“No, I’m no dreamer, Tia. And I’m not going mad.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, sis.” Frost couldn’t help but to wonder about the dreamers.
The erada war drums continued to roll.
CHAPTER 7
Chased by the beat of the distant erada war drums, they arrived at Odds and Ends as the sun bathed the streets in gold and afternoon heat. Exhaustion and Tia’s weight bore down on Frost. He was grateful to see Nebsamu’s salvage shop. Odds and Ends meant a chance to tend to the raw patches of his purple skin and to get some rest.
IM alerted him of a quest completion.
A Relic Hunter
Objective Complete
Arrived safely at Nebsamu’s shop:
100 experience points
Nebsamu was overseeing the loading of an open-backed wagon attached to four male crevids with sawed off antlers, their fur a mix of blue and black. Thumbs tucked into the loops of his belt near his long daggers, the ebony erada scavenger paused in the act of giving orders to his workers. Blue eyes narrowed, he studied Frost and Beketia.
A litany of scars and raised scar tissue crisscrossed Nebsamu’s face like a road map of torture. The scars had gifted him a permanent grimace and the appearance of lips longer on his left side than his right. His stump of a horn peeked from behind his left ear, partially hidden by his shock of dark hair, in stark contrast to the long curled horn on the other side.
Nebsamu said a few words to his helpers and sent them scurrying to Frost and Tia. One helper was a gurash, a walking shed of a man with green and brown marbled skin, marking him as an outcast among his people. The other was a lithe, young, cerulean erada. Numerous rings adorned her fingers. Frost was instantly drawn to her long slender horns.
The gurash plucked Tia from Frost’s back and sat her on one arm as if she were a pet bird. Frost shooed away the erada’s attention and walked with his back a bit straighter, his gait more purposeful.
“Frost, Beketia. Nif be praised,” Nebsamu said as the gurash cleared a space on the back of the wagon with his free arm, and with care, set Tia down. “I hoped to see you. I had also hoped to see Anefet, prayed to Nif that the reports I received were wrong.” He shook his head, slow and solemn.
Frost hung his head, more from the statement and hearing Mom’s name, rather than for any real grief it might have sparked. He frowned, searching inside himself for deep sorrow. He hurt but not like earlier.
“It was brave of you to carry your sister all this way,” Nebsamu said.
Frost shrugged. “She’s my sister. I did what any older brother would.”
“Before we talk.” Nebsamu gestured to the erada. “Gilda, fetch some clothes, bandages, and vera ointment.” He turned to the gurash, who was setting up Tia with cushions behind her back and head. “Melori, fetch them something to eat.” The two helpers dipped their heads and hurried off.
Frost eyed the cerulean erada, intrigued by her nimble form and her name. There was something about her long legs, coloring, long red and black hair… and horns. They were elegant. Beautiful. They curved out, then in, then out again. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from them. His brows climbed his forehead at a growing firmness in his pants. He glanced down. Then back at her horns. He grimaced. Over horns? Really? That can’t be normal.
“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she,” Nebsamu said.
Frost jumped. His face flushed. “Um… I guess.” Nebsamu’s scarred face killed any arousal. It hurt to even look at the man.
“In Nif’s name, don’t be modest with me, young man. I know that look in your eye. But I’d be careful if I were you. I’ve been teaching her the blade.” Whip quick, one of Nebsamu’s daggers appeared in his hand. He twirled the weapon and re-sheathed it. “She’s an incredibly fast learner. And not afraid of blood.” Nebsamu’s gaze shifted down for all of an instant.
Frost swallowed. “I’ll remember that.”
In a quest to ignore the gruesome images running through his head, he noticed Tia’s resting spot and became envious. His back and weary legs cried for such comfort. But he refused to let it show.
“You can join your sister.” Nebsamu gestured toward the wagon. “If I survived an Aether Flame Bombardment, dressed in night clothes, I’d sleep for several days. By Nif, I’d probably kill anyone who woke me early.”
