Eldritch Night

by J M Hamm

  I fought against the energy as it struggled to escape my control, each moment taking more and more focus. I could feel my constructs fading, becoming weaker. Blades bent and retreated, until, with the final ounces of my resolve, they exploded outwards once more.

  The creature would not relent, and new tentacles continued to appear around me as others were severed or retreated. They squeezed and pulled with relentless determination even as I fought for my own life in a battle against exhaustion.

  I once more pulled the energy into a shell around me as I curled my body into a ball, trying to take up as little room as possible. The spikes and drill bits faded, leaving only a perfect sphere of black and floating embers of crimson light. I visualized the shell growing, pushing the shield as far out from myself as I could.

  This created a bubble of space around me large enough that I was able to thrust my arm straight down without touching anything. I reached out with the six long ‘wings’ created by the Fisher’s morphic flesh, using them to anchor myself to the wall of tentacles surrounding me.

  Finally, my mental energy almost spent, I released the spell made from eldritch energy, calling every ounce of energy I could grasp into my open palm. The energy condensed into a sphere of flowing mist, black and burning like a smoldering eye.

  I thrust out my hand forming within it a curved blade as thick as my wrist and longer than I was tall. The blade cut through countless tentacles before emerging on the other side of the sphere.

  I spun. Pushing outward as I used the anchored limbs of my companion for leverage. I struck out around myself in a perfect circle. The ‘wings’ on my back pushing as I twisted my body, the curved blade twirling around me in a violent and deadly dance.

  A mist of dark ichor filled the water, dyeing everything around it as if a cloud of ink had been poured into the turbulent waters. I was blind again, but everything felt calm. Quiet.

  It was the quiet stillness that preceded all chaos, like the disbelieving shock found on the faces of passengers in the first moments before they realized the plane was going down. A symphony of silence followed by the quick tempo of panicked desperation.

  I could feel the eldritch energy flow out of the blood and seep from the slowly dying limbs. The energy flowed into me, and I could feel a fire in my chest that was slowly converting and filtering the energy — changing it into something else.

  I could feel my body mend as the energy poured into me, but every fiber of my being still cried out in agony and my right arm still hung uselessly at my side. I felt dizzy, the darkness spinning around me as a buzzing echoed in my ears.

  The mist was slowly beginning to clear, and I knew that I had to act fast. The creature was injured but not dead, and it was now more desperate than ever. One of us would act first, and I was determined to be the one that came out of this alive.

  I dove downwards, leaving a faint echo of eldritch energy behind me. I kicked my legs with all my strength even as the Fisher pumped its tentacles to propel me through the water. I performed a perfect flip turn right as I struck the bottom, using the extra limbs for a greater boost — it was a maneuver that would have made my old high school swim coach proud … if he hadn’t been too busy screaming in terror.

  As the inky mist cleared, I had already covered half of the remaining distance to the fleeing creature. Behind me, several tentacles were attacking a vaguely humanoid simulacrum I had left as a decoy. A few tentacles had launched towards me as well, but their momentary hesitation combined with my speed caused them to miss.

  My prey was just ahead now, and I grew hungry. Nothing would come between us. This was the moment to establish myself in the food chain and earn my right to survive in this new world. I began to spin like a perfectly thrown football as the squid-like appendages of the Fisher rotated, propelling me forward even faster.

  As the creature grew closer, I took in its enormous size. It was an almost perfect oval and had countless tentacles growing from every inch of its surface, save for the two far ends which were flat and rounded.

  Most of the tentacles clung loosely to the sea floor, with only a few retaining the strength to strike at me as I grew closer. Even these were beginning to slow — missing me by wider and wider margins.

  I could sense thick rivers of ichor and eldritch energy flowing from the creature and diffusing into the cold water. Wide chunks and deep channels had been carved out of its flesh and a deep crater had been tunneled into one of the creature’s sides.

