by J. R. Ford
I breathed in the strong smell of fresh earth and grass. “You have PTSD from mowing lawns?”
She took a slow breath. “That wasn’t it. Smelled like piss. Besides, I never mowed lawns.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it was a bug.”
“I haven’t seen any glitches yet. Weird one to start with.”
“Probably just a wild horse or something.”
“Yeah. Keep an ear to the ground.”
I dropped prone and did just that. I realized how idiotic I looked halfway down, but I’d look even more if I tried to stop myself.
“That’s just an expression,” she said.
Before I could say “I know, it’s just a bad joke,” I felt a tremor in the ground. I’d read enough books to recognize the rumble of hooves. I got up and brushed off my cloak. “I think I did hear horses.”
“You’re just trying to make me look as stupid as you just did.”
“No, it’s true! Listen!”
We both quieted, the only sounds Heather’s soft footfalls behind us and the breeze’s whisper.
“You’re making things up,” Ana said, and continued walking. I was pondering if she was right when the ground beneath her exploded.
I yelped as a shower of earth buffeted me. I shielded my face, and when I lowered my arm, a monster stood in the path between me and Ana.
A massive ant poised on six spindly legs clicked its mandibles at her. Its ochre carapace was dull in the sunlight. Ana looked unharmed, only fazed.
The monster rushed her. I drew my sword and started after it. Too slow. It chomped at Ana, who retreated with a thrust. Ichor spurted and both Ana and the insect recoiled, Ana with a scream. I thrust for its abdomen, but my sword barely bit into the thick exoskeleton. The jolt tore the sword from my hand and made my entire arm tingle with numbness.
The beast turned to face me, its six legs moving too quickly for me to follow. I stared into the void of its huge black eyes, and the void stared back. But the more frightening darkness was behind its mandibles. It charged.
I stumbled back, weaponless and helpless, but it was too quick. There was no way I’d escape. So instead, I kicked it in the face.
It barely flinched, and I toppled to the ground. Thick yellow ooze drooled from its mouth as it crawled over me. My mind reeled in unadulterated terror as I kicked and tried to crawl away, but I was no match for this monster on my feet, much less on my back.
It was reaching down to end me when its head jerked to the side. I looked up to see Heather above me, sword in hand, screaming her lungs out. She whacked it again, and I pushed myself away, my right shoulder burning with the strain. I regained my feet just as it attacked Heather, mandibles clicking. She retreated, swinging haymakers, but the monster just shrugged them off. It reared on its four hind legs and jabbed with the fore; Heather parried one thrust but the other caught her side. She gasped and fell back. Then the monster collapsed, revealing Ana on the other side, her sword sticking out from the join in carapace where head met thorax. I breathed out heavily, but Ana cried, “Get away!”
The carcass was trembling, and its hind legs were pushing its abdomen up in the air. I had no idea what would happen, but I turned and dove into the grass. I heard a squelch, then the patter of ichor. Ana screamed.
I tumbled out of the bushes and rushed over to her. She lay protectively over Heather, and spots where the ichor had landed on her had burned through her clothes and into her flesh. The monster lay unmoving, acid ooze dripping from gaps in exoskeleton. I whipped off my cloak and dabbed away what I could from writhing Ana, tearing her shirt apart with my hands to get better access. I wiped at it until all that remained was flesh seared bright pink. Ana gasped for breath, and when she caught it, screamed some more and started to roll around. I caught her before she could roll right into puddles of the gunk.
“You’re okay,” I muttered, barely heeding the notification that flashed: “Render aid: +1.” The air stank like old curry. I checked Ana over for any more injury and found similar burns on her right arm, though less drastic than the condition of her back. Must’ve happened when she first stabbed it. I cleaned her arm, laid her down in a clear patch, and returned to Heather. Ana had shielded her from most of the acid spray, though there were patches where it looked like moths had nibbled on her dress. More pressing was the wide gash bloodying her side.
No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t meant to be Heather dying to protect me.
