The Drachma Killers (The Last Warrior of Unigaea Book 2)
Page 13
Eric.
18th Street station submerged in Lake Michigan.
Eric Renfro.
The sun is warm, the sun is good.
“Oric … ”
Rage laid waste to the place of distaste.
“Oric Rune.”
The voice is real. I am not real.
“Oric … ”
I tunnel through a spiral of glittering lights and awaken in the arms of a stranger, her skin warm to the touch, her gaze cold and calculating.
Deathdale.
“I killed a fucking bear,” I cough, my voice barely audible.
“I see that.”
The Solar Mage helps me to my feet and keeps her arm under mine. I let her hold on as long as she likes. “Thanks,” I tell her after an awkward moment passes. “I’m still getting used to my rage ability. It … does something to me.”
The light over her head gives us just enough brightness to see the bear. The beast is by no means small, about eight feet long from what I can tell.
“How are we going to lug this thing back?”
Deathdale cocks her head at me. “We?”
“You aren’t going to help?” I ask, each passing moment adding more clarity to my surroundings and what has just transpired. You fought a big bear. Pat yourself on the back and get over it.
“I mean, I can try to drag it out. Fuck. I don’t know, though. My strength is pretty much shot. The rage ability depletes me. I was out an entire night the first time I used it.” I suck in another deep breath, feeling better now.
“Try.”
“Easier said than done, Deathdale,” I say as I take the rope given to me by the rhino merchant out of my list. I tie it around the bear’s feet and try to drag it.
Nope, not going to happen.
I’m lucky this thing didn’t come down on top of me.
“Any ideas? Don’t tell me you can levitate shit.”
“Wolf.”
“He’s not going to like that,” I say as I turn back to the encampment. “But he’ll do it if there’s food involved. Stay here, and keep that halo burning bright so I can find you when I return with him.”
The halo around Deathdale’s head forms a solid pillar of light that pushes through the top of the foliage.
“That works too.”
(^_^)
Lothar takes over once Wolf and I get to the clearing. The redheaded giant easily drags the bear, and looking from the bear to the giant, I realize we’ll likely need more food, at least for Wolf and me.
Just then, four white rabbits run out of the forest and die at my feet.
My vision still a little shaky and my nerves on fire, I glance from to the rabbits to Deathdale and shrug. “The Obelisk,” I tell her. “And thanks,” I say to the sky.
Wolf falls onto his back and curls his legs.
“You did good back there,” I say as I roll up the rope we used to tie the bear to Wolf’s chest. “Don’t give up on me now.”
He whines, paws at the sky.
“I’m not carrying you,” I tell him.
Deathdale laughs and Wolf and I look to her. She stops laughing and her face hardens. Sensing an opportunity, Wolf bats his paw at her and rubs his lower back against the ground, his tail kicking up dust.
“Cute.”
The Solar Mage turns away from us and makes her way to the camp.
The aftereffects of my rage ability are hard to define, nor do I know quite how long the power can last. It seemed to have lasted much longer when I fought the Tagvornins in front of the bandits’ hut, but truthfully, I passed out too soon to tell.
I make my way over to the large stack of wood Lothar has collected. Wolf, having given up on being cute for the time being, follows and sighs once he sees the towering stack.
I glance down at him. “Really?”
He looks up at me with his blue-green eyes and nods.
“Wolf thinks it’s too much.”
“Not tonight!” says the giant. “It is supposed to be very cold. You do have a blanket or something, don’t you?”
“Um.”
“I have one.”
I turn to Deathdale. “Is it large enough for us to share?”
A bit of color paints her face as she raises her nose to me.
“Is that a yes?”
“She didn’t say ‘no,’ which is a legal defense in Tael. Sad, isn’t it?”
I shake my head at the giant.
“Fine,” she says, turning away.
Lothar claps his big hands together, startling the ravens in a nearby tree. “Glad that’s settled. Do you have a fire kit?”
“I do.”
For the next hour or so, as the biggest bonfire this side of Karuna cackles and spits, I go about prepping the meat, both rabbit and bear. Wolf whines until I just give him two of the rabbits to eat, fur and all.
Lothar doesn’t whine, but does talk a lot about the different meats he has eaten in Solidus, and is about as helpful as a kick in the ass while I deal with his dinner.
We go to town once the meat is ready, while Deathdale eats another small package wrapped in leaves that she’s pulled from her list. It’s like she has a direct line to EBAYmazon’s Whole Foods feeding into her list, and I’m about to tease her about it when I think otherwise.
Blanket, I remind myself, and as the temperature continues to drop I think I’d better not get on her bad side if I plan to share any of her blanket with her.
Besides that, I get the sense there is something going on between us. I can’t quite pin my finger on it, and I know I have much bigger issues at hand – like, ahem, saving the world – but the feeling is there.
“Maybe I’m losing my mind,” I say under my breath as Lothar launches into an explanation of the best way to prepare bear meat based on a treaty he read, and how what I’ve prepared isn’t that bad but could definitely be improved upon.
