by Tao Wong
The scent of the humans is weaker when I reach the car, but my own trail is still pretty clear. I must have been running hard to catch up with them. Though I still wonder for what purpose.
Their scent stops inside the car, and I’ve hit a dead end on that front. One of the wheels holds a residual stink of some small animal caught beneath its tracks, but the scent it laid along road is too faded to track.
Not that I have to. I can follow my pursuit of the car just fine. Not that I need to. The road continues on straight for quite a ways, no tributary streets leading into or away from it.
So, I follow the road until I reach an intersection, sniff around to verify which way I had first come from, then continue to follow the road.
***
The first things I hear are gunshots.
They come from within the town, where a sleek metal building towers over the rest of the houses. But the expected pain searing across my side does not come. They’re not firing at me.
Reassured, I crouch lower, creeping into the town, forgoing speed for stealth. I’m still wary though. The shining metal construction is out of place compared to the plaster and brick that sprawls past it. What’s more, the gunfire issues from that direction, along with shouts and growls carried on stray gusts of wind.
I creep between buildings, following my trail to its source, only to be unpleasantly surprised by a threatening hiss from above my head.
Too quick to dodge, a lizard-like creature leaps from the wall it had been clambering on. It descends on me, the gripping pads of its dewdrop feet extended toward me, unbroken by claws but tinged a sickly yellow.
Acting on instinct, unable to evade in time, I get a look at the creature, surprised by the sentence of smell that fills my nose.
Yellow-Toed Lacerta (Level 9)
Its toes plop against me with force, bowling me over. Its attack completely bypasses my skin and fur. An insidious, creeping numbness spreads across the place I was struck. I give the affected area an experimental lick but feel nothing except a tingle across my tongue. The paralytic agent imparted by its toes does its job.
My hackles rise, and I snarl at the Lacerta, activating Wicked Claws. Murderous energy surges down my legs, lengthening and empowering my natural weapons.
The Lacerta leaps again, but I roll to the side, now wary of its paralytic touch. I give it an experimental swat with my left paw as it passes, and my empowered claws skitter off strong scales for a second before tearing through the flesh beneath like dried leaves.
I could get used to this.
The Lacerta gives a pained hiss. Viscous yellow blood oozes from its wounds like tree sap. I make a note to myself to not come in contact with the blood. Its color is too similar to its toes to be a coincidence.
We circle each other warily, then the Lacerta’s tongue flicks back to touch the blood at its side. I take the opportunity to lunge, but quick as a startled snake, the lizard monster’s tongue retracts, gooey blood coating its length. With a foamy whistle, a jet of part-saliva, part-paralytic-blood shoots out of its mouth, and I dodge just in time.
The thing is fast.
Realizing I have four points to spend on my Attributes, I dump half into Agility and the rest into Constitution—the latter in the hope that it will help ward off the paralytic effect.
Sure enough, the margins of the numbness recede slightly, only to be replaced by pain. It’s then that I realize something is off. The sulfurous smell of burning hair fills my nostrils, and I glance at my side. It’s an angry red mass of sizzling skin, melted hair, and dangerous-looking blisters. The paralytic agent is apparently only one part of a two-pronged attack, the other being a potent acid to damage the Lacerta’s prey.
As if to confirm my thoughts, the Lacerta’s mouth gapes open again as it hisses at me once more, revealing flat, stubby teeth that have no hope of biting through prey that hasn’t been significantly softened.
Aiming to head off another attack that might paralyze something more important—my legs or my skull, for example—I strike, leaping forward to rake my claws against one leg. The Lacerta raises its foot to ward me away, but not fast enough. I feel my claws scrape against bone, savoring the elastic snap of severed tendon.
It crumples, but the monster has another surprise in store for me. Its tail whips around, slamming me into its side. As if waiting for this moment, the Lacerta drops onto its flank, three feet reaching out to encompass me in a paralytic embrace.
