by Macronomicon
The plan was simple: Now that they all had enough Body to climb like nobody’s business, they were going to leave the castle via the rooftop. In the middle of the night, when the people watching them were least on guard, they’d climb out through the dead girl’s doorway and over the roof, jump across to the eastern wall, then scale down.
Once they were on open ground, they would run as fast as they could for deeper in the city and aim for the Barnes & Noble. Colt would know what to do then. As far as they could tell, any adult alien they came across had a fair chance of being involved, and human grown-ups didn’t really have the ability to help them.
They had to help themselves.
Last day. Just gotta squeak out another level. Just one more, she thought as she plunged a spear into the barrel over and over, trying to end the creature’s suffering as quick as possible.
That extra point in Nerve could mean the difference between hearing an enemy approaching or not.
Speaking of which, Nancy thought, cocking her head to the side. She heard the sound of Mr. Surpey’s carriage approaching, but something sounded…wrong. The clattering was wilder, and the approach was much faster than what was typical.
“Something’s wrong,” Nancy said, straightening and stepping away from the thrashing barrel of bloody water.
“What?”
“I don’t know, the carriage is faster than it should be.”
“And that means?” Ryan asked, raising a brow.
The carriage clattered through the main gate and came to a rapid halt to the sound of banging from the inside. The melas driver cast an icy gaze at the assembled children, causing them to take a step back, but it was Mr. Surpey’s expression as he climbed out of the carriage that struck a chord of fear in their hearts.
His eyes were bloodshot, his mannerisms shaky and wild, and he was looking at them like a desperate animal looks at its own trapped leg. Like a rabzi in a cage, about to be speared to death.
“Children, we need to have a talk,” Mr. Surpey said, his foot landing on the ground.
“That means run.”
“What?” Ryan glanced at her with a frown.
“RUN!” Nancy shouted, pointing toward the door into the inner castle, activating her Ability.
Direct Attention.
Every child within earshot was compelled to look at exactly what she was pointing at, the initial Ability of her Class, the Mascot. This allowed the children to move with a unity of motion that rivaled that of a swarm of starlings as they broke into a sprint, every single one aiming for the exact same door.
Mr. Surpey wordlessly growled and Nancy heard the sound of steel ringing as their captor’s sword was set loose. The tall keegan broke into a sprint, and the young girl was terrified to see that despite all their Body, he was much faster than they were.
“There!” Nancy shouted, pointing to the left of Mr. Surpey, throwing her spear with the other hand.
Mr. Surpey’s eyes involuntarily flickered in the direction she pointed, nearly missing the spear entirely. He brought his blade up and swept the flying weapon aside, barely in time to stop it from causing harm.
Darn, Nancy thought with a scowl, mimicking Mommy’s frustrated expression.
Their captor’s legs stumbled for the next two seconds, as he was left off balance after deflecting the spear.
Two seconds was plenty of time. Ryan grabbed her by the back of her shirt and dragged her at full speed through the door before slamming the massive bolt home. They were the last of the children to make it through.
A fraction of a second later, Mr. Surpey’s sword cut through the thick wood like Styrofoam, slicing a cut into Nancy’s shoulder. Her eyes watered as pain unlike anything she’d ever imagined shot through her body, making her legs go weak. Ryan tugged her away from the door.
“You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Nancy.” The frightened children heard the keegan’s voice coming through the door, muffled at first, but increasingly clear as the sword began to crack through the wood, cutting a hole. “That’s going to make this more difficult than I hoped.”
“Keep going!” Ryan shouted, throwing Nancy over his shoulder.
“Where, though?”
“Mommy!”
“I wanna go home!”
“Stick to the plan,” Nancy said, pointing up toward the staircase that led to their room. If they got to their room, they could follow the passage to the roof.
As one, they turned and ran away from the door that was rapidly succumbing to their captor.
Out in the courtyard, unseen by the children or their captor, a mangy rat with bleach-white exposed ribs stared at the tableau with pale eyes, its dim thought processes ticking ever so slowly. It reviewed its instructions.
