Seeker

by Sam Ryder

  “Go for the leg again?” I suggested, my eyes taking turns looking at the stampeding giants and the sword slashing toward us to cut us in half.

  Eve shook her head, her entire body tensed, concentrating on the ivory blade as it picked up speed, cutting a perfect trajectory to carve us like pieces of meat. Only the friction with the ground was slowing its progress. We needed to move, one way or the other, and fast.

  “Eve?” I said. “Which leg should we go for?”

  “Do you trust me?” she asked, her stare still locked on that long blade.

  At the moment, I thought she might’ve lost her mind, but the answer still rang true in my head. Yes. Yes, I trusted her. I squeezed her hand. “I’m with you.”

  The giants were only a few steps away now, but the blade was closer, slicing toward us like an executioner’s scythe.

  I prepared to duck.

  Eve stepped in front of me, placing her firm, lithe body between me and the blade. Raised her hand, as if she could stop the blade with sheer strength of will.

  I watched the blade cut into her, parting her hand and her lower arm on an angle, slashing through flesh and bone like she was made of soft cheese.

  Time seemed to stop, the dark world of Primo fading away into nothingness.

  The sucky teleportation rollercoaster began, snapping us back and forth like ragdolls. It was bad enough the first time, but now we had a third in our party, the largest creature I’d ever seen. It bellowed as we were smacked around, my head bouncing off its belly multiple times, which was less hard than stone but harder than leather. Each time, I had the urge to throw up, stars filling my skull, exploding like fireworks.

  I think I blacked out at one point, but then awoke to find the peaceful calm that came after the headbanging part. My head was throbbing with a nasty headache, but I couldn’t complain. It was Eve whose arm was half-severed, the marmot’s bladelike snout still embedded in her bone, fused with it like two chunks of metal soldered together. Drops of blood hovered in the darkness of jumpspace (ooh, that has a nice ring to it. Jumpspace it is!).

  The marmot, which blocked an entire half of my vision, seemed to be resting now, possibly sleeping.

  Eve’s teeth were gritted together, and her eyes looked distant and wild.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, squinting as my head continued to pound. Our hands were still clutched tightly together, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t let go even if I’d wanted to. Not until we landed.

  Eve tried to open her mouth to speak, but then seemed to give up, giving a slight shake of her head. Which I translated to: “No, I’m not okay.”

  Which scared me, quite a lot. I’d never really seen Eve not okay. Even when she was frustrated and distraught, she was tougher than nails and in control of everything. Now, she looked ready to pass out. I wondered what would happen if she did. Would we still make it to Tor? Or would we be lost in jumpspace forever?

  “Seventeen,” Eve said, drawing me back from my frantic thoughts.

  “What?” I said.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, but then they snapped forward again, determination lacing her expression. “My life meter,” she growled. “Seventeen.”

  Holy shit.

  Eve was dying.

  SEVEN

  MY BRAINS DON’T GET FUCKED, BUT EVERYTHING ELSE DOES

  I held Eve in the darkness of jumpspace, her teeth chattering, her body beginning to convulse. I understood what was happening and why. Her Leveled-up Finder’s body wasn’t used to teleporting a creature the size of a marmot. She’d brought back thousands of recruits over the years, but this was the ultimate test of her strength and resolve.

  Every so often she would manage a word, a number.

  A countdown.

  Her life meter draining away to nothing, like a car with an empty gas tank, running on fumes.

  Sixteen.

  Fifteen.

  Fourteen.

  Time passed in an ethereal way, sometimes feeling as slow as a tortoise making its way along a patch of grass parallel to a highway. Other times, I felt like we were in one of the cars speeding past.

  Thirteen.

  Twelve.

  Eleven.

  Eve’s voice was getting weaker, raspier. Her body wasn’t shaking as much, which wasn’t good.

  The decreasing numbers she was speaking were coming more often, the end coming faster now.

  Ten.

  Nine.

  Eight.

  Seven.

