What a job title.
It wasn’t long ago that Riston was engaged. Teaching at the East Imperial Mage College. Not the most exotic of lives, and he’d always wished for more.
And then more came in the form of a dormant duty awakening in him.
All puns intended.
His old life was gone before he knew it. He was an Awakener now. Not by choice, but by destiny. The thing about destiny was that it was a real ball-ache. Riston’s fiancé was gone, his job was gone, his boring old life was gone.
He should have been happy. A higher calling, a reason to be special, was all he’d ever wanted.
Now, he missed the boredom. Missed Leona. Hated the fact that Awakeners could not be married, could not live normal lives.
But there was no way out of his duty. He knew because he’d tried everything. Read every book he could. There were no answers.
He was an Awakener, and he had a master to serve, and that was that.
His only hope now was to get this all over with as quickly as possible. If he did, maybe there was a chance he wouldn’t be too late to get his old life back.
“You swayed the townsfolk, did you not?” said his master. “Why would controlling monsters give you more trouble?”
Ah, the people of Yondersun who had fallen so easily under his control.
Sure, it looked impressive at first glance. A great use of psyche-magery. The reality…not so much.
“Their minds were easy to seize,” said Riston. “Think of their minds like boulders perched at the top of a hill. They need a force to set them going. The corpses, the big spider monster, their suspicions of the core…those were the forces. And once they set the boulder rolling downhill, the momentum did the rest. I only needed to use my powers a little to bring them under my sway. The core’s monsters are different. He is their creator, and his bond with them is great. As well as that, they are devoted to him. Breaking one of their minds took all of my mana. I mean, look at me. I’m in my nightclothes, and I’m drinking lukewarm nettle tea. Does that not say that I need a rest?”
“Rest? You speak to me of rest? All I know is rest!”
“Exactly. So you understand the importance of a good night’s sleep. Too little of it and your mind erodes. I don’t want to end up like those demented old mages who cast spells by accident. The ones they keep in mana-proof sanitoriums. A good night’s sleep is important.”
“Your job is to be an Awakener.”
“And sometimes Awakeners need sleep. The trigger is planted, and things are under control. Or they will be. Now kindly, ancient one…push off and let me relax.”
CHAPTER 15
It took a quick conversation with Morphant, my Hogsfeate mimic, to set the plan in place. A quick conversation…repeated again and again, until I was sure Morphant knew what we were doing, why, and what orders he needed to issue to the heroes’ guild.
“How’s your mimicry of Pvat going? Do the heroes suspect anything?” I asked him.
Morphant gave an irritated sigh. “Their brains are swill, Dark Lord. They think I am their leader. When I appear in Pvat’s form, they fall over themselves to kiss my rump.”
“Good. I’m trusting you with this.”
“I will repay that trust.”
“How are you feeling?” I said. “You know, after what happened to Kargot?”
Morphant was quiet for a moment. I knew why, and I cursed myself for having the sensitivity of a drunk troll.
While living in his mimic form of Sir Dullbright, who used to be mayor of Hogsfeate, Morphant had become good friends with a beggar woman. He used to take her back to Dullbright’s mansion, much to the scandal of the town nobles.
But Pvat - before he got what he deserved - had murdered her. He’d used a mage named Hardere to seize control of Morphant, and then he’d tried to make the town his own.
Luckily, I had come to an arrangement with Mage Hardere. He’d given Morphant back to me, but with a new form to mimic: Pvat, head of the heroes’ guild.
Acting as Pvat, and following my orders, Morphant helped Hardere become head of Hogsfeate. It was annoying because when Morphant had been pretending to be Dullbright, Hogsfeate was my town. I controlled it, in effect. Still, governing the heroes’ guild had its uses.
“I understand your orders,” said Morphant. “We will be ready.”
I realized that he hadn’t answered my question about Kargot. I wasn’t going to push it. Morphant was like me, in a way. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings in his normal form. But when he mimicked a person, he had to experience emotions. There was no choice. It must have been hard for him.