“I’m fine. We don’t plan to stay. Tia was the one who suggested we come here… that you might help us.”
Nebsamu arched the eyebrow on his hornless side. “You’re not fine. You don’t need to convince me of your strength. The fact that you’re here speaks on its own.”
Frost gave in. And in so doing, a load lifted from him. He clambered into the wagon beside Tia and leaned back onto a cushion, his body only too glad for the respite. Tia was asleep. The war drums had grown louder. They beat faster and faster. Frost imagined the battle, and hoped the erada Battleguards were winning.
“Whether or not you stay,” Nebsamu added, “is up to you.”
“I’m not trying to impose on you, dawg,” Frost said. “As soon as Tia wakes, changes, and eats, we’re gonna be on our way.”
“If you insist.” Nebsamu shrugged. “And I’d prefer if you didn’t refer to me as your dog.”
Frost opened his mouth to explain but changed his mind. He sighed. He had to remember he was in the game now, particularly when speaking to an NPC. But certain things came naturally.
Wishing to change the subject, he said, “You sounded as if you knew what happened to my mother.”
“I received word of Anefet’s passing not long ago.” Nebsamu bowed in a show of respect. “Whether she was directly targeted remains to be seen. But there’s no doubt her death was a result of our work together. As is this grand kora attack.”
“Your work? The grand korae?” Frost sat up. The war drums beat in earnest now.
Nebsamu’s lips curved; the corner of his eyes wrinkled. A stranger might have ran away screaming at the nightmarish expression. Frost recognized it for a knowing smile.
“Anefet was a woman of many secrets,” Nebsamu said. “She was a high-ranking member of the Blue Sky Network.”
Frost opened and closed his mouth. He couldn’t believe his mother had been involved with Blue Sky much less be a top member of the organization that split the opinion of many. And yet there was the curious letter.
Still, Blue Sky were either terrorists or freedom fighters. Classification depended on which side you were when you encountered them. And whether to believe the Coalition or the common people. Blue Sky was originally formed to fight poachers who hunted eradae for their horns. Horns coveted for the healing properties when ground to powder and added to certain potions or prized as collector’s items and art pieces among grand kora nobles.
Countless slaves owed their liberation to Blue Sky. Poachers and slavers owed their deaths. To the Coalition, Blue Sky’s fight to see Khertahka return to an independent erada dominion was a threat to their hold on the continent of Marang.
“Without her, and her people, I would be dead.” Nebsamu touched his stump of a horn. “Your mother was the Hand of Freedom.”
Frost gasped. Mom had been the Hand of Freedom? He couldn’t envision it. None of it. Even with the letter. The Hand of Freedom had gained notoriety in battles all across the Khertahka. Either against injustice, at slave camps, or helping to defeat many a Coalition company in the hunt for Blue Sky members. The Hand had gone into exile when rumors abounded that the Coalition would dispatch Vindicators to stop him.
Most assumed the Hand had been a man. He represented the poor, the destitute, the seedy underbelly of society that people called the sceeves. He was known for his ability to make anyone disappear, whether foe or people in need, those wanted for crimes they didn’t commit, or who had been declared enemies of the Grendesh
Coalition.
“Ah.” Nebsamu gestured toward his helpers. “Food and something to wear have arrived. We’ll talk again soon.” He shuffled off to a stack of boxes.
Gilda and Melori strode over. Melori placed three bowls next to the cushions, one filled with rice, another with stewed crevid, and a third with fruit. Then he headed over to Nebsamu. Frost’s stomach protested as if he kept a massive lupine imprisoned within him, rumbling and growling deep in its throat. Gilda passed Frost a few sets of tunics and trousers.
He held the tunics up to get a sense of their sizes. “Which one?”
Gilda shrugged even as she studied him with eyes like green phosphor.
“Gilda,” he continued, “would your last name beee… Mordian?” She nodded. “Strange name for an erada.” He chose the larger clothes.
“No stranger than Drelan Frost.”
“So, it is you. The infamous Just Blaze.” Frost smiled.
