating the closest spawn. He kicked the body away and yelled. “Torch!”

  The nearest torchbearer rushed forward and doused the head and body with oil. She thrust the torch down and the body burst into flames. The decapitated
head screamed, and the arms and legs danced and kicked. After a few seconds, both halves of the creature stopped howling and fell dead.

  “Sometimes they get back up,” Nahrman said to Lex’s unasked question. “Fire stops that.”

  “Okay then, pyromania is good,” Lex said. For a moment he considered unleashing Flames but decided adding madness to the chaos was far from the best plan. Instead, he powered up his hammer with Spirit energy and stepped forward. He swung the hammer in an upward arc into the underside of the closest chaos spawn’s chin and activated Crushing Blow. Bone crunched and flesh tore. The head detached and flew a few dozen yards back, landing at nearly the exact center of the still thrumming chaos rune-form.

  That was unexpected, Lex thought and the small part of his brain, the one that liked to distract him mid-battle with moronic thoughts, chuckled at the image; like he was excelling at some twisted version of corn hole.

  Without a word, the torch-bearing woman doused the body in flames and Lex moved on to the next enemy. Vonn and Errat guarded his flanks, each taking on enemies of their own. Most surprising was Simon’s contribution. He raised the corpse of the nearest fallen chaos spawn and sent it to battle its former brethren. The corpse was not the most effective fighter, being headless and reanimated, and it did little but distract its target.

  However, it gave Lex an idea. A quick use of Analyze told him that Simon was a shocking level 37 in Death Magic. Some had come from the necromantic power the Barrow King Ouzeriuo had left behind in the skull when Gryph had killed the soul revenant. The skull had become Simon’s anchor to the Realms and its curse of undeath had come with some new skills and powers. When last Lex had checked, Simon had only been level 22. What have you been doing with Gryph’s dungeon? he wondered, but knew he had no time to worry about the kid’s journey into darkness.

  “Simon, can you raise that one?” Lex pointed to a chaos spawn Errat had just slain. It had an octopus-load full of tentacles sprouting from each shoulder and an extra lower leg jutting out from the rear of each knee joint.

  “I have five more seconds on my countdown,” the undead teen responded.

  “You don’t want to burn it?” Vonn asked.

  “Oh, I do, I very much do,” Lex responded with a wicked grin. “Let’s buy Simon some time, boys.”

  The gang returned to the fray, assisting Nahrman and a thickset graying woman Lex recognized as the cook from The Shining Unicorn Inn. She dual-wielded a cleaver and a heavy cast-iron pot, both to surprising effect. Together they secured their flank.

  The other side of the line had not fared as well. The bodies of more than a dozen townsfolk lay strewn across the ground, the victim of a brutally large chaos spawn that reminded Lex of a roided up version of his old pal Gaarm.

  “That looks like …”

  “Gaarm,” Nahrman finished as they rushed to aid their fellows. “He was the first to go missing but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Why would I? Good riddance I figured. Versions of him keep coming back and each time they’re bigger, uglier and more brutal.”

  “That sounds like Gaarm,” Lex admitted. Gaarm was, or had been, Lex’s first ‘friend’ in Harlan’s Watch. Well, less friend than a random stranger who threatened to murder him for cheating at cards. To be fair to the brutish Eldarian, Lex had cheated at cards, and frequently. Despite their unfriendly past, seeing Gaarm’s chaos spawn doppelgänger made him feel bad for the guy. Nobody, not even Gaarm, deserved that kinda punishment, no matter how many times he’d been amorous with the town’s livestock.

  “I’m ready,” Simon said and began to cast. Lex motioned to the nearest torchbearer, a girl of only 13. She ran up and doused the tentacle armed corpse with oil. A moment later purple-black energy pulsed down Simon’s arm and shot at the corpse. The energy flowed around the body and it began to spasm and jerk. It sat up, causing the torchbearer to yelp in fear. Lex took the torch from her and ignited the creature.

  “Kill,” Simon said in a low, cold voice and the headless aberration rushed in a mad blaze towards the Gaarm chaos spawn. It kicked it off its feet and then entwined another pair of chaos spawn with its burning tentacles. The reanimated octo-spawn then dove atop the downed Gaarm spawn, igniting the entire lot. All three beasts howled as they burst into a raging bonfire.

  The attack gave the townsfolk’s the opening they needed, and they dispatched the last few chaos spawn. Tension remained high as eyes scanned back and forth for enemies. Nahrman went from person to person congratulating or consoling as needed. The Constable, or should he call him Mayor, was impressive. He was a true leader.

  I can learn something from this man. Lex checked on his team and then turned his eyes on faux Furrick. It was time to get some answers. The kid’s wary eyes were on him before Lex even took a step in his direction, but he covered his suspicion under a warm smile. He’s good, whoever he is.

