by Rachel Aaron
"Sir knight?"
Nothing.
Frantic, SB reached up to check the knight's neck, slumping in relief when he felt a heartbeat--barely there but still moving.
"Doctor! Cleric!" SilentBlayde shouted, leaping out of his cot. "Anyone!"
At his ruckus, a tired and blood-splattered Cleric came over. "What?"
"This knight is dying!" SB said, crouching beside the old man. "He needs healing now!"
The jubatus Cleric's tired, empty eyes barely moved at SilentBlayde's panic. He simply shrugged and leaned over, prying open the old knight's eyes. "I'm afraid he's too far gone," the Cleric said wearily as he straightened up. "And he's level eighty, which means there's not enough mana left in this whole tent to save him. Sorry, son."
"A resurrection, then," SB pleaded. "He doesn't deserve this!"
"None of us deserves this!" the Cleric yelled back at him, suddenly furious. "You think we like watching people die? But we only have so much mana to go around, and Raise Ally takes most of it! Even if I did have the magic left, bringing him back means twenty other people would have to go without healing that could save their lives. Do they deserve that?"
"No," Blayde said feebly. "No, they don't."
The Cleric gave him a sharp nod and stalked away, muttering under his breath. SB flopped back down on his cot, listening to the old knight's breath as it grew shallower and shallower. "What is your name?" he whispered. "Please, give me that at least."
But the knight never spoke again. He died a few minutes later, leaving SB sitting alone. The Cleric came back to move the body soon after, saying something about needing the beds, but SilentBlayde didn't hear him. He just lay on his back, staring at the ceiling without seeing it until sleep took him again.
There were no dreams this time. When he opened his eyes again, the tent was gray with the first light of the false dawn. There was a new body huddled under blankets on the old knight's cot, but SB didn't look at him. He just stood up and tested his leg, putting as much of his weight on it as he could. It still twinged, but he was able to walk several steps without a crutch, which would have to be good enough.
The overworked Clerics didn't even question him when he gathered his things and left the tent. The guards at the barricade were a bit more trouble, but their job was to keep players out, not citizens in. They did their due diligence and informed him of the danger, but when "Master Sky" insisted he was leaving to find his family, they didn't lift a finger to stop him as he climbed over the barricade and hurried down the stairs, limping down the street as fast as he could go.
The moment he was out of sight, SB slipped into an abandoned house and changed back into his armor. It was still clammy with blood, but the augmented strength and power made him feel a million times better. The first step on his injured leg was a pointed reminder that he still had to take it easy, though, so kept his short cloak and face wrap in his bag and donned his NPC disguise over his armor. It wouldn't hold up to more than a casual glance, but he felt he could handle some unwanted attention now, and speed was of the essence. He wasn't sure if Malakai's attack would come today or tomorrow, but he was certain it would be soon, and he needed to warn Tina as soon as possible. Thankfully, he knew where she was now, so he wrapped Master Sky's tattered cloak tight around his body and started walking as fast as he could south through the wrecked city toward the island of Dawn's Hope.
Chapter 10
James
James must have passed out after they put SB in the barrel. One minute, he was bouncing through the streets on Ar'Bati's hard shoulder, and the next, he was waking up to the glorious rush of magical healing.
His eyes snapped open, and he instinctively tried to sit up. But his head was euphoric and dizzy, so he ended up going right back down, blinking in confusion. He was still trying to figure out where he was when a delicate, feminine, feline face appeared above him.
"I think I got the worst of it," the jubatus woman said, her pretty voice twanging with a distinct New Jersey accent. "He's still pretty low, but I'm only level twenty-three, and he's probably eighty at least. That's the best I can do."
"It's fine," replied the gruff voice of Fangs in the Grass. "He's awake now. You are dismissed."
The jubatus player, whom James could now see was dressed in the bright-pink robes and blue bracers of a low-level Cleric, turned up her nose and stalked away. Wincing at his brother's rudeness, James pushed himself up groggily.
