by Eric Ugland
There wasn’t much terrain to worry about, but there also wasn't an easy way to escape. If Insidious was smart — which I don't think he was, but this was pretty obvious — he’d make sure he had backup down every road, so I’d be trapped. No egress. Fight it would be.
Maybe I'd die.
But, you know, that would only be a temporary inconvenience.
The bigger issue was making sure I inflicted pain on my attackers. I wanted any interaction with me to be a horrible experience for them. I slid my sword free from the scabbard and gave it a little twirl. Just a little flourish for good measure.
Finally, Insidious emerged from the shadows, strolling forward with his face obscured by a big hooded black cloak. His fingers were dripping with rings, all of which glowed. I wasn't sure how he'd managed to keep the glowing covered in the darkness, but he had. I'll give it to the man, he cut an imposing figure. Sort of. It was ruined because I knew him and understood he was a useless asshat.
"It's time," Insidious said.
And with that, the other people came to the party. Men and women emerged out of the darkness from every street. A quick count made it eight. Add Insidious, and I had nine opponents.
"Remember," Insidious said, "I will be the one to strike the killing blow. Otherwise, take him down."
No swords came out. No one drew any weapons of any kind. Remember when I said I wasn't nervous? This made me nervous. These weren’t fighters, they were mancers. This was going to be a magic fight. And I wasn't at all prepared.
The only magic fight I'd been in was the Ring of Fire. So less a fight and more a massacre. And I really didn't want a replay of that night. As horrifying as burning to death is in your imagination, actually having it happen is worse.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves enough to make something along the lines of a plan.
"Okay boys," I said, "let's dance."
Step the first when you're outnumbered: even the odds a little.
Shadowstep.
I darted behind the nearest of the mancers, popped back out, and then swung my sword as hard as I could.
"Shadow movement!" One of the mancers called out. Not the guy I cut — he was busy bleeding out from his neck.
Someone cursed, stopped the spell they were in the middle of, and threw a bright ball up into the air. Then the rest of the mancers did the same. Seven balls of light shot up about thirty feet, and suddenly there wasn't even a hint of shadow left in the square. I did see a way out, and I thought about making a run for it, but then I saw a ball of flame forming around a woman's hand across the square.
She flicked the flame towards me, and I dove out of the way, moving barely fast enough to get out of the fireball's path. The ball smashed against a stone wall, making a sizzling sound as the rainwater turned to steam.
I rolled to my feet, and got up just in time to see a giant pink fist coming for my face. There was no chance to dodge, so I just got my arms up in front of my head to absorb some of the blow. It hit with grim force. There was a bright flash of pink light, and I went flying. My arms ached, and my head was swimming.
"Don't move him—“ someone shouted right before a loud crack rang out.
Lightening shot right through where I'd just been standing. Maybe there was a little advantage in facing opponents not used to working together.
I rolled over and pushed myself upright.
I stumbled a bit, trying to figure out which of the people around me were real, and which ones were just doubles. Yay for potential brain traumas.
The guy I initially attacked was on the ground, not moving. My sword still in his neck.
Quick check of the notifications:
GG! You’ve killed a Human (lvl 15 Mancer).
You’ve earned 500 XP! What a mighty hero you are.
With a flick of my wrist, I cast ReAnimate.
My opponents looked around at one another. When they realized none of them were the target of a spell, they tried to figure out what I'd just done.
The corpse moved just a little bit. But I needed to keep attention from my unwilling ally until it was upright.
I grabbed a knife from my belt and had it flying out in a single motion.
My target, a woman with yellow hair in a tight ponytail, spread her hand out, and something shimmered into existence just as the blade reached her. The shield looked like a translucent jelly, because the knife slowed quickly, and just stuck there. In mid-air.
A whistling noise came from above, and knew it could only be something bad, so I dodged to the side, leaping and sliding across the wet rocks.
A glowing ball of metal crashed into the ground, smashing a hole through the stones.
"Doesn't someone have a hold person spell, dammit?" one of the mancers roared.
"Working—“ called out another man.
"Good idea," I said, and I cast hold humanoid on the person trying to cast, ostensibly, hold person.
The man went rigid, his voice cutting out, and the magic flaring as he lost control of his spell. The mana seemed to burn him as it poured out of his body and swirled around him.
The yelling man’s eyes went wide at his buddy succumbed to the hold spell. I took advantage of his distraction and threw a knife at him.
"Morris!" screamed a redhead.
Morris, my target, got his eyes on the blade just in time to watch it go into his chest.
GG! You’ve killed Morris.
Human (lvl 17 Mancer).
You’ve earned 580 XP! What a mighty hero you are.
Three down, two dead and one held, five to go.
Once again, I had to get back to my feet. But I was down my sword and two of my blades. I had one more dagger on me, and that was the extent of my weapons. Everything else was going to have to either be by fist or spell.