So, I knew not to push it.
“Thank you, Morphant. See you tonight.”
“Good. I’m trusting you with this.”
The Dark Lord was trusting him.
Morphant didn’t think he’d hear those words again. Not after he’d failed Beno before.
This was his chance to make up for it. And it was simple; all he had to do was let a bunch of heroes get attacked. He would do it, and he’d make sure that if the Dark Lord trusted him again, he’d earned it.
It wasn’t so bad, mimicking the head of the heroes’ guild. Core Beno always drummed it into everyone that heroes were a horrible bunch of scumbags who’d rob the gold teeth from their granny’s mouth if they got the chance. He was exaggerating. They’d take one or two teeth at most.
Morphant had come to learn that there were all sorts of reasons that people became heroes. You had people who just needed a job. Little brothers who had something to prove. Guys and girls who were good with a sword and wanted to stick it in something. Folks who just wanted to feel alive, and needed the thrill of a dungeon to experience it. All kinds of motivations.
Morphant was enjoying being a hero…not that he’d ever tell that Dark Lord that. The last person he’d mimicked, Sir Dullbright, was an unpopular guy. So, while Morphant was mimicking him, he’d been unpopular, too. His only friend was…
No. He wouldn’t even think her name.
But mimicking Pvat was different. The heroes seemed to respect him. They might not like him all that much, but they respected him. People in town waved and smiled at Pvat. People had an inherent respect for heroes, even if they rarely did anything to deserve it. Somehow, they’d earned a reputation for gallantry and selfless acts, when nothing could be further from the truth. Heroism was a business. Killing monsters was done for profit, not charity.
But yes, he was enjoying acting as head of the heroes;’ guild, and he’d gotten to know some of the heroes within it. They weren’t all bad people.
So, it would be a lie to say he didn’t feel guilty that he was leading them into a trap, but his duty was to the Dark Lord.
He’d chosen eight of the town’s best heroes for tonight’s job. There was Peeping Will, Black Teeth, Rose, The Inferno, Jules, Penelope, Katana Ken, and Jessica. Eight heroes who couldn’t get any of the other Xynnar heroes guilds to take them on, so they’d ended up in Hogsfeate.
Peeping Will was scratching an itch on his neck. “Don’t see why we have to hide our armor,” he said. “Makes my eczema play up like hell.”
“Shut up, Will, you scab!”
“Yeah, stop complaining!”
Morphant, sitting at the front of the cart, guided the horses left a little. They were far away from Hogsfeate, but they needed to be further if they wanted to draw out the insects.
Course, the heroes didn’t know that.
“It’s part of the plan,” he told Peeping Will. “We can’t look like heroes.”
“But why?”
Morphant had already told them what Beno had told him to say.
But, as he was learning, heroes needed to be told everything twice.
“Because there are brigands in the area, and the traders have placed a bounty on their heads. I don’t need to tell you that the heroes’ guild plan on claiming it. If the brigands saw a bunch of strapping men and women like yourself wandering around with your swords out and your
guild leathers showing, I don’t reckon they’d attack, would they?”
“Use your brain, Will,” said Penelope. She was drinking a bottle of beer. It was almost drained dry.
“Did you all douse your shields, as I asked?” said Morphant.
“We’re nothing if not obedient,” said Katana Ken. He didn’t own such a sword, of course. Nobody knew where the nickname came from, and Ken seemed to enjoy keeping the information a secret.
“Want to tell us why we had to rub oil all over our shields?” said Jessica.
Morphant remembered what Wylie had told him. Beno had sent the kobold to meet Morphant near Hogsfeate earlier that day, and he’d given him a few vials of a chemical that reeked like trout.
“It’s an experimental ointment,” said Morphant. “There’s a new alchemist in town. He wants a contract with the guild, and he gave us free samples.”
“What does it do?”