They were in a cage--a big, metal cage, which explained the stripes he'd seen earlier. The floor was lined with dirty blankets, and there was a large, smelly bucket in one corner, but other than being incarcerated, the handful of players locked inside looked unharmed. They were also--with the exception of Flameboyant, who was sitting against the bars near James's feet--all jubatus, which struck him as odd. Sitting up further, he saw that their cage was one of many set up in the middle of an elegant flagstone street.
They were all full of players divided by race, but when he looked around at the lantern-lit buildings, he understood why. They were on Embassy Row, the street in the Diplomatic Quarter where all the different racial factions in the game had their Bastion headquarters. Their cage--and the other three cages filled with jubatus players--was in front of a large yurt bearing the sigils of the Four Clans of the Savanna. A short distance away, two cages stuffed full of scaly fish-men and fish-women had been set up in front of the fishbowl-like ichthyian embassy, and so on down the road. What caught James's attention the most, though, was how not on fire everything was.
With the exception of the new open-air jail, Embassy Row looked exactly as it had in-game. There were no broken windows or smashed-in doors or blood on cobblestones. The lamps were lit and burning merrily, filling the dark street with cheerful golden light. He couldn't see past the large, ornate embassy buildings into the main part of the Diplomatic Quarter, so maybe that was where all the crazy improvised fortifications and wreckage lived, but it looked as if this place had at least escaped the chaos, probably because Embassy Row was nestled right up against the towering outer wall of the royal castle, which meant they were closer to the king than they'd ever been.
Grinning at the prospect, James turned to face his brother. "Thanks for finding me heals," he said, nodding gratefully to the jubatus Cleric, who rolled her cat-eyes. "Looks like we made it to the Diplomatic Quarter."
"Yup," Flameboyant said cheerfully. "Your brother carried us both the whole way and yelled at the City Guards until they let us in. He's one tough mofo!"
"I did what I had to do," Fangs said, though James didn't miss the way he puffed up at the praise. "But we are still imprisoned despite my efforts, and Flam-boy-ant cannot yet walk."
"I figured you needed it more," Flameboyant explained. "We couldn't wake you after you conked out on Ar'Bati's shoulder."
"I intended to take you to one of our Naturalists at the Embassy," Ar'Bati continued. "But idiots refused to listen to reason, and now we are here."
"I'm not surprised they stuck us in a cage," James said. "A mini-boss from Windy Lake coming in with two wounded players on his shoulders probably did look hella suspicious."
"I am surprised!" his brother hissed at him. "Use your eyes!"
James blinked and turned to look again. He saw the other players cowering from Ar'Bati. He saw the embassies and the guards assigned to cage duty. His eyes had already moved on farther down the street when they suddenly snapped back. The men guarding them weren't Royal Knights. They weren't Bastion's City Guard, either, or human at all. They were tan-furred jubatus warriors whose shields and armor bore the sigils of the Four Clans of the Savanna.
"Wait," James said, turning back to Fangs. "Are we being held in here by your warriors?"
Ar'Bati punched the dirty ground. "We are. Filthy traitors! They've always resented me since it is in some ways true that our father purchased my position. Now that I've shown up with players in tow, they're acting as if I'm a turncoat. They refuse to believe that you are the son
of Rend himself and speak of nothing but their loyalty to the king of Bastion and how they must wait for orders from the castle."
James sighed. He'd forgotten about the embassy guards. There were only a handful of quests that took place in the Diplomatic Quarter, and those were mostly low-level, intro-to-the-world stuff. But though it had been a very under-utilized part of the world, it was still a part of Bastion near the castle. That meant all the peacekeeper, guard-style NPCs had been level eighty just like the Royal Knights, including the jubatus warriors.
"I can't believe we've been imprisoned by those who are supposed to follow my orders as Head Warrior!" Ar'Bati hissed, bearing his fangs at the jubatus outside, who ignored him. "This is rank betrayal!"
"There is a bright side, though," James said with a smile. "These guys are max level."
"That only makes our situation even more difficult!"