(^_^)
The conversation winds down and like clockwork, Lothar goes to sit on his meditations box. He crosses his legs together, the light of the fire flickering on his face and accenting his features. His shadow is huge, something to marvel at as Wolf finishes the rabbit I didn’t eat.
Deathdale’s armor disappears, evident by the way her fur coat decompresses a bit. She lies on the ground a bit away from the warmth of the fire. A blanket appears on her body and with one eye, she motions me over to her.
No need to ask me twice.
I lose my buffed-over Stater armor and crawl under the blanket. The grass is cold against the exposed skin of my shoulders and neck. I scoot just a bit closer to Deathdale and notice there’s a natural warmth radiating off her.
No wonder we’re so far from the fire, I think as Wolf yawns loudly.
The big Tagvornin canine drops with his back right next to our skulls, providing a headboard if we want it.
Deathdale murmurs at this, but I’m not certain what she says as sleep sits on the horizon of my psyche.
Staring up at the crimson night, listening as Wolf’s body fills with breath, I drift off and find myself in Ducat.
I’m standing in the home I built for myself, two stories, with a downstairs completely defined by its living space and an upstairs that contains a master bedroom, a study, and a smaller bedroom for if I ever hope to expand my little mayoral operation and find a wife.
I glance down at my arm and notice I’m wearing a robe made of silk, my fingernails are perfectly manicured and I have a small golden bracelet on my right wrist. I stand from my writing table and approach a large mirror.
A twirl of my finger and my stats – my old stats – come up:
Eric Roon
Class: Level 22 City Planner
Subclass: N/A
HP: 2549/2549
HP recovery rate: N/A
ATK: 28 +6
DEF: 13 +11
Attributes
STRENGTH: 5
WILL: 30
DEXTERITY: 7
MIND: 15
SPEED: 5
It’s then, with a shit-eating grin plastered across my face, that I hear the screams outside my window. I run to the window and look out over the city of Ducat.
Fire to the north – something terrible is coming this way, powered by shrieks and the sound of galloping horses.
My instinct is to run. I glance to my table and see my letter opener, which I’ve recently sharpened after being given a whetstone by a man who owed me a favor.
I grab the sharpened letter opener and stuff it into the pocket of my robe.
I bolt down the stairs of my chambers, not sure where I’m going but also hoping to see or hear more of what is going on.
Once I reach my rather large living room, I shoulder through the front door and out onto the street.
“What is it?” I yell to the neighbor, who is in the process of latching his windows shut.
He opens them and shouts the three words that strike terror into the heart of anyone in a smaller village in Unigaea.
“The Drachma Killers!”
I slam my own door shut and run to the windows, making sure they’re locked. Panic uncoils like a snake in my gut and I suddenly feel weighed down, no longer able to think clearly.
My hand goes to the letter opener in my robe. I pull it out and toss it to the floor.
Wake up.
I scramble back to the window to see the first Drachma Killer coming into view.
The man wears gray armor, mostly made of leather with some bits of forged Taelian steel on common strike points. The armor allows him to move swiftly, but it also leaves him entirely vulnerable.
I fall to my knees, my legs completely jelly.
My eyes settle on the sharpened letter opener and I drag my body towards the glinting weapon.
Sitting up, I glance to the flames now flickering outside my window.
Wake up.
I bring the letter opener to my chest.
“You idiot,” I start to sob. “Pathetic idiot.”
I run my thumb along the blade of the letter opener. I turn the tip towards my throat, pull my hand back, and place a hardened fist on the other side of the hilt of the letter opener.
One …
I steel myself for the pain that will follow.
Two …
My heart does a somersault as a wave of rage erupts inside me. I bring myself back to my feet, look to the door, and take a staggering step towards it.
“You will not … !”
I scream and charge the door, shouldering through it again. My letter opener held over my head, I take a running leap at the Drachma Killer whose back is to me.
I land on him and drive the letter opener into the side of his neck, stabbing him repeatedly.
-31 HP! -48 HP! -22 HP! -57 HP! Critical hit!
Blood flicks into the air with each stab.
Fwwip!
“No!” I shout as my vision pane flashes, a crossbow bolt sticking out of my back. I stagger backwards as more bolts fire into my chest.
Instakill!
Everything is a blur, a tunnel at a thousand miles per hour, a racing cheetah coked up on energy drinks.
“Oric, you’re having a bad dream.”
I blink my eyes, not believing what I see before me.
“Oric, wake up.”
I take a deep breath and fully open my eyes. Standing before me is a woman in white robes, a shaved head, and a large hourglass necklace.
Chapter Fourteen: The Hourglass Mage
“It’s … it’s you!” I say, my heart overcome with joy.
Sam Raid offers me a hand and I take it. Deathdale stirs, sees the oddly dressed mage, and is instantly on her feet, not quite in a battle pose, but ready to produce a weapon at a moment’s notice.
“Relax, Deathdale,” Sam Raid says, her mouth lifting into a mischievous grin.
I break their standoff with a big hug.
“Hey!”
I swoop Sam into my arms and lift her frail body into the air.
“Sam! I can’t believe it’s you!” I pat her on the head. “Going for the monk look, yeah?”