  I didn’t hesitate. I drew forth as much energy as I could, even pulling as much as I dared from the Fisher. My companion hissed as I fed upon it, its tentacles slowly shrinking as I cannibalized its energy. I felt its resentment, but the creature didn’t fight me, surrendering its energy willingly.

  I recreated a harpoon that matched those I used during the battle on the surface of the river. It grew larger as more energy was poured into it, soon extending to nearly three times my height.

  My speed increased as I recklessly sped towards the creature, gripping the harpoon in both hands and extending it forward like a lance. I struck flesh. My arms exploded in pain and my left wrist snapped — but my aim was true. The harpoon sank into the crater in the creature’s side, digging deep into the exposed and tender flesh.

  Every tentacle came to life in an instant. Each wildly flailing as they cracked stone and flesh — some even colliding with each other with deafening cracks. Thunderous booms rang out as shockwaves spun me through the water.

  I cradled my injured arm, creating a new harpoon as soon as I dropped the first. My stomach and vision spun, and I couldn’t see the ocean floor … but the writhing black oval was still centered in my vision. I once more launched myself through the water, this time throwing the harpoon forward to race ahead of me.

  I felt it pierce the creature's side and I watched as the massive form went still, its panicked arms falling like loose noodles onto the ocean floor as the massive form floated lifelessly into the cold darkness of the depths.

  For a moment a deathly silence covered the world, only to be broken by a deep and sorrowful wail as the tentacles came to life once more. I could feel every bone in my body vibrate, eliciting a scream of my own as my wrist exploded in pain.

  As I lost concentration, the harpoons I had lodged in the side of the creature dissipated, removing the only obstacle holding back a thick deluge of blood that quickly covered everything in a sea of black mist.

  As I watched the final moments of the creature my anger and thirst for blood subsided, leaving behind only a great sadness. I felt a kinship with the creature for a moment, and I mourned its passing. We both had once been something different, now corrupted irrevocably by things beyond our understanding.

  I watched the monster, once a proud monarch of the seas, as its movements slowed, and its many limbs grew torpid. In the final moments before its death, I sat in quiet witness — the only courtesy I could extend to a worthy foe.

  Chapter Thirty-one: The Fisherman and the Sea

  I sat in a replica of an old wooden rowboat; a construct formed from childhood memories. The familiar wooden planks and the chipped, white and green paint had been replaced by black mist and smoldering crimson embers. Around me, choppy waves threatened to upend my tiny craft, the design of which was never intended to be seaworthy.

  Beads of half-frozen rain fell around me, covering me in a thick slush that quickly melted as it came into contact with the heat of my body. Despite the freezing air and the frigid water that soaked me to the bone, I did nothing to shelter myself — allowing the rain to fall on me unimpeded.

  Instead, I rowed. The repetitive motion, back and forth, it was cathartic. I sat on the rear bench, facing forward. I smiled slightly remembering my father and his never-ending lessons. He would not have approved of my rowing form. I could picture him as he constantly reprimanded me for sitting “ass-backward” every time we would take the boat out on the lake.

  I missed those lessons, I no longer had him to b
e the rock I feell back on. No one was there to offer me sage wisdom born out of loving concern and decades of experience. I was alone, only myself and my demons. Demon.

  “You can come out now,” I yelled.

  For a moment I sat there, only the soft patter of rain and the howling of the wind to bear witness to my words. I felt rather embarrassed, despite no one being there to see me.

  “Fisher! I said it is time to show yourself.”

  I yelled louder now, feeling like an old man challenging the sea. A cliché from an era long lost to time, hidden now between the pages of oft-ignored tomes.

  “Do you think yourself my master?” said a voice on the wind. The sound was clear and yet reminded me of the thud of a hollow wooden box.

  “If not me, then who?” I said. “Is not a man the master of himself?”

  “Ah, so the simpleton tries on the jester’s hat. Do you speak to me in riddles? Should we match wit-for-wit, like rapier spikes — tit-for-tat?”

  “I won’t compete with you in foolishness,” I said. “I only want answers.”

