Carl frowned, before suddenly nodding. “Oh. That year the doctors thought you were terminally ill, so you got to skip school?”
John smirked, gazing at his brother who flashed him a wink as he massaged Lucy’s shoulders, the girl sighing with a blissful smile on her face.
“How old is she?”
“Relax, bro. 18. Same age as Emily. And if you tell me you aren’t planning on hooking up with her, I’ll call you a liar.”
John flushed, gazing Emily’s way, eyes widening at the intent way she pinned him with her violet gaze.
“Earth to John...” Carl said.
“Sorry, buddy. Yeah, that’s the year my family pretended I was terminally ill. But since I’m actually a cloned genetic experiment fused to an alien horror cooked up in a lab by a mad fucking scientist claiming to be my dad, I was actually being taught how to effectively kill anything and everything with a sword that year.”
Carl blinked. “Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Lucy smirked. “TMI much?”
John smirked back. “Dark Secret disadvantages are bullshit. I’m laying it all out there. You either accept me as the horror-human-Highlord wannabe that I am, or you get the fuck out of my life. This is a drama free show.”
Lucy laughed. “You’re pretty cool for a cloned genetic experiment, Johnny-boy. I got no problems with you, as long as you don’t go all alien predator on me in the middle of the night.”
“Not unless you ask really nicely, and that goes double for you,” John quipped, winking at Emily, whose eyes widened before she burst into laughter.
Mitch chuckled. “You’re definitely the best genetic experiment a brother could ask for.”
John grinned. “And the faeries like me too, so I can’t be all bad.” He then turned to the bemused-looking drill instructor. "Captain. Any armored test dummies I can practice with?"
The man bowed his head before gazing at John strangely. “Forgive me, my lord, but there’s something about you… have we met before?”
“Actually yeah, we have, Christoff. It was that night you sent your men to hunt me down and kill me, but you got bored waiting around for news, so you screwed your lieutenant under that oak tree instead, remember? The way you two were going at it, I sure hope you proposed, because if the look in Svetlana’s eyes wasn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
John couldn’t help grinning at the man’s poleaxed expression, unbuckling the man’s sword from his hip and tossing Christoff the weapon. John’s grin had teeth by the time the hotly flushing captain had caught his own blade. “Thanks for letting me ‘borrow’ your saber. It probably saved my life. I’m glad I didn’t take your own. Remind me to give you a raise later.”
The man’s blotchy face paled. He jerked a bow. “I will have servants set up armored mannequins immediately. If you will excuse me?” He fled the salon as fast as he could without running.
Mitch was laughing so hard tears were streaming out of the corner of his eyes. Lucy was smiling despite her flush. Carl chuckled and gave John a high five, and Emily shook her head.
“You’re an evil one, John,” a grinning Emily said.
John winked. "Aren't I? I had been so ready to kill the pair of them, knowing they had every intention of killing me, but the look in their eyes..." he sighed. "They were just a pair of soldiers who had fallen in love and got caught up in an ugly duty. So I took the guy’s sword instead. Doesn’t mean I can’t tease them now, though.”
“Well done. Though I hope you’ll never say another word about it again,” Mitch said, suddenly serious. “I will explain to Captain Christoff that this was a test of humility, only fitting for one who had been so mistaken about his future employer’s true identity.”
He then turned to the half dozen practice dummies a handful of anxious-looking house guards had prepared with miraculous speed, each padded frame kitted in full steel armor, with reinforced barbute helms.
Carl whistled. “Sweet setup.”
Mitch grinned. “Why don’t you try your blade against them?”
Carl shook his head. “I’m not an idiot. I know my sword won’t do shit against plate. Hell, I’ve seen videos of people using crossbows against plate armor, and it did nothing. Chain mail links? Sure, those things pop, sometimes, especially if they’re not properly riveted. But solid steel plates? Not a chance. I saw one video of someone using a crossbow with a thousand pound draw weight to shoot plate armor at just ten feet. It still couldn’t punch through. Dented the armor something fierce, but the bolts shattered or skipped off. Not a one could pierce the armor.”