There's something weird about learning spells from draining someone else. You know how to cast the spell, and you have a sense of what will happen, but the actual effect of the spell really only becomes apparent after you’ve cast it. I had a bunch of spells from the corpseking that were total mysteries to me. But the names sounded good. Time to cast—
A fireball hit my side, and licks of flame splashed over my black armor.
Glancing left, I saw another ball of fire coming my way. I jumped backward.
Right into a spear of ice angling up at a diagonal out of a puddle below. It pierced my back, going right through my innards with a fantastic spray of blood, leaving me hanging, somewhat, in the air.
"Got 'em," I heard someone say.
I wrenched my neck around, feeling the rage mounting inside. I extended my arm out, my hand wide like I was grabbing for something, and cast vicious wrench.
The guy stopped talking. His face went white, and he managed to eke out a horrible noise before I closed my fingers into a fist and ripped the femur right out of his leg. It soared across the square in a disgusting display of gore. I grabbed it out of the air and swung it around with enough force to shatter the ice spear beneath me.
I fell to the ground, bleeding heavily. My body trembled, and I immediately started healing myself before either shock or unconsciousness set in.
It was quiet around the square as everyone tried to understand what I'd done.
"What did he just do?" I heard someone ask, confirming my suspicions.
I groaned a bit, feeling my body knit itself back together. Sometimes the healing was almost as bad as the injuries themselves.
The man whose femur I’d wrenched out of his body was on the ground, rolling back and forth in obvious pain.
“What did he do?!” Someone shouted.
I looked around the square. Insidious wasn’t in view, but there were five people standing up and moving slightly, one standing and not moving at all, and two on the ground.
Which meant my new ally was ready to fight.
“Incapacitate them,” I said.
There was a grunt of assent from the reanimated mancer, and he advanced on his former frie
nds. His arms went out straight, and he wrapped his fingers around the neck of the woman next to him. There were some screams of horror. Which was understandable. I didn’t like using the undead — it made me feel gross. But it’s not like they’d left me much choice in the matter.
The horror of the moment meant that no one was watching me. I paused healing myself for a moment, and I cast minor illusion to make an image of myself who got up and ran away.
It was a bit of a Hail Mary, because it’s not like I did anything to hide myself on the ground. But with everything else that had gone on that night, it was enough to throw some bonus confusion into the mix.
“He’s getting away, you fools!” Insidious yelled out.
Which gave me his position.
The other mancers were trying to pull the undead thrall off his former companion, ignoring Insidious. And me.
“You take care of it,” one of the mancers yelled out as flames flared across his hands and he sprayed down both the undead and the living mancer with fire. There was some screaming from the living person, but the thrall really went up in an inferno. A horrible, inhuman shriek came out of him. Which was curious, since his head wasn’t wholly attached, so I wasn’t exactly sure how the air traveled from his lungs— you know what? Probably not a thing to worry about in the moment.
“Wait,” the woman cried out, her voice hoarse from the choking, and her hair, well, gone from the fire, “he’s right there.”
She was angry. And, you know, she had every right to be. Maybe not at me though — I’d just made someone choke her. Her buddy was the one who burned all her hair off.
Her arms went up, and electricity crackled between her hands.
“He’s mine,” she said, somber.
“I will kill him,” Insidious snapped stalking through the group.
“Not done yet,” I said. Despite having to grit my teeth to to get it out through the pain, I thought I sounded pretty badass.
I cast vicious wrench again, at the woman.
Her eyes went wide, then shut, and she started chanting something. The spell was trying to work, but she was trying to block it. I didn’t know that for sure, but that was the feeling that I had. I poured more mana into it, and she gritted her teeth harder.
Insidious stood over me, and he brought his wicked-looking dagger down at my face.
I was about to die. Again.
But then I saw a sword come through Insidious’s chest.
Insidious looked shocked. He dropped his dagger, and it clattered against the cobblestones below.
“Wha—“ Insidious managed before his insides stopped working.
A huge man pushed Insidious off his sword with a hobnailed boot. Then he stood in front of me, glaring at the mancers.
In a spectacular case of bad timing, the man’s entrance into the fight caused the woman to lose grip on her counter-spell, and, therefore, vicious wrench succeeded, and I maybe ripped out her ribcage.
Which I am sure will remain among the most disgusting things I have ever seen.
The ribcage shot through the square, hitting my new best friend in front of me. A bunch of gross internal bits also hit him. And really just spread across everywhere.
For a moment, the woman remained upright, and even had the wherewithal to look down at her torso. Then it seemed like her spine realized it was missing all the stuff that helped it keep her skull up, and she just kind of folded in on herself, crumpling to the ground without a sound save a light squelch.
GG! You’ve killed a Human (lvl 19 Mancer).
You’ve earned 1000 XP! What a mighty hero you are.
One of the mancers threw up.
The others didn’t look much better. Now that the battle had come to a halt, I realized how young my opponents were. They looked to be late teens, at most. I was willing to bet they were students. And I’d just murdered three of them. One of them, I technically murdered twice. Was that four murders then?