“Only my friends get to call me that.”
“If that’s how you wanna play it. I can respect that. Here with a group?”
“Nope.”
Frost nodded his approval. “Solo is definitely the way to roll.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said.
Frost lowered his voice. “Why would a famed cutthroat be working as a scavenger helper?”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” She paused and looked him up and down, her phosphorescent green eyes and expression saying she was thoroughly unimpressed. “I go where the quests lead.” She produced a dagger from the folds of her shirt, twirled it between her be-ringed fingers, and replaced the blade deftly in an eye-blink. “And you didn’t fare much better for choice. At least I know what to expect, what I’m supposed to do.”
Frost’s brows shot up. “What to expect? You’re questioning my skills? I’ve been playing Ataxia longer than you.”
She pursed her mouth into a smirk. “No doubt.” She strode away.
Frost studied her, a dozen questions running through his mind. He wanted to go after her, but she shot him a warning look over her shoulder. Frost shook his head in exasperation.
He woke Tia. She got up and stretched, a bewildered expression on her face. She looked around and burst into sobs. Frost comforted her the best he could until Gilda came to take her to change inside the little hut that was Nebsamu’s shop.
Frost got out of his night clothes and pulled on the tan trousers and a deep gray tunic. The fit wasn’t the greatest, but it would do. Then he proceeded to apply the ointment to his blisters. They disappeared within seconds and his skin returned to its deep purple tone. Tia returned dressed similarly to Frost but also sporting a floppy wide-brimmed hat.
The two of them sat down to eat. Frost marveled at the taste of the food, its spiciness, at the very act of tasting. And the feel of it. Everything about it was real, down to the tingling on his tongue. He was again awed by the replication. Frost was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when Nebsamu strode over.
“Now that you’ve eaten and feel a bit better, I’ll continue,” the scavenger said. “Much of this began when Anefet got word of a treasure sought by the grand korae. An artifact of some type hidden deep within Imanok Sanctum on Maelpith Island.”
Frost perked up at the mention of the place and loot. An objective for exploration of Imanok Sanctum revealed itself.
“She discovered that Nomarch–” Nebsamu squinted up at something beyond Frost.
The scavenger’s expression grew flat. He extended his arm. A moment later a large raven fluttered down and landed. The erada plucked a missive from its leg and flicked his arm up to send the bird on its way. He unfolded the bit of paper, head shifting from side to side as he read.
Nebsamu’s brows furrowed. “Nif, blind them. We must go. Now. Battleguards are on their way here with orders to arrest or kill me. And both of you.”
“Us? Why us?” Frost stroked his Two Ring.
IM revealed another quest. Battleguard Pursuit.
The idea of being on the Blackguard bounty list left a sour taste in his mouth. Their bloodlust was renowned, their proficiency, legendary. The war drums echoed his heartbeat.
“I was wrong,” Nebsamu said. “Your family was one of the targets for this attack. As well as any other Blue Sky members. When you arrived, I’d hoped the destruction of Coppertown would hide that you still lived. It seems a Blackguard captain recognized you two. I intended to go to the Aviary, but they’ll most likely expect that. Instead, we’ll go to my men at the East Gate.”
Frost tried to think. He did not want to go with Nebsamu. But in his current condition he could not outrun the Battleguards. Especially not with Tia.
They stood no chance without mounts, food, or an abundance of credits. Hiding was also out of the question. If they had his scent, the lupines would sniff them out. The sense of helplessness made him wish he was his old sorcerer.
Melori and Gilda retrieved weapons from the shop. The gurash toted a wide-bladed, two-handed sword. He rested the blunt side on his shoulder.
Gilda held two silver, star-shaped chakrams, the size of dinner plates, the interior hollowed out to leave only the band of metal two inches thick. Frost frowned at Gilda’s choice. Chakrams were a sorcerer’s weapons.
Nebsamu searched a trunk in the wagon bed not far from Frost. When he stood, he was holding a black and silver aether cannon and an extra magazine.