I held apart the ragged edges of her dress to get a better look. The wound was wide and long, and bone shone slick white beneath. I sighed in relief — it had glanced off her rib instead of piercing into organ.
“I need the antiseptic and gauze,” I said, taking Ana’s pack from where she’d dropped it and rummaging through it. She didn’t respond, but within ten seconds I’d found them. I dabbed the antiseptic potion onto my newbie shirt and sponged down Heather’s side. I hoped that was the right thing to do. I’d never applied Neosporin to anything larger than a kitchen knife’s prick.
Feeling like a creep, I slipped the straps from her shoulders and pulled the top half of her dress down. I avoided leering as best I could. Not hard, with the fingers of panic worming their way up the back of my neck.
The wound, just below her bra, seemed to breathe as her chest rose and fell, but I couldn’t stitch clothes, let alone flesh. I lifted her shoulders with one hand and wrapped the gauze around her with the other. The first layer had been soaked through by the time I wrapped the roll around again, same with the second. By the fourth, the gauze stayed white, for the time being. “Render aid: +1.”
I turned to Ana and, using my starting trousers, wiped down her back with the antiseptic liquid. She exhaled hard through gritted teeth.
“Uh. Am I supposed to put gauze over burns?” I asked.
“Pour water over it,” Ana gasped. “All that we have. Slowly!” she shouted, as I began to pour. I trickled the water from my canteen over her exposed back and her injured arm.
She breathed out through her nose as I did so. When my canteen ran dry, I grabbed hers. Rinse and repeat. Once Heather’s had run dry, Ana seemed to be in better control of the pain.
What next? The pressure of the obvious had kept me moving in the fight and the moments after. But while I pondered the fork that could determine if Ana and Heather lived or died, panic caught up and seized me in a chokehold.
How had I been left in charge? What if I made the wrong decision and one of them died? Or worse, both? It would be my fault.
“What do I do?” I gasped.
“We need to rest,” Ana said.
“Should we set up the tent for the rest of the day?”
Ana grimaced. “I’d feel better in some actual shelter, but there hasn’t been any for miles.”
Panic squeezed. My throat went dry and tight, and trying to swallow just made me gag.
“Just get us away from that stench,” Ana said.
“And if another one shows up?”
“I can still wield a blade,” she muttered. “Come on.”
I grunted with the effort — she was solidly built, I didn’t work out, and asphyxiation had turned my legs to cooked noodle. She put an arm around my shoulder and hobbled along with me. I made it twenty yards before depositing her as gracefully as I could.
“Oof,” she said. “Now go get Heather.”
I dutifully returned to the scene of carnage and noticed my sword. The blade had some goop on it, but the acid seemed not to tarnish metal. I wrenched it free and wiped it on the grasses. They didn’t fare as well as the metal had.
I sheathed my sword and approached Heather. First things first: pulling her dress back up. Then, I took some deep breaths and hoisted her up. She was shorter than Ana, and slimmer — a much more manageable burden, but limp. I huffed and puffed. On the way, her eyes opened. “Pavel,” she muttered.
“You’re fine. You’re not going to die.” Unless another one shows up, I didn’t say.
“Snap out of it. You’re fine, just a bit cut up.”
“I’m so thirsty…”
Crap. “I’ll get you some water, hold on.” I knelt and placed her next to Ana. “Be right back.” I took all three canteens in my arms and sprinted. There had been a stream only a few minutes back. It still sparkled peacefully, unaware of the violence around it. I filled the canteens, took a long drink from one, topped it back up, and raced away.
Ana and Heather hadn’t moved, nor been eaten by another ant monster. I handed them their canteens and again pressed my ear to the ground. Nothing.
When I tried to get up, it seemed beyond me. My legs had no strength, and no matter how hard I wheezed, my breath wouldn’t come. Fear gripped me in an iron vice.
“Maybe tomorrow we can head back to the city,” I said, flopping my head to look over at my companions.