“True,” Mitch said. “Men fully kitted in plate were extremely tough to kill, even charging into storms of crossbow bolts or arrows. Only in movies or games do arrows pierce armor like a sniper’s bullet.” He then waved to the far wall, holding any number of finely kept weapons of war. “So take a war hammer. Hell, take a poleaxe, and try to smash through the armor. Have fun with it! You might even Rank in a couple of weapons before you know it.”
Carl grinned at that. “Hell, why not? Permission to go crazy accepted!”
John and the girls enjoyed watching Carl go at it. At first he wore a lighthearted smile, but that quickly turned to serious focus when he tried to smash in the nearest helm with a war hammer. When it was clear he had no real idea what he was doing, Mitch taught Carl the basic techniques, cheering him on while John and the girls laughed and stuffed themselves with pastries and hot chocolate until Carl had at last managed to dent the armor. Even with practice, four times out of five the spike just skittered off. Only once with the poleaxe did he manage to punch through a helm, and that was after considerable practice and Mitch’s careful instruction.
Carl gave an exhausted smile after leveraging the poleaxe spike free of the helm.
“Awesome. I now have Rank 1 in both war hammers and poleaxes! Thanks for showing me the basics, Mitch.”
Lucy flashed a pretty scowl. “And I have yet to even rank up in sabers. If I’m stuck as a pure mage summoner, I’ll be so pissed.”
Mitch winked. “No problem, Carl.” He turned to John. “Bro?”
Emily gave John a curious smile when he took a final bite of his third cream-filled pastry, about to don his helmet when soft fingers wiped filling off his cheeks. “You missed some,” Emily teased, and his heart began to hammer with the way she was eyeing him.
“Time to show them your stuff, John,” Mitch said.
John smirked, suddenly feeling self-conscious, rolling his shoulders before unsheathing his blade from its specialized back sheath.
Carl whistled. “You weren’t kidding, John. That is one sweet looking weapon. It looks like a cross between a Kriegsmesser and a proper Zweihander. But it’s a sword, not a poleaxe.”
“True,” John said as he approached the training dummies, choosing one whose surface was utterly unmarred by Carl’s enthusiastic blows.
He stared at it thoughtfully for a couple seconds, then shook his head and turned away. “Kinda silly, isn’t it? I mean what’s the point of posturing or showing off? No enemy’s going to sit around and just wait for you to strike. Am I right?”
Carl smirked and nodded. “Yeah, not the most realistic—”
But John had already spun back, letting loose a short sharp barking roar as he whipped his blade around, blasting through the barbute helm with a jarring crack that seemed to echo through the vast gymnasium.
The room had gone silent, Carl and the girls staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the caved-in helmet, sheered through by the razor-sharp point flaring from the false edge of John’s blade. And the last few feet of the back edge near the hilt had been left unsharpened for a very good reason, as John demonstrated with a twist and heave, quickly ducking and pivoting so the blunt portion of the back edge rested on his shoulder as he jerked his body up and his hands down, instantly leveraging his terrible weapon free of the gigantic rent that had nearly split the fine quality helm in half before he spun around, slashing out with a
vicious serious of cleaving blows that would have punished any imaginary enemy that had sought to close, the entire sequence of movements taking less than two seconds. John ended with a flourish and salute, giving his friends a mocking bow.
Lucy laughed. “Oh God, Johnny-boy totally has you beat, Carl! One strike and that helm’s completely busted!”
Emily gave a solemn nod. “And John wasn’t even looking at it. He just spun around and struck. Shit, I’ll bet that trick would work for you even in live combat, wouldn’t it?”
“Damn right it would,” Mitch enthused. “He put hundreds of hours into mastering that one technique, and he’s already used it to take down more than a few inhuman horrors. Which is why we’re going to let him serve as point man when we adventure ourselves!”
Emily grinned. “I love it! Now if only I knew some magic or mental attacks to go with it...”
Mitch chuckled. “Alright. Martial training over for the day. Let me get Mr. Gills, and the rest of our daily lessons can begin.” He turned to John. “Sound good to you, bro?”