I wriggle away, but not in time to avoid getting tagged on the forepaw. Before the quick-acting paralytic sets in, I retaliate, sending several sticky yellow toes pattering to the ground. Blood oozes from the severed stumps on the Lacerta’s foot.
The Lacerta struggles toward me, but the lack of one working foot and having no toes on another significantly impedes its motion—the sinuous alternating step of the lizard becoming a clumsy stumble. My own front foot is in a bad way too, now numb and slowly dissolving. But in this, I have an advantage.
Having already experienced walking with three feet, I have a passing familiarity with it. The lizard has none and is in far worse shape.
I half-hop, half-wobble backward, letting the wounded Lacerta try to angrily close the distance. And I wait for my opportunity.
Growing impatient, it lunges forward, overbalancing as I dash past it.
This time, I’m wary of the tail and just about manage to dodge it, even with my Agility crippled by having only three working feet. Then I turn.
As expected, the Lacerta lashes its tail back, trying to get me in the returning motion. Instead, I arrest its motion with my teeth, tearing chunks out of its tail and spitting it away before too much of its blood comes in contact with me.
The Lacerta hisses at me again. The combination of its ill-advised rush and its double sweep with its tail sends it collapsing to the ground before it has the chance to steady itself.
Even with the precautions I took, my jaw is turning numb. But I don’t need it anymore. I climb onto the back of the downed Lacerta, letting my claws puncture its scales and spine with an atavistic relish. My weight pins it. With one leg incapacitated, I can’t swipe at it as I would like to, and with my jaw partially paralyzed, I can’t gather enough grip strength.
But walking? I can do that. And I walk with extreme malice, especially since the pain-blocking and immobilizing effect of the paralytic is wearing off. My skin feels as if it’s on fire, but it’s only pain. If I let the Lacerta get the upper hand, I’m done for.
After a second or two, I get lucky or accurate—I’m not sure. A claw stabs into the lizard’s spine, and the Lacerta gives a screeching hiss, finally mustering the strength to throw me off.
It doesn’t go well. For the Lacerta, that is.
Still buried halfway into its spinal column, the claws of my hind feet catch, then glide gratingly through bone and the spongey cord at its center. I’m thrown away, injured by the landing, but the back half of the Lacerta is completely limp.
I lie there, paws tingling from contact with its blood, but I’m not too worried. No matter how quickly the Lacerta might regrow its spine, I have little doubt the paralytic effect will wear off faster.
It does. I limp toward it on unsteady legs, the pads of my feet dissolving from walking on small droplets of its oozing yellow blood. Then I take a swipe at its head.
It’s slightly smarter than I gave it credit for. Waiting for me, it releases a jet of spit and blood that sends a stream of numbness down my neck and shoulder. But it’s too late for the creature. All it takes is one swipe, then two, and its brain lies exposed for my teeth to sink into.
I’m still unable to get a good grip strength, but I don’t need to. I’m too numb to shake my neck, rip my teeth through the brain as my instincts scream at me to do. I don’t need to. Brains react badly to being squeezed by teeth. Who knew?
The paralytic blood only helps me, locking my jaw into place as the lizard thrashes its head. A spasm beyond its control racks the upper half of its
body. I’m sent flying once more, this time with a lump of spongey brain matter trapped between my teeth—unable to be released—and a new notification before my eyes.
I take a moment to heal and collect myself. My teeth ache as they dissolve, but once they’re gone, the torn chunk of Lacerta brain falls to the ground. I shake my head, waiting for the pain in my jaw to subside.
Once I feel fit to continue and the pain is an unpleasant memory, I continue following the trail of scent. It’s been partially erased by the scuffle, but it continues farther down the road.
I leave the body of the monstrous lizard—not wanting to eat or touch the meat—and plod forward, keeping an eye on the surrounding walls. The encounter with the Lacerta was surprisingly harrowing. Despite being only two Levels higher than me, it was well-adapted to close combat with its ability to paralyze with a touch and spit its own blood.
