Eldritch Night

by J M Hamm

  “You alright, Ebenezer?” I yelled through the ringing in my ears.

  “Ugh,” he ground. “Ebenezer? What the … I told you, kid, I’m like two years older tha —"

  “Kid? You’re barely …”

  “That’s it for the day,” Catayla said interrupting our childish argument. “Do a dozen laps around the camp and then get some grub. I’ll be there myself if you hurry.”

  She began walking away before looking back. “Don’t even dare to join me while smelling like a couple of wild tjornacs. That rust bucket still has running water, I suggest you avail yourself of the luxury.”

  I walked over to Tiller and offered him my hand, but he waved me away. His chest was still rising and falling in ragged heaps.

  “Just kill me now,” he said. “No really, this is insane. Every part of me hurts. My eyes hurt. My fingernails hurt. I feel like my hair is on fire. How is it possible for your hair to hurt?”

  “Just part of getting old,” I shrugged, sinking down beside him.

  “Well we can’t all be spring chickens,” he laughed. “Seriously though, good job. I didn’t even know you could do that light thing. A new skill?”

  “No,” I shook my head, “new use of an old skill.”

  “Mana Manipulation? Man, I wish I could get ahold of that. The possibilities for …”

  “I just wish I could keep up with that reaction speed of yours,” I said. “Those last two shots nearly knocked me on my ass.”

  We bantered for a bit before we both felt strong enough to stand. Every fiber of every muscle ached. I swear I heard my hip pop when I started walking. Catayla was going to work us to death if this continued.

  “Alright,” I said. “I’m going to get these laps out of the way. You coming?”

  “Give me a minute,” Tiller shook his head. “You go ahead.”

  “Alright.”

  As I ran, some of the stiffness left my muscles. There was still the constant ache, of course. The pain followed me everywhere these days, and as soon as I got used to it Catayla would increase her demands. Still, I had to admit my gains had been impressive.

  The constant need to dodge literal bullets had granted me a Dodge skill. Catayla had also demanded that I purchase Staff Defense when she had found out it was available. Being forced to tank Tiller’s attacks had increased both skills to the third level.

  Being shot repeatedly over the last few days had also leveled Arcane Shield to its fourth level. The repeated mana exhaustion was leaving me with migraines, but I had also noticed that Arcane Shield had become more mana efficient. A fair tradeoff, I suppose.

  I’d also been able to increase Arcane Missile, Staff Fighting (Basic), and Mana Manipulation by a single level each. That left me with enough FP to purchase both the Hedge-Mage and Autodidact feats.

  Hedge-Mage granted me three new spells: Tanglefoot, Wild Growth, and Barkskin. None of them had seemed particularly powerful, but I was able to quickly level each skill to its second level. If nothing else, they were a welcome source of new FP.

  Autodidact granted no skills but did grant two points to intellect and a slight increase in learning speed. This would prove useful in breaking through the soft cap on many of my skills. At least I hoped.

  Additionally, I had opened three new feats available in the ‘store’- Illusionist (0/25), Circle Mage (0/25), and Erudite (0/25). Each was an obvious continuation of an earlier feat. It also seemed that the cost of feats would significantly increase between tiers.

  I put every new FP into erudite as I gained them, but it had yet to produce any results. I took a last look at my stats, just as I finished the final lap.

  Augustus Finn

  Class: N/A

  Level: 3

  Stamina (r/ per second): 23/23 (0.192)

  Mana (r/ per minute): 66/66 (2.20)

  Might: 11

  Agility: 6

  Reaction: 6

  Intellect: 30

  Perception: 10

  Focus: 5

  Phys. Resist: 2

  Mag. Resist: 1

  My Intellect was impressive, and my magic had certainly gotten stronger as a result, but I felt like a bit of a one trick pony. I’d been alone for nearly all of my fights up to this point, and I’d learned you couldn’t rely on anyone else to survive. Perhaps a glass cannon was not the way to go.

