“Look alive, buddy.” Susannah grinned impishly. “We’ve got company.”
The lake monster burst out of the water in all of its terrible glory. Roger’s eyes widened as he looked up – way, way up. Foot after foot of gleaming aquamarine scales emerged from the water. Okay. They might be in some trouble here. The reports had placed the beast at a ‘mere’ hundred feet or so in length. This thing had to be at least twice that long. Either the reports were horribly mistaken, or this thing was still growing. High above them, a pair of ruby eyes narrowed as the creature drew its head back. Around it, the water began to churn as a combination of magic and special organs began to collect water in preparation for its attack.
“Move, Roger!”
Roger burst into motion as a beam of pressurised water ripped through the air. It carved a gash in the ground and sliced cleanly through a pair of trees as the monster turned its head to track them. A flick of its head had the beam skittering crazily toward them, but Susannah was ready. She leapt, tucking her knees to her chest as she went up and over the attack. Roger, being much smaller, opted to throw himself flat against the ground.
Susannah loosed an arrow as she landed. The projectile exploded against the beast’s scales, but it barely seemed to notice. “How can you be so bad at dodging when you’re so small?” She grabbed him and threw him in one direction before running in the opposite direction. The lake monster’s gaze locked onto her, and another beam of water came within inches of cutting her in two. At the last moment, she ghosted out of the way and flipped onto the branches of a nearby tree. “Hit it with something,” she shouted as she leapt from tree to tree, a lithe, swift shadow. “I’ll keep it busy.”
Roger scrambled to his feet and raised his paws in the air. There was no point in starting small. This thing was too big.
[Ash Blast].
The Word was a far stronger version of [Ash Bolt]. Instead of firing a bolt of molten ash, it delivered a prolonged stream of molten ash in a manner reminiscent of dragon fire. It was at least as strong as seven or eight of the weaker Words put together, and when Roger put his back into it, he could make it perhaps sixteen times as powerful. Since Roger was not an idiot and enjoyed living, he aimed it at the lake monster’s face and threw as much power into it as he could.
In a matter of seconds, several tonnes of molten ash slammed into the beast’s face. It reeled back as the sheer weight and heat of the assault caught it completely off guard. Water immediately surged up from the lake to stem the assault – another ability common to leviathans – and Roger switched tactics. His opponent was, for the time being, blind, wounded, and barely able to breathe. In other words, if he was quick, he should be able to get one attack in for free. He intended to make the most of it, and his opponent was right in the middle of a lake. His choice was clear.
[Lightning Blast].
Much like the Word he’d previously used, this was a scaled-up version of a more famous Word, in this case the infamous [Lightning Bolt]. A colossal blast of lightning crackled down from the sky and struck the monster head on. It didn’t scream. Instead, it shrieked, a high-pitched, keening wail that threatened to burst his sensitive eardrums. Roger hastily used generic magic to cast a partial silencing spell to muffle the noise. He might not have belonged to the main bloodline, but he was still a distant, distant descendant of Roger the Relentless, a raccoon so awesome he’d earned the respect of dragons, krakens, and leviathans alike. He wasn’t as strong as that Roger – he doubted any raccoon ever would be – but his magic was no joke. Jaw clenched, he continued to shove power into [Lightning Blast].
Unfortunately, however, when his Word finally ended, the freshwater leviathan was not dead. On the contrary it was hurt, blind, and smoking… and incredibly pissed off.
Without even bothering to aim, the wounded beast thrashed is head back and forth. A beam of high-pressure water sliced through the air, and more water rose up from the lake to pelt the shoreline. As Roger gawped at the display and then hastily scrambled for cover, Susannah burst into a sprint and grabbed him. With speed no human should have possessed – and the humanity of her clan had been a matter of debate for centuries – she dodged through the watery onslaught as Roger focused on hurling as much magic as he could at the monster.
“See if you can slow it down,” Susannah said as she lobbed him at one of the few remaining trees. “I think I can kill it now.”