John shrugged and smiled, up for anything. And before long he got to witness a master of magic instructing his students, teaching them how to gather up tiny balls of water on their fingertips, or summon flickering points of light, or generate tiny swirls of dust in the center of their palms. John was pleased to see even Mitch was able to summon a tiny flicker of flame on the center of his palm. Actually, John was amazed to see that all of his friends had a knack for it, a gift he had been given to understand was quite rare.
Gills turned his gentle gaze to John. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it another try, Lord Farreach?”
John grinned. “John is fine. And actually, I have been trying.” He gave a rueful smile at Emily’s concerned gaze. “I can sort of taste the magics circling around you guys. It’s as if we live in a vast sea of mystical fluid, and you’re opening yourselves to it, letting it flow through you.”
The scholarly gnome nodded. "Correct. And it is imperfect control of those currents that create the eddies and backwash so devastating to Dominion electromana couplings. Over time, we will learn to correct that flaw in all of you. But that you can sense it so clearly, that you have developed Magesight so rapidly, tells me that you must have some arcane potential."
“I do, but it’s not something you can teach, I’m afraid.”
The gnome’s posture stiffened as if John had just insulted him, before taking a deep breath and gazing at John with expressionless eyes. “Perhaps you can show me what you mean, my lord?”
John nodded, taking a handful of nuts from the nearby table of treats, calorie-counting not being a concern with the amount of energy they were all expending. Smiling at the curious gazes of his friends, he whispered the words that seemed to resonate so perfectly with his magic, feeling a sudden sense of wondrous potential flow through him.
“Vinia viridi, Vinia viridi!” He then tossed the chestnuts and walnuts that began sprouting and growing into a cluster of knotted trees the instant they touched the ground, John using his Faerie Magic skill to shift the tangling portion of his spell into a thick canopy overhead.
He then repeated the procedure a short distance away before entering the second tiny grove, concentrating for several long heartbeats before stepping forward and popping out of the first miniature grove an instant later.
His friends were looking at him with something close to awe.
But not nearly so much as their instructor, who was gazing at him with wide-eyed wonder. "You're using Faerie magics. Faerie magics! The Faerie blood within you has been fully catalyzed! Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable!"
“Nice!” Mitch commended, clapping John’s shoulder. “You can teleport. This kid can teleport!”
John nodded, catching his breath. “And except for all the Mana I use, doing all that at once, it works like a charm.” He turned to Gills. “But I paid a price for the gifts I have. I was told that I can’t learn, well, mundane magic, no matter how hard I try.”
Surprisingly, the gnomish man gave an understanding nod. "Your gifts have been anchored to one of the realms of Faerie. You draw the power of Arcadia directly to and through you. It is living dream that you channel, not the electromana field itself.”
Lucy frowned. “So, wait, we can’t learn Faerie magics on top of Jordian magics? I have an extra power, so why can’t he?”
Gills shrugged. “Perhaps some people can. But I suspect for the young master, it’s a matter of, ahem, how do you say? Bandwidth. I suspect he, like most practitioners, has a very narrow bandwidth within which his powers can manifest. Whereas you, dear Lady Lucy, possess a remarkably broad bandwidth, able to harness the traditional magic disciplines in addition to your own exceptional gifts."
Lucy grinned. “Hear that, guys? I have remarkable bandwidth.”
John couldn’t help smiling at that. “Okay, now I’m dying to know. What’s your special power, Lucy?”
Lucy’s cheerful expression instantly paled. “It’s not that big a deal,” she whispered.
John furrowed his brow. “You seemed so excited about it earlier, saying it was why higher leveled characters wanted to adventure with you.”
Lucy actually began to tremble. Mitch turned to face her, his golden gaze boring into her own. She shrunk into herself, as if afraid, before grinning with sudden relief as Mitch’s smile seemed to warm her like the sun.
He gently took her hand. “What did I tell you, Lucy?”
“That… that I had nothing to be ashamed of?”
Mitch nodded. “The only people we would ever kill are the bad guys, right?”
“Right.”
“Good. Now show my brother what you can do.”