  Rather than focusing on a single stat, Tiller had split his gains between perception and reaction. The combination gave him an impressive boost to reflexes and an almost preternatural ability to judge where his shots would land. This, combined with the area-of-effect nature of his attacks, had let him juggle me almost at will until I had adapted my tactics. Even then I would have been unable to compete with him at all without the use of Arcane Shield.

  It was humbling as I had started to believe that my gains were unique. The truth was, many of the survivors had experienced much more combat than I had over the last few weeks. Some of them, including Tiller, even had combat training from their prior lives. This was a gap I was still trying to close.

  After finishing our run, Tiller and I agreed to meet at his office after getting cleaned up and finding something to eat. I stayed behind for a moment, enjoying the final moments of the sunset.

  I took a long drink from a plastic water bottle as I sat on the railing overlooking the waters of the Cooper River. The water was splendid in reflected oranges that grew darker as they reached the harbor.

  On the other side of the water had once stood a city, proof of human’s dominance over the environment. Now thick jungle grew above the concrete, and jagged cliffs dominated the horizon. The only testament to mankind that remained, was the Ravenel Bridge that still stretched across the river, dividing the skyline.

  Once the sun finally disappeared, I decided to take a quick walk around the water to clear my head. Evening walks had become a habit of mine, one of my only remaining vices in a world that tolerated no weakness. The air was beginning to grow cool as the last traces of color faded from the sky.

  I heard thunder, and clouds rolled over the moon leaving behind only a faint corona. The slight drizzle that followed was welcome and cooled me as I walked. I heard laughing and shouting as children ran from the rain, back towards their tents and families. This life wasn’t perfect, but maybe it was enough.

  I ended my walk back at the training platform. The rain was finally starting to slow, and I could feel a few pangs of hunger. I would wait just a moment longer. I looked back over the river just as a line of light shot into the sky. It was far away but growing larger and brighter.

  I stepped back and threw my hands over my face. A shockwave pushed me back as a purple light exploded in the sky. My ears rang, and my eyes were watery and nearly blind. It had been like looking directly into an atomic blast.

  “My god,” I said.

  I could hear screams of shock and pain coming from the camp. A woman’s wail rose over everything else and for a few moments, it was all I heard. My eyes were still mostly blind, as I rubbed at my eyes.

  When my vision cleared, it was meant by a pillar of violet light rising into the sky. Above the pillar was a swirling vortex of dark clouds.

  I just watched, I don’t know for how long. The screams had settled into silence, and I noticed hundreds of people standing along the water, all staring in horror at what was happening. It reminded them of the flaming sky that preceded Eldritch Night, I realized.

  They were terrified and in shock. So was I.

  Chapter Eighteen: The Price of Darkness

  Deep lines of flickering shadow cut across the deck as a purple star burned on the horizon. It split the sky in two, as a billowing vortex blackened everything above it. Those of us hiding in the shadows made plans as we stared into the unknown.

  “So, what do we know?” Said Captain Smith.

  I gripped the railing as my head leaned over the side of the ship. The heavy wind tugged at my jacket and swept through my hair as I peered into the distance. Beneath the vort
ex of black clouds, a thin violet mist spread out from the light and had crept slowly towards us. I could feel the eldritch energy like a cold shiver up my spine.

  “We’ve called back most of our outposts,” Said Pat, “and reinforcements have been sent out to support the bridge team. All scavengers and scouts have been recalled and the patrol along the wall has been doubled.”

  “I don’t like the idea of calling back all of our eyes,” Tiller added. “We don’t know what is out there.”

  “I agree,” said Pat, “But keeping them out there is too dangerous. We’ve had reports of increased monster aggression, and the bridge team has been under attack by a constant flood of low-level combatants. We believe they are fleeing. From what, is the question that terrifies me.”

  “We could blow the bridge,” said a man with a British accent.

