Spear of Destiny

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “Surprise, motherfuckers!” I leaped back into the air, burning a third of my AP to rain hell on all three of them. Twelve lances of pure darkness warped from the air around me, slamming down into the trio of undead and throwing a cloud of dust into the air.

  “Hey, Mata Argis creeps! Remember me!?” Karalti broadcast as she landed on top of the agents, crushing one, and scattering the rest in all directions. As the dust cleared, I saw the vampires snarling, their faces bestial masks of rage. I ignored them, angling for Uttapsu—except the lich was gone.

  “FUCK!” I got that one word out before the spell hit me—from above. A line of fireballs ripped up my back and slammed me into the dirt. I hit the ground hard, desperately rolling away as the next barrage struck the ancient stone and blew chunks out of it, flinging them into the air.

  [You take 430 Fire damage! You are Burned!]

  One of the vampires rushed me, his metal fangs bared. I snarled back at him, feeling my lips pulling back over my own fangs, and boosted myself with Mantle of Night. Accelerated, I pivoted and knocked his next sword stride to the side, then rushed him with a Spear boiling with black flames. He managed to block one, two, three of the strikes from Blood Sprint, but his guard gave way before I did. The next blows in the combo landed, ripping him apart.

  [You deal 8248 damage to Vampire Fledgling!]

  [You have destroyed Vampire Fledgling!]

  The other vampire was behind me, supernaturally fast. I could either dodge him, or the next round of magic. I chose the magic, vanishing as a bolt of lightning lanced down in the spot I’d been standing. The vampire’s sword met my gut, thrusting deep… into the armor. The chiton scale buckled around the tip of the blade, turning attempted disembowelment into a really bad bruise. I used Blink Strike to vanish and reappear behind him, ramming the blazing spear in under his armpit. The vampire screamed as dark energy engulfed him like a pyre, boiling his flesh off his bones before ashing him completely.

  “Ashur’s ill-begotten child.” Uttapsu’s reedy voice sneered behind me. The lich hovered with his toes barely hanging over the ground, his arms loose by his sides. He was so old that he resembled a brittle skeleton—but the points of glowing light in his eyesockets burned with malevolent will. “Was it fate that guided you here? Or your destiny to serve Napath as our slave?”

  “Do you know what I hate? Villain speeches.” I whirled the Spear into position and faced off with him. “Shut up and put up.”

  “As you wish.” Uttapsu gestured with a mummified hand, and several discs of magical glyphs appeared around his feet. “Die in silence.”

  I Jumped as the circles discharged bolts of static—only to strike against an invisible ceiling. I nearly broke my neck, crashing back to the ground on my chest. Knocked prone, I took Uttapsu’s next spell full-force: a waterblade that seemed to punch right through my body and blow out the other side. I screamed as hot agony tore through my nerves… and passed, having dealt much less damage than it should have.

  [You take 469 Water damage! x2 Damage! (45% Water resistance)]

  Uttapsu almost looked confused as I closed in with him. He threw up a shield of energy just before my weapon smashed into his frail body, holding it against my strikes as I transmuted the Spear from Dark to Light and slashed the barrier a dozen times. The shield turned bright blue, but it held –so I teleported behind the lich and struck with Blink Strike, white flame transmuting to black. The blow sent him reeling through the air.

  [You deal 1015 reduced Darkness damage to Uttapsu! HP: 12,858/13,873]

  “You’ve got protection against Darkness magic, huh?” I circled him, quick-spamming a couple of potions as he drew a pair of knives from his belt.

  “The only reason that surprises you is because you lack intelligence.” The lich sounded calm, tracking me as I moved around him. “You are a half-breed whelp, barely a puppy. Young. Foolish. Pathetic.”

  “Dude, seriously, I don’t care about your fucking poetry slam.” I lashed out with Black Lotus, but before the noose could reach Uttapsu’s neck, he lifted a hand and it withered away. “I AM curious how you cast magic without a spell glove or words of power, though.”

  “You are too primitive to understand.” The lich turned his knives back in his hands—the only warning I got before the ground erupted beneath my feet.

