Kingdom Come

by James Osiris Baldwin

  [Jump deals 640 damage!]

  [Kalxat takes +150 Fire damage!]

  [You have been exposed to Terrible Stench!]

  Suddenly, my fear of falling was pushed aside, because holy motherfucking shit. I’d only smelled one thing as bad as this monster in my life, and that was when my friend’s dog had interrupted our tabletop game night by vomiting up the cat poop he’d eaten onto the sofa. The stench was indescribable. All five of us ran from the room, coughing and weeping and retching.

  Coughing, weeping and retching was exactly what happened now as the Debilitating Nausea debuff appeared. It was all I could do not to throw up on the inside of my new fancy helmet.

  “SCREEEE!” The bird, bleeding toxic sludge and mana, bucked underneath me. I lifted up, then slammed down belly-first onto its back. One scrabbling hand caught a handful of stinking, oily feathers just before it rolled out of its formation with another short scream. My stamina bar drained with the effort of holding on as it see-sawed violently from side to side.

  Karalti wheeled above us, executing a sudden hairpin turn that took one of the vultures by surprise. The bird tried to backwing, desperate to get away from the plume of sticky, napalm-like fire that slashed it across the chest and belly and set it ablaze. As it fell away, screeching in agony, two vultures closed in on Karalti.

  "Left and right!" Seizing a moment of steady flight, I reared up, and plunged the flaming Spear of Nine Spheres down like a butter churn. It swung as the blow came down, and instead of driving the blade into its body, I whiffed through the feathers of its wings instead.

  [Kalxat uses Contagion!]

  [Karalti has killed Kalxat!]

  “Kalxat uses WHAT?!” As greasy flames caught its feathers, foul smoke boiled up into the air - and to my disgust, the fire drove out a cloud of hopping, slithering parasites that blew into my face and clung to my armor. The ones that found skin bit and stung, and another debuff icon appeared in my vision.

  [You take 5 bite damage!]

  [You have contracted Grave Rot! Strength and Stamina will begin to decrease!]

  [Warning! You have blood poisoning! -2 HP per second!]

  Grave Rot!? For the first time in a long time, I felt panic: real, honest-to-dog panic. I was sick. It was killing me. Every instinct I had told me to let go, get away, claw the bugs off my skin.

  Before I’d even started hyperventilating, the Kalxat shored up until it was nearly horizontal, then folded in the uppermost wing and rolled back the other way to try and jolt me off into the open air. I was suddenly pinned by gravity against the crawling mat of flea-like parasites seething in the vulture's feathers.

  “I’m coming!” Karalti thundered down, slamming into the badly-injured vulture in a tangle of jaws, claws, and wings. The weakened Kalxat took two sets of talons to its exposed belly. It screeched, and then - to my horror - opened its beak wide and vomited. Karalti bellowed as acid and bile struck her in the neck and chest, and a disgusting, nauseating cloud of hot mist blew back over me.

  [Karalti takes 225 acid damage! HP: 974/1199]

  [Karalti is immune to poisoning!]

  [Karalti is immune to Grave Rot!]

  “Duck!” The dragon twisted her head around, jaws gaping. I dropped down against the vulture’s body just as oily white flames erupted overhead, engulfing the Kalxat’s head. Ghost Fire stripped the feathers and flesh from its skull. Its wings spasmed and then folded, flapping limp as the scorched, disemboweled monster tumbled bonelessly from the sky.

  “Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!” I dry-heaved from the smell – half-digested shit, now with the added aroma of burned feathers and stomach acid – but let go and threw my limbs out like a skydiver. Drag ripped me up into the air, away from the dead monster as it spiraled like a falling star to the waters far below. “Karalti!”

  Karalti dodged the remaining Kalxat as they dived, one after the other, screeching and reaching out for her with hooked talons. She swooped in, snatching me up by the back of my Cossack Harness with one back foot while I clawed at myself. Bugs were everywhere. Even in the places where there were no parasites, my skin crawled. The Spear hung from the securing cord around my wrist, dragging us down. Karalti was carrying this fight. I had to get my shit together.