Pick and follow one of the people leaving the courtroom. Check.
If that person talks about themselves killing children, wait until they stop, then blow yourself up.
If following that person leads to a bunch of small humans, then…
Oh, right.
The rat, without a thought for its own un-life, detonated itself in a blast of raw necrotic energy.
***Jeb***
“This is stupid,” Jeb muttered to himself.
The point of shaking the tree was following up on whatever fell out of it. If Jeb was busy getting murdered by an angry judge, he couldn’t exactly follow up, could he?
Standing in front of him was a wrinklier-than-average keegan droning on about the rules of the duel in ye-olde speech.
The highlights were thus: Since Jeb was a non-Citizen, he didn’t really have an option but to accept the duel or retract his statement. Since he’d already refused to do that, he was required by law to fight.
Or be legally regarded as a sissy for the rest of my life? I could live with that.
“What’s the legal punishment for refusing the duel, anyway?”
“A week of hard labor and a stiff fine for flouting the law.”
“Can that be served whenever?”
“Effective immediately.”
“Damnit.”
Jeb needed to catch the judge’s compatriots now.
“As the challenged party, you have first rights to choose either the weapon or the location you will use to duel. For Myst users such as yourself, it is customary to choose Myst. It is also customary to choose the steps of the court, where we currently are, to make transportation and removing the loser’s corpse easier.”
“I get to choose the weapon?” Jeb muttered to himself, ideas beginning to flutter to the surface in his head. He glanced at the judge, who was slipping out of his ceremonial judge robe and into his ceremonial ass-kicking robe, which looked something like a gi made out of silk.
“Yes,” the aged keegan said, blinking his rheumy eyes.
“What about the trial?”
“It has been deemed a mistrial. There is precedent where a judge has challenged the defendant to a duel before. The inquiry is suspended until an impartial judge can be found. A week, perhaps. Until then, you are forbidden from leaving Solmnath on pain of death.”
“Excellent.” So all he had to do was get this fight to the death over with ASAP, then he was free to get back to his job.
And honestly, killing this guy was part of his job, too.
Although… Jeb eyed the other guy sending crackling streams of enervating energy between his palms. Making this a fair Myst fight probably isn’t a good idea.
Jeb's foot problem meant a fistfight was a bad idea, too. He was slower, weaker, dumber, had less Myst… Hell, Jeb even had about a foot less reach. He was screwed on size alone.
This could be a problem.
Alright, think. What do I have over this guy? I have telekinesis, and he doesn’t. No, if I choose a weapon and use telekinesis on it, he’ll just use his kill-beam on me. Physical weapons are out. What the fuck am I supposed to beat this guy with?
He needed a way out right now, but he couldn’t possibly win the fight, they wouldn’t let him retract
his statement now, and forfeiting the duel wasn’t an option either.
Maybe I can declare that the weapons shall be peglegs, Jeb thought with a bit of wry humor. When he gets close to bash me with his leg, I can shoot him with mine. Should’ve got a better pegleg, buddy.
Jeb shook his head, dismissing the idea.
“Jeb!” Smartass’s tiny voice attracted his attention as she flitted directly in front of his face. “It’s going down!”
“What is that!?” the judge demanded, pointing a boney finger at them. “He consorts with fairies!”
“Eat a dick, child-killer,” Jeb said with a shrug. He was relieved when all his power didn’t leave him for telling a lie. Jeb had been stretching out on a limb there, but some people deserved to be called out. “What’s going down, Smartass?”
“Ron found a big group of kids still alive, in the castle near the coast, four blocks thataway.” She pointed toward the evening sun that lit up her candy-bar clothes.
“Excellent!” Jeb brightened.
“Not excellent. The trafficker is trying to kill them right now!” Smartass said.
“Well, what are Zlesk and Colt doing!?”
“They got caught up in a three-way battle with this crazy lady and her henchmen when they arrived!”