  He walked to the center of the crowd, pausing to look around. He made contact with each of us giving a tight-lipped smile under a pencil-thin mustache. He was short and middle-aged, with a thick accent and an even thicker stomach.

  “We get rid of the bridge,” he continued, “and then we move, get as far away as possible.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” said Catayla jumping into the conversation for the first time. “You’ll never make it out of the quarantine. Not alive. I need a team to accompany me back across the bridge. Once I have made contact with my superiors, we find out what went wrong, and then we retreat back to a safe staging area.”

  “You still haven’t had any luck contacting your people?” Captain Smith asked.

  “No,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “I should be able to contact any Peacekeepers on the planet, or even receive messages from off-world. I haven’t received any scheduled communications, and my messages are not acknowledged. I also haven’t received any of the normal bulletins from off-world. We’ve been completely cut off.”

  “Can’t we take the ship…” asked a slender woman with brown hair.

  “Think no one tried that?” Said the captain. “Something big is out there, it’ll smash us to pieces as soon as we leave the harbor. Seen it happen and it ain’t pretty. Smaller boats could move upriver, but we don’t have enough to get everyone to safety.”

  “The rivers will be the most dangerous,” Catayla said.

  The crowd began arguing. There seemed to be an even split in opinion between destroying the bridge and supporting Catayla’s proposal. Many were already calling for us to retreat to the west, or to try to fight our way north towards the Naval Weapons Station. That fit my plans. I hadn’t told anyone, but I was planning to set off alone towards the Navy Base as soon as I finished training with Catayla, and maybe gained a few more levels.

  Now the blue-scaled scout asked us to go in the opposite direction and to risk our lives in the process.

  “I’ll go,” I said.

  The crowd briefly paused their argument to look towards me. None of the looks seemed too friendly. Even Catayla looked at me with cold eyes.

  “That’s brave but hardly relevant,” said the British man. “Should we put our lives at risk while you galivant around on some merry chase? It’s suicide out there.”

  “Shut up for a minute, Thurber,” said the captain. “Catayla, can you get through that fog? How many men would you need?”

  “The fog will likely be dangerous for anyone without a high Might and mental resistance. If it is concentrated eldritch energy, as I suspect, then it will corrupt both the mind and body. I’ll take six with me, no more, and they’ll have to be able to keep up.”

  “I think I can protect us from the mist," I said. "But I’ll need help. I can manipulate eldritch energy to a small extent, but my range and control haven’t progressed very far.”

  “What kind of help?” asked the captain.

  “A skill,” I said. “Tiller’s notes mentioned a skill that allows the user to augment the abilities of others. Song of something or other.”

  “Song of the Triumphant, yeah,” Said Tiller. “No way she’s going with you, though.” Tiller crossed his arms while shaking his head.

  “This ain’t no democracy, kid,” said Captain Smith. “I’ll decide if we go, and who’s going. Someone has a problem with it they can get my boot on the way out.”

  “It’s Rachel Pickman,” said Tiller.

  “Wait,” said Pat, “Pickman, as in Senator Pickman?” asked Pat.

  “His only child, the apple of his eye,” confirmed Tiller.

  “Well, shit,” she said “I really don’t see that happening, Captain. Her dad’s a real jackass. Thinks he’s still in charge. She’s not too much better, spoiled and sheltered her whole life. Not someone we can trust with a mission like this.”

  No one tried to argue after that. We just stood silently, waiting for the Captain to answer. I looked down at the cracked panels of the wooden deck, sighing at the futility of it all. East or west, it hardly mattered. Either way, I was rushing towards my death.

  I’d have been better staying there and getting drunk on moonshine with Millard and his boys.

  “Alright,” said Captain Smith. “I’ve made up my mind. We’re giving Catayla her team. Pat, I want you to handpick the best we’ve got. Combat types with experience, pick those with at least a few points in Intellect.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Catayla.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said,” Once you’re across the river we blow the bridge and hope for the best. You’ll be on your own from there.”

