by J. T. Wright
“Is Trent scouting the inside?” Kirstin asked, looking around. The gate was open, and a few run-down buildings could be seen past the wall, but no sign of anything moving, no masked Summons, no redheaded Recruit, no Fleshlings. Shouldn’t there be something?
“Braum, we've lost our scout and our idiot,” Frank said both ignoring and answering her question. “Have the men spread out and search the area. Carefully, but thoroughly. In pairs."
“Corporal,” Joel stepped forward. “I leveled up a couple times today, enough to Specialize my Archer Class. I chose Scout."
Frank nodded, still looking at the water skin in his hands. “Detect Traps?”
“Detect Traps, Far Sight, and Steady Aim,” Joel replied, listing his new Skills.
Another nod. “Good! Lady Kirstin, take your party and scout the interior. If you run into trouble, fall back to the gate. My men and I will see if this wall and gate will hold."
As the five Adventurers moved off, Frank turned to Keller. “How long have we got?”
“Twenty, twenty-five minutes, tops. There’s a least thirty coming,” Keller said tightly.
“Let’s get this gate closed then!” Frank ordered. “Closed and barricaded if we can, and check the wall to see if it’s defensible. If not, we'll figure something out.”
Braum looked doubtfully at the wall. The wooden fortifications weren’t large, but they were longer than seventeen, make that fifteen men without spears or bows could hold easily. One wall, possibly, but not four. He quickly set the men to work. Guardsmen to inspect and repair where they could, while recruits looked for anything heavy to pile against the gate.
As the others moved away, Frank turned to look at the approaching dust cloud. He resisted the urge to throw the water skin away and tucked into his storage pouch instead. He'd give it to Tersa, along with a piece of his mind, when she returned. He purposely thought the word “when” and pretended the word “if," the very possibility of “if," didn’t exist.
Chapter 22
As their group formed up and started searching the interior of the fort, Kirstin looked curiously at Joel. “I thought you wanted to specialize as a Hunter?”
Joel snorted and grinned, but his eyes kept to the distance as he utilized his new Skills. The “fort" didn’t really live up to that name. What wasn’t falling apart had been burned down. The remains of a forge and a building that might have been barracks at one time were the only things that could roughly be called intact.
“Not much difference between a Hunter and a Scout really," Joel said softly. There was no real reason for whispers, the Undead didn’t hear with ears, but loud noises felt unnatural in the stillness.
“Allen, Lieutenant Alistern, was always pushing me towards Scout,” Joel continued. “Said he could see the talent for the Class in me. I never took him seriously. Not as Allen, what would he know? But a Lieutenant in the Duke’s Scouts? I should probably listen to him.
“You know what the biggest difference between a low-level Scout and a low-level Hunter is?” Joel answered his own question without waiting. “Detect Traps and Create Traps. Scouts get the former usually and Hunters the latter. Had time to think during the run here, and I thought Trent could use some help.”
He laughed. “Turns out it was a good decision. Think those two are all right?”
Kirstin shot a look at the back of her left hand. The Summons mark was still there. “Alive yes. Alright?” She didn’t know. The group searched silently for a while.
The fort held no threats and very few surprises. The surprises that did pop up were positive ones, which was a nice change. In the building that had been a barracks, they found enough dried rations to last the group a week. In the remains of the smithy were two Healing scrolls, a two-handed longsword, and a Skill Stone. Positive, but not the greatest haul.
Fifteen minutes of searching and then they made their way back towards the gate carrying their loot. Loot and Consideration. Joel and Dirk carried the rations, Lyra the scrolls. Kirstin held the longsword in her hands and tucked the Skill Stone in her pouch.
As Kirstin turned the sword over and over in her hands, Dirk cast a look at Joel. “You really think Allen is worth listening to? He talks a lot.”
“Allen?” Joel shrugged. “Lieutenant Alistern? Yeah, I do, Duke Al'dross isn’t in the habit of letting fools run his army. I received three Skills choosing Scout. Maybe I would have with Hunter as well, maybe not.” Three Skills were a major bonus, a sign someone was immensely suited for the Class they picked.