“Normally something like this would cost you several hundred KDC. Knowing your mother as I did, and seeing that we might need your help, I’ll let you borrow the weapon. If you decide to keep it, we can discuss payment later. It’s already loaded.” He handed the weapon and ammo to Frost.
“My man,” Frost said, smiling.
IM clicked when Frost took the aether cannon.
Acquired weapon: Noobstick
Level: 1
Damage: 25 − 50
Force: 10
Special: Extends Cannon Kata by 2 seconds
Available shard slots: 0
Skills unlocked:
Korbitanium Projectile
Aether Shot
“Finally.” Frost hefted the rare hierka. He’d still have to get used to carrying the thing, but with its size, he’d expected the cannon to be heavy and cumbersome. It weighed perhaps a few pounds. Grinning, he nodded to Gilda, who rolled her eyes.
Holding the cannon by its carry handle located midway down the top of the weapon, he ran his hand down the barrel, which was double the length and width of his forearm. The battery pack was housed behind the handle. On the cannon’s underside was the magazine of korbitanium projectiles. At the rear was a grip with a trigger assembly as well as a lever to control the power of its Aether Shots. An easy squeeze and he’d be wreaking havoc.
The cannon had a familiar feel to it. Frost was reminded of the extensive time he spent in target practice and 3-Gun sims as well as first person shooters like DOOM EVERLASTING.
By way of IM he was able to use Noobstick’s overall damage combined with his skills to get an idea of its Damage Per Second. The DPS was underwhelming, but it was to be expected for a beginner weapon. Even a genesiswork like this one.
He also doubted if the amount of force would stagger or stun any enemies. The Cannon Kata special got a nod. An extra two seconds with a fifty percent increase in movement speed might come in handy.
“Let’s go,” Nebsamu yelled, taking a seat across from Frost and Tia. With those words, Frost became aware of himself as part of a group. As with everything else, there were no physical or metered indications, just a sense.
A whip cracked, the crevids bellowed, and the wagon lurched forward. Frost was admiring the weapon when Nebsamu spoke again. “You do know how to use that thing, right?”
With his left hand holding the carry
handle, Frost slid his right hand to the rear grip, one finger near the trigger. “You could say I’ve had some practice. Not with this exact weapon, but I’m a quick learner.”
“I supposed that will do for now.”
“Just watch me work. Any more ammo?” Frost placed the spare magazine into his inventory with a mere thought.
Nebsamu shook his head. “Not until we reach a supplier. So use the projectiles sparingly. Rely on Aether Shots instead.”
“That… might be a prob.”
“Prob?” repeated Nebsamu.
“Problem.”
Nebsamu arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess… your Replenishment is lacking.”
Frost nodded.
“Dear Nif, nothing is ever easy.” Nebsamu looked to the heavens.
“At least I have the cannon and korbitanium ammo,” Frost protested. “I had nothing a little while ago.”
CHAPTER 8
Tapping a finger to her lips, Sidrie Malikah peered through the observation window at the pregnant woman lying on the bed. Theresa Taylor was still the definition of average. And the weight gain of pregnancy was not helping the matter. The caramel complexioned woman could be dressed for a ball and go completely unnoticed.
Sidrie sighed. Her hand fell to her side. It was not as if an upgrade had been beyond Mrs. Taylor’s means these past fifteen years. The woman had chosen to deny herself one. For Sidrie, choosing anonymity was incomprehensible.
What was it that Alphonso saw in you?
Sidrie recalled her visit to Barbados to recruit Alphonso Taylor. That trip, the first of many to the Caribbean island, had offered a few surprises.
First had been the fact such a tiny island produced two of the world’s greatest minds. One in AI engineering. The other, Hank Kim, a bioengineer.
Second was that no superstorm had struck the island during the Climatic Shift. Third was discovering the vast majority of Barbadians were your average people. Quite unlike the exotic beauties populating Virtual Vacations to the island. Still, she’d expected a man such as Alphonso to have a significant other who somehow matched his brilliance. A reflection of himself.
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