Lucy’s gaze widened. She jerked a nod, clenching her jaw. Gone was the anxious, uncertain girl of just seconds ago. In her place was a fierce young woman filled with dark purpose, her eyes glittering like obsidian jewels.
She raised her hand, now surrounded by a crackling corona of energy that radiated darkness.
“Voco Vir Servus!” The roar echoed across the field they were practicing within, just outside the grand fencing salon. Black mist seemed to flood between her hands, and much to John’s awe and horror, it coalesced into the very inquisitor they had faced before. Yet he was still sliced cleanly in half, just as he had been at the moment of his death.
Eyes rolling in agony and horror gazed upon the assembled onlookers, awful gurgling noises coming from his throat. John's eyes widened as he saw the flesh in the back begin to knot itself over the severed half of its body, brain and oddly beating heart both on clear display, as if viewed through glass.
John could see how intently Lucy was concentrating, before collapsing with a cry as the reanimated corpse that was the former inquisitor rolled its eyes back and collapsed in a gory splash, spraying them all with blood before the body slowly sunk into the ground, leaving no trace.
Not a bird chirped in the silent aftermath of that grotesque scene, all of them staring at Lucy with expressions ranging from wonder to horror.
“That’s pretty damn remarkable,” John said at last.
Emily just gazed at Lucy. “That’s your gift?”
Lucy swallowed and jerked a nod. “When I first played, I swear, I still thought it was just a game!” The clearing rang with her brittle laughter. “I was so stupid about so many things, I know. When I was forced to accept that it was all real, I had, well, I had gotten used to the slaves I had Soulbound. My party kept wanting me to absorb fresh imprints, to expand my gift as fast and hard as I could, like I was a damned poki storage device!”
John blinked “What does that even mean?”
“It means she can copy and store the body of any foe we take down,” Mitch explained. “So long as she can imprint it’s neuromatrix with her gift before it’s completely fried.”
Lucy jerked a nod. “Yup. And the higher I raise my score, the bigger a sucker I can bring back, the easier I can heal the injuries that killed it, an
d the less it takes out of me.”
She slumped to the ground in exhaustion. “It’s a Greater Skill, and I put most of my character points into that and Mana. But even at Rank 4, I’m totally drained. That poor bastard you cut in half is as damaged as damaged can be. And he was so fucking powerful. I’m surprised I could even imprint him!” She shuddered. “I could taste how desperately he wanted to live. And the moment I’m skilled enough to fully heal him when I summon his soul or the memory of him or whatever it is that I’m doing, his every waking moment will be spent in slavish devotion to me, his only desire to fulfill my every wish.”
John blinked. “Damn, Lucy. That is one incredible gift!”
Lucy nodded. “It is. Soul Summoning’s the coolest oddball power. But all the imprints I had stored when I was adventuring with my party blipped out of my head the moment we put on Mitch’s weird helms and somehow ported ourselves here for real. And that poor bastard's the only poki I got now, and I'm pretty sure I'll have to be a Rank 5 Adept before I'm good enough to heal those wounds."
“Well then,” said Mitch brightly, “I guess we have to make getting you fresh pokis a priority!”
John frowned. “Wait… weird helms? You mean you didn’t just jump through the gate?”
Mitch shook his head. “No, John, we didn’t. If we hadn’t at least tried to triangulate our potential for dual world reference points, what would be the point? I did everything I could to potentiate our friends while you went ahead. I’ll spare you the gory details, but let’s just say we ported through in the nick of time.”
“And we’re damned lucky,” Emily said. “With such slim odds of it working, what were the chances it would work for all of us?”
“It’s not really that unlikely,” Mitch corrected. “I knew Lucy had already jumped onto Endless, and you, being a mixed hybrid with parents from both worlds, were a shoo-in. It's only with Carl that we were really rolling the dice, and the great thing is, with those helmets? Moving forward with our physical bodies in addition to our minds? Our odds of successfully breaking through were tenfold greater than average! Best of all, it wasn’t just our minds but our bodies that ported through. So congrats, Carl, you’re now one of the winners in life!”
Queen Killer Page 33