  “Then does the wise king bend an ear to beseech the roguish fool? Ask, perhaps I shall deign to speak.”

  “You’ve had your words, Fisher. I believe I still have questions,” I said.

  Anger rose up in my voice, and I felt my hands balling into fists as I shouted at the creature. At myself. I hated the creature for what it represented in myself, and for the face it wore.

  “Then speak your query, prey. You already know all that you must — if you want strength then you must cast aside your bonds — and yet you cling to yours as if familiar shackles did suckle you at merry teat.”

  “We. Are. One.” I said. “It’s not true, is it? You’re something else, something more, and something less … human. That’s not what I am.”

  “Do not deny your nature, little Finn. The fool — the king — twined they are, creatures both united and apart — one must simply switch a silly cap to see a fool of sovereign made. A Severed sigil upon a silver crown, shattered and scattered upon the seven winds. Find the pieces and claim your chair upon a broken council, waiting and wilting within the sleeper’s dreams. Soon to fade, in waking.”

  The creature spoke in a strange way, stilted and quickly changing in tempo and even accent. A Brooklyn accent flowing into a southern drawl or an Irish brogue, as if several speakers were taking turns. Its words would increase in speed as it spoke in forced alliteration, only to slow down to a crawl as its voice deepened and grew steadier as it spoke less poetic words.

  “The damned shall fall before you,” it continued. “And the righteous rise up behind your mantle. Hel shall fall before you, but not before taking all that you are. Illusions shall be shattered in her fall, like angels crashing into Earth.”

  “You’ve mentioned Hell before,” I said. “What do you mean? How is Hell supposed to fall? You’re making no sense.”

  “I need not sense, I am Madness, mortal. I am let loose to feast upon the souls, a Fisher King, daring and debonair to snare the wicked and the mad in wild gluttony, like the dulcet songs of hope crashed upon the destined shores of Avalon.”

  “I do love these pointless conversations,” I said. “I know I could never come up with something as pointless as … whatever nonsense that was. Just tell me what you are.”

  “I’m an answer and a riddle. Both the key and the lock. You must simply know the answer before you ask, and all shall be revealed. Know this young fish, rise above your oppressor, cast aside borrowed power, and you shall cry havoc as you ride across this world, and others, like Wodan upon his slippery steed, the Hunt loyal at your heels in eager chase into the depths of Hel.”

  “Again, with the ominous bullshit,” I said. “Kudos on cutting down on the atrocious alliteration, though.”

  I waited for a minute, rubbing my temples before continuing. “Just answer me one final question, and please answer with as few words as possible.”

  “Speak.”

  “Where the fuck am I, and how do I get back to my friends.”

  “A simple matter,” it said. “Just follow me, like doomed detritus beneath devoted albatross, undaunted and dogged it guides truly if faith is kept in kind.”

  “Right, we were getting along for a moment there and you had to go and ruin it,” I said. With a sigh, I raised my hand and pointing forward. “So that way, then?”

  …

  The fog of eldritch energy had begun to spread over the water, so it was almost a shock when my boat grounded upon a narrow beach littered with small stones and bits of broken shell.

  The boat ride had taken several hours, and I reflected that I probably could have made it back more quickly if I had simply swum using the decidedly odd method of locomotion the Fisher had created for me. I repressed a slight shiver at the thought of allowing that creature to bond with me once more.

  It was a useful trick, but one that I had not fully embraced.

  The boat ride was not in vain, however, as it had allowed me to process my gains from the previous battle. I wasn’t sure the level of the creature I had slain, since analyze was no longer available to me and I was hesitant to use Eye of Madness in anything but the most extreme situations.

  Whatever its level, it had been worth a staggering amount of XP. I had gained six levels with a single kill, bringing me up to level fourteen, though the readout displayed it as (3/11) most likely due to the “dead” levels I had gained before I had a class.

  It seemed strange that the system would allow such useless levels to exist if its whole reason for existing was to make its citizens strong enough to resist monsters created by eldritch mutations. Perhaps there was a hidden benefit to these levels or at least a way to remove them.