  Lex was still several feet from Furrick when a flash of orange light burst into existence behind the street urchin. Lex’s eyes widened in panic, for the rift was within their defensive perimeter. He watched as the inevitable portal opened and deposited half a dozen pulsating sacks of chaotic glop. His gaze flashed to Furrick expecting to see fear filling the boy’s eyes, but instead he found the confidence that could only come from hard-earned battle experience.

  Furrick spun, drew a pair of thin daggers from his side and activated his Ring of the Zipping Chameleon. The impressive magical item allowed the wearer to meld into the background while standing still or move so fast that all the eyes saw was a blur.

  It was this second power that Furrick used now. The kid moved faster than Lex’s eyes could follow, and flashes of silver exploded outwards in an odd, almost fractal pattern. In less than a second, two of the membranes ruptured and a pair of malformed chaos spawn fell in a heap, ichor pouring from razor clean cuts across their throats.

  The four remaining sacks birthed their contents in a flood of red-orange goo. One died before it could stand. A second before it had pulled itself free of its embryonic sack. The last two got to their feet before twin blades of steel pierced an eye socket and punched through the bottom of a chin. The spawn twitched on the blades as Furrick stood, arms wide, both daggers held in lithe hands.

  Recognition sparked inside Lex and he knew why those daggers had seemed so familiar. He recognized the easy grace of motion, felt the familiar essence of this combatant as clearly as a fortune teller sensed an aura. Combat always brought these traits to the surface and each person’s style was as unique as a fingerprint. Lex had seen her fight at least a dozen times while stuck in his time loop. Sometimes he had fought with her and sometimes against.

  “Seraphine,” Lex said. His tone was not a question.

  11

  Lex knew he was right. The sly smile that had earned her so many tips back when she’d been a waitress was disturbing on Furrick’s face. But it was the look in his, or should he say her, eyes that told him all he needed to know.

  Well, not all. He didn’t understand how Seraphine had become Furrick. His original guess had been a Mimic Stone, the magical devices that enabled anyone to look like someone else. But that wouldn’t explain how Seraphine had Furrick’s Ring of the Zipping Chameleon. This had to be something else.

  Had Seraphine stolen the kid’s body or snatched his DNA to grow a new Furrick in an alien pod or was she wearing his skin like some kinda creepy Edgar suit? Or maybe she was some type of advanced chaos spawn? She had worked for the Vex. Was this Furrick even human?

  There was another problem. Since she may or may not be a woman trapped in a boy’s body, which gender pronoun should he use? Was she a she in a he or a him filled with a her? The whole thing made his head hurt.

  He eyed her warily. He doubted she was chaos spawn since she’d single-handedly eliminated one of their broods, but he still couldn’t exorcise the sensation that any second now her head would peel back, revealing a maw of sharp teeth, or tentacles would explode from her mouth or …

 
“Where is Furrick?” Nahrman asked, his voice brimming with anger that did not hide his fear. “Is he alive?”

  I'm an asshole, Lex thought. Here he was going all B movie sci-fi trying to uncover how Seraphine had snatched Furrick’s body, that he hadn’t even considered what it meant for the kid.

  “He’s fine,” Seraphine said. “I left him in the jail cell in my body.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nahrman said, his fear growing.

  “Let’s just say, I used a little something I keep for emergencies. It’s a device that allows me to switch bodies with another person, as long as I come into physical contact with them.”

  “You used a get out of jail free card,” Lex said in amazement.

  “An odd description,” Seraphine said. “But I would not say it was free, I paid a heavy price.” Her tone turned sour as her eyes drifted unbidden to Furrick’s body.

  “I told Furrick to stay away from you,” Nahrman said.

  “Yeah, you should have known that wouldn't work. He’s a teenage boy suffering from a near-terminal hormone overdose, and I’m me.” She ran her hands up and down Furrick’s gangly body like a swimsuit model. It was disturbing, but Lex sensed the truth in her words. “The boy had no chance. You should have known better.”

  A flush of red rushed through Nahrman’s face. He was punishing himself for his stupidity. Lex needed to pull the Constable back from that chasm of guilt. “So this is some kind of badly written body switch comedy,” Lex mused.

  “There is nothing funny about this,” Nahrman said, his voice tinged with anger.

  “Trust me on this. I’ve seen them all and they are universally horrible.”

  “You’re not helping,” Vonn said, placing a hand on Lex’s shoulder.

  Lex nodded. “Sorry, you’re right.” He bowed to the Constable, making amends for any offense. The Constable turned back to Seraphine.

  “Switch back, now.” Nahrman’s fierce gaze bore into Seraphine, and he took a step forward, hand white knuckling his axe.