War Aeternus 3: The Culling

by Charles Dean

  Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 10

  Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 6

  Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 5

  Faith Healing

  Ignis Veritas

  Spirit Builder Initiate Level 1

  Divinity Powers:

  Life in Death

  Titles:

  Cheat Code Fighter

  The Great Deceiver

  The following day seemed to creep by slower than any day Lee had suffered through so far. When the alcohol had worn off, the taste of blood had gone, and daylight had set on the camp, doubt set in and snared the men. Even though Miller, Lee, Ling, Brigid and a few of the braver paladins set about clearing the forest of any murderous-yet-EXP-rich creatures, just as many now-timorous paladins viewed everything as a potential threat. They watched with constantly-peeled eyes, treating even trees and falling leaves as a danger--not that Lee blamed them. The miniature massacre that had happened the day before was enough to shake any man to his core. After all, it wasn’t every day that the most innocent and mundane-looking of helpless creatures turned into giant bear-like monstrosities that killed men without so much as batting an eye.

  Lee wished that he could give a rousing speech or something to snap them out of their funk, but he didn’t really have any words to do it. The best that he could do at the moment was to let the alcoholic inebriated warcry of his Firbolg companion cover things up.

  “I think they’re going to go crazy soon,” Brigid observed in a low voice as she walked up next to him. They had just finished putting down a dozen dire wolves that were being led by a shapeshifter, and Lee was immensely thankful this one didn’t have any letters for him.

  “You think it’s that bad?” Lee asked, turning around to study the two groups. His men were a little skittish, but the few remaining members from her small force were much worse. Two of them actually jumped when they heard an owl hoot.

  “I haven’t seen them this bad in a while. How do you keep yours together after . . . after whatever that was?” Brigid asked.

  Wait, we’re talking again? Lee wanted to respond snarkily, but he swallowed that instinct. He’d be needing her in due time. “Honestly? Liquor. The horrors they’ve seen, the torture some of them have been through . . . I can’t imagine them ever stepping outside their front doors again without a little liquid courage.

  “Nothing helps start a fire in the belly of a man like the proper fuel,” Miller said, nodding along to Lee’s sentiment. “Sometimes, it’s just you, your spear and three or four guys that each look like they could take you one on one. You know that you’re on the side of good, righteous justice and whatnot, but that doesn’t make the enemy any smaller. So, for me”--Miller looked down at his spear--“I just get trashed, grip this divine rod of heathen-slaying and murder enemies. Once they’re dead, I don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “You know you’ve got the order backward, right?” Brigid asked. “It’s supposed to be that you don’t have anything to worry about, so you feel confident enough to kill them. Not--”

  “Don’t explain it,” Lee interjected, cutting her off. “He knows better. He’s just having a go at you.” However, even he didn’t really believe the words as they left his mouth.

  “What? Why would he?” Brigid blinked several times as she looked at Miller.

  “Brigid, don’t mind him. He’s drunk,” Lee explained. “Then again, finding him sober is like finding an untouched plate of bacon and burgers at a barbeque.”

  “Or like trying to find a good woman in the middle of the woods that has enough going wrong upstairs to drink with me,” Dave interrupted. “I’m asking you: what is it about me that screams, ‘I want to give advice to upstart bastards that get knock-kneed at the first sign of trouble’?”

  “It’s definitely that bald spot on the top of your head,” Lee suggested with a laugh. “It’s a beacon reflecting wisdom to all around you.”

  “Hey! That’s uncalled for. That bald spot was hard earned. It’s not just . . .” Dave trailed off as he saw something. Lee followed his eyes to see a woman sitting in the trees above them, thirty or forty feet off the ground. She was perched on one of the larger trees, watching the group below.

  “Oh crap,” Lee said with a frown. This was one woman he couldn’t forget if he tried. It was the very first Phouka he had met, the one who had insisted that he must go and meet the other Herald, and if his suspicions were correct, she was also the same bird who lifted one of his paladins from the Tigernaucht mansion and dropped him from the night sky.

  “What? You know this one?” Dave asked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I know you keep some pretty crazy women around you.” Then, looking over at Brigid, he added, “No offense to you, that is.”

