“I know you’re tired,” I tell Wolf. “But maybe if we get out of this area … ”
The Tagvornin beast gets the point and starts running faster than he has run in hours. Sam laughs, holding on as tightly as she can, and I hold onto her, because Wolf doesn’t have a saddle and he especially doesn’t have a two person saddle.
I share a little laugh with the voice at the back of my skull.
Wouldn’t that look stupid, a double-saddled wolf.
We tear out of the forest and into a meadow with a small pond and a little shack on its other side, a light on inside. I’m about to suggest we move along when a bearded man with a limp kicks open the door, lantern in hand.
“A giant? Shit!”
[Hermit, level 40]
I get off Wolf, and as I walk over to the man, I think about equipping my Masking Hat. No sense in scaring him, but then again, Sam is a Player Killer too, so he’ll find out at some point. And besides that, one doesn’t become a Level 40 hermit without meeting a Player Killer and surviving a ton of shit.
“I’d clear out if I was you guys,” he says, his accent East Coast all the way. “Damn mosquito moths take over the meadow every night, let me tell ya.”
No quests, I think, we have a timeline.
“Sorry, can’t help you there.”
“Help me? I don’t need help, that is, unless you have some way to nuke the whole goddamn meadow and keep my house here intact. Anyway, Player Killer, I heard some noise, which was likely the giant trotting along, and so I decided to check it out.”
“Great, we’ll be on our way then.”
“But if it is a quest you’re after,” he says, running his fingers through his long and pointy beard, “I bet I can conjure something up.”
“We’re beyond quests at this point,” I say.
“Too high up on the food chain for a quest, are you? Can’t help an old man out?”
“You’re a Player Character, like me. We don’t need a quest. For once, we’re not here to play the game.” I turn my back to him and see Sam, Lothar, and Wolf. The giant is clearly tired. He sits on his meditations box, watching me for any signal.
“You aren’t wrong about that, and I didn’t get to my current level by forcing people to do menial tasks for me. What are you looking for in these parts? A place to stay?”
“No, we need to travel for the rest of the night. If anything, I need a place to brew some tea.”
“Can’t help you there.” He chuckles. “Well, I suppose I could help you, but you’d have to help me monetarily if you get my drift.”
“If it’s money you want,” I clear my throat, “it’s money we have.”
“Good, give me three thousand lira and I’ll cook the tea up for you, quick too, before the mosquito moths appear.”
“Let me talk to my, um, guild banker.”
“The woman monk over there?”
“How’d you know?”
“My house is the same. Mother controls all the money.”
I cringe a bit at his toothy grin. “Mother?”
“It’s what I call my wife. Is that strange to you?”
“Do you have children?”
“No.”
“Animals?”
“No. I’m allergic.”
“Is she older than you?”
“Same age.”
I raise an eyebrow at the hermit. “No, calling your wife ‘Mother’ isn’t strange.”
“Mother only lets me log in after she’s gone to bed.” He points at his temple. “But I got a Somnium skip box. That’s why I’m at such a high level. I really don’t do anything that’s risky. No sense in it. Unigaea is a scary place, but it’s fun, and that’s why I’m glad Mother lets me log in.”
You weird fucker, I think as I walk back over to Sam and give her my biggest, most sincere shit-eating grin. “He’s an old Player Character hermit, and he wants three thousand lira to boil some tea for us.”
“No more tea,” Lothar says.
“Shut up. Also, he calls his wife ‘Mother.’ I don’t know why that is of any significance, but I do think it’s something to be wary of.”
Sam snorts. “Maybe they have children.”
“I already checked.”
“Did you ask if she was older than him?”
“Same age.”
“Animals?”
“He’s allergic.”
“He’s a weirdo.”
“So judgmental you two are!” Lothar sighs miserably. “I’m tired of walking. To be honest with you both, I feel like reading and I wouldn’t mind a conversation, even if the hermit is unorthodox. I suppose most hermits are unorthodox, if you think about it.”