“If you get attacked, hold your shield up. But don’t bash anything with your shield. That’s important. You just hold the shield, let your attacker hit it. The chemical reacts on contact.”
“Again…what does it do?”
Morphant gave a sly grin. As a mimic, he knew Pvat’s physical tics, and this was something he did a lot. His sly smile.
“You’ll find out,” he said. “Remember what I said about swords?”
“Don’t draw them until you say.”
“Yes. This has to be done right. Do not so much as think about using your sword before I tell you.”
He couldn’t help but feel the heroes were a little suspicious of him. Katana Ken, especially, wouldn’t take his eyes off Morphant. But they followed his orders, and they stayed in the back of the wagon while he guided it away from Hogsfeate.
They were five miles away from town when the insects attacked.
Giant flies with wings the size of a tavern door. Hideous creatures that looked like they’d get rejected from the underworlds for looking too mean. The sound they made was deafening. And their eyes! Ugh. Big, bulging eyes. Swollen abdomens covered in goo and blood.
Morphant quickly ran the plan through in his head.
Get the heroes to hit the ground with their shields when the insects get close.
Let the chemical work.
If all of the insects falls asleep, gently tie all of them up but one. Wait for it to wake up, and let it go.
The way the Dark Lord had explained it, it sounded so easy. But the key thing - and the Dark Lord had said this again and again rather pedantically - was to not hurt the insects. They must not be damaged. He'd explained why, and Morphant had to admit that it made sense.
Easy in theory.
A different thing in practice.
The insects attacked now, swooping in on the cart.
The heroes leaped off. They gripped their shields.
But one of them drew their sword.
Damn you, Katana Ken!
“I ain’t standing here like a moron banging my shield on the ground! I don’t care what stupid chemical you’re trialing! You don’t gamble with Katana Ken’s life!”
The sound of metal must have turned all their heads, because one by one, the other heroes drew their weapons, too.
“Your shields!” shouted Morphant, struggling to make his authority heard.
Only two of the heroes followed his orders. They smashed their shields on the ground. A thin mist rose. Yellow-green in color, like a rotten egg yolk. The smell was similar, too.
The heroes, breathing through masks, were unaffected. Two insects dropped. The others swooped in, spikes sticking out and ready to stab through flesh.
One insect rammed its pincer through a hero’s throat. He gurgled on his blood. Slapped madly at the thorn pinning him to the wagon. Then stopped slapping. Just slumped.
That was enough for utter chaos to begin.
Swords hacked at insect flesh. One after another. Grunting before every swing, in that way that all heroes seemed to do.
And then the insects multiplied. With every strike, they formed perfect copies of themselves, just as the Dark Lord said they would.
Morphant knew he’d lost control of the situation. He’d never win back the Dark Lord’s trust after this. The best he could do was head into the fray himself. Try something. Anything.
As he sprinted toward his people, a thorn burst through his leg.
It stopped him so suddenly that he lurched and slammed into the ground. Knocked three of his teeth out.
The pain made his vision white. The sounds of battle dulled. They weren’t sounds of battle anymore. Just fuzzy noises. Hit after hit, more insects were made. The buzz grew louder.
“Look at Pvat! Look at Pvat!”
Morphant saw that the heroes were pointing at him now.
Katana Ken screamed. But not because of an insect. Because of Morphant.
Morphant realized why; he’d lost his mimic form.
He was his own self now. A slug-like mimic lying on the wasteland ground.
I’d known that it would go this way. Well, mostly. I hadn’t expected Morphant to return to his normal form in front of the heroes. The insect had caught him by surprise. Stabbed its pincer through his leg. The pain must have broken Morphant’s concentration. Dissembled the disguise.
Shadow, Eric, and I had been watching the chaos from five hundred meters away. We saw the insect attack and the heroes be too stupid and arrogant to stick to the plan Morphant gave them.
Luckily, part of my own scheme was to rely on the subtle blend of stupidity and arrogance most heroes possessed.