  Chapter 41

  I nearly Jumped on reflex before I remembered that was a bad idea. The second of hesitation nearly cost me my life, as chains of energy erupted from the ground like a hydra. They lashed after me asI Shadow Danced through them, stabbing cruelly into the ground as I reappeared. I reeled away in what felt and probably looked like some kind of high-speed Irish dance before one of them snapped around my wrist with crushing force. The Spear fell from nerveless fingers as my hand turned numb, followed by my arm and then the rest of me. I began to lose HP, Stamina and Adrenaline at the same time as the spell began to suck the life out of me.

  “You cannot win, half-blood.” Uttapsu hung about ten feet away, his knives resting loosely in his hands. “Surrender, and I will submit you to Ashur’s justice. He will finish what he started. You will know peace at last.”

  I strained against the energy drain, mind racing. There was no way a mage that was only ten levels higher than me could be this strong. And how the fuck was he casting without a spellglove? Without mana?

  Then my eyes lit on the Ix’tamo. The mana in them was boiling, surging through the glass tubules inside like blood through veins. And they were flowing down—down into the magic circle on which we still stood.

  “Karalti! Assist!” I shouted to her telepathically, sinking down to one knee as the strength ebbed out of my limbs. “Nuke those Ix’tamo! Now!”

  Karalti was being hit by magic from all sides, soaking fireballs and energy blasts from the three mages still left standing. All but four of the Mata Argis were dead. She charged the mages down, shattering their line, then grabbed the slowest one and flung him into the first Ix’tamo with her jaws. Then she blasted it and him with Ghost Fire. For a second, I didn’t understand—until the screaming, dying man seemed to mesh into the device, which exploded in a gush of pure green mana.

  [Warning! Mana concentration is extreme!]

  [You are suffering Mana Poisoning!]

  The lich turned from me as I collapsed to hands and knees, gesturing toward Karalti. She squealed in agony as his next spell took hold: a kinetic blast that torqued her neck and twisted her wings back. But it didn’t stop her from belching another plume of fire at the second Ix’tamo. A normal dragon would have barely brushed the device with her flames, but Karalti’s liquid fire slapped the crystal and stuck there. The Ixtamo’s surface cracked under the intense heat as the sticky flames roared on its surface, then burst. And as it did, Uttapsu’s hold on me lapsed.

  “HRRRAAGH!” I sped forward with the last of my stamina, the Mark of Matir burning on the back of my hand, and drew from it to power a lance of solid darkness at terminal speed. It tore through Uttapsu’s fragile body like a lightning strike, hurling him away.

  [Shadow Lance deals 5072 damage! Uttapsu HP: 7786/13,873]

  “You do not know who you are fucking with!” I roared, hunting him as he teleported in and out of reach. He was luring me toward the mana, trying to use it for its damage-over-time effect. So far, he was succeeding—I was at 559 HP and dropping every second. I chugged a potion, boosting my health back to 909 HP, and flitted after him.

  “Bla’kotar!” Mana haze sucked into the lich’s knives, then blasted at me in twin whips of cutting water. I dodged one and soaked one, the damage boosting my AP, and struck him like a homing missile: a regular strike with the lance, and then an explosion of raw black energy. Umbra Burst—right in his fucking chest.

  [You deal 6816 Darkness damage! HP: 970/13,873.]

  [Your HP: 231/3,138]

  The lich’s fleshless mouth opened in a soundless scream as his body caught fire like a match. The Darkness crawled through him like embers, but it didn�
��t destroy him. I could feel his will bearing down on mine.

  “Fool.” His arms wrapped around me, and he plunged both blades into my back. The armor slowed them down, but as he bore down with feral, supernatural strength, I felt the magically-enhanced points begin to press through the links toward my kidneys.

  “Just, fucking DIE!” I snarled, twisting the Spear deep in his body as my health trickled down into the double digits.

  “I will report everything I’ve seen. Your powers. Your abilities. The way you fight.” Points of light kindled in his skull, boring into mine as his hands faltered. “You… belong to… USSSS.”

  “Tell Fang Daddy to go to hell.” I twisted the Spear again, grinding into the lich’s surprisingly solid core. Uttapsu let out a thin wail, then collapsed into a shower of dust that winked out like embers. A loot sack appeared out of thin air, falling to the ground with a clank.

  “Urgh.” I sank down to one knee. Blood was pouring from my mouth. I reached up to touch it, not even sure where it had come from. I didn’t remember taking any hits to the face.