  Six.

  It felt like Airiel all over again. I felt helpless, trapped in this damn place where time didn’t seem to exist except to take this beautiful, capable woman away as if she never existed.

  “You exist,” I said, and I wasn’t certain whether I said it for me or for her or whether that even mattered.

  She didn’t answer, her eyes fluttering closed. She didn’t speak again, her lips too weak to open. In my head, however, the countdown continued. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

  Flatline.

  ~~~

  I held her limp body, not knowing whether she was beyond saving or not. I held her anyway. I felt the air begin to change. Or maybe it wasn’t the air, but my body, a feeling deep within my chest. Something was changing.

  We were about to arrive.

  I only hoped Eve had managed to lock our coordinates on Tor. Not for my sake—for hers. I was trying to remain optimistic. I’d seen Warriors and goddesses brought back from the brink. Hell, I’d seen Eve brought back from near death once before. She was resilient. We all were.

  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” I muttered under my breath, waiting for the blast of light that meant we’d arrived. Only there was no light, only the deepest of darks.

  And yet I felt ground under me now, hard and unforgiving and yet so good. I wondered if it was how a sailor felt when taking his first few steps on land after months at sea.

  We’d arrived in the Black, which was good for our eyes, but not the best from an overall situational standpoint. Most of the Warriors would be out fighting monsters.

  Luckily, my new eyes could see even in the Black.

  The biggest problem, however, was that we now had a massive marmot with us, and its blade-nose-thingy was still stuck in Eve’s arm bone.

  The beast was sleeping, which was a good thing. I could only imagine how it might react to being in this new, alien place when it woke up. But that was a problem for later.

  I was still cradling Eve’s limp body in my arms, so I gently laid her down, inspecting her injured arm. The act of teleporting had somehow managed to stop the blade’s momentum, saving her from losing the hand completely, but the damage was still severe. Ooze would obviously help, but I wasn’t even certain exactly where on Tor we’d landed. My eyesight in the Black was better than nothing, but I couldn’t see that far.

  I had the urge to shout for help, but during the Black I was more likely to attract monsters than friends.

  The marmot shifted in its sleep and I froze. It began to snore, deep groaning buzzes that sounded almost peaceful. It also moved its blade snout. Which could’ve been bad, but the goddesses were with us on this night. The blade slid cleanly out of Eve’s arm, freeing her.

  Unfortunately, however, the blade had also been holding back the tide of blood, which now bubbled forth unblocked.

  I picked her up, scanning the darkness, trying to locate anything familiar that might give me a clue to where I was. Nothing. Fucking nothing.

  And then: There! A flickering light. One I wouldn’t have been able to see from this distance when I was Warrior or even Protector. But as a Level 4 Seeker I could just make out the demonflames that were likely either a battle circle created by our Warriors or the fire back at camp. If it was the latter, it also meant I was within the bounds of the ward shields, which would be good. Either a stroke of luck or Eve’s skill in navigating through jumpspace, steering us millions of miles through space from planet to planet.

  With Eve bleeding and boun
cing in my arms, I sprinted for those flames, leaving the marmot sleeping behind me.

  ~~~

  It was our campfire and we’d landed within the ward shields.

  Finally, a break, even as I pretended Eve was only sleeping. The forms around the campfire were fuzzy and I couldn’t identify them. They didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was haste.

  Someone called out to me, but I ignored them, charging for the steep incline that would lead to the vines descending into the gully where there would be plenty of ooze.

  I stopped, my mind whirling.

  I had a better idea. I turned and ran to the opposite end of the long hill, where the steep slope gave way to bare, vertical cliffs, a mirror image of the opposite side. Further along, however, ivy grew along the cliffs, hiding the stone beneath. Where I knew there was a hidden door that could only be opened from the inside.

  I groped through the tangled leaves and branches, finding the right spot.

  Then I started to shout at the top of my lungs.