  The Kalxat saw their opening. They dived again, belching plumes of acid at Karalti as she struggled to gain altitude. The dragon barrel rolled to evade their claws and breath weapons while I held onto my harness with grim determination. “Use Split Turn! Get some momentum and throw me at one of them!”

  “Okay!” Karalti roared, folding her wings and diving sharply just as three vultures charged from either side. She barreled out of the maneuver, struggling for breath, and then executed Split Turn, which allowed her to make a supernaturally sharp hairpin turn in the air. At the apex of the turn, she let me go. I used Shadow Dash, briefly dematerializing, and then Jump. The double dash landed me right above the Kalxat, and I hit my newest ability: Master of Blades.

  “Tarn takhran, shitbirds!” I grasped the Spear in both hands, and as I did, raw power shot up from the weapon from my fingertips to my back. For a moment, I felt like a spider at the center of a freezing cold web of energy – a web which caught me in mid-air and reversed my fall. The energy divided, forming patterns like a great mandala of dark light, then contracted into six lances of pure Darkness. They were slender bolts of black deeper than the night sky around us, blazing with ghostly transparent flame. It was over in a second: the lances rained down on the screeching Kalxat, impacting them so fast they blew out the other side into clouds of violet, crackling electricity. Black bolts of it rebounded back to me, slithering over my body as I burned the rest of my AP and triggered Rain of Glass.

  Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! The power was pure rage, sharpened and focused. I flung it out with a hoarse roar: a rain of smoking violet knives that chased the birds like homing missiles and shredded them apart.

  Feathers, flesh and blood exploded and rained down. The shockwave of their destruction was powerful enough to propel me back up into the air. The world seemed to slow, the seconds rolling by like syrup as the notifications rolled in.

  [You have killed Kalxat!]

  [You deal 2176 damage!]

  [You have killed Kalxat!]

  [You gain 115 EXP! Karalti gains 115 EXP!]

  [You deal 3966 damage!]

  [Karalti has killed Kalxat!]

  [You have killed Kalxat…]

  Holy shit. My eyes widened.

  There was a blast of fire overhead. I glanced up as a shadow fell over me. It wasn’t Karalti. It was the last Kalxat, dead and burning. Without thinking, I Shadow Danced out of the way – or tried to. Master of Blades had sucked up all of my AP, which I realized just as the tumbling bird clipped me. It spun me around, then nearly tore my head off as a strap caught around my neck and shoulders and dragged me down toward the earth.

  Chapter 13

  When it came to accidents, years of stunt work had given me blood like ice-water. The fallen Kalxat’s talon had snagged on some part of my gear, and its dead weight was pulling us out of the sky. The solution was simple: unequip my armor.

  With the wind tearing at my everything, I navigated telepathically to the equipment menu and unequipped the lot. Once I was down to my underpants, I was free. The updraft dragged me up and off, and my descent slowed. “Karalti!”

  “I’m coming!”

  The parapets of Korona were now close enough that I could see the faces of the soldiers below. Time seemed to slow. It wasn’t just a trick of my mortality. Plunge, one of my passive abilities, was making the fall seem slower than it was – an extra three seconds to contemplate my inevitable death-by-splat. “You’d better hurry!”

  Karalti streaked past like an arrow, unfurling her wings and sliding into position underneath me. I reached out with my free hand, grasping for the saddle, and caught it. As soon as I anchored, she lifted – and I learned something new about physics when my unprotected face and torso slammed down with
unexpected force. The sandsquid leather was sharper than sharkskin, ripping up my hands and face. My nose burst like a ripe raspberry, and there was a wet snapping in my chest that I heard with my inner ear.

  [You have a broken nose! You’re Dizzy, and incur a -10 vision penalty.]

  [You take 79 points of impact damage!]

  Right. I had been falling at high speed, and I’d remembered to unequip my armor, but not to fucking re-equip it. Genius.

  “Hold on!” Karalti coasted down toward Korona’s skydock at a fast glide, shuddering with effort in the blustering wind. My head spun. Gritting my teeth, I re-equipped my gear from Karalti’s saddlebags. The Raven Set appeared on my body like magic.

  Neither of us had taken too much HP damage, but I was now bleeding from my everything and laboring under no less than four strength-sapping debuffs. Karalti was exhausted from a full day of flying. I couldn’t insta-use my potions outside of combat. The dragon groaned with effort as she lined up with one of the docks. She was burning hot, her twin hearts hammering so hard I could feel them through the saddle.

