Goddess Complete

by Michael Anderle

  Veronica and Heather grimaced in the first instances, prepared for the worst. The relief was clear on their faces when the protection of their spells proved out.

  “Hurry,” Heather said. “Let’s find the others and work out what’s going on here.”

  Veronica had never found anything more distracting than she found the infected. Navigating the streets was nearly impossible with body after body throwing itself at her. Although her aura kept the infected at bay, each assault was a distraction.

  They ran through streets, shouting for the ones who had called for help. They could hear nothing above the growls and cries of the infected, so they continued blindly, turning at junctions and finding themselves swallowed by the streets.

  They’d pause at the odd house where someone detected movement, staring through the window only to find a room upturned and emptied. It soon became apparent that they were lost.

  “Which way?” Heather asked at yet another T junction.

  “This way?” Veronica shrugged, knowing it didn’t really matter. They only had a limited window before the clerics behind them began to run out of mana for their spells.

  It was as the streets rose upwards that the call came from behind. One of the clerics at the back had stopped glowing and now stared ahead with a terrified expression.

  “Protect her,” Heather shouted. “Put her in the middle of the group.”

  The group readjusted, protecting the cleric in a glowing cocoon, and ran onward, sure they were going in the right direction. More and more clerics ran out of power, and soon the center of the group was filled with terrified clerics.

  And yet they could not stop. Surrounded and bombarded by infected, they had to run, had to keep moving. Heather occasionally tried to lighten the mood for Veronica and the others around her.

  “Now might be a good time to invest in real estate, you know? Snap up one of these houses while they’re cheap. Sell them once the infected are gone and boom, you’ve got yourself a profit.”

  Veronica snorted, taking a sharp left and reaching the crest of the hill.

  They paused momentarily, Veronica’s head whirling around. “They were here, right? We saw them here?”

  “What if it was an illusion. Like a mirage?” an exhausted cleric offered.

  “No.” Veronica shook her head. “It couldn’t have been. We heard them.”

  The back of the pack was dealing with the worst of the infected. No matter how many times they were shoved back by the aura, they didn’t give up. They began to swarm around them again.

  “Quick! This way!”

  Veronica looked around for the source of the voice. A head was sticking out of the ground, a flap of square grass raised on a hinge. A man with a grubby face stared out, urgently waving a hand.

  “Come down quick,” he said.

  Veronica and Heather wasted no time in obeying. They called back to readjust the formation, letting those whose power was depleted file into the hole first. Those with more power followed, their bodies lighting the way as the door snapped shut behind them and encased them in the dank dark of the underground bunker.

  Ben had begun to grow anxious. He had watched the clerics disappear through the gate and could hear the onslaught of the infected as they had attacked, but he could do nothing but watch and wait.

  He kept an eye on his inbox, hoping Veronica would find a safe space to update them on their progress. He knew they had no option but to wait it out until the clerics had done their thing.

  It wasn’t worth risking so many lives to force their way through.

  Ben had read all about the Battle of Thermopylae in online forums several years ago when he had taken an interest in battle strategies and tactics that might help him out in-game. Thermopylae was a battle fought between the Greek forces and the Persians, in which 7,000 Greek troops managed to fend off 150,000 Persians by funneling the Persian army through a thin canyon where only a few could pass at a time.

  Although the Greeks put up a good fight, they eventually lost, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have an impact, and that their lesson couldn’t be applied and improved upon.

  The infected were the Greeks.

  Ben and his battalion were the Persians.

  Numbers didn’t count in this game. Short of scaling the walls and throwing themselves at the town, there was little they could do but wait it out until the clerics had performed their duty.

  Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. Forty. Ben tapped his foot, pacing around Huk and Leonie. They could still hear the infected, but the sounds gave no indication as to what they were dealing with.

  Ben kept an eye on his messages, waiting for any sign that the others were safe.

  The stone stairs spiraled down into the center of the hill. The walls were damp, packed earth, with small roots sticking out of the ceiling and moss clinging to the pillar the stairs revolved around.

  They must have gone down at least four stories before they came through a stone door into a room that sent a chill down their spines.

  They filed in, two dozen clerics, breathless and alarmed. The room was large enough to contain them with some space left over. Barrels and wooden crates had been piled around the walls, half-opened, foodstuffs spilling out the sides.

  They shut off their auras as a torch was lit and placed in a sconce at the side of the room by the grubby man. He reached the far end of the room and knocked three times on the door.

  “Looks just like the one-star I booked for my holiday last year.” Veronica chuckled. “Only nicer.”

  Another knock from the other side. Three of them.

  “Who’s in there?” Heather asked quietly.

  Questions in a similar vein were whispered from behind.

  The door creaked open. Several wary-looking dwarves poked their heads out of the darkness. They looked pale and ghostly in the glowing light of the torch.

  “You’ve come for us?” a female dwarf choked out, her hair standing out in all directions. “Someone’s finally come to save us?”

  “It’s a miracle!” a small girl celebrated, hands in the air as she collapsed to her knees.