If it had gotten a proper grip on me…
I don’t give the subject any further thought. In front of me lies a house, untouched by the apocalypse except for a broken window. And unlike the road, where I can only find my trail, here I find the other three scents from the bridge.
After cocking my head to listen for any abnormal sounds inside and detecting nothing, I clear the sill and the protruding shards of glass, landing easily on wooden floor. This place was obviously the home of the three humans and myself. Their smell permeates the walls and floor and every scrap of fabric nearby. But I have more senses than smell, and I have the brain power to interpret them—even if my memory is shot to hell.
Pictures hang on the walls. Three humans—two big, one small. I stare at them, committing the faces to memory, feeling a twinge of familiarity from all three despite my inability to remember them.
And something that looks like a smaller version of me is there too. Sometimes with just one of them, sometimes with all three.
Deep down, on a visceral level, I know they’re my pack. But they’re not here.
So, I set off running.
Chapter 6
I make good headway back to the bridge, narrowly dodging the ambush of another Yellow-Toed Lacerta as I’m about to leave town. I give it a wide margin instead of fighting it. There’s no point in risking my life for little gain.
As the sky darkens, I want to continue running, but I don’t want to push my luck either. So, I curl up beneath a bush and wait for morning.
***
Morning comes without fanfare, unless you’re in the habit of calling birds a brass band.
I rise without ceremony despite a vague tiredness that begs me to rest a few hours more. And like that, I’m running once again.
There’s no need for sniffing around, trying to make sure I’m going the right way. I’ve been here before, I know I’m going the right direction, and I make excellent headway. My speed increases when I place my latest Class Skill point in Swiftfoot.
Running at an unprecedented pace, it’s only a few hours before I reach the bridge. The gun-toting human is gone, but the bridge is just as broken as it used to be.
Still…
It might be possible.
I take a moment to check the distance between the broken pieces, careful not to look down. It’s a long way across, but I’m strong and faster than I’ve ever been. If I time the leap right, I’ll probably make it… just.
I walk backward for a running start. Then I sprint as fast as I can go.
I time the jump perfectly. And I immediately know it isn’t enough. I’m several feet shy of the other side as I drop with a yelp, and all the air is pushed out of my lungs as I crash against a wooden brace. By sheer fortune, I teeter on a small length of wood between two support columns—with nowhere else to go.
Slowly, carefully, I push myself to my feet, careful not to overbalance lest I end up tumbling headfirst into the river. That sounds like a bad idea.
I’ve reached the other side, but where I wanted to land is fifteen feet above me and there’s no convenient way to get anywhere.
Well, damn.
I pace up and down the beam, gut turning circles with the feeling of failure. The water roils below me. I could jump. I should jump.
Maybe I’ll end up on the pebbled riverbank like last time. But it’s impossible to tell whether I could safely reach the riverbank a second time. I don’t even remember if I know how to swim.
And I’ll lose nothing but time if I try something crazy first. I do have brain damage after all.
I activate Wicked Claws and dig my left forefoot into the side of the wooden support column that holds up the bridge. I give an experimental tug, and it holds. Just. There’s a little bit of slipping, as expected. That means I’ll have to move fast.
I follow with my right, using my strength to pull me up until the claws of all four limbs are embedded in the thick wood. Then I climb, one foot at a time, slowly working upward until I reach the top and a ceiling of planks and woodwork blocks my progress.
Now for the tricky part.
I grasp a supporting strut with my teeth, jaw aching with the strain as I carve out chunks of wood above me with a freed-up paw, letting the broken timbers fall into the river below with a splash. Finally, muscles aching, I cut a small hole to wiggle through. And I’m on the other side. I’m cut up badly from the tight squeeze through, but I’ve made it.
Tail wagging with excitement, I locate my pack’s trail and chase it, the inconvenience at the bridge forgotten.
Several critters try to block my path, but they’re low level and are easily cleared with a few casual swipes. I’m too pumped up to care about such minor things now. The urge to be with my group is strong even though I don’t remember who they are. It spurs me on, so I hurtle through trees toward my destination.