Ana shook her head, ponytail swishing. “I have no intention of turning back now. We set out to learn how Pradeep acquired his power, and I intend to learn.”
“Even with your back and arm?” I asked.
“If Heather can continue, I can,” she said.
“I can,” Heather said. Some color had returned to her face.
“If we can get a couple more miles under our belt and camp out, we can still reach Riyaasat tomorrow,” Ana said.
She helped me and Heather up. Seemed unfair that she had to do it, but then again, when did fairness matter? Her warm hand imparted some of her resolution.
Neither of them was steady on their feet, but they looked better than I had following my skirmish a couple of days prior. I put the tent pack over my shoulders.
Heather acted a real trooper. Ana I’d expected, but Heather seemed to be going faster than she had before the battle. As for myself, my legs hadn’t completely solidified. I lagged behind, weak with post-panic fatigue that shackled my ankles. I needed a book, or a movie, or a video game that didn’t make me feel so powerless. Only the sight of Ana and Heather kept me planting one foot after another in an eternal, despondent shuffle. Grass passed, brown and bland and swaying like waves in the afternoon heat. I felt like I was drowning in it. Repetition blurred into meaninglessness.
“Come on!” Ana called, from twenty yards ahead. “Don’t hold us back!”
Of course. I shouldn’t hold them back. I put a little more oomph into my stride, for their sake. I couldn’t ask them to slow, not when they were exhibiting such determination. The shackles only constricted.
What I wouldn’t give for an evening of staring blankly into a screen. The shackles wouldn’t go away just because the television was on, but they didn’t chafe as bad when I didn’t have to move.
My internal television was stuck alternating between two channels: Ana writhing and screaming, and Heather unconscious and bleeding. The scenes ended in death. The off button wasn’t responding.
I caught up some when they stopped to refill their canteens at a stream, but when I knelt to fill mine, I lost even more ground just letting the cool water flow over my hand. Only a shout from Ana roused me to my feet. I stoppered it and resumed the journey.
Those two women had some endurance. They kept up the pace well into the afternoon before Ana stopped and said, “That’s far enough.”
Heather laid herself flat, groaning with exhaustion. Ana sat down and folded her legs. I shuffled over, but dared not sit, lest I find myself unable to rise. I dumped the tent pack into the soil beside them and began stamping down grass for a sleeping site. Ana got up and helped, then threw a tarp over the little circle of flattened stalks.
The soil was soft, good for driving stakes and supports into. The tent was big enough for the three of us to lay side by side like snug sardines.
I waited outside as Ana redid Heather’s dressing. Once she called, “Done, but cameras off,” I disabled my feed and crawled into my bedroll, next to Heather.
She lay on her back, wearing her spare dress. Ana had donned her starter garb as pajamas and lay on her stomach, her head resting in folded arms.
I like to think of myself as strong-willed, but even a stone will is no match for a sixteen-year-old’s chemicals. Ana was all languid muscle, from the tautness of her shoulders down the curve of her back to powerful legs. Another thing I noticed: when one has to ask themselves where the line between looking and staring is, the answer is two seconds ago. I wrenched my gaze away before Ana noticed.
The grass provided shade from the sun low in its path west. The interior of the tent was cool and dark, and it made me want to lie there forever. I would’ve fallen asleep right then, regardless of how early it was, had Heather not spoken. “Close call today. We were almost ant food.”
“How do you feel?” I slurred, staring up at the slanting tent wall. I closed my eyes, but the darkness conjured the memory of the gaping void behind a pair of mandibles, yellow ooze foaming…it’s not real, it’s not real! The mantra provided scant comfort, especially as I had argued against it mere hours ago. The ant might not be real in the traditional sense, but my fear sure was.
I opened my eyes again, then shifted to look at Heather.
“Exhausted,” she said. I took that as a sign that her injury was not debilitating.
“Ana?” I asked.
