Eldritch Night

by J M Hamm

  I knew what it was like to watch as strength and health quietly faded while sickness robbed a man of his dignity. I’d seen a strong man, a hero and a father, reduced to a mess of quivering muscles unable to lift a spoon or wipe his own ass.

  I couldn’t become that.

  In the pits of my despair I laughed, and the Fisher joined me in its madness. Perhaps it was that or cry. The laughter quickly descended into anger and my lungs bellowed out screams of rage and threats of vengeance.

  And yet, vengeance against whom? I could have left Telvy to fend for herself, or at least found a strategy that was less dangerous. I could have had freedom. I had become too sure of my own abilities, too comfortable with self-destruction, and it had cost me. It had cost me everything.

  I had done it for my friends, to protect them. That was the excuse. The justification. Yet here I was, with no one to protect me. No one except…

  “You,” I said.

  “Yes,” a kingfisher circled my head twice before landing on my chest. My vision swam as every nerve in my body lit up in pain. “I see the will, your intentions clear, but words are still unspoken.”

  “You,” the words came easier now. I pushed myself up a to sitting position with new found strength. My head felt like it was spinning from the quick motion, but I ignored it and spoke the words. “You can become my arm. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me this whole time?”

  “We are one,” as it finished speaking the bird flew up and expanded into smoke. The haze landed in front of me and took on the rough shape of a man. I recognized it as my own silhouette. Two red eyes burned on its otherwise shapeless face.

  “Then do it,” I said while meeting the creature’s eyes. It seemed hungry, eager maybe, as if something it had long toiled for was finally presented at its feet.

  “A hand lent to oneself, is no great sacrifice.”

  In my delirium, I laughed hysterically at the creature's jest in short, choking bursts. My mirth was short lived. Pain flooded my mind as hands turned into sharp talons and began to pry open the armor on my chest. As the shell was peeled away the Fisher evaporated into tendrils of black liquid, like oil possessed and animated by a vengeful spirit.

  The tendrils forced themselves under the lifted corner of the black armor and I could feel them burrowing and squirming as they forced themselves beneath my skin. It was like millions of rime-soaked razors digging away at my flesh and carving out a cavity in my chest. It stopped for a moment before I felt it begin to expand.

  What was left of the black armor flew out like a projectile. I heard it slam into the ground to my right as a plume of dust and grass clippings shot into the air. Before the dust could settle, a bulge of tumorous flesh grew out from my shoulder and turned into a many-tailed flail of black branches tipped and marbled with lines of flickering red embers.

  I laughed once more, accepting the pain and the madness. As if sensing my acceptance, the branches of black oil wrapped around themselves like muscle fibers and spun until they were wound so tightly they appeared to be a single smooth tentacle of dark flesh.

  As the tentacle shortened, it spread and shaped itself into the form of an arm. The empty cavity in my chest began to expand and fill, as well. I was beginning to feel whole once more, but the feeling was not quite right.

  I looked down at my arm and watched as flesh folded away to reveal long, thin fingers. I willed them to move and they did so with flawless ease as if they had always been mine. The skin was jet black, but otherwise the arm resembled mine perfectly. There was even a small scar, a line of crimson on jet black, beneath my thumb. It was identical to the scar I had received as a child when I’d been bitten by a neighbor’s dog.

  I held the arm closer to my face and was amazed by the fidelity. It had fingerprints, creases on its knuckles and slight rises where I had once had veins on the back of my hand. Even the hairs on my forearm were perfect. Yet, I still couldn’t place the feeling of something being off.

  As I made a fist the realization came to me. I could move it, and even feel what it did, but the arm wasn’t quite mine. I could feel the barrier between where it ended, and I began, as if it were nothing more than a useful parasite. It was no more my own arm than a prosthetic limb would have been. It was incredibly useful, but ultimately interchangeable.

  Despite the triumph of regaining my arm so quickly I felt only sadness. Disappointment. I could feel the strength that coursed through my new limb, and yet it wasn’t mine. I could only draw on it so much — and I knew that the Companion was still free to come and go as it pleased. What good was an arm that could literally grow wings and fly away?

  It had a kind of freedom that I lacked. That was what I wanted. Freedom. Power was only a means of gaining it. All the levels and strength in the universe wouldn’t bring me peace if I was liked into an endless cycle of battle and sacrifice to gain more power. It was a pyramid with no top.

  That momentary clarity into my own motives was enlightening and I made a realization. I’d heard similar words before, but never truly understood. Freedom was never given but had to be taken. I had an arm, I merely had to take it…

  Throughout my body were thin wires, an intricate web of eldritch energy. This web filled my entire form, but each thread was thin and weak and so the entire structure was insubstantial. If I could drive those wires into the arm, I could fuse with it more completely — it would become part of a whole rather than a removable attachment.

  As I began my experiment, I expected a struggle from the Fisher, but it was unusually quiet. Perhaps it too was curious to see the results.

  Chapter Forty-six: Growth

  Small tendrils of energy stabbed into my new arm. They anchored it to me, creating a whole from the sum of its parts. As the capillaries of energy grew and wormed their way into the arm they began to feed.