"Right now," James said. "But you were worried about the clans being too low-level to fight back. Now we've discovered you have an entire contingent of high-level warriors. That's a huge find! Just think how happy your dad will be when he hears the news. When we get out of this, we'll send word to your mother, Acacia. She was the ambassador here, so they'll listen to her."
Ar'Bati's face, which he had scrunched up in fury at the words "low-level," fell into shocked awe. "James," he said, clapping a hand on James's shoulder. "I am so glad you are my brother!"
"Eyes on the prize," James replied with a grin.
"I like that player saying," Fangs said with a sharp nod. Then he frowned. "But how are we getting out of here? The warriors will not listen to anything I say, and the City Guard has taken over the rest of the Diplomatic Quarter to serve as a refugee camp for the displaced citizens of Bastion. Everyone here sees players as the enemy. Even if we were to read the lich's letters aloud, no one would believe us."
That was a problem. James frowned, staring down the cage-filled street as he turned the situation over in his head. He was still looking for an angle they could use when he spotted another tent a few buildings down the road. It looked a little bit like the Savanna clans' giant yurt, but unlike Windy Lake's smooth-shaved white hide, this one was made from thick pelts and giant tusks and guarded by a pair of fearsome-looking cat warriors with fluffy snow-white fur.
"Fangs," James said, pointing at the white cats. "How are our relations with the Winter Nation?"
"You mean the Unciatus?" Ar'Bati scowled. "Distant. We share a physical likeness but little else. Why?"
"Cause I think I've got a trick we haven't tried yet," James said, grabbing the bars and pulling himself to his feet. "Help me get their attention."
Before Ar'Bati could ask what he meant by that, James took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Unciatus of the Winter Nation! The son of Rends Iron Hides wishes to speak with your ambassador!"
Every player in the cage jumped at his shout. Ar'Bati jumped as well, tail bristling. "What are you doing?" he snapped, grabbing James by the shoulders. "You can't just bellow down the street like an animal!"
"We're not getting anywhere being quiet," James pointed out. "No one else is listening to us, and jubatus of the Savanna don't even have an ambassador in Bastion anymore since the Nightmare sent your mother back to Windy Lake."
"That still doesn't explain why you're yelling at the Unciatus!" Ar'Bati snapped, glaring through the bars at the white-furred guards, who were looking at James with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "You think that just because both of our peoples resemble cats that the Winter Nation is automatically our ally? We don't even have relations with them!"
"I didn't choose them because of their race," James said confidently. "I chose them because I've done every quest in the royal castle there is. Every. Single. One. I've delivered every secret note and fetched every cask of rare wine for every stupid noble in that place, including Lady Siku, the Unciatus's ambassador. Trust me, if she's a tenth as ambitious now as she was back in the game, she'll come out."
Ar'Bati didn't seem to know what to make of that, so James just flashed him a fanged grin and turned to yell again. "Hello! We have vital diplomatic information Lady Siku needs to hear! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to gain the king's favor!"
He kept this up for a good twenty minutes. From the pain on his face, Ar'Bati clearly hated every second of it, but he didn't say another word. James was beginning to worry his voice would give out when one of the white-furred Unciatus guards left his post and jogged across the street to the heavily fortified side entrance into the royal castle. After a quick conversation, the Royal Knights guarding the door let him pass, and the Unciatus warrior vanished into the castle.
After another long wait, he reemerged, only this time, he wasn't alone. There was a whole squad of white-furred cat warriors coming out through the door with him. James assumed that their fur-lined blue-dyed armor and whalebone spears were traditional garb, because he couldn't believe that anyone would choose to wear such warm clothing in the sweltering, tropical heat of Bastion, but the real prize went to the tall Unciatus woman walking at the center of the group.
She was dressed from head to toe in heavy white silk robes tied at the waist with a stiff, obi-like leather belt depicting ivory-beaded Unciatus whalers spearing one of the great beasts that lived in FFO's deep seas. Her long, fluffy fur was pure white marked with the crispest, darkest of black spots, and her protruding fangs were as sharp as swords. Even in this hot, dusty place, James could smell the scent of fresh snow coming off her as she approached their cage, her lovely face set in the cat-person version of an aristocratic sneer as her ice-blue eyes took in the filthy, cowering players and the bloody state of James and Ar'Bati's armor.