  I stopped to listen, hearing nothing. “Dammit!” I growled, hoping I hadn’t made a grievous mistake in coming here rather than going straight into the main part of the gully where I knew there would be ooze baths waiting. There always were during the Black, when injuries occurred on an almost nightly basis. I lowered Eve’s body carefully to the ground. My chest and arms were covered in her blood.

  Far too much blood.

  I pounded on the rock with my fists now, still hollering, not saying words just making as much of a racket as I could, hoping that if the weakened goddesses were sleeping it would be enough to wake them up and that they’d have the energy to answer my call.

  I stopped to listen once more. Nothing.

  No. Not acceptable.

  I would not let her die like this. In the back of my mind I slammed the door on a darker thought that told me she was already dead.

  “Please,” I said, my voice much weaker now. I slumped to the ground, staring at my blood-drenched hands.

  Screw the goddesses, I thought harshly. I’ll save her myself.

  I stood, scooping up Eve once more and preparing to run back the way I’d come, reverting to my initial plan.

  Before I could move, however, the rock door groaned open. “Sam?” an airy, familiar, beautiful voice said.

  “Please save her,” I said, plunging through the foliage and almost running headlong into Airiel, whose elegant body gracefully moved back to let me pass. In the light of the demontorches, her pale skin and silky, silver shift gleamed like a newly forged sword.

  Airiel, to her credit, didn’t ask any questions. Just said, “Place her on the bed. I’ll do what I can.”

  Those magical words were exactly what I needed to hear to know I’d done the right thing. If the only goddess who had her heart in her chest couldn’t save Eve, no one could.

  I placed her on the bed, my knees going weak a moment later. I sank down, feeling numb, only able to watch now. Hope.

  “Sisters,” Airiel said. “Awaken.”

  Persepheus appeared first, looking surprised and tired. And worried. Very, very worried. I’d never seen her like that. Just as soon as I got a glimpse of this version of the hard sea goddess, her face transformed into the woman I knew. Sharp-eyed, confident, and pissed off.

  “No,” she said, striding across to where I’d laid Eve down. It wasn’t a wasted word of denial—more like a command to Eve. No, you will not die on us. That one word gave me strength.

  Minertha was next, the rock goddess releasing a soft sob before she composed herself and joined her sisters at Eve’s bedside.

  I remembered what Eve had told me, about how the Three were like mothers to her after her true mother had died.

  I watched them work through the cracks between their bodies, only able to make out slivers of Eve’s slumped body. Alive, she was a vision of strength and beauty, all sinewy, toned muscle and graceful curves. Like this, she was just as beautiful, but looked sapped of strength, like her body had just given up, sagging in on itself like a doll that had had its stuffing removed.

  I tried to compose myself, but my mind was a tornado, spinning with thoughts of what had happened. Was this my fault? Eve had limited strength to spare, and she’d had to use some of it because I was late in coming to meet her. She had every opportunity to leave me on Primo and return to Tor with her ginormous prize in hand. Not having to haul me across space would’ve saved her strength as well. Maybe she wouldn’t have lost consciousness. Maybe she would still have points to spare on her life meter.

  Shut the fuck up! I commanded myself harshly. Would Eve have wanted me to second-guess her decision? Not a chance. She chose to delay our departure to ensure we left together along with the marmot. That was Eve. No one left behind and unwilling to lose.

  Minertha and Persepheus were working on Eve’s half-severed arm. The “creation” of the magical primordial ooze was something I’d often joked about in my own mind. What wasn’t funny about goddesses creating healing/Leveling-up elixir by hocking up spit. The reality of the process, however, was different than what I’d expected. There was no hocking, for one. The pair of goddesses would maneuver their tongues around in their mouths slowly, purposefully, and then open their lips the barest of cracks to let the spittle—no pun intended, I swear—ooze out. Watching someone get spit on should’ve been a rather disgusting event, but not the way Per and Min did it. There was a beauty to it. The ooze dripped into her open wound, shimmering slightly. It had taken me this long to realize the ooze wasn’t just goddess spittle. They couldn’t just spit and heal people. They had to choose to infuse the ooze with part of whatever magic they had left. It was almost like giving a part of themselves to each of us whenever they healed or Leveled us up.