“We should have bought some antacid. Or maybe anti-ant-acid.” She chuckled. “I’ll be fine, but you’re taking the pack again tomorrow.”
“Only if I wake up,” I said, the words stretching wide.
“We’ll reach Riyaasat tomorrow,” Heather said. “I’m excited. Maybe we’ll find the Storm’s Breath.”
I would’ve said I dreaded what other horrors we would encounter, but I couldn’t muster the effort. The shadow was deep enough that I could only discern the shape of Heather’s profile staring up beside me. Her hair caught what light filtered through the canvas of the tent. Her breasts — I caught myself before temptation could freeze me.
I could hear Ana’s breathing from the other side and made out the gray form of her back rising and falling with relaxing repetition. I hoped the burns didn’t trouble her rest.
“We need to keep on our toes,” she said. “That quest implied there are monsters in there, and we might run into more fermids along the way.”
I desperately hoped not. I’d clung to hope that the ant thing hadn’t been a fermid, because that meant there were at least nine more, and a queen to boot. “A river to drown in when we come to it.”
“Did either of you get quest progress?” Ana asked.
I checked and shook my head. “Still 0 out of 10.” Don’t know how the developers expected us to be able to kill ten of those things total, much less each. I got the feeling we were under-leveled for this content.
“What happens to someone’s stuff when they log out?” Heather asked.
I hadn’t thought about that, but she had a point. If Pradeep had been in his fortress when the Beta ended, all his swag might be there, and someone of his reputation was likely to have some powerful gear.
Ana connected the same dots. “If we get lucky, we could find something powerful. And if we do, it’s yours, Heather.”
“Nonsense. You’re the one who killed the fermid and saved me from the acid too. Anything we find is yours, or Pavel’s if you don’t want it.”
How would the tried and true “need vs. greed” algorithm hold up with a party of three classless newbies? “Counting chickens,” I muttered.
“Pav’s right. And regardless, we’re going to get you that Storm’s Breath, and punks will think twice before messing with us,” Ana said.
“Why,” Heather began, then stopped. I thought I could finish the question: “me?” Ana’s reasoning was blatant, though she’d never say it aloud. She could protect herself with her sword, and Heather couldn’t.
That left me. But I wasn’t there for me. I wasn’t sure what I was there for, camping in the middle of Nowhere, Ant County, besides that Ana had said we were
going.
But it was too late to about-face. I couldn’t turn my back on these two women who had tripped into becoming my friends. Not here at least — maybe if we survived what awaited us in Riyaasat.
So enraptured in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed that my companions had faded into peaceful repose. I waited for sleep to take me.
6
Who would’ve guessed? More grass. It rose and fell like dunes. At least no ant monsters bothered us.
As the sun neared its crest, Ana said, “Hey!”
My eyes, long glazed over with the monotony of the plain, focused. In the distance along the straight road we walked, a tower squatted, tiny in the distance. Riyaasat. “Maze of roads,” that scummy cartographer had said.
Heather cheered, and I joined her. I had no sense for distance, but it was likely no more than a couple of hours away.
Time was distorted on the endless plain. The sun was our clock, and a crappy one at that. It seemed like early afternoon when we stopped for lunch.
Heather lay back against the tent pack, groaning. I bit into a dry biscuit and struggled to swallow. They could give Popeyes a run for their money. I choked it down and offered one to Heather, “Biscuit?”
“Scone,” she corrected, but reached for it. Her breathing came ragged with exhaustion, maybe from how hard she’d pushed herself the previous day.
“What’s the plan for when we get there?” she managed. I gazed at the castle, which had grown significantly in the hours since first sighting. It looked to be made of the same stone as the walls of Bluehearth, though in the bright sunlight I couldn’t discern any glow to it.
“We’ll have to see what state it’s in,” Ana said. “Take these. They aren’t much but better than nothing.”
She tossed us the quilted caps from the fencing lesson. We hesitated. There were only two.
“You two take them,” I said.
Heather shook her head, her hair rustling with the motion.