  Veronica gave them a warm smile, encouragement for the dwarves now waving them through the second door. She looked at Heather, whose eyes were brimming with tears.

  The second room was triple the size of the first, which was lucky, considering that there were close to twenty dwarves hiding in the bunker.

  “How long have you all been here?” Veronica asked.

  “We don’t know,” the grubby man replied. On the wall were scratches making a tally, “Four days since we started keeping count. Feels like longer than that, though.”

  “We just can’t get out,” the female dwarf added. “The minute we open the trap, they come flocking toward us. We’ve tried taking them down one at a time, but…”

  “But they’re family,” the man continued. “They’re people we knew and loved. Not only that, but we can’t risk the infection spreading down here. If just one of us gets a good enough scratch or cut, it jeopardizes us all.”

  Heather nodded grimly. “So, you’re trapped?”

  “In a word, yes,” a dwarf with a deep voice grumbled.

  “At least you’ve got provisions,” said a cleric from farther back in the group, someone Veronica recognized as Tomas. “That’s something, right? You’re not starving.”

  “For now,” the grubby man replied. “This bunker was built for the lord of this town and his wife. There’s enough here for two people to last in the event of an attack of some kind. This place wasn’t built for ten times that. And if you guys are going to join us down here, well, we’re screwed.”

  “We’re not staying down here,” Veronica said resolutely. “We’ve got a way to get you out. It’s just going to take a bit of time to get to it.”

  “Impossible,” a young dwarf said. “There’s no way you can pull us out of here.”

  Veronica grinned. “That’s what you think.”

  Th
ey waited a few hours for the clerics’ mana to regenerate. In that time, they were given a tour around the rest of the bunker and were offered food from the stores. Dried fruit and nuts mostly, things that would last for a while without fear of spoiling.

  Veronica messaged Ben to give him the update that they should be expected soon. She also put out a ‘hi’ to Chloe and the others, letting them know she was thinking of them and hoping their training was going to plan.

  Once they were all ready, Veronica checked that everyone was in position, with the weakest clerics taking the outer ring of their formation until their power depleted. They would be replaced by the stronger clerics.

  Dwarves from the bunker would be placed in the center of the formation in groups of five and would shout directions to lead the group back to the outer perimeter, where Ben and the others would be waiting.

  There they would drop off the clerics who had used their mana, head back in with a fresh group, and go through the process all over again.

  Veronica stood near the doorway, counting the dwarves behind her. The grubby-faced man waited behind, wanting to be the last to leave.

  “Are we all ready?” she asked.

  The clerics nodded a little less enthusiastically than she’d hoped.

  They trailed up the spiral, the stairs taking their breath away. When they reached the top, Veronica placed a hand on the trap and counted down from three.

  At zero, she shoved the trap, only to find that it wouldn’t budge.

  “What?” she asked, shoving more aggressively with her shoulder now.

  “Let me try,” Heather said.

  “Oh, because you’re so much stronger than me.”

  “Maybe it’s technique,” Heather replied, but when she tried, it was the same.

  Veronica looked down at the five dwarves huddled in the middle of the procession. “Any tips?”

  That was when Veronica realized that something was wrong. Rather than reply, the dwarves stared up at her with wicked grins on their faces. Their bodies turned translucent, and they began to glow with a sickly pallor.

  “What’s going on?” Veronica asked. “Why’re you…”

  Before she could finish her sentence, she heard wicked cackling traveling up from the bunker.

  “Who’s that?” Heather asked, panic in her voice.

  “It’s them,” Veronica replied, resignation in her voice. “The dark gods. They’ve got us trapped."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chloe could feel the butterflies in her stomach, every inch of her body thrumming with excited energy for the task ahead.

  They had celebrated last night, Chloe allowing the cohort of mages to let their hair down and bask in their progress over the last week. They had all leveled up in their skills and spells—a few leveling up their characters, too—and after the competition was over, Chloe brought the mages to the king’s palace for a meal and some revelry.

  They were ecstatic, most of them never having been in the palace before. Therese sweet-talked Abe to join them and kept him in check as he sat at the head of the table. He watched with a strange kind of curiosity over the table of mages, NPC and blessed alike.

  The night ran long, but all too soon, the mages headed back to their homes. Their instructions from Chloe were clear: meet outside the city walls at noon and prepare for their first attempt at opening the rift.

  “You really think they’re ready?” Gideon asked, watching the group slowly swell as mages passed through the gate and joined them outside.

  Abe had forewarned the city guards, ensuring that those watching from the walls were prepared to help if need be. He was also watching from the balcony in his palace, ready to call in a party quest should the time come.

  “I do,” Chloe said. “We’ve amassed more mages than the last group to try this had. We’ve trained them well and honed their skills, and I believe we can do this.”

  Whatever it is, Chloe thought, staring into the cloudy gray sky and wondering what would happen next.

  “Well, as long as you believe in them, you’ve got me,” Gideon assured her.