  I flinched as the last Mata Argis agent flew past me, screaming as he crashed spine-first against the edge of the portal ring. I heard his back go with a dull crunch, and he tumbled to the ground, lifeless.

  “Ugh. Finally.” Karalti echoed my groan as she stumped over to me. One of her wings was dragging, and patches of frost still bloomed over her scales. Near the bridge, Suri was leaning on her sword, covered in blood and ichor. Surrounding her were the zombies and Napathian Elites she’d killed, then killed again when they’d Stranged and morphed into some Rat King-like abomination, all hands and legs and wailing, gnashing mouths.

  [Quest Updated: The One Who Abides. Return to Priest-Queen Solai to claim your reward.]

  [You gain 2,573 EXP! Karalti gains 2573 EXP!]

  “Dun-duh da dah da dahh!” I thrust the Spear into the air along my terrible impression of the Final Fantasy victory jingle.

  “That fight was a lot harder than I thought it would be.” Karalti groaned as she lowered her chest to the ground, tucking her forearms up and crouching to rest. “Ow.”

  “Here.” I pulled out the one and only dragon sized healing tincture I kept in my Inventory: a whole gallon of it. “This should help.”

  “Thanks.” Karalti snaked her tongue out, wrapped it around the uncorked bottle, and tipped the contents into her jaws. She delicately dropped it back into my hands before swallowing. “Man… It felt so good to finally take down some of those guys.”

  Rin checked in with Suri first, then broke away toward us at a jog. “Hector! Karalti! Are you okay?”

  “Suuuurrre.” I did my best not to slur as I raided my Inventory for more healing pots. “Not doing so… uhh… great on the healing side of things.”

  “Here. I carry a few for my organic friends, in case of emergencies.” Rin pulled three cloudy green potions from thin air, handing them to me. “They’re not the strongest kind. They do 150 HP, I think.”

  “Concentrated Green Moss Tinctures,” I grunted, throwing them back like shots. “Is Suri alright?”

  “She’s hurt, too. But we’re all alive.” Rin bit her lip as she looked to Karalti. “You okay, Karalti?”

  “Yup!” The dragon shifted restlessly, huffing through her nostrils. “Just… ow.”

  Suri stumped over to us, stripped down to her halter top, and her armored cuisses, greaves and boots. She was bleeding from many small wounds—barely scrapes, thanks to Rin’s assistance, and the natural armor she gained from Primal Fury.

  “Welp. That was fun.” She rammed the point of her sword into the dirt between the flagstones and leaned on it.

  I looked her up and down. “How’re you doing?”

  “Good fight. Really got the blood pumping.” She glanced at something I couldn’t see. “Also got the blood infected. You got anything for Blood Poisoning, Mister Herbs?”

  “Jeez. You make me sound like a drug-dealer.” I went into my inventory, pulled out some ingredients, and slapped together a poultice that smelled strongly of garlic and alcohol. “Here. Apply this to your gash.”

  Rin groaned. “Do you guys ever stop?”

  I shook my head. “We do not.”

  “Listen to you, scandalizing our pure, innocent Rin.” Suri’s eyes narrowed, and she snatched the dressing from my hand as I beamed at her. “I reckon I need to carve you a gash.”

  Rin boggled at Suri in disbelief. “Suri, you tease me WAY worse than Hector does.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Suri drew herself up stiffly, ever the elegant countess. “So, what’s in the sack?”

  “The sack?” I blinked at her, expecting innuendo, then realized she was talking about the loot bag. “Oh, that. Hang on.”

  I grabbed the loot bag and opened its inventory. To my dismay, it was mostly junk—but there was a [Letter from Ashur] and a [Golden Bull Amulet] in there which I took. “Looks like Ashur wrote something down for him, but I can’t translate it. We’ll have to do it later.”

  “Huh. Their language looks pretty cool. Kind of like pictures.” The very tip of Karalti’s muzzle ghosted over the top of my hair, her nostrils flexing as she gave me a concerned but thorough sniff-check. “Well… we got the bad guys. What now?”

  “Now we head back.” I watched Suri as she applied the poultice to the deepest of her cuts. “I’m pretty sure we fixed the Priest-Queen’s zombie problem—so now we get to find out what else she wants and pray that whatever it is, we won’t need any more healing potions.”

