Alexa Drey- the Gates of Striker Bay

by Ember Lane

  The ring of bladed mantises were larger, perhaps a foot higher than the soldiers. They were similar in every way apart from one. Their front legs were their swords: vicious, katana-like, long and thin appendages, that looked as devastating as they no doubt were.

  Beside them, and closer to me, the smaller firespit mantises were dressed in crimson cloaks. Their heads were the same color, and their larval eyes brimmed with fire, a constant, swirling orange. They were my targets, but my eyes were drawn to Pog’s mark, the mageborn, and I doubted the feasibility of our plan for the first time.

  The mageborn was the tallest, easily twelve feet high. It had an air of power. Its shining emerald robe flowed from its proud head which was a sparkling emerald and had eyes planted atop that reflected a regal mauve. It held a silver-steel staff in its claws. All this was fine, to be expected from a mage, but it did present one problem.

  It was way bigger than either Pog or I had imagined, and it was his target not mine.

  What kind of trial would this be?

  There was no doubt about it in my mind. This group had been sent to end us—no more, no less. I doubled down on my determination. We had to stick to the plan, and I was to trigger its start. The mantis army closed in, the knock of its march now a beat that signaled our oncoming battle. I ducked into my meditations, checked my mana levels, and calmed, quickly retreating into my peace.

  This was going to be a test.

  I knew that.

  I closed my eyes and listened. I took that moment, happy to be within myself, focusing on balance.

  Yes, it was a test, and for the sake of all, we had to pass it.

  Exhaling, I looked out over the Nexus Fault. The soldiers passed me, lurching, marching, compound eyes ever forward. Next, the razors and the mage marched on and finally the firespit mantises. I counted them past, and when the last one showed its back to me I opened fire with a flurry of magic. Peppering them with my gray-black bullets, I fired along their line and then immediately sent a disc of scything magic at them in an attempt to sever their ghastly, red heads.

  Three went down under the initial onslaught, but my magic seemed to be weakened as it progressed along the line, like they were absorbing it rather than deflecting. The other two turned to me, the last in line spouting a thin laser of molten magic. I ducked, rolled to the very edge of my perch, loosing another blast at the weakened fourth firespit mantis. Its head exploded, sending oily licks of magma all over. The laser blast hit home at the same time, exploding on the rock where I’d been seconds before, its punch sending me flying into the main body of the mantis army.

  A flash of emerald lit up the Nexus Fault. The mageborn mantis had joined the fray, and that meant Pog had failed to stealth him. I slid to a stop on my back, my hands raised and pouring magic out in a severing line. I was midway between the soldiers and the razors. Both their hind legs were weak. I ruined them easily and several went down as I slid past, grinding to an exposed halt.

  “Pog!” I screamed as mayhem erupted.

  A razor-sharp appendage arced down toward me, the twisted grimace of the mutated razor mantis staring down at me. I equipped the black knight's staff, bringing it across my body and snagging the falling blade in the nick of time. I forced it back, winning the battle of strength quite easily. Then I heard a bark, a clap more like a puff, and a cloud of emerald static enveloped me sending shocks to every part of my body. I writhed around trying to rid myself of its immobilizing effect. I was open, much more vulnerable than I would have liked. Forcing my manas to the surface, I expelled the mageborn mantis’s corruption, my magic countering it, blowing it away.

  Before I knew it, I was up on my feet. I sprayed a fast blast of magic around me to buy me a few precious seconds. A quick glance at the mageborn, and I saw Pog was on it now, his arm around its neck, his knife stabbing out its eyes. It was Pog’s favored attack, no doubt about that.

  I, on the other hand, was surrounded. The soldiers and the razors closed in. I sprayed my magic again, but once more, it faded after it had hit a few. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the last firespit hatch a red laser bolt. There were too many, and our preferred hit-and-run strategy was in tatters.

  Then, like a chorus of berserker angels, Mezzerain’s battle cry sounded, the soldier’s line buckling as the big man clashed. I heard Charlotte’s shrill scream followed by shouts of “Bash! Bam! Bash!” Faulk’s wild screams followed.

  I swapped my staff for my scarletite axes and cleared a way