I slowly got to my feet.
The remaining mancers stared at me. There were two men, two women. Or, rather, two boys, two girls.
“Run,” the stranger growled at the mancers.
The kids didn’t need to be told twice. They took off sprinting, heading back north towards their school. The brilliant orbs of light they’d thrown out at the start of the fight followed them, which was kind of amusing. But my new friend and I were left in the darkness of Glaton’s night.
I knew it was probably bad form of me, but I felt the need to go over the things Insidious had on him, namely the dagger he was preparing to kill me with. It had to be something special for him to go through all this trouble. It went right into my belt. Then off came the rings, and the chain, and the talisman. I pulled the pouches off his belt, and even snagged the backup dagger he had in his boot.
The big man watched me looting the body for a moment. Then he walked over and started looting the mancers’ corpses.
I took the time to pull Insidious’s cloak off of him, and I found two small books in an inner pocket. Those went into my pouch. I checked over my body. The leather armor had a big burn spot on it, and also I was in need of a hair cut. Or a hair growth tonic.
My savior finished up with his looting, and walked back my way. I finally realized he was a minotaur. For some reason, I hadn’t noticed that aspect of him up until now. Maybe it was because it was dark, or because he towered over me by a solid three feet, but I’d just missed that he had huge horns and a big silver ring through his bull nose. He held out his massive hands, and there were all the things he’d looted from the Mancers.
“Uh,” I started, confused as to what was happening, “you can keep them if you want.”
He just grunted, and dropped everything on the ground in front of me.
Then someone started clapping, and I completely forgot about the small pile of loot.
“Marvelous,” came a melodious voice. Once more, someone walked out of the shadows, still clapping.
“Wait,” “I said, “I know you.”
“I should hope so,” came the reply, “I owe you quite the debt. And it is finally time for me to pay up.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Troels Westergaard looked at me, his pale blue eyes almost reflective in the light. He looked both happier and healthier than when I’d seen him at Tollendahl’s party. I’d saved his life from an assassin that night, right before I saved Shae and stole a few priceless artifacts. Westergaard said he owed me a blood debt, which was some Carchedonian thing I didn’t get a chance to ask about. But it seemed like tonight might be the night the debt was paid. I really hoped it wasn’t literal.
“Again,” he said, “I am truly impressed at your prowess with magic, Clyde. And these imperial mages — Mancers is such a silly name — you tore them apart. Quite literally.”
“I didn’t really mean to do that,” I said. “It was, I mean—“
“Masterful. Grotesque, but masterful. And necromancy? Fabulous. You are genuinely wasted in the Empire, young elf. I implore you, consider a change of scenery. At my expense. Join me in my homeland, and see what it is you have been missing.”
“That’s very tempting, uh, Lord Westergaard.”
He waved his hand. “Just Troels, please. My title is actually Lord High Crown Prince, but it is so formal for someone who is part of the royal family, as you are now.”
“I think I’m a bit behind on things,” I said.
“Could be that hit you took. Knocked you quite the distance. And then being stabbed with that ice thing. Brutal. And yet you stand. Fantastic. Perhaps you could have a career in the arena. Hrm. Coleridge, my carriage."
The minotaur nodded once, then marched off down one of the streets.
“My apologies for not interceding sooner," Troels said. “We have been waiting for an opportune time to speak with you, and I had a man following you for some time, just to make sure you didn't, you know, have an accident prior to my paying the debt. Little did I know, however, my brother had someone fo
llowing my man to make sure we did not intercede just in case you had an accident so we would not need to pay the debt. I almost feel I owe you a larger debt because of that."
"Seriously, man, you don't owe me anything."
"Ah, but I do. There is little more serious in Carchedon than the blood debt. And being from the royal family, how would it look were I to ignore such a debt?"
“Who would ever know?“
"But I would know, young elf. I would know. And that would be enough." He gave me a wide smile. It was hard not to like him in that moment.
Immediately, I wondered if he had a skill or ability that made me like him. I was perpetually paranoid in this world, worried about the skills, abilities, or what-have-you that other people had, because I saw what my skills and abilities were doing.
"Carchedon is a beautiful land, full of trees and lakes," he said, putting his arm around me and steering me towards the northernmost street coming into the square. "It has cool weather, abundant food, and the most exquisite architecture. Glaton is not a city to belittle — it has a certain flair to it, to be sure — but our land is safer and we need not hide behind walls and shields all the time."
"I'd be happy to visit," I said, not exactly telling the truth. Despite Troels being a nice guy, there was still something just off about him. And about Carchedon. Just the fact that slavery was still a thing there made me unwilling to even consider actually liking it. And granted, maybe since Troels was the crown prince, he wasn't privy to the dirtier aspects of his country. Maybe he believed everyone had it as good as him. I doubted it, but there was an outside possibility, I supposed.