  The crowd of soldiers and staff below scattered out of our way just in time. Karalti came in fast, skipping over the remaining people and hitting the ground at a run. She bounced and hopped through the landing, flaring her wings to slow her momentum. When she came to a stop, I was still on her back. We were both alive and intact.

  [You have defeated Kalxat!]

  [You gain 336 EXP!]

  [Congratulations! You are Level 18!]

  Some of the pain ebbed as my HP rose with the level gain, but I was weak, feverish, and spurting blood out of most of the holes in my face. The first thing I did - before potions or poultices, before anything - was to use my new Purify ability to get rid of the Grave Rot. I clapped my branded hand to my forehead and concentrated. For a second, there was nothing: then a purple nimbus gathered around my body, followed by a flush of cool energy that spread through my limbs like a shockwave. My churning stomach settled; the feverish heat left my flesh, my strength returned, and the pounding in my head relented.

  [Purify has cured your disease!]

  A startled murmur passed through the mob gathering around us, a ripple of energy and excitement I sensed even before I opened my eyes. Over a hundred people had crowded onto the skydock, with more staring at us from the control tower and the parapets. They gawked at me and Karalti with the awe and desperation of men who’d just seen an angel descend from heaven. Some were reverent. Some were confused. Others gasped as Karalti lifted her head on her swan-like neck. Her horns were now a regal backswept crown. She’d put on another five feet of size; her dorsal spines were larger, her tail longer and more whip-like. She’d grown in two pairs of stabilizing fins at the base of her tail, which now fanned out toward the end.

  “Yeah! See, I told you I’d level with our next combat!” Karalti stood tall, puffing out her chest. “But hey, Hector?”

  “What is it, Tidbit?”

  “I’m Level 9 now, so...” Karalti sunk back down, then lowered her head until her eye was level with mine. “You know what that means, right?”

  “That you’re half the size of a small plane?” I absently reached up to scratch her jaw. The soldiers oohed and ahhed, but no one approached us.

  She rubbed her head down against my nails, eyes half-closing with pleasure. “Well... yeah. But it means I get to pick my spell, remember?”

  I paused. “You do?”

  “Yeah! Remember? I asked you back in Taltos, when you were drilling the holes in my spines for the saddle! I said I wanted to pick a spell when I turned Level 9!”

  I frantically wracked my brains for the memory, but it came up perfectly blank. Now that I thought about it, I didn’t remember drilling those holes in Karalti’s dorsal spines, either. It wasn’t one of those half-recalled brainfarts: just a void of space where the memory should have been, as black and featureless as the hole in my shoulder.

  “Some things got scrambled after the last time I died.” I shoved intrusive thoughts about dementia back in their box and refocused on the present. We were in Myszno, the ships were docking, and Suri and Rin were already waiting against the railing waving to us. I waved back. Everything was cool.

  “You forgot to spend my Lexica back in Taltos, too,” Karalti said. “Can I pick more than one spell this level?”

  I had? Fuck. I frowned and rubbed the bridge of my nose, and immediately regretted it as pain shot up behind my eyes. “Uhh... sure. Go ahead.”

  “Don’t worry. You were really tired. Silly Hector needs to sleep more.” Karalti sat back on the base of her tail, and her eyes turned distant as she focused on her own virtual interface.

  [Karalti has learned Shadow Wave!]

  [Karalti has learned Teleport!]

  [Karalti has learned-]

  “Out of the way! All of you!” A sharp, authoritative voice pierced the air, cutting over the murmuring crowd of troops. “Do you want to catch the plague!? Move back! Back!”

  From the back of the chattering crowd, an arrowhead-shaped group of men pushed through the onlookers. The approaching group had the look of knights who’d seen better days. Their plate armor was tarnished and mud-spattered, surcoats threadbare. They wore assorted colors, but each one of the coats had at least a panel with the same heraldry: a rearing Brontosaurus in white and green, the neck and tail stylized into elegant curves. They carried javelins, which they used like clubs to clear a space around Karalti and I, and heavy crossbows, which they pointed at us as their leader approached.