Dirk nodded, and the group found themselves at the gate. Kirstin quickly reported their findings. Somehow she forgot to mention the Skill Stone she had tucked away.
“Rations and scrolls are good. Without an Appraisal of the sword, shit! Trent picked a hell of a time to get lost.” Frank rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Hold onto it for now. We've got Skeletal Knights approaching. It would be bad if they caught us in the open, but here we might…”
“Corporal,” Dirk broke in, “would Heavy Infantry be useful against Skeletal Knights?”
“What?” the Corporal was both befuddled and annoyed at the question.
“Joel isn’t the only one who can level up,” Dirk said uncomfortably. “I have a choice, Defender at 7 or specialize Squire to Heavy Infantry at 16…”
Dirk’s friends all looked at him strangely. It was Matt who said what they were all thinking. “Heavy Infantry isn't a knight class.”
“No,” Dirk said shortly, “but maybe I'm not supposed to be a Knight. Allen always said we're nobles.”
Dirk spread his arms as he tried to explain what was on his mind. “Joel wanted to be a Hunter, I wanted to be a Knight, because we’re nobles, not because it’s the best choice. If Heavy Infantry will help keep us alive…”
“Infantry is a Military Class,” Frank cut him off. “Not a lot of Adventurers go that route because they’re romantic fools. It’s a useful Class, but it’s not a decision I can make for you. Right now, Defender or Heavy Infantry, I need you above the gate. Keep the enemy focused there. If we can, keep them coming towards one wall. The rest of you spread out.”
Frank dismissed them and moved to check on the recruits. Knives and short bows wouldn’t be much use in the coming battle. Arisa had been moved to the wall, but everyone else was piling what they could find in front of the gate. Frank was counting his lucky stars that there was only one gate to defend in the mostly intact wooden walls.
The Adventurers made their way up rickety wooden stairs onto a thankfully sturdy catwalk. Nods and good lucks were exchanged as they found their places. Kirstin was still turning the longsword over in her hands. She found herself standing next to Dirk above the gate.
The enemy had arrived. Formed up a few hundred yards from the newly occupied fort, four rows of six horsemen stood waiting, still as death. From a distance, you might have thought they were human; only the bright white bone of their horses’ legs revealed them as Undead.
Kirsten looked at the armored knights. Her rapier had been ineffective against Fleshlings. Against Skeletal Knights or Undead Steeds? With a human opponent, maybe she could have found a way. Her blade would have slipped into gaps in armor and helmets. She would dance around her opponent, whittling away at flesh and vitality. That wasn’t going to work here.
She glanced at Dirk out of the corner of her eye. He had a pained expression on his face that disappeared when he pulled on his helm and drew his war hammer.
“What did you decide?”
“Wanted to be a Knight since I could crawl.” Dirk cleared his throat. “Sky Knight, like my great-grandfather. I got Crushing Blow, Break Armor, and Shield Wall for choosing Heavy Infantry.”
He hefted his huge square shield. It was a plain thing, solid but without frills or device. He chuckled. “I’ve never gotten more than a single Skill by choosing a Class or leveling up, usually not even one. I put all my free Attribute Points into Agility.”
Kirstin didn’t know what to say. Alistern was always telling
Dirk to invest in Agility. He never did, because a knight never ran. Alistern would counter that a knight was also fast enough to hit his enemy. They would argue about it after every fight.
Kirstin had also earned enough Experience to Level. More than enough to Level if she chose the path she was contemplating. She’d chosen Duelist for the same reason Dirk had wanted to become a Knight. She was a noble. Michael mocked her every chance he could for that choice. Mocked her and beat her in every practice match to prove his point.
A fancy Class title did not make a successful Adventurer. She would sneer and say she was doing just fine. She would beat him once she had her Advanced Class. That Class was too far away. The Trial was here now.
She looked at her Summons mark again. She might have died today if Trent hadn’t been there to act as a distraction. She would have been pulled down and at least injured badly during the third encounter. That was when her rapier had stopped doing more than merely scratching the mindless Undead beasts.