“So three thousand lira, then, Sam, hand it over. And Lothar?” I look up at the scholarly giant, whose oval glasses now rest on the end of his nose.
“Yes?”
“What are you going to tell the hermit about our money?”
“You mean our fake currency?”
I bury my head in my hands as Sam laughs.
Lothar chuckles too. “Don’t worry, Oric, I won’t say anything this time. I’ve learned my lesson: if there is something shady afoot, and I am somehow part of it, any type of verbal confirmation is exceedingly unhelpful.”
Chapter Ten: Skeletal Wolves and the Necromancer that Loves Them
The giant keeps his word, and after the monetary exchange is made, the old hermit brews a most excellent tea. Smells a bit odd, but it’ll get the job done. Lothar chugs his down, grimacing at the taste. Wolf won’t touch the stuff, which means I have to figure out a way to force it into his maw, which I do, and which involves tackling him and holding his mouth open as I pour it in.
For another thousand counterfeit lira, we are given a lamp which provides lighting for Sam, Wolf and I, but not so much for Lothar. It’s a cold night, with some snowfall to boot. Breezy too, and as we travel deeper into the dark forest, I occasionally get a whiff of burning wood.
“There’s no telling who lives around here,” I say just to say something.
Sam yawns and leans her head back, so it now rests on my clavicle.
“Getting tired there, Sammy?”
“We’ve been at it all day,” she says. “Take your gauntlets off; they’re digging into my arms.”
“It’s Lothar and Wolf who’ve been doing all the dirty work,” I remind her.
Wolf skids to a halt, bristles. He barks at the darkness that lies ahead.
Lothar, a few paces behind us, stops and brushes a tree limb out of his path. The giant’s movements are loud, brash, his meditations box skidding on the ground behind him.
It’s a wonder we’ve made it this deep into the woods without stirring up some trouble, which is why I’m not at all surprised when I hear something clack onto the path before us. The light from the lamp isn’t bright enough for me to actually see what has made its presence known, and handles have yet to appear …
“Stay here,” I tell Sam as I get off Wolf. “And hold the lamp.” My blade unsheathed, I keep it at the ready as my eyes adjust to the space before me.
“What do you think it is?” Lothar is answered when a skeletal Tagvornin wolf with flesh hanging from its ribs steps out of the forested gloom.
“Easy,” Sam says as she hops off Wolf. She holds the lamp out at an angle so we can get a better view of the beast.
“This isn’t good,” I say as another mangled, skeletal wolf approaches. Wolf snaps his teeth and barks at the two skeletal mutts.
“Your wolf,” says a scratchy voice from the blackness before us.
Purple smoke, its outer edges electric, billows up from the ground and a woman steps out, her skin glowing white. Wisps of hair jut out of her head; her eyes are yellow and she’s completely nude, the skin sagging off her bones.
[Necromancer, Level 20]
A skull-topped staff forms in her hand and she holds it before her as more Tagvornin wolves, each in various stages of decay, come forward. They gnash their teeth, and as t
hey do, bits of rotting flesh flick into the air.
The necromancer floats a foot above the soil.
“Your wolf,” she says again, her voice the final gasp of the living. “The rest of you can pass. It is the wolf I’m interested in.”
I glance at Sam just in time to see her lift her wand and cry, “Metastasize wound!”
The whirling pink blast strikes the necromancer and the magic quickly filters away. A horrific smile paints across her face. “Kill them.”
The necromancer’s wolves descend upon us, barking and snapping their teeth together. I keep waiting for Sam’s magic to take effect, for the necromancer’s wounds to kill the devil woman.
“Let me help!”
To my surprise, Lothar stomps by and crushes one of the wolves with his huge-ass foot.
Instakill!
“Shit!” I say, feeling the quake beneath me, the sickening sound of crunching bones meeting my ears. I spring into action, wielding my Splintered Sword like a madman. The light from Sam’s lamp along with the purple electricity coming off the necromancer is paltry at best; most of my swordplay to come is done defensively.