  Brigid frowned at the obvious insult, but then looked over to Lee. “Do you know her?”

  “Yeah,” Lee replied. “She’s the one that sent one of our men airborne at the manor. Get the archers ready now.” He took out the four backpacks he had been working on the night before. “Miller, this ain’t a fix, but you know how to use this?” he asked, tossing two to the Firbolg.

  Miller looked at it, and recognition quickly flickered through his eyes. “Yes. We have these back home.”

  “Good, then I don’t need to tell you to--”

  Miller grinned broadly, and he genuinely seemed thrilled by the prospect. “No. Truthfully, I’ve always wanted to try this out. Can’t wait!”

  “Wait, what is that? Why are you--” Dave looked between Miller and Lee as they started strapping up the packs onto their backs. “Why are you two putting those things on? Is this a new battle-type fashion statement? I thought the hats last year were funny enough, but I missed that fad. Never did understand the point of a loose hat that doesn’t fit your head right.”

  Miller went over to Dave with the extra one Lee had given him when he was done putting his on. “You won’t miss this one,” Miller said as he started putting the backpack on Dave. “It’s an exclusive trend straight from Augustus himself.”

  “This came from Augustus?” Ling asked as Lee passed her a backpack too. “I expected more . . .”

  “Beer add-ons? Bacon holders? Something that didn’t weigh as much?” Dave went through a list of suggestions. “Yeah, me too.”

  “No, I was going to say something better looking.”

  “Just wear it and be happy,” Lee grumbled.

  “I don’t understand but . . . sure. Fine.” Ling acquiesced, although still looking unhappy. Given she had always stuck to simple, tight leather outfits or long dresses, Lee hadn’t figured her for the type to worry about fashion, but with that one expression, he knew he was wrong. Then again, even in his other world, the people who cared about fashion always surprised him. He had once asked one of his gaming buddies to come out and help him shop during the post-Christmas sales only to have the guy scoff and explain that he ordered his clothing online and in bulk because it was cheaper. As such, Lee had been caught completely off guard when he found out later on that his very same bulk-order-fashion-bum of a friend spent nearly 500 dollars over the course a year on microtransactions just so that one of his in-game characters could have multiple dress-up outfits.

  “What are you doing?” Brigid asked from the side. “Why are you giving them backpacks?”

  “Because of the crazy owl lady,” Lee answered, pointing upward. “I would give you one too, but I’m still working on pack five, low sewing skills and all,” Lee replied, shrugging.

  “Why in the world would I need a backpack to fight her? Is it weighted? Is it supposed to be heavy enough that she can’t carry you away?” Brigid asked as she began going over the options.

  “Umm . . .” Lee wasn’t sure how to answer it.

  “It’s cleverness,” the owl lady answered as she jumped down off the three-story-tall branch and landed as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Lee didn’t know if it was an adaptation due to her other more avian form or if it was just th
at her level was simply that high. “He’s smart, he is. He’s smarter than all of you. He thinks, he plans, and he kills. He has the strength that she desires.” The owl lady was clearly beginning a mad rant, and Lee couldn’t help but wince and cringe with every word.

  “That’s why she’s so happy he’s coming. But . . .” The owl lady’s head did that turning thing again that made it look as if her neck didn’t exist. Lee felt a little nauseous as he watched her head spin around at unnatural angles. “But she heard what happened yesterday. He was so strong. He didn’t hesitate. He did exactly as she thought he would . . . and then you. You came. You stopped him. You grabbed and held him like he was yours. He’s hers!” the owl lady hissed, and no one moved. A concave line of people began to form around her, bows were drawn, arrows readied, and shields went up, but no one even breathed anything besides shallow breaths, much less stepped forward. “It hurt her to hear. She was so . . . unhappy with you.” She whipped her head back around into an upright position, her gaze instantly locking onto Brigid. “So very unhappy.”

  Welp, the horror movie dialogue is perfect, but now I definitely can’t hide any of the creepy obsession this Herald has with me, Lee thought.