Roger nodded and threw more lightning. Susannah’s Words were exceptionally potent, but the element of surprise was crucial. Once Susannah revealed what she could do, the creature would either change its tactics or retreat. If it was smart enough, it might even recognise the threat she posed and attack before she could strike. Even Susannah would struggle to hit it if the leviathan simply buried her under a tidal wave of water. She needed to wait for the perfect moment and then kill it with her first attack, or the battle would become even more difficult.
Susannah took a second to get her feet solidly beneath her and then loosed an arrow.
[Pierce].
It was such a simple, direct Word. All it did was enhance the ability of an object to pierce through things. Its usefulness for an archer was obvious. An arrow with [Pierce] on it was much more likely to penetrate armour instead of simply glancing off. Well, that was what most people would have done with it. Roger had seen Susannah throw a sheet of paper through a brick wall. True, the sheet of paper had crumbled afterward, but it had still gone through the bricks like they weren’t even there.
Her arrow streaked through the air and went right through the scales around the leviathan’s throat. Now, a well-known fact that monster hunters usually tried to take advantage of was the fact that monsters were generally squishier on the inside than the outside. The arrow Susannah had loosed was covered in explosive runes, and like most such arrows it was triggered by impact. With [Pierce] on the arrow, though, it hadn’t registered any resistance until it was already inside the leviathan’s throat – where it exploded. And that was one of the reasons she had waited so long to attack in earnest. The timing required and the exact amount of magic needed to ensure the arrow detonated inside the leviathan’s throat instead of against its scales or simply passing through were incredibly precise. And so Susannah had watched and waited, studying the leviathan’s durability carefully until she could be sure.
And the results, as always, were impressive.
The monster wasn’t quite decapitated, but it was very, very dead. It wavered briefly and then toppled onto the shore with earth-shaking force. Susannah skipped over to the body and took out her fishing rod, so she could prod the corpse.
“It’s okay, Roger. You can come over. The scary monster is dead.”
He huffed. It took you long enough.
“Yeah, well, I’d rather get it right the first time. Do you really think it would let me take a second shot? Not a chance.” Susannah grinned and extended one hand. “But congratulations are in order, partner. Once again, we stand triumphant over the forces of darkness.”
I’m not sure the leviathan was working for the forces of darkness. He shook her hand and then darted forward to bite her finger. That’s for using me as bait! She laughed and hoisted him up onto her shoulder. It was a long way back to the town, and raccoons weren’t built for long-distance, high-speed travel. We should tell the townsfolk that it’s dead, or we could try to haul its body back to town.
“Yeah… no. We’ll cut off one of its fangs or something.” The monster twitched, and she fired a second arrow into its body. Another explosion followed, and it fell still, a massive hole blown in its body. “Oh, right. These things can get so big they sometimes have a secondary brain you need to kill too.”
Or it was just twitching because it’s so big the rest of its body hasn’t realised it’s supposed to be dead yet.
They cut off one of the monster’s fangs – it would make for a wonderful sword or lance – and were about to leave when Susannah’s eyes narrowed. She flung a dagger at a near
by tree as Roger hissed and gathered his magic. He layered a generic defensive spell over the two of them and prepared to hurl something nasty at whoever had come to try to steal their kill. It wouldn’t be the first time. In their line of work, the victors were often too exhausted to put up much of a fight. Well, not this time. They’d teach whoever this was a lesson they’d never forget.
A lone figure emerged from behind the tree, his cloak still pinned to the trunk by Susannah’s dagger. He had his hands up in the air in the near-universal sign of surrender, and he didn’t seem to be carrying any other weapons on his person except the dagger any sensible person carried when they were out and about. Even Roger carried one, not that it was very big or likely to be much good against someone who really knew what they were doing. It was good for catching people by surprise, though. Nobody ever expected to get stabbed by a raccoon.
“So,” Susannah drawled. “Mind telling us why you were trying to sneak up on us?”