I blindly swing my broken buster sword in front of me hoping to hit something.
-92 HP! Critical hit!
I send one of the skeletal pups sideways just as a terrible pain runs up my right arm. Another wolf has latched onto my hand, its infected teeth digging in deeply as it drags me to the ground.
“Fuck! It’s got my hand!” I start bashing the wolf’s head with the hilt of my sword. -46 HP! -38 HP!
We hit the ground and Wolf tackles the creature, its teeth shredding the skin from my hand as the two roll away.
I cry out in pain, my hand and wrist a clump of flesh and broken fingers.
Stumbling aside, I swipe my sword in front of me and hit a tree, which sends me backwards.
“Oric!” Lothar kicks another wolf; the skeletal terror whimpers as it flies through the air.
I feel Sam reach for my arm and I whip it away from her. “Stay back!” I shout to her. As Wolf engages a pair of skeletal beasts, I sheathe my Splintered Sword and retrieve my crossbow pistol from my list.
“Fuck you, Oric, I can handle myself! Future Encumbrance!”
The reticle appears on the necromancer’s chest and I fire off a shot, only to be blocked last minute by a Tagvornin zombie wolf.
-81 HP!
The zombie wolf recovers and goes for Wolf, its loose hanging jaw snapping wildly. Before it can get a bite in, a blast of pink energy takes out the nightmare creature, Sam’s delayed strike finding its mark.
I fire off another shot, which meets the same fate as the first.
Wolf snarls as he rolls on the ground with one of the skeletal canines, both of them snapping their jaws as they try to get a bite in.
“They’re too fast!”
My crossbow pistol back in my list, I bring my sword back out and wince at the pain in my shredded hand. The digital adrenaline does little to alleviate the injury; I’m lucky the fucker didn’t get my left hand, southpaw that I am, but from what I can tell so far …
Rage.
“No!”
I fall to one knee as a wave of pain burns up my arm. I hear Wolf snarling, gnashing his teeth, the sound of dog feet cutting through the dirt and leaves on the forest floor.
There are too many.
The damn skeletal wolves will overwhelm us if we don’t get a grip on the situation soon.
“Get back, Oric!” Lothar charges forward, the ground quaking as he kicks another dog.
“Chrono Stasis!”
A blistering spark of energy goes from Sam’s wand to the necromancer. The floating hell spawn’s yellow eyes go wide as she realizes that she’s now moving in ultra-slow motion.
The necromancer starts to raise her hand, but everything has been sped down to a snail’s pace, a frozen snail at that.
“Hurry, Oric!” shouts Sam.
I sprint towards the necromancer; a skeletal hound goes for me and somehow misses. The beast skids, and as it is about to make another attempt, Lothar comes in with a kick that sends the maimed mutt sailing into the forest.
My right hand is completely fucked from the bite. Luckily, I’m a southpaw. I bring my Splintered Sword up and over my shoulder, using all my might to cut the necromancer down, who is still in the process of getting her hand up to cast a spell.
Instakill!
The top half of her body goes one way, still in fucking slow motion, while the bottom half goes another. The zombie wolves surrounding us fall immediately, dead as they were when they were raised.
I take a step back, watching in horror as the necromancer’s face moves slowly through the air, her expression of anguish accented by Sam’s lamp. As soon as the top of her torso nears the ground, time – for her anyway – speeds back up.
Her torso bounces to the right, and she lets out one last gasp as her yellow eyes roll into the back of her head.
The pain spreads up my body, filling me with a blistering warm sensation as if I’m being boiled from within.
I go to my knee, try to steady myself, and that’s when I see a big hand reaching for me.
(^_^)
Freezing water from Lake Michigan washes over the shore. The sound of the waves, the spritz of the cold water, the majesty of it all.
I am at home.
A corona of light from a crimson sun does little to warm my skin. My breath visible, I push myself out of the sand and shake the water from my hair.