Shit, I need to leave, right now….
“Fairies are the epitome of conniving maliciousness. So much makes sense to me now, Jebediah Trapper. Your deal was a cleverly baited trap, wasn’t it? Humans have a great deal in common with the vermin, after all.”
“You’re not wrong, child-killer.”
The surrounding keegan officials glanced at each other, whispering under their breath while glancing at the child-killer.
“Stop calling me that!” the child-killer bellowed.
“I wouldn’t be doing it if it weren’t true,” Jeb said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ve decided on a location for our duel.”
“Good, I can’t wait to get this over with,” Elkor said, rolling his shoulders.
“There’s a castle near the coast about four blocks thataway! Let’s take the duel there!” Jeb said cheerily, pointing in the direction Smartass had indicated.
“NO!” the judge roared, pointing a finger at Smartass, an ocean of roiling green energy pouring out of him.
In a moment of stupidity, Jeb snatched the fairy out of the air with his wounded arm and put himself between her and the beam.
Jeb’s vision went black.
…
Jeb’s eyes opened, giving him an excellent view of the cobblestones his face was currently smushed into. His head pounded, eyes gummy, body weak, mimicking the worst hangover he’d ever had. Something small wriggled against his hands.
“Get off me, you pathetic breek!” Jeb heard the child-killer shout, slowly fading into full focus.
“Ugh, how long was I out?” Jeb muttered, sitting up and glancing over his shoulder. The nearby witnesses were restraining the judge, who was glaring at Jeb with a face that radiated pure hatred…and a little bit of fear.
Must not have been long, Jeb thought, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet.
Smartass gave an exaggerated gasp as he let go of her.
“You brute, you nearly crushed me!” she said, pinching the skin between thumb and forefinger. “You’re lucky we fairies have squishy bones for fitting into tight spots.” Jeb ignored her, refocusing on the situation at hand.
Children to rescue, people to kill.
“Whose castle is that?” Jeb asked, pointing to the distant silhouette in the fading light of the sun, resting near the coast.
“That is the home of Kebos O’sut. A local scholar...of some wealth.” The wrinkled officiator of the duel looked thoroughly confused.
“I have officially decided: I choose the location, and Mr. O’sut’s castle is an excellent location for a duel to determine which of us is a child-killer!” Jeb said. “Race you there!” Jeb started tottering away at the highest speed he could muster. Between the pegleg and the lingering enervation, it was slow going.
“No!” Jeb felt a wave of Myst like a heat bloom against his back as the people restraining Mirzos Elkor slumped to the ground, eyes wide and staring into the distance.
Did he just kill those people? Jeb thought as he glanced over his shoulder, the splitting headache returning. The surrounding crowd began to scream and back away from the maddened judge as he began sprinting after Jeb, knocking people out of his way.
Must go faster, must go faster!
Jeb’s prosthetic toe came unglued, allowing his foot to slip out from under him and sending him down like a bag of rocks.
A bolt of sea-green energy flew over Jeb’s head at that exact moment.
The judge was faster than him, yes. He also had more Myst, but Jeb‘s Myst could be used to enhance his own mobility, whereas the Judge’s couldn’t.
Jeb grabbed his ribcage with telekinesis and stopped himself from falling directly on his broken arm, buying just enough time to bunch his good leg under himself and push off, regaining his footing.
Jeb pushed himself along with Myst, evening out his stumbles and adding extra forward momentum, just barely staying ahead of the bulging-eyed judge.
The persistent headache made everything just a little bit harder to pull off.
Damnit, this feels like Myst sickness, Jeb thought in a spare fraction of a second between one footfall and the next.
Wait, what if it is Myst sickness?
Jeb had felt the beginnings of a headache when the judge refused to answer his question in court, and again when the keegan attempted to kill Smartass, and the headache had redoubled when he’d killed the people restraining him.