Duelists used Rapiers, and if she kept true to the Class, in another five Levels, she’d be stronger. She’d get the Skills, Skill, singular if she was being honest, that made the Duelist class stand out.
Ten Levels from there she could get the Advanced Class Blade Dancer, just like her hero, Justine Abarantry. She’d become a Blade Dancer, and Michael would still mock her because her true hero was Justine's brother Karden, the Blade Master. But she couldn’t be a Blade Master, could she?
Kirstin focused on her Second Class slot. She had three but had only used one. Experience was channeled into before she could stop herself. Only the Basic Classes Warrior and Noble were available, and she chose Warrior with only a moment’s hesitation.
Basic Classes didn’t come with free Skills, but that was okay. She started as a Warrior.
As her second slot was filled, Skills she lost when choosing Duelist became available again. Most importantly, Longsword, Level 15. She still held the sword they had found, in her hands. She drew in from its sheath.
The weapon that had felt clumsy and unusable in her hands just a moment before now felt light and nimble. It moved naturally as she flexed her wrist and snapped it downwards. She assumed a two-handed grip and whirled the blade above her head. Dirk gave a startled, “Watch it!” as the blade narrowly missed his head.
He wasn’t in any danger. She’d been good with a longsword before. With her increased Agility and Dexterity, the blade became even more fluid in her hands now. She had enough Experience to Level Warrior to three. She was awarded Twelve free Attribute Points. She added them all to Strength.
On a hunch, her hand dug into her belt pouch and drew the Skill Stone that had been set aside and ignored. She focused and chose to learn the Skill it contained. A Skill that turned out to be Holy Strike. She grinned fiercely. The Trial had been stingy before, but now it was making up for that. Holy Strike was expensive in Mana and Stamina, but that was fine.
With new Strength and rediscovered Skills, Kirstin felt ready. She felt more like an Adventurer than ever before. No longer was she the little girl playing at swords and clinging to her noble heritage. She spat and wished Lyra was nearby to chide her for doing so. She wished her maid was close by to sniff disapprovingly, so she could tell the Healer to... Calm down! It never paid to be too rude to the party’s Healer.
Chapter 23
You have found a hidden location. You have entered the Prison of the Undying Lord.
Trent’s eyes were closed. He read the notification from his Status in wonder. He had a Quest to find two hidden locations. If Tersa hadn’t stumbled into him, he probably wouldn’t have found this one. He didn’t know if he felt grateful or not for the opportunity. His level of gratitude would be determined after he found out if this was a prison belonging to the Undying Lord or one containing the Undying Lord. He would also need to survive. Survival was key.
Trent opened his eyes and saw stars. This was odd because the sky had been overcast the whole time they’d been in this Trial. He wasn’t certain it was ever night here. There had been no sun or source of light, just a perpetual lightning-filled gloom.
The lightning was gone now. Without the constant crash and boom of thunder, it was remarkably quiet. No breeze pushed the hot air anymore, though it was still humid and stifling. Beyond the stars, he could see stone blocks, neatly carved and put in place. Was he inside?
He was lying down. His bare hands felt rough stone beneath him. Stone above and beneath, that probably meant he was inside. He sat up, and his head swam.
He pushed his mask back so he could rub at his eyes, but his hands froze before he could. It was dark. Why was it so dark? Black and a few flashes of light were all he could see. Slowly his swimming head calmed, and the flashes stopped, leaving him in perfect darkness.
His hand reached up and pulled his mask back down. As if someone had lit a torch, the darkness in the room disappeared. Mask up, darkness. Mask down and he could count the stone blocks that made up the wall a few feet away.
He huffed out an exasperated sigh, as the answer to his unvoiced question popped into his head. Dark Vision; the Masked Cowl came with the Ability, Dark Vision. How had he forgotten that?
Trent jumped to his feet as a sudden groan from behind startled him. His head swam again, but he ignored it. He whirled around, more swimming, more intense this time. Fast movements should be avoided for now. He looked around the room as his hands found his axes. If this was a prison, was this a prison cell?