  Before my very eyes, Eve’s cut-open arm began to knit itself back together.

  Unfortunately, it was superficial healing, because the wound was no longer bleeding. Which meant Eve’s heart wasn’t pumping, no longer sending blood to her extremities.

  Airiel, however, wasn’t giving up. While Min and Per worked on repairing Eve’s worst injury, Airiel did something so familiar to humans from scenes in pop culture that it might’ve seemed ordinary if not for the fact that the sky goddess’s entire body was glowing slightly.

  She gave Eve mouth-to-mouth. Her lips pressed against Eve’s tenderly, and then she breathed into her mouth. Around the edges of their locked lips, mist-like air leaked out like white smoke. Eve moved and I gasped.

  My excitement was short-lived, however, because her body had merely reacted to Airiel’s breath filling her lungs, her chest rising. As soon as Airiel pulled back, her chest fell and she looked as lifeless as ever.

  Airiel glanced at me, then back at Eve. She tried again. Same result. And again, once more.

  Eve’s body responded mechanically, white smoke swirling around her face like a translucent shroud, but then she went still.

  Apparently thrice was Airiel’s limit, because she turned to face me with the saddest expression I’d ever witnessed. “She is too far gone,” she said.

  I shook my head, because those words made no sense. I’d watched those with mortal wounds nursed back to health with naught but a dip in an ooze bath. Here Airiel herself was breathing life back into Eve. How could she be too far gone when I’d spoken to her not long ago?

  We had no other Finder. I told myself that’s why my vision blurred with unshed tears. Because we were screwed without Eve. Lost and defeated. The real reason, however, flitted on the edge of my mind, always just out of sight.

  Because she was my friend. My relationship with Eve had always been complicated. I’d been angry at her for serving the Three without question, doing their dirty work for them. When I’d met her, she hadn’t been the best person, even if her intentions were noble. But she’d changed. She’d shown her true colors, the goodness inside of her. Now I trusted her the way I trusted few others. The way I trusted Beat and Vrill.

  “Try again,
” I said, the two words coming out like a command. Persepheus shot me a glare of warning, but I ignored it. I didn’t care. Eve had never given up on me and I would be her advocate when no one else could.

  “Airiel’s still recovering,” Persepheus said.

  “Eve would die for you. Eve would die for you all. She’s proven that a thousand times over.”

  “You think we don’t know that?” Persepheus said. “You think we don’t care?”

  I wanted to shout Yes! That’s exactly what I think. But I knew it would be a lie. I could see the truth in her eyes, which were as hard as stone and yet sad at the same time. Min’s expression was different. She looked defeated. And Airiel, she looked the saddest of all.

  I wanted to be angry, because it was the Three who’d sent Eve on such a dangerous mission. But I couldn’t be. Because they loved her too. And she knew the risks she’d signed up for, just like me.

  “Try one more time,” I pleaded, my voice cracking.

  Min slid off the bed to kneel beside me. She placed a tender, stony hand on the intersection between my cheek and chin. “It either works or it doesn’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and I stiffened, caught on the edge between her actions and her words.

  I wanted to fight her words and collapse into her actions.

  I bit back my own words and sank into her, tears leaking from my eyes onto her smooth, hard skin. I felt weak. I hated the feeling.

  “Give me another mission,” I said.

  “Sam,” Min said, in a voice I hated. It was one that spoke of feeling sorry for someone. I didn’t want to be pitied. I wanted to be useful.

  I pulled back sharply. “Give me another fucking mission,” I said, pushing to my feet.

  The Three were all staring at me. Eve was not, her eyes closed. I was thankful for that or I might’ve lost my nerve.

  Persepheus said, “Check that tone, human. You get a pass because of your grief. It is a one-time event.”