  The six levels I had gained granted me twelve unallocated stat points. When combined with my remaining four this gave me more than I needed to unlock the remaining ‘pre-tutorial feats’. I guess it was time to collect them. I wondered if I would get a shiny trophy to memorialize the achievement.

  Either way, I was running out of reasons to procrastinate.

  I immediately put three points into Agility, it was by far my weakest stat and a little extra flexibility would have gone a long way when I was being stretched apart by tentacles monsters — I really hoped that didn’t become a common occurrence.

  The feat I was granted, Snake’s Agility, was quite interesting. It would give me a higher level of body control and elasticity that increased as I raised the agility stat. It also had the somewhat creepy ability to ‘increase one's disposition with snakes and other reptiles.” Nothing made my skin shiver more than the thought of having 'disposition' with snakes.

  A few points in Agility and Reaction and I’d probably be the best juggler the world had ever seen, even better was the thought that I might be able to keep up with Tiller’s crazy reflexes. Perhaps when this whole apocalypse thing was finished, I could find a new gig. Augustus Finn’s Three Ring Circus of Terror and Delight had a nice ring to it.

  I decided to increase the rest of the stats in one go — getting over my crippling indecisiveness like ripping off a Band-Aid. Even after putting three points into the remaining stats, I still had four remaining, so I did the sensible thing and put them into intellect — increasing the power of my magic, and advancing me closer to another free point in Might.

  I had put three points into Might, Reaction, and Perception — completing the list. This left me with no more stat points, but a trifecta of new feats – Titan’s Might ®, Timed Reaction ®, and Eagles Sight ®. Each new feat acted to increase the effects of their respective stat. For instance, Eagle’s Sight acted to increase the range of my senses, all senses not just sight.

  Titan’s Might doubled my stamina regeneration, while also increasing my physical strength proportional to my remaining stamina, for a 50% boost when my stamina was full. Timed Reaction slowed down my perception of time slightly when I attempted to dodge or make ranged attacks.

  And that was it.
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  I sat in my grounded boat, still staring at my status screen in disappointment. I had been sure that there would have been some benefit to gaining the tutorial feat for every stat and yet there was nothing. I closed and opened the status screen again, looking for notifications … still no nothing.

  I shook my head, realizing my own greed. I already had an advantage almost no one else from Earth had — I might even be unique in not having had to go through the tutorial. I took another look at the feats, really looking at them this time rather than merely seeing them as steps towards something better.

  None of them were game changers on their own, but all together they added up to something greater than the sum of its parts. The ability to sense danger sooner and run away for longer might just help me live an extra day, or at least for a few additional seconds. Even then, anything more than surviving seemed a faraway goal best left to contemplate in later, safer times. I was in hostile territory, alone, and with no idea if my friends had even made it across the river.

  If I wanted to find them, I had to move, I stepped onto the ground, my boat dissolving as soon as I had left it. In front of me were dunes covered in thick patches of tall beach grass. I could feel small creatures, infected with eldritch energy, crawling beneath the hills of sand and through the reedy grass.

  Behind the dunes, I could make out the U-shaped courtyard of a hotel. Its once grand exterior was now broken and collapsed, its wooden skeleton and sun-bleached interior exposed to the cleansing rays of daylight. The building had the feel of a rotting cadaver, waiting to be feasted upon by scavengers.

  I slowly crept closer to the hotel but stopped when I noticed the smell of smoke and charred flesh. It was overwhelming, as I hadn’t yet adjusted to my newly enhanced senses. The boost to Focus allowed me to filter out the smell, at least partially, but it was a constant distraction.

  I continued to move forward with small, precise movements. I was careful to keep low, never allowing any part of my body to rise above the dunes. Now that I had seen how incredibly powerful system-enhanced senses could become, I wouldn’t underestimate any creature’s ability to sense me through my amateur attempts at stealth. If I could smell them, they could probably smell me.