A series of images flash before me, a time warp of my digital life, and I suddenly stand in the hotel room in Drachma watching as Deathdale explodes. A ghost of my former self, I step aside and my body flies through the wall, to the other room.
Wolf.
The big Tagvornin beast held his ground for longer than he should. He’s now a heap on the floor, a lifeless black mass. I run to him and try to scoop him up.
My hands press through his body and I awaken.
“Where?”
Everything around me shakes. The ground seems miles away, the foliage of the trees brushes across my back. I feel the urge to vomit and I swallow it down.
As soon as I shut my eyes, I’m back in Ducat in my home, the sound of screams and chaos seeping through a crack in the door. I press the door open and step into the street, my eyes trained on a warrior approaching on a black Shire horse.
The warrior reaches me and turns to smoke, his face now that of the female necromancer I recently killed. Muscles barely covering the woman’s cheeks stretch to their breaking point as she shrieks at me.
“Fuck!” I wake up and start kicking my legs. “Stop! Put me down!”
“Relax, Oric.”
The voice belongs to Lothar, and he’s closer to me than he’s ever been before.
You’re flung over his shoulder, Oric.
Get out of my head, Eric.
I swallow hard and try to steady my gaze as I take another deep breath in. I’m suddenly nauseous, what little I have in my belly ready to come up. “Put … me … down,” I tell the giant as a sharp pain rolls up my arm.
“Would you rather I hold you like a baby?”
“I can walk, dammit!”
Sam laughs with a tinge of hesitation in her voice. “Easy, tough guy, you were passed out back there,” she calls up to me. Wolf barks, his tail beating back and forth. He starts to whine anxiously.
“Let me down, Lothar, I’m fucking serious here!”
Lothar takes a knee and slowly sets me down. I take a rough step forward, steel myself, and steady my balance before face planting.
I glance down at my arm and see that it is less shredded than before. That said, it’s still pretty bad off.
Sam approaches, concern painted across her face. “I fed you a healing potion … ”
“... But the wound’s too deep to heal on its own,” I say. “Infected, too.”
“You need to get to a hospital.” Lothar now sits on his wheeled meditations b
ox, his elbows resting on his knees.
“We don’t have time for that.” I pull up my map to confirm that there are two options: go to Tin Ingot or back to Tael. There’s always Metica, but really, fuck that place. I don’t know how keen Lady Desdemona will be to see us again.
“There’s probably a village in the mountains here,” Sam says. “It’s not on the map.”
“How do you know?”
“Something I learned while I was leading the Tangka Militia. If there is a nook or cranny big enough to hide a civilization, however small, someone will hide there.”
“The only thing we’ll find up there are hermits,” I say with a wince. Damn if my arm isn’t on fire. I turn my hand over slowly, the muscles burning.
“There’s another way,” Lothar says. I can’t quite see his face now, only the reflection of Sam’s lamp on his glasses, but I do see him turn and look at Sam.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“There are blank pages at the back of your Book of Time. I’m sure you noticed.”
“I did.”
“I haven’t read the entire translation of the text at the front of the book, but from what I have read, the Book of Time is in a constant state of improvement, a living will of those who have previously owned it.”
My mouth waters and I taste healing potion. Don’t know why it is coming up now, but I swallow hard, keeping it down as best I can.
A look of realization flashes across Sam’s face as she stares incredulously at the giant. “You mean, other Hourglass Mages have come up with these spells and written them down here. Why didn’t you say so before?”
“We moved to another topic! I believe the pages at the back are for new spells.”
“Speed Heal,” Sam says almost immediately.
“No, no,” I tell her, “I don’t want you to take any more risks.”
Sam presses past me. “That isn’t your decision to make. Let’s get to the nearest campsite.” Her face is illuminated as a map comes up. It’s gone before I can clearly see how she’s set her map. “It won’t be much further.”
“But we need to travel all night.” Wolf barks, as if to punctuate my statement.
“We have,” says Lothar. “You were out for a while.”
The Last Warrior of Unigaea Box Set: A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure Page 47