  Chapter 42

  Night had fallen over Ru Waat by the time we returned, the city glowing with the light of a million candles. Shrill music could be heard from all quarters. People were dancing around fires, roasting meat on spits, singing and clapping. The temple also was bathed in the same soft golden light, and a huge party was in full swing. The priestesses, guards, courtesans and servants mingled out in the courtyard, while Saloi presided over the inner sanctum, indulgently watching two Meewfolk women fighting a third inside the arena. It was part sparring, part gladiatorial match: the atmosphere was friendly, but the blood-streaked fur was definitely real.

  “My loveliest humans!” The Priest-Queen called out in delight, rising off her divan and sashaying over to us in a cloud of filmy silk. “The city received the notification of your success a few hours ago! The attacks have stopped!”

  “The cause of the plague were covert invaders from Napath.” I briefly bent a knee in front of her, then stood up straight. “A lich who works for Ashur of the Ten Thousand Swords, a vampire general from that same country. He’s an imperialist who wants to destroy all of the Dragon Gates, including the Gate here. That’s what your ruins are: the remains of-”

  “Shhhhh” The Priest-Queen coyly pressed her finger against my lips. “No need to yowl it throughout the temple like a girl in her first heat. The truth of that place is a secret, known only to the initiated.”

  “Right. Well, be warned that Ashur isn’t the sort of bloke to just give up on a pet project,” Suri said, drawing up beside me. “He did a number on our province in Vlachia. Myszno is about the size of this whole island.”

  “I shall take your words under consideration,” Solai replied breezily. “But for tonight, we shall celebrate the defeat of our enemies. And I shall make my other two wishes.”

  “What do you have in mind?” I followed her as she trailed back toward her throne.

  “I do not have much interaction with males of my own kind, let alone humans. Your appearance, your destiny, your weapon… all of it piques my curiosity.” She slipped down to rest on the cushioned divan. “In Meewhome, spear fighting is a woman’s art, passed from mother to daughter. It is one of the three sacred weapons of our people.”

  “What are the other two?” Suri asked her, standing at ease.

  “The jilan, the welded claw sheath.” Solai extended one foot and flexed her toes, miming the disemboweling strike her enhanced claws were capable of ena
cting. “And the scimitar. To become a Priest-Queen, you must be a master of all three weapons. To be considered a master, you must show you can defeat any and all comers—including the Priest-Queen herself.”

  “Okay?” I glanced at Suri, not sure where this was headed. She shrugged.

  “My second wish is to duel you, Paragon.” Solai pointed at me. “A duel in which I am able to get the measure of you. What do you say?”

  I rolled my shoulders and motioned with my head. “I’m game.”

  “Wonderful!” Solai put her hands together as the courtiers around her throne murmured and purred in approval. “And that leads to my third wish. I wish to spend a night with you, involved in entertainment and pastimes, such as befit a queen. Should I win, I shall choose how our night proceeds. Should you somehow best me, you shall scheme whatever delights you wish to show. Does that sound suitable?”

  “Karalti would probably be up for taking you on a flight,” I said. “How does that sound?”

  Solai squeezed her eyes in contentment. “No, do not tell me your plans. I wish it to be a surprise. Do you accept?”

  “Sure. Just me?” I gestured to the others.

  “They shall be well-taken care of tonight,” Solai affirmed, stretching languidly as she rose to her feet again. “You shall have food, drink, music! We have so many things you may try here. But first...”

  She looked to one of her slaves, who bowed, then strode over to a gong at the end of the arena. She picked up a mallet and struck it three times. The trio of combatants on the sands stopped, panting for breath, while the murmur of conversation around the room died down.

  “The Priest-Queen has chosen a challenger!” The slave called, raising her voice to be heard out in the antechamber, as well as the sanctum.

  Solai held her arms out expectantly, and her handmaidens got to work. Two of them stripped her of her fine jewelry, unhooking her joined nostril ring and earring, sliding her bracelets and armlets from her limbs, and unlacing the back of her golden girdle. They then removed her silk clothing, except for her loincloth. While she undressed, I stepped back and unequipped my armor down to the flexible doeskin leggings I wore under my breeches. Several of the female Meewfolk behind me tittered.