No, probably not. Broken barrels and crates littered the room. They had been stacked at some point but had toppled over and smashed themselves with time. No, not smashed themselves, some of the wood looked gnawed on. Trent wasn’t the first person, first creature, to enter this room.
Cobwebs and dust covered everything. His Tracking Skill told him the dust hadn’t been disturbed for a long time. He didn’t draw too much comfort from this. His Tracking Skill also informed him that whatever had chewed on the broken wood possessed long, sharp teeth. Also, there was the groaning. Why was there groaning if nothing had disturbed the dust?
A leg, there, behind that crate. Trent activated Stealth and crept forward, his axes held low. Suddenly the owner of the leg sat up. Trent drew back Strife and was ready to throw, the motion more than half-completed before he recognized the redheaded and freckled face.
Covered in dust, Tersa sneezed and rubbed at her face. It was so dark! Where was she? Had night fallen? Had she fallen asleep on duty? The voice that called her name practically made her jump out of her skin.
“Who’s there?” Memories of running and leaping into the swirling hole came back to her. “Trent? That you? Where are you? Where are we?”
Trent made his way to her and reached down to help her up. He stood there with his hand out for a good twenty seconds before he remembered it was dark, and he had Stealth activated. He cleared his throat as he deactivated his Skill.
“Right in front of you,” he said. Tersa jumped again at the sudden noise so close to her. “We're in a room, a storage room maybe. I don’t know how we got here. Reach out and grab my hand, I’ll help you up.”
Tersa was confused. Could he see her? How? Her eyes widened as a possible explanation occurred to her.
“Trent,” she whispered hoarsely, “I can’t see anything! I think… I think I'm blind!”
“No,” Trent quickly reassured her. “It’s dark, but my mask, the cowl, has Dark Vision.”
Tersa felt relieved and reached out to grope for his hand. As he helped her to her feet, her relief turned to irritation. Dark Vision? That was an advanced form of Night Sight. Every time she turned around, Trent had another trick to show off.
Map, Storage, Appraisal, Detect Trap, she was pretty sure someone had joked about him having an Advanced Class too. Wasn’t she a higher Level than him? All she had was basic weapons Skills and a couple of Charms. She didn’t even have Dash! It wasn’t fair!
Trent saw the frown on Tersa’s face and misinterpreted it. “A
re you hurt? I have an extra Health potion if you need it."
Tersa brushed aside his concerns and tried to put her jealousy behind her. “I'm fine. We need to get back to the others. Corporal Francis is going to be pissed that we’re missing. How do we get out of here? Where’s my mace?”
Trent didn’t think she looked fine, but let it go and found her dropped weapon. Once she had it in her hand, Tersa looked a little more cheerful. Trent looked around the room again. It wasn’t big and didn’t seem to contain anything useful. Behind Tersa, a heavy wooden door appeared to be the only exit.
“There’s a door behind you.” He eased her to the side and moved to check it out. “Should I open it?”
Tersa shrugged and nodded. “Can’t stay here forever. Unless we can. Do you think it’s safe here?” After thinking about it, she was more than half-serious. The Corporal really was going to be pissed. He'd probably blame her for them falling in the hole.
Trent doubted the Trial would leave them alone if they stayed put. There was also an instinct in the back of his head that told him he needed to get back to his master. He put Strife away but kept Sorrow handy as he reached out and grabbed the rusty doorknob. He gave it a twist.
The knob turned easily in his hand, and the door swung open with a low creaking noise. At least it wasn’t locked, but considering what was on the other side, maybe it would have been better if it was.
Trent barely had time to register the beast’s presence before it was lunging for him. Trent got his arm up as the beast plowed into him, carrying him to the floor. That arm pressed into the beast’s neck was all that kept snapping teeth from his flesh as the beast’s weight crushed him. Claws tore at the leather of his jacket and found the skin beneath.
Trent swung Sorrow awkwardly and scored a glancing blow to the beast’s side. In his haste, the blade barely bit the creature’s skin, bouncing off and falling out of his hand. Weaponless, Trent reached up and grabbed the beast’s flopping ear with his now empty hand.