Roger used a special application of generic magic to grasp the winds around them. It had taken him years to develop a generic version of [Whisper of the Wind], a Word that could reveal whatever the wind touched. This version came with the very obvious advantage of not telling everyone what he was doing. As far as he could tell, this man was alone. He frowned. He recognised the livery on the man’s clothing. It belonged to one of the prominent Houses of the Blood Alliance although he couldn’t remember exactly which one. Maybe he should have paid more attention during his lessons.
“What does the House of Bloodfang want with us?” Susannah asked. Roger grinned. His friend might not have liked all of her lessons, but she had mastered the ancient art of slacking off while somehow still retaining important information. “Well?”
The man slowly – and carefully – retrieved a scroll from within his cloak and held it out toward them. “I was asked to give this to the lady ranger and the raccoon wizard. My master – the Duke of Bloodfang – has need of skilled adventurers, mercenaries, and monster hunters. He will pay most generously or offer whatever assistance he can if money is not enough. The scroll contains some of the details, but you must first accept the mission and meet with His Grace in person before you can learn more.”
Susannah used her fishing rod to pull the scroll over, so they could both read it. The contents were intriguing. Roger had heard of Mordrath. Long ago, some raccoons of the empire had journeyed to the accursed place, and they’d barely escaped with their lives. Since then, every raccoon with a working brain had steered clear of the place. However, the duke was determined to send a relatively small but elite force into the ancient kingdom. The exact purpose of the mission was not disclosed, but their purpose was easy enough to understand. Mordrath could easily be infested with monsters, and they were monster hunters. He and Susannah had not completed as many missions as some monster hunters – they’d only been doing this for a few months – but the missions they had completed had been impressively difficult.
He looked at Susannah. This sounded like a risky mission, but it was exactly the kind of mission they needed to establish a suitable reputation. They’d be able to get much better jobs instead of taking whatever came their way.
“Well, we have to go home someday, right? When we do, we’d better have at least a couple of truly incredible feats of heroism up our sleeves, or we’re going to be in a lot of trouble.” She chuckled. “Or we could move in with gramps. He’s always asking me to come over.”
Roger nodded. Leaving the way they had would mean trouble down the road – especially for her – but both of their families were suitably pragmatic. It came with the business. If they could return having accomplished some truly impressive feats, the exact circumstances of their departure could be overlooked. They would have ‘gone on a heroic quest’ rather than absconded or deserted. And he really didn’t want to live with her grandfather. Raccoons and werewolves did not have a great history of getting along, not least because he was just about the right size for a quick snack.
Once they’d accepted the mission and met with Duke Bloodfang to learn what the mission was really about, their next step had been to sound out other groups. The two of them were formidable, but two people wouldn’t get far in a place like Mordrath. However, the groups they encountered were either unwilling to add to their number or unwilling to add a raccoon. The former made sense. Experienced adventurer groups were tight-knit units, and they had honed their tactics and strategies together over years of hard work. Adding two new people could completely throw off the group dynamic, which could prove deadly in a place like Mordrath.
As for the latter, Roger couldn’t say he was surprised. Unlike the mercenary groups they’d joined in the past, these people were skilled and in demand. They weren’t desperate enough to take a risk on a raccoon, and many already had powerful magic users. Given how vulnerable he was in close combat, they didn’t think he’d be worth the extra effort to protect. His inability to communicate was also a problem. Translation charms were exceptionally difficult to make for raccoons since they weren’t simply humans speaking another language. His family had several people who could make them, as did Susannah’s, but their attempts to find one that worked for him without going back had all failed. Oh, he could still write, but writing in the middle of combat was not an ideal way to communicate. What was he going to do, hold up a wooden sign or something?
However, Susannah got plenty of offers. Someone with her skills was easy to integrate into almost any group, but she wasn’t going to join a group unless he got to join too. She knew better than anyone that without people to keep his enemies at bay, his lack of durability was going to get him killed.