The bond from my class sings in my blood, telling me I’m close to someone whose name I don’t remember, someone who means the world to me. Telling me I’m home.
I keep on running, chasing the feeling. Their scents stretch out before me, strong, fresh, and one in particular—oranges, cornflowers, and a good deal less soap. My tail is wagging so fast I’m having difficulty running.
I barrel through the woods on the other side of the river, breaking into a small clearing with a campsite at its center, and hear a voice that makes my world stand still.
Soft. Tremulous. Questioning. “Buck?”
Not recognizing anything else, I recognize that.
Katie.
Intermission Three
“I can see why you’d think Settlement Owner Pearson would be interested,” Vir said. His eyes darkened as he considered the potential implications of providing this information. Improving political ties with humanity was always good, and the Beast Lord was their closest and most dependable ally. Best of all, she was much more stable and had no romantic ties to his liege, making interactions with her easier to anticipate. On both sides. Still, was there a way the could use this information in the next negotiation? Maybe throw her off guard. The Beast Lord did have an inordinate fondness for animals, not just her own pets…
“You have your plotting face on,” Amelia said, waving a finger at Vir.
“I do not have a plotting face. If I did, I would never have passed my third-year examination,” Vir said. “That is all you, Guard Captain.”
“Sense truth and sense motive do make a great Skill combination,” Amelia said. “But, all these changes, all these reports. What makes all of you Galactics so damn interested in our little blue ball?”
Vir tilted his head to the side, considering his partner. As he did so, a memory rose. A conversation, one held a long time ago. “Well, I don’t think we all planned for Earth.
“Not as it is now.”
Debts and Dances
By Tao Wong
1.2 Earth days before the System Initiation
Dark blue light from System windows illuminated the displayed information and nothing else, leaving the information they displayed only available to the viewer. Seated in the mounting darkness of his o
ffice, the obsidian-skinned, smartly dressed man read over the reports, sensuous lips pursed. With thin, long fingers, the man pushed back some of the long hair that had escaped from behind his pointed ears. Lord Graxin Roxley, Baron of the Seven Seas, Hunter of Drakyl, Master of the Sword and the Black Flame, Corinthian of the Second Order, and acclaimed Dancing Master of the 196th Ball sighed as he finished reading the latest reports, shutting down the notification windows with a contemptuous wave of his hand.
“My lord?” Vir said, attracting the attention of his liege. Standing at parade rest, Roxley’s personal aide, head of security, and spymaster was a model Truinnar, short-cut white hair setting off his black and silver uniform. As a personal servant to Lord Roxley, the lieutenant was not allowed, by custom or law, to keep his hair longer.
“What next disaster do you bring?” Roxley said snippily. In the privacy of his quarters, Roxley could afford to show his closest and longest companion the worries that weighed down his broad shoulders.
“None new. Pauka” —second son of Baron Kumi, a long-time rival of the Barony of the Seven Seas— “came by, seeking a game of cards again. I indicated you still were not available. The Lady Bauber wished to know if you were attending the next Sembla Ball.” At Roxley’s frown, Vir continued. “But I came for another reason. The vote results are in.”
The sentence made Roxley straighten abruptly, eyes narrowing. A mental command had the lights in the room flick on. “Out with it! Don’t you dare tease me. Not today.”
“It passed.”
Roxley relaxed, tension draining from his body. His eyes flicked to the side, his AI generating the notification screen that he had been perusing before. It was a complex spreadsheet of numbers and graphs, but the final tally offered a simple answer—the barony would go bankrupt in nine months. The obligations incurred by his father and those of the previous generation stacked against the meager revenues of his ruined lands ensured the Barony was set on an unrelenting path of ruin. If the Titan that still lived on the lands had left, they would have stood a chance to right the ship. Unfortunately, the monster refused to leave, and they had no funds or ability to make it leave. The Titan’s presence and occasional rampages ensured that any reconstruction efforts were short-lived.