  “Lee, what’s she talking about? Why is . . . why is she unhappy with me?” Brigid took a step back without ever taking her eyes off the owl lady.

  “Because you held his hand. You stopped him from his already-painful task,” the owl lady answered, slowly closing the distance between Brigid and herself. Lee instinctually followed the owl’s example and moved closer to Brigid as well. He could already feel warning bells in his head go off as his gut told him what was about to happen.

  “Stopped his hand from what? Killing children? How could I have known that they were--” Brigid objected before being silenced by the creepy woman.

  “Blind? Crippled? Weak and incapable of growing? They weren’t children. They were practically adults, not that their bodies showed it. Their genes were broken. They were broken. They were the weak cubs that their mothers wasted time nursing,” Ulchabhannadhbh said, steadily closing the distance between herself and her prey. The crowd shuffled away immediately, making it clear that no one but Miller, Lee and Dave seemed to want to be anywhere near the two women. The crazy owl chick kept silently inching nearer like a velociraptor, her head weaving from side to side with each step. “And you . . . You are the leach that has stuck itself to a lion, the barnacle trying to ride the whale. I cannot--she cannot--tolerate it. She has told me you are not welcome. You, who would make a hard job harder. You, who would shackle the strong with your weakness. No, I can’t tolerate that; she can’t tolerate that. Nature must cull the weak.” The crazy lady smiled, and then, within a blink, she had fully transformed.

  Lee wasn’t even able to finish yelling out the word ‘no’ before the woman had already turned into a massive, towering owl. Her wings unfurled, and she was airborne in the next second. Lee already knew what her goal was: he had positioned himself closer to Brigid for just this reason. He launched himself at the two women, grabbing ahold of Brigid and trying to pin her to the ground. But it was too late. Ulchabhannadhbh had already grabbed the general and taken to the air, her giant, taloned claws pinning Brigid’s arms to her side. Lee was hoisted into the sky along with her, and the two were carried skyward like paper bags caught in a tornado.

  Within seconds, they were seven or eight stories into the air. A few seconds more, and they were several hundred feet above the ground and climbing as Ulchabhannadhbh flapped her wings and climbed with no regard for her passengers. Despite her tough exterior, Brigid apparently couldn’t handle heights well at all. Her arms were pinned to her side, but her legs kicked back and forth as if she were running a sprint, and she screamed non-stop for the first twenty or thirty seconds of their flight.

  “I see,” Ulchabhannadhbh said after Brigid stopped screaming. “You’re eager to see your queen. You’re eager to come! I knew it. I’ll take you both to her, and we can kill the weak one when we arrive. She’ll be so pleased!” Ulchabhannadhbh cawed joyfully.

  “What do you mean, ‘kill the weak one when we arrive’? Why wait?” Lee shouted back as he realized how to handle the situation. “Why don’t we just start right now?”

  Ulchabhannadhbh didn’t reply, but she stretched her wings into a glide and arched her head down to look at Lee. “You see, from where I’m at, you’re still weaker than me,” Lee shouted back with a grin. “So, we need to cull you too.”

  “I’m . . . I’m weaker than . . . than you?” Ulchabhannadhbh seemed genuinely confused. “I am the strongest of Meadhbh’s flock. I am the fastest. I am. What are you doing?”

  They were well over a thousand feet in the air, and he had spent that entire climb thinking of the best solution he could. Sadly, since he had been hanging around Miller and Dave too much lately, the only thing he could think about was fried chicken and beer--which meant that Ulchabhannadhbh’s legs basically looked like giant drumsticks to him at this point. As far as he was concerned, her feathers just furthered the look of an unplucked chicken ready to be prepped for the fryer.

  He quickly removed the cooking oil that he had brought along for the expedition, took off the lid and recklessly splashed it upward, soaking the giant owl’s lower legs. It was a rather hard task, given the fact that they were soaring through the air, and he had to account for wind. The best he could do at the speed they traveling at without getting it all over himself and Brigid was covering her drumstick-like legs, and he hoped that would be enough.