As they waited for the day to depart, they decided that they might have no choice but to go on their own and then retreat if things got too bad. During a trip outside Ash Harbour to deal with a giant badger – the weather this time of year was perfect for them – Susannah had again opted to use him as bait. That was when they’d run into another group. It wasn’t one they’d met before, but they had heard about them. One of the other groups had even suggested giving them a try since they were, apparently, full of weirdoes.
Roger understood the comment soon enough. It was a truly motley group: a former paladin, an academically inclined vampire noble, a werewolf, a shape-shifter, a merman, and a butler. It was far from normal, and Roger had been quietly hopeful they’d be allowed to join. After all, a runaway huntress and a raccoon war wizard would fit right in, wouldn’t they?
To his relief, the group had allowed them to join. He’d gotten even luckier when it turned out the vampire could understand his sign language. More importantly, they’d fit in, and Aria, the team’s leader in battle, had immediately recognised how effective he could be if he had room to work. Of course, things had started going downhill once they got to Mordrath, but they’d handled things well enough right up until the bridge had collapsed.
As he plummeted toward the churning waters, Roger looked around. He couldn’t see Susannah anywhere. He gulped. She’d be fine. She always was. But until they ran into each other again, he’d have to do his best to stay alive. Hopefully, he’d meet at least one of the others. One raccoon wouldn’t last long in Mordrath alone, and Susannah would be quite upset if she had to find another pet raccoon.
Part Three – The Unconquered
Blue Scales growled a curse as a deluge of falling debris drove him beneath the surface of the water. He was in no danger of drowning, but he was fortunate not to suffer further injury as bits and pieces of the ruined bridge rained down on him. He raised his arms and trident in a bid to ward off the worst of it and wondered how the others were faring. He would have dearly liked to use a Word, but he has hard-pressed just to keep his skull in one piece. What power he could muster was not enough to seize control of the water. It was like trying to move tar. The crabs must be fighting him for control.
He was vaguely aware of the others hitting the water too, but then a powerful current swept them apart. Even wi
th the necklaces they had, it would be far too easy for them to drown. All it would take was the current or a piece of debris dislodging the necklaces. Ignoring the pain as several chunks of stone thudded into him, he somehow found the focus and power to steady the rushing current ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could do right –
THUD.
A large piece of stone thumped into his head, and he was driven beneath the water. His head spun, and he almost lost consciousness. Blood filled his mouth, and more of it rolled down his forehead and across his eyes. His trident nearly slipped from his grasp as he fought the weakness clawing at his limbs. The current surged again, and he felt himself get carried off. Once more, he tried to use a Word, but the raging waters slammed him into one piece of debris after another before he tumbled along the walls of what felt like a thoroughfare of some sort. Battered and bruised, he was forced to focus simply on surviving.
A sudden fortuitous shift in the current brought him closer to the others. [Merman’s Breath] was not a Word he used often. As a merman, he could already breathe underwater. However, it would allow someone else – even a raccoon – to breathe underwater for a short period of time. Even if the necklaces were torn off, it should get the others through this until the current slowed. Through the haze of pain, he managed to fling the Word at the others before the current ripped him out of range. The onslaught of water and debris hurled him against wall after wall and obstacle after obstacle before it dragged him along a long, winding tunnel. He hit several doorways, and it was only later, much later that the passageway widened and the current slowed enough for him to regain his bearings.
The current had carried him to a half-flooded chamber of some kind. Based on its appearance, it must have been used as a gathering place for miners and other workmen. Dragging himself up onto a ledge and then onto a dry section of the chamber, he took several moments to tend to his wounds. He had a litany of cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but the worst wound was from the blow he’d taken to the head. It made him dizzy, and although the water here was far from ideal, it was still possible to heal his injuries with it. It took longer than he would have liked, and it consumed more power than he’d hoped, but he was eventually able to heal his wounds. As he was preparing to leave in search of the others, he caught sight of a small form struggling amidst the slowing waters and wreckage. It was Roger. Quickly, Blue Scales leapt in and wrapped one arm around the raccoon. The war wizard struggled briefly before he realised he was in safe hands.
Attempted Adventuring (The Attempted Vampirism Series Book 2) Page 20