  Since regaining access to the system, I had found it impossible to add to the small amount of eldritch energy I had gathered. The system would greedily consume every speck of the energy as soon as it touched me. The small amount I had been able to hold onto seemed immune to this absorption, as if by claiming it I had somehow made it impervious to the system’s hunger.

  Now, however, the thin channels of dark energy swelled and fattened. They lengthened and multiplied at an exponential rate. It was too fast for me to process or control, and I could feel the arm beginning to weaken. The threads of energy seemed to have a will of their own as they slowly drained the energy in my new arm with insatiable abandon. Soon they grew too numerous for me to envision as a latticework of thin wires. Instead, I watched as the energy became a chain of spheres that surrounded and linked each cell in my body.

  I was unsure how much of it I was guiding, and how much I was the spectator. Some force seemed to be controlling the transformation, and yet I was aware of each change even before it happened. I easily understood and anticipated each step. It was as if I had witnessed this play out once before.

  I was still unsure of the benefits this transformation would give me, but I immediately gained a much greater awareness and control of my own body. If I concentrated, I could isolate and view individual cells. Injuries and flaws became obvious, as if surrounded by beaming lights.

  Other than the injuries to my chest and arm, I also had tears in almost every major muscle, and the ligaments in my right knee and ankle were nearly severed. The shin bone was barely holding together and seemed as if it could disintegrate into bone fragments at the lightest touch. It was riddled with fractures that branched and spiraled throughout the bone.

  As the energy infused each cell these injuries were not healed, mine was not a power of regeneration. The connections between cells became stronger, however, and a new force pulled bone and muscle back together. They were not mended, but they would function until they could heal naturally. It was like a glue holding me together, adding both strength and flexibility.

  From here on I would be much more durable, but I would still have to experience the pain
of each injury as it happened. I could hold together broken bone, at least to a point, but not prevent the injury or heal the damage. It was a ruthless ability, but powerful.

  Rather than slow the transformation, I let it continue. I was not worried about the arm being weakened too much — I knew the Fisher had ways of replenishing its energy. Besides, I had a faint understanding that the process would end once equilibrium was established.

  I called the Fisher, but it didn’t answer. Perhaps the process had suppressed it, or my Companion was involved in the transformation at a deeper level than I could see or understand.

  The benefits of the system seemed an afterthought, but I still had that source of power as well. Several warnings and messages had appeared after my battle with the King Behemoth, but I had ignored them until now.

  Rather than try to dig through each message, I dismissed them and looked at my stats and skills directly.

  The most obvious change was that I had leveled three times. Just how powerful had that behemoth been? I had expected to level, but not multiple times. Perhaps I had also gained experience from Telvy mopping up the rest of the herd. I assume she did, anyhow. Everything after the headless corpse of the King collapsing on me was a blur.

  I had no idea how to feel about the archmage. She had promised to protect Tiller and had pulled me out from under the crushing embrace of the behemoth. She had also left me to fend for myself behind enemy lines while riddled with grievous injuries. I just couldn’t find the energy to become angry at her. Instead my rage was focused elsewhere.

  I had never thought of anger as a limited resource, but I only had the will to hold onto so much. Being angry was exhausting, and I had so little energy left. I shook my head and turned my attention back to my stats. I had gained three points in both Focus and Perception due to my class and an additional six points to do with as I wished.

  My first instinct was to put them all into Intellect, because of the way it bolstered Might due to the feat Mind Over Body. I hemmed over the decision for a moment, but it turned out I didn't need to worry. After putting only two points, for a total of forty, into Intellect the stat greyed, and I was unable to add more. It was enough to gain an additional point into Might, as well.

  Were there caps? Would there be a limit to how strong I could get, or were these barriers temporary? I remembered Sebbit saying that Telvy was one of only a handful of Tier Two citizens on the planet. Perhaps the different tiers had higher caps. That seemed likely but couldn’t be the only benefit for such distinctions. I really needed to learn more about tiers and the system in general.

  If each stat was capped at forty I would need to rethink how I was allocating my stats. A more even distribution was probably called for. I considered that something else could behind the stat being locked, but I didn't have time to worry about it then.

  Instead, I ended up putting three points each into Agility and Reaction. They were still my lowest stats, though Reaction was now tied with Might. Additional strength and durability would have been nice, but I felt abilities that might allow me to move faster and maybe avoid some damage were even more important — especially considering the improvements to strength and durability fusing with the Fisher had brought.

  I did give me some thought, however, as stacking Might with the powers of my eldritch companion would synergize well. No, I’d already decided on an even build until Intellect unlocked. I’d stay the course until something changed my mind.

  Too bad respecing wasn't an option.

  After settling my stats, I checked on my skills. I had an eagerness and hope that my recent physical changes would grant me some new abilities. I was disappointed when I found no new skills, but the feeling was short lived due to the massive gains I had made in other areas.

  My class features had seen the most growth, especially Dark Gemini which was now flashing and displayed a satisfying (10/10). Eldritch Mimicry had leveled twice as well. The biggest surprise was that Chaotic Mutability had changed. That class feature still didn’t have skill ranks, but it now had a flashing (+) next to it.