  Catayla dropped her eyes as she regarded Captain Smith, before giving a grunt of approval and shaking her head.

  “Good,” he said, breaking away from Catayla’s gaze. “Tiller!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take three men and get Senator Pickman and his daughter.”

  Tiller hesitated for a moment, but only briefly. “Yes, sir. I’ll get them immediately.”

  ***

  “No, absolutely not.”

  The senator could have been stock footage of a middle-aged businessman. He had a strong chin with high cheekbones. His jet-black hair was suspiciously only gray in the temples. Somehow, he had managed to still be wearing a suit, perfectly pressed and tailored. He even had one of those tacky flag-pins that all politicians were mandated to wear. His only concession to the end of the world was going without a tie.

  “I’m not arguing with you, Dad.”

  Rachel Pickman had her father’s classical good looks, including his high cheekbones, blue eyes, and black hair. That was where the similarities stopped. Rather than a business suit, she wore ripped jeans and a black leather jacket with spiked studs and only one sleeve. Her hair was shaved on one side and long on top, and she had pulled it back into a tight ponytail with blue highlights.

  “If I can help, I’m going to do my part. Isn’t that what you always taught me?”

  “I’ve always supported your rebelliousness, to an extent, but this isn’t the same as getting a girlfriend and starting a punk band. This has real consequences. The life and death kind. I’ve already lost your mother, I can’t…”

  The senator began to cry, and if his daughter's skill wasn’t so useful to me I would have ended it there. Instead, I watched as a daughter said goodbye to her father. I envied her chance to do so.

  “Enough,” said the captain. “I’m not going to force you to go, but you’re a grown woman and this is your choice. We’ve told you why we need you, and what we’re up against. Just give us a yes or a no. I’ve got shit to do and watching your old man blubber is making me queasy.”

  “I’m coming,” she said.

  The father and daughter continued to argue, but it was clear from the look on the man’s face that he knew that he had lost. His rage eventually gave into pleading, until he finally surrendered with a visible slump. He seemed to age ten years at that moment.

  The senator took his daughter into his arms. His tears eventually turned into words of support and love. I wondered what my own family was doing. Would they appro
ve of my actions, or fear for my life and beg me to stay? Would I listen?

  To know that I’d have to find them which wasn’t going to happen if I hid behind walls while others did all the work. If I was going to do something, anything that mattered, I would need strength. I’d learned one important lesson from the shit-storm that had spread over the world: No power comes without a price.

  I needed to grow stronger, but I could only think of two ways to do so quickly. I could risk forging a class, or ... the Dark Companion. I had yet to summon it. Instead, I let it take up free real estate in my head. Time for the freeloader to pay rent.

  I left the captain and his team, letting them take care of the details. I already knew we were leaving as soon as the sun was up. It seemed silly to wait for dawn when night had been rendered meaningless by the pillar of light that burned as bright as the noonday sun. Still, people needed rest and time to prepare.

  I walked back to my small room, avoiding the pleading glances I saw along the way. Everyone was lost. The chaos had become too much, and they craved answers. My strange arrival had created rumors of my connections to the aliens and had given me an air of mystery. In reality, I was just as confused as any of them.

  Besides, I knew answers weren’t what they needed. What they really craved was for someone to step forward and say, “everything is going to be okay. I’ve got this.”

  Maybe someone knew what to do, but I didn’t. I sighed as I stepped into my small quarters and locked the door. The room was just as empty and gray as usual, but the floor had picked up a layer of dust that I hadn’t gotten around to cleaning. My small bed was folded back against the wall leaving me just enough room to sit down in the center of the floor.

  “Companion! Fisher Man!”

  I called out to it, literally. I didn’t hold back, not caring who could hear me. When nothing happened, I visualized the island of broken memory. I willed it to appear as I called out once more.

  “Fisher …” I screamed.

  Black smoke that crackled with red energy began to swirl around me. It slowly condensed into a small sphere, appearing right in front of me.