  “Just prepping for dinner,” Lee laughed to himself. He was terrified of heights, and making a joke or two as he worked was keeping him from thinking about what very surely might end up being his incredibly-untimely end. The only comforting thing was that he knew that he could heal himself up as long as he survived the fall. He had heard of too many horror stories of bad parachutes not opening, and the best he could hope for in that scenario was shattered kneecaps and broken bones--and the very real possibility that he might never walk again, even if he somehow managed to live.

  “Dinner? By the gods, is food and beer all your group thinks of?!” Brigid complained, having somehow heard Lee’s joke. “It’s one thing after a fight, but we’re about to die, and you’re still talking about food! Haven’t you kidded around enough?! Take life seriously for once! You’re supposed to be a Herald, a leader of people! Not a clown!”

  “And you’re supposed to have some damn faith!” Lee shouted back as he finished applying as much oil as he could. Then, he put his hand on one of the oil spots and concentrated. At first, nothing happened.

  “Well? Show me why I need faith!” Brigid snapped again. “Do something! Please, gods, I don’t want to die like this!” Her pleading quickly devolved into begging. “I want to die fighting, not like this. Please no, not like this!”

  So, you’re not as brave as you try to pretend. It took nearly two minutes for Lee to slowly build up heat up in the oil, but then, it finally happened: ignition. Once the first spark erupted, Ulchabhannadhbh’s oil-soaked legs exploded into a massive conflagration. Unfortunately, Lee was unable to stop himself from getting burned too. He instantly switched from using his spirit to light the oil to using it to heal his and Brigid’s burns simultaneously as the fire fed off the rapidly moving air around them, building heat and horribly scorching them both in the process.

  Lee watched as damage markers went off, one after the other. They started with a series of rapidly-appearing 20-damage notifications and then upgraded to 25 and then finally 30 while Ulchabhannadhbh screeched in pain. Lee took extra damage from the fire just to make sure his backpack didn’t get burned in the process, slightly shifting his body toward the scorching flames. His health was falling quickly, but sure enough, after a few moments, Ulchabhannadhbh’s grip on Brigid faltered. When that happened, Lee pulled out a sword with his still-burning free hand and sliced at her right leg.

  Within a few seconds, Brigid had broken herself free of Ulc
habhannadhbh’s clutches. She tried to grab ahold of the blazing bird as she fell away, but Lee intercepted her hand and stopped her. Instead, he took her arm, hoisted her to him and hugged her as tightly as he could against his chest. And then he let go.

  “You idiot, you killed us both! We could have ridden her corpse to safety!” Brigid screamed.

  Lee had no idea if this would work or not. It wasn’t exactly made with the right cloth or material, and he didn’t exactly have expert plans or experience crafting parachutes. He was terrified that it would rip at any given moment and let them plummet to their doom, so just in case, he kept both her and himself healed, trying to make sure that they’d still have a few hit points left to take the fall, even if they crashed at a dangerously-fast speed from the ridiculous height.

  “Just shut up and hold on to me tight,” Lee said through gritted teeth over the wind. He let go as soon as her arms were wrapped around him, grabbed the parachute ripcord and ejected what he prayed would be a functional device. Wind caught in the parachute, unfurling it above and revealing the gigantic beer mug stitched into the fabric. Their descent finally slowed, and Lee looked over to see Ulchabhannadhbh tumbling down through the air, a gigantic ball of flame falling toward the ground like a meteor. Even if she was crazy, Lee couldn’t help but pity her. Before she even hit the ground, the familiar death notice appeared.

  You have killed Ulchabhannadhbh, Chosen of Maedhbh. Your party has been awarded 4267 Experience. Your share of this is 1423 Experience.

  You have also received the title: The Aggressive Mile-High Chef. A culinary jetsetter and trendsetter, you bring unrivaled passion and flare to the art of airborne cuisine. For spearheading the flying feast, you have received +1 to Cooking, +1 to Charisma, +2 to Courage.

  Lee couldn’t help but chortle as he and Brigid continued to slowly drift downward. System, don’t tell me you’re the one who invents these titles? You didn’t just give me one because you thought a giant bird creature covered in oil and deep-fried at a high altitude was funny, did you?