  I knew the display was not real and I didn’t need to physically interact with it, but in my excitement, I still reached out to press the (+) with a finger on my left hand.

  Chaotic Mutability Ⓐ - Eldritch energy swims through your every cell, leaving them pliable and easily mutable. After slaying the unique beast Belshax, King of the Planes Walkers, your chaotic mutability has taken on new traits and you have gained a feat.

  Monarch’s Raiment ® - You are as terrible as you are powerful. All who experience your presence will feel a subconscious desire to defer to your decisions. Your enemies will fear your power and your allies will respect your terrible might. This is only effective on those with Mental Resistances that are significantly lower than your own.

  The ability could be toggled on and off and drained a small amount of mana when it was being used.

  I wasn’t sure how immediately useful it was, but I liked the sound of it. If I could overwhelm others without the need for combat, I wouldn’t complain. Didn’t some famous tactician claim that that was the best kind of victory? Besides, King Finn had a nice ring to it. An echo in the back of my mind called out another name, but I ignored it and continued to look at my skills.

  Tanglefoot and Wild Growth had both leveled twice, and Pain Tolerance, Physical Fitness, and Combat Proficiency had each gained a single level. After adding the few Feat Points I had left over from previous gains, this brought me to twenty-two. This was a sizable number but not quite enough to purchase any of the feats that looked worthwhile.

  I especially wanted to invest in either Illusionist or Circle Mage, but I knew that doing so was likely to increase my Intellect stat. Most mage related feats had done so at regular intervals, even if I didn’t have enough to purchase the feat outright. I feared losing points if forty truly was my current cap.

  Besides, I still had a battle to fight and three skill points would come easily. I could wait to decide.

  The obvious course of action was to find Telvy by tracking the points around the dome with the highest levels of eldritch energy. If she was assaulting one of them the disturbance would probably be obvious to my increased sensitivity and control over anything powered by eldritch.

  Her assault had most likely been significantly slowed without me.

  That was the smart plan, the careful plan. Help her and expect her to live up to her side of the bargain. I liked the mage, even trusted her somewhat. I couldn’t put my faith in her, however. I would have to take the freedom I desired. My own, Tiller’s, and even Troy’s if he really was the cultist the Peacekeepers had captured.

  I had questions for my old friend.

  I began to move but remembered one more thing I had meant to check. Dark Gemini was my first skill to reach the maximum level and had been flashing. Perhaps it would undergo some form of transformation or grant a new ability, as Chaotic Mutability had?

  I selected the class feature and as its description opened the skill began to transform. After the words were finished rearranging, I was presented with a new class skill.

  Shadow Doppelganger Ⓛ (0/5)- Your connection with your Dark Gemini has strengthened to the point that there is no longer a divide between the two. This is no loss, but a boon. You will continue to be able to draw on two pools of mana, and your mind is capable of splitting, which allows you to focus on multiple tasks. You still remember, deep in your soul, what it was like to be more than one and you can use this knowledge to create Shadow Doppelgangers. As the skill level increases so too do the number and strength of the doppelgangers you create.

  I wasn’t sure if the Fisher was still capable of leaving, as its body was now my arm and deeply anchored to the rest of my body. I had tied it to myself completely and separating it would require tearing apart my very being. This skill solved the immediate problem.

  I would still have a scout to act as my eyes and ears. I experimented with the skill and was able to cr
eate a perfect replica of myself, though it was formed from smoky black mist, like living shadow.

  It was completely unable to take action on its own, and I had to direct each motion. Once I was able to summon the Fisher again, this limitation would be mitigated almost completely. Unless he was gone for good? I dismissed the doppelganger and was met with a satisfying notification that I had gained a skill rank.

  “Good,” I said to no one.

  The skill would be the perfect diversion, but I still had one more stop before returning to the Yorktown. I knew what was supplying energy to the dome. I had seen into the barrier of mist and lightning. As Telvy had assaulted the dome with chain and spell, I had witnessed a familiar object. It had called out to me.

  I now merely had to reach out and take it.

  Chapter Forty-seven: Volatile Responses

  It didn’t take me long to find another of the areas powering the dome. The ribbons of golden runes were easily visible to my senses, and each generator produced sparks of red lightning that lit up the sky like a bonfire. I might not be as powerful as Telvy, or as smart as Sebbit or Tiller — but I had a deeper connection to the eldritch than any of them. I was even able to sense the remnants of the spots Telvy had destroyed, and where she was now.

  The archmage was as easy to track as paw prints on wet sand.

  She had moved north and was circling counterclockwise back towards the river. She had already destroyed three generators and was attacking a fourth. Her attacks created fluctuations that spread out from where she was attacking like ripples in a pond. She lacked finesse, but the brute force method seemed to be working for her.

  I purposefully chose to move in the opposite direction. I needed as much space between myself and that chain wielding madwoman as possible. My path would also keep me closer to the Yorktown. I believed Telvy to be strong enough to single-handedly hinder my plan to distract and escape from the Peacekeepers.