"Lady Siku," James said quickly, determined to get the first word in since he was negotiating from inside a cage and needed every edge he could get. "Your fame precedes you. Thanks for coming."
"It was not as though I had anything better to do," the Unciatus lady replied in a crisp, condescending voice. "The king has confined all the ambassadors to the castle during this unpleasantness, so all business has ground to a halt." She looked James up and down. "I don't normally respond to summonses, especially not those shouted on the street. You said you had something important for me, player. Speak it quickly, and mind your tongue. I'll not tolerate impudence from filthy strays."
Ar'Bati bared his teeth at that. "You are the one who should mind how she speaks," he snarled. "I am Fangs in Grass, Ar'Bati of the Clans of the Savanna and heir to the Claw Born. This is my adopted brother, James of Claw Born and hero of the Savanna."
"Hero?" Lady Siku chuckled. "I suppose it's not hard to be heroic in such a low-level zone, though I am shocked to hear the heir of Claw Born call a player brother. Did Rends Iron Hides finally take one too many hits to the head?"
Ar'Bati clenched his fists. "We have just met, but already you dismiss my brother's deeds and insult my family? On my honor, I could demand a duel for either!"
"Nonsense," Lady Siku said with a coy smile. "I was only asking questions, not making claims. Don't be so prickly." Her blue eyes lit up. "Wait. Aren't you the one they call Angry Cat?"
If Fangs had been angry before, he was nuclear now. James grabbed his shoulder to remind him of their mission, but his brother shrugged him off, grabbing the bars that separated them from Lady Siku, who was clearly loving this reaction. But as James braced for the explosion, his brother surprised him.
"I refuse to answer that question because it has nothing to do with why we are here," Ar'Bati said through clenched fangs. "We are here on a matter of great import to Bastion and all the world. These fools"--he looked pointedly at the jubatus warriors, who were blatantly gawking at Lady Siku--"will not listen, but my brother, James, believes you might. So if you are done wasting our time on insults, we must discuss information critical to Bastion's survival."
"I'll be the judge of what counts as important," Lady Siku replied, turning to James, who flinched. The jubatus lady was lovely, b
ut she had the hardest, coldest eyes he'd ever seen, like chips of blue ice. For all her haughtiness, though, she was still here, which meant she'd already listened more than anyone else. That was an opportunity he couldn't waste, so he rushed to say what he'd been trying to say since they'd stepped through the portal in the grasslands.
"The Once King's armies are readying to invade Bastion," he told her, grabbing his bag full of letters. "We have intercepted enemy communications that prove a conspiracy to sabotage the city's defenses. The undead armies are already massing in every zone. When the traitors act, they will teleport into Bastion and attack us from the inside. It could already be happening. We must notify the king and stop the Once King's agents before it is too late!"
He was panting by the time he finished, but instead of freaking out as he'd expected, Lady Siku just gave him a weighing look. "That is an interesting claim," she said at last, drawing a silk fan from her wide sleeve to wave the evening heat away from her face. "But what does a player know of the Once King? The undead cannot invade. We are safe inside the Bastion."
"Did you not hear me?" James said angrily. "They have a traitor inside the city! One of the portal keepers who has betrayed the king is going to teleport the Once King's armies into the center of the city. The city walls will do nothing to--"
"I'm not talking about the walls," she said condescendingly. When James looked at her in confusion, she snapped her fan closed and pointed at the sky.
More confused than ever, James looked up through the cage bars, and his eyes went wide. All this time, he'd assumed the golden glow lighting up the city night came from the lanterns that lined the wealthy Embassy Row, but that wasn't it at all. The night sky itself was glowing, the stars dim behind a golden shield of shimmering, watery sunlight. He'd never seen anything like it, but he knew what it was, and he understood what Lady Siku meant now. She hadn't been talking about the city of Bastion. She'd meant they were safe behind the Bastion, the Holy King's sacred barrier against undeath.