The judge has been losing his authority in the eyes of the people, Jeb thought to himself. The loss of respect and station was being converted into Impact for Jeb, as payment for reneging on their Deal to answer a question, in real-time.
That was probably why I was able to survive! Jeb thought, pushing himself forward at breakneck speeds. Sure, it still knocked his ass out, but his tolerance was at least high enough to survive a hit.
Except falling unconscious for a few seconds with an angry superhuman hot on your heels isn’t exactly a good idea.
Probably wouldn’t wake up again.
Jeb didn’t have time to stop and use the Appraiser on himself, and aside from his tolerance to Myst, little else had changed. His Core was still the same size, because he hadn’t been given any time to grow it.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up and Jeb hauled himself to the left with his Myst, allowing a bolt of energy to blast past him, sinking into the brickwork of the buildings lining the street.
In front of Jeb, a crimson bolt of Myst flew up above the O’sut castle, shooting into the air like a flare.
Who the fuck has blood-red Myst? Jeb thought to himself, dropping to a slide under a cart, using his pegleg to absorb the friction. He winced as the gold inlay was no doubt damaged beyond repair, scraping against the cobblestone street.
Jeb hauled himself to his foot and kept sprinting, pushing himself forward.
The judge followed him a second later, the boney bastard sailing gracefully over the eight-foot-tall wagon.
Jeb grabbed a half-rotted cabbage and threw it over his shoulder, rewarded with a squawk of outrage as it spread green-brown slime all over the keegan’s ceremonial gi.
Shouldn’t have worn fancy clothes to a duel anyway.
A handful of seconds later, Jeb made it to the front of the O’sut castle, the judge trailing behind him.
There, in the center of the courtyard, was a crazy-ass battle royale.
Zlesk and Colt were back-to-back, fighting against melas and keegan men and women dressed in servant’s garb, who seemed to be fighting both Jeb’s allies and each other.
Off to the side was a single woman wielding blood-red Myst, whirling it around her body like a whip. She had a crowd of servants around her, and was fending off the natives of the castle.
Good or bad? She whipped a length of razor-sharp Myst down at Zlesk. The former sheriff was busy locking down several combatants, and her strike was barely fended off by Colt’s slime.
Bad, then.
Sweat beaded on the teenager’s forehead as he tried to fend off the immaterial blade with nothing but magic lube.
“Colt, switch partners!” Jeb shouted from the entrance, pointing over his shoulder.
Jeb bunched his legs under him and pushed off, sailing high through the air while Colt took the opportunity to blast the corrupt judge in the face with slime, causing the man to slip from his feet and begin sliding through the courtyard at full speed.
Unable to affect physics with his Myst or Class Ability, the judge simply floundered, sliding past them until he smacked into the inner courtyard’s brick wall.
“Keep him down!” Jeb shouted, pulling off his mud-covered foot and shouldering it like a rifle. Jeb fed a drop of Myst through the gold whorl that indicated the Myst intake port.
…Nothing happened.
Where’s my ‘womp’?
The cops, ever so helpful, must have removed the hidden weapon to make it street-legal.
Sonofabitch!
His stubby, short-range depression wand had been confiscated after he’d whammied the bailiff, so he couldn’t even take these people out through ennui.
Guess we gotta do this the old-fashioned way, Jeb thought, grimly staring down the Myst user as he hopped in place on one foot.
The woman came to her senses moments after Jeb landed, sending a snakelike projection of red Myst toward him. Jeb’s blood seemed to strain in his veins as the attack came close to him, seemingly attracted to the snake through some kind of gravitational force that only affected blood.
Jeb lunged forward, diving under the projection, the skin of his back rippling with burst blood vessels. With a grunt, Jeb sent his own Myst outward, a chisel-shaped projection of force.
Jeb deliberately dragged the chisel shape through the ground roughly ten feet in front of the keegan woman.
The chisel violently kicked up sand and rocks, blasting Jeb’s opponent in the face with blinding shrapnel. She screamed, covering her eyes.