  “Aw, how cute,” Molly cooed as the two mages approached with Gelda in tow. “Always knew you two had a thing for each other.”

  Chloe and Gideon looked awkwardly at each other, laughing nervously.

  “Me?” Gideon said. “And her? Behave.”

  “Nah,” Chloe said. “Gideon’s got a thing for clerics. Ain’t that right?”

  “Oh, jealous, are we?” Holly crooned.

  “Not,” Chloe said, genuinely okay with the situation. “Whatever makes Gid happy is all I care about.”

  “Thanks, Chloe.” Gideon blushed.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  As it neared noon, the space outside the city began to fill. A hundred and fifty mages were ready and waiting for their commands. They chattered apprehensively, occasionally glancing at Chloe as they stood talking. When Chloe was certain those who were attending had arrived, she nodded at Blueballs and was lifted into the air by his powerful paws.

  “Brothers and sisters of mage-hood,” Chloe called, straining her voice to be heard by the horde. “Thank you all for joining us here, on the verge of what promises to be the most triumphant display of magic ever seen in Obsidian.”

  There was an immediate uproar of cheers and claps. Chloe paused, her breath taken away by the sight of them.

  “We are on the cusp of a magical revolution. What we will attempt today has been tried once before but did not end in success. We have taken every measure to ensure that our success is certain, and you are all part of that.”

  Another chorus of cheers.

  “When the time comes and the signal is given, it will be up to each of you to concentrate your power on the rift. I will set off the reaction in the same way a key unlocks a door, and then I will need your aid.”

  The cheers settled down.

  “What we are asking is dangerous. There are risks involved. You have stuck by us this past week and proved you are worthy; now show the universe you are worthy, too.

  “I will be sharing this task with you all. As promised, a large amount of experience will be awarded to anyone who helps us complete this quest. Accept the quest, face front, and we’ll begin.”

  Chloe waited as the cohort of mages grew glassy-eyed and accepted the mission. There were audible gasps from players across the field when they saw the fifty-thousand-point experience prize. A few mutters and mumbles came from people wondering how Chloe had come across such a mine of experience.

  Chloe nodded, pleased to be able to share her opportunity with as many players as possible and knowing that she was leading the next generation of Obsidian players.

  When most of the eyes were back up front, Blueballs lowered Chloe back down and she turned her attention to the sky once more.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on her Etheric Manipulation. She was elated when the skill leveled up before her eyes.

  Skill increased: Etheric Manipulation (Lv 5)

  Congratulations on reaching level 5 in this skill. You are surely working your way down the path of magedom, and with that, you can reap a host of rewards.

  You will now be able to learn basic spells by observation. Simply watch another mage use a spell, and you will be able to absorb that spell’s knowledge and set yourself on the path to taking that spell further. Not only that, but specialization bonuses are now in play. Should you choose to narrow your skills to a specific elemental path, you will progress in these spells twice as fast. You will also have the option to change your title to reflect your specialty and reward yourself with bonus tuition from the academies and schools across Obsidian to further your skill set.

  Should you wish not to specialize, you will find that combining spells and playing with experimental magic will have its rewards. Bonus buffs will be available any time spells are combined, and any new spells unseen before in Obsidian will be labeled with your name as the founder and creator. />
  Bonuses: +12 etheric potential, spell cast cost dramatically reduced, immunity to friendly fire

  (NOTE: Increases in spells override any previous bonuses gained from the spell).

  Chloe gave a broad smile, happy to see the bonuses that either path she chose might bring. She made a note to look at specializations more in-depth when she had the chance and returned to the etheric.

  The rabbit was waiting for her like an obedient pet. She noticed that the rabbit now had a perfect pair of horns protruding from its head.

  She remembered something she had seen in a book once about a mythical creature that looked incredibly similar. A “jackalope,” she thought it was called.

  Chloe grinned, about to set the jackalope into action when she became suddenly aware of horns blowing. Three short, sharp blasts were followed by the clopping of horses’ hooves on stone.

  Chloe opened her eyes, watching with interest as a group of around forty horses came out of the palace to meet them, led by a face she had thought she wouldn’t see again.

  Tabitha pulled her horse to a stop a short distance from Chloe.

  “May we help you?” Chloe asked when it became clear that Tabitha was not going to say the first word.

  Tabitha looked down her nose and spoke as though every syllable hurt. “The king has requested our attendance at your attempt,” she said reluctantly.

  Chloe studied Tabitha for a moment, the angles on her face looking sharper than ever. Behind her, the other mages on their horses stared out grimly from under their hoods—ancient, miserable mages whose last choice would have been to join forces with fresh-faced magic-users who had been trained outside the rules of the school.

  “The king requested this himself?” Chloe asked.

  Tabitha gave a small nod. “Not my preference, but when the very foundation of your school and its future is called into question, what else can you do?”

  Chloe and Tabitha stared for a long time into each other’s eyes, a thousand words unspoken. Chloe advanced toward Tabitha and offered a hand.