“It’s the way my avatar came. I’m a chronomancer, which Unigaea calls an Hourglass Mage.”
Wolf, who has somehow slept through her approach – strange – is completely beside himself. He’s running little circles around us, looking for his opening, and once I set her down he goes for it, practically knocking her over as he tries to lick at her face.
“Wolf! Chill, buddy!”
Lothar, sitting on his meditations box, slowly starts to wake. The giant’s stomach grumbles as he rolls his head on his neck, his eyes still shut.
“Down, Wolf!”
He drops to all fours and presses his body up against Sam, who naturally starts petting him. “You’re a good boy, Wolf,” she says as she scratches behind his ear.
“I have so much to tell you,” I start to say, “But you first. What … what are you exactly?”
A handle over her head tells me she’s already at level six, and I’ll get to that later. For now, I’m just curious what she is, and why she wears gray monk’s robes with an hourglass necklace and a shaved head.
“It’s the rarest class,” she tells me as her handle flashes red.
“You’re … a Player Killer?”
Her smile thins. “Player Killer is my subclass, and it wasn’t my choice to take it. None of this was my choice.”
“And your main class?” I ask, glancing to Deathdale.
“I’m an Hourglass Mage, a chronomancer.”
Lothar gasps. “An Hourglass Mage, of course! Why didn’t I recognize that? That’d make you the first in … in a millennium!”
“So it appears,” she says as her hand falls to the hourglass on her neck. “This represents the recharge time between the spells I cast. Notice the sand inside is on top right now and not falling through.”
“I can see that,” I say.
“If I cast a spell, the sand starts falling and I can’t cast another until it is finished.” Her gray eyes brighten. “It also flows in the reverse direction, which is interesting to see.”
“And your, um, weapon?”
“I have a wand.” A thin wand sparkles as it takes shape in her hand. The tip of her wand is gold, the bottom stained Blackwood. “And this book, the Book of Time.”
A leather-bound tome forms under her other arm. She hands it to me and I notice there is a closed eye cut into the leather. As soon as I touch it, the eye opens, revealing a clock with golden hands and an opal backing.
I quickly hand it back to her.
“As I level, spells appear and I’m able to cast them,” she explains. “It takes some getting used to. I, um … I’m not very happy with the class at the moment.”
“Not happy?” Lothar laughs. “You have the potential to be the most powerful mage in a century!”
Sam looks up at the giant and back to me.
“His name is Lothar and he’s accompanying us north. He’s a scholar, interested in – well, lots of things, the source code bomb being one of those things. Also talking too much, he’s interested in that.”
“I’d say I talk just enough to get my point across,” Lothar grumbles.
Deathdale huffs as she moves past. I hardly pay attention to her, so mesmerized I am in seeing Sam. “How did you get your levels?” I ask.
“Same way you did. The Obelisk met me as soon as I spawned. She gave me five levels and whisked me away to Tin Ingot, where I ran into two gnomes that told me you had ridden north. There was a group of merchants leaving and I tagged along with them. I saw the giant on the horizon and figured it’d be worth checking out. It appears I was right.”
“See? I’m useful!”
“Did she give you a big scar across your chest that activates a rag
e ability?”
Sam shakes her head.
“The ability to breathe underwater?”
“Not this time.”
I hug her again and she relaxes a little. “I’m sorry, I’m probably smelly. I’m just happy as hell to see you. A lot has happened since we were attacked by the Tags at my hut.”
“Oh?”
I give Sam the briefing and as I do, a look of shock slowly spreads across her face. “You’re saying that Governor Talonas has Stater soldiers parading around as Tagvornins?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Consider the evidence: the false flag, the armor that the convoy I discovered was harboring, the fact that Stater soldiers were riding wolves, the confession from the soldier I killed. And then there was the battle yesterday. Stater sent mercenaries after us.”
Sam’s face hardens. “That motherfucker.”
“My thoughts exactly. And I have to be honest with you here, it’s taken just about everything I have not to ride south and put an end to that RPC’s life. Well, Florin will respawn, but at least he’ll no longer be the governor. Deathdale’s all for it too.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t know they were Stater soldiers when she joined up with them,” Sam says, her eyes narrowing on Deathdale.
The Solar Mage turns to her and bares her teeth. “I was unaware.”
Wolf barks, lightening the mood some. He moves over to Deathdale and sits, letting her pet his head.
“Well, the important thing is we’re all here now,” Sam says. “So what was your next plan?”
“We were planning to go to Metica to find a few sellswords.”
“Why do you need mercenaries?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“The Drachma Killers.” I glance at Deathdale and she nods at me.
“Ha! We’re still considering your little revenge fantasy?”
“It’s not a little fantasy; it’s a very real thing.”
“I, for one, won’t be part of taking on the Drachma Killers; I’m a pacifist,” Lothar says matter-of-factly. “I will return home, to Tael, and we can regroup there.”
“No one asked you to partake and that’s fine. Go to Tael; it is a day and a half from Metica. This is something I, we – ” I point to Deathdale. “ – have to do. And you knew it was part of the deal, Sam.”