  I wasn’t into dudes, but if I was, I’d be drooling over this guy. He wasn’t just handsome: he was pretty. Medium height, strong and wiry, with a jaw that could cut glass, he had thick, wavy oiled hair pulled back into a ponytail and a braided goatee that framed a full, sullen mouth. His skin was darker than was typical for Vlachia, a cool dusky grey-brown that almost glowed silver under the right light. His eyes were a startling pale green, flashing under fierce brows. He was also dressed differently to his posse: His armor was studded leather, but more finely made than the piecemeal plate the others wore. He wore a calf-length coat in green, with an artfully draped white and green shawl over that, and tall cavalry boots that had seen a lot of use. Everything was belted down with a thick sash. He carried a rifle over one shoulder and a rapier on his belt, his hand cocked slightly near the hilt as he warily approached.

  “Commander Istvan Arshak?” I called to him.

  His head cocked. “Yes, I am. Excuse me for one moment, warrior.” He bowed from the neck, then turned to face his men. “Paul, Viktor! Bring this crowd under control. I want all men back at their stations, now! Those ships are asking to dock and there’s no space on the wharf. Find those dead birds and burn them. I don’t want anyone else catching their plague.”

  “Yes, Captain.” The two men and their fellows turned on the nearest gawkers and laid into them without hesitation. “Come on, laggards! You heard him! That’s enough jerking off!”

  Istvan turned back to me. Up close, the man looked exhausted. He had a bad case of panda eyes, and now that he was in proximity, I couldn’t help but notice that he smelled strongly of alcohol. Despite that, his voice was level and steady. Like Ignas, he masked weakness well. “There. Now, that was quite a fight you and your dragon put up there. We saw you take out those stinkbirds. I like it. Fireworks are good for morale.”

  I saluted him on reflex. “Thank you, sir.”

  Istvan’s intense gaze slid to Karalti. “Of all the things I’d expected His Ever-Distant Majesty to send us, I’d never have expected a dragon. Incredible. It is an honor to greet you, Solonkratsu. To whom do I speak?”

  “Count Dragozin Hector, Lancer and rider of Karalti the Many Colored, the Black Opal Queen. We are the first of your reinforcements.”

  “A Count? A foreign Count? Yet you salute me as an officer?” He studied me with shrewd curiosity. “Interesting. I see the Kingsmark now, but you are Tuun, are you not? Not that this troubles me: My best
man is... was... from Tungaant. Even so. I cannot imagine Andrik Corvinus giving any foreigner a title of any kind.”

  “Andrik isn’t Volod anymore, commander,” I replied. “Ignas Corvinus has retaken the throne.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Ignas? The dead one?”

  I forced a laugh. “He wasn’t as dead as everyone thought. You didn’t know?”

  “No, and it hardly matters to me which Crow sits the throne: Myszno carries on.” Istvan eyed the oncoming airships. “If Soma knew about this, he hoarded the information like a Dakhari speaktrader. He was favored by Andrik, did you know? Speaking of that, Lord Peacock is surely on his way here to preen and puff, so I will give you some advice. Never call me ‘Commander’ in front of him. He will take offense at it, as he does with everything. In front of Soma, I am ‘merely’ Captain Arshak.”

  [New Hero added to Mass Combat Menu: Captain Istvan Arshak (Myszno Defense Force)]

  I lay a hand on Karalti’s arm, rubbing her forearm absentmindedly. “Hard to deal with, is he?”

  “You know the sort. Never soldiered a campaign in his life, but he read a lot of books about war and learned to fence in his family’s courtyard, thus is a master of the blade as well as a master of magic. The piglet didn’t even know that a dying man voids his bowels until about six weeks ago.” The Captain’s lip curled. “We are outnumbered three to one at Prezyemi, fighting horrors beyond the sanity of all but the strongest men and women here, and all he cares about is his ego, his money, and his damn machines.”

  Yikes. Not only was Istvan drunk, he had a bad case of Resting Frag Face, and that did not bode well for the defense. “I’ll bear it in mind, Captain. Once my companions come down off those airships, are we able to make some time for a briefing? I was hoping we could talk to both you and Lord Soma together.”