“Eric, go get Morphant. Get him out of harm’s way. Shadow?” I said.
“I’m ready, Beno.”
The barbarian stalked off toward Morphant, while Shadow crept around the edges of the battle.
She walked carefully, choosing her target. Settling on an insect a little isolated from the rest, she sneaked until she was just inches away.
Then, she took a small glass vial from her satchel. An inch of it was filled with a red liquid. Blood, in fact. Blood donated by Tomlin, who had overcome his squeamishness and volunteered. If his blood would help get revenge for his essence vines, then he would do it, no matter how scared he was.
It hadn’t seemed like the time to point out that the essence vines belonged to me, and that Tomlin was in effect, an employee.
To my left, Eric was approaching me with Morphant cradled in his arms like a slug-shaped, slimy baby.
Way to my right, Shadow uncorked the blood vial. She gently held it underneath the insect’s pincer. She slowly raised the vial until the tip of the pincer was in the blood. After that, the insect’s instincts took over, and it drained the vial dry in less than a second.
“Good work, Shadow,” I said, using my core voice. “You can head back over here now.”
Eric sat with Morphant cradled in his lap. The barbarian was surprisingly tender, especially given that in his natural form, Morphant resembled an overgrown slug. Morphant had been injured in the fight, and Eric was gently dabbing an alcohol-soaked rag against his wound.
“You’ll be okay, pal. Trust me. I’ve been injured more times than a drunk blacksmith.”
Shadow rejoined us.
“Good work,” I told her.
“What now?”
“Now wait.”
And we did.
We waited and we enjoyed the show as the insects slaughtered the heroes. It was over frustratingly quickly; the insects didn’t toy with the heroes. They didn’t play games with them or make them suffer all too much. They simply killed them. What a waste!
And then…
…and then each insect pierced a hero like a kebab, and the swarm flew away with their corpses.
“They’re taking them back to their nest,” said Eric. “But why? Can you make a wraith from a corpse?”
Oh, hells.
A flaw in the plan.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “You can make an undead wraith. Which I realize is sort
of a double negative, given that wraiths are already undead. The fact is, if you turn a corpse into a wraith you create a sort of…well…”
“Go on…”
“A kind of ultra-wraith.”
The insect that had drained blood from Shadow’s vial had unwittingly consumed a sleeping draught. Right now, it was asleep on the wasteland ground. Completely alone, with its nestmates gone.
This had worked out the way I wanted it. Heroes were dead, and we had an insect we could follow back to the nest. Unlike the others, this one would be slowed by the draught. Once it started flying, we could follow it all the way home.
In theory, this had worked out.
So why did I feel like I’d really messed up?
I guessed it was because Morphant was injured, and we’d just supplied the insects with a bunch of hero corpses to turn into ultra-wraiths.
Yes, that was it.
Still, at least we had the…
“Beno,” she Shadow.
She was pointing.
Pointing at the insect over by the cart, who was just waking up.
“Right, let’s get moving. Cynthia said that if the draught worked, then when the insect woke, it would be sluggish. Slow enough for us to follow it home. I meant no offense by saying sluggish, Morphant. All we need to do is…”
I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence.
The insect had begun to hover in the air. It got five feet, ten.
And then, it crashed to the ground, slamming into the dirt.
After that, it was limp. Not sleeping. Not under the influence of a draught. But clearly dead.
CHAPTER 16
“This thing is heavier than an ice troll’s balls!” said Eric. “Not that I’ve done anything with an ice troll that comes close to fondling.”
His muscles were strained. The veins were sticking out. He had blood in his glorious hair. That was the real crime here.
“I thought you were a barbarian?” said Shadow. “Physical work is supposed to be your thing.”
“I’m not just a block of flesh, Little Wolf. There’s more to me than that. Here goes!”
With one heave, Eric threw the insect carcass into the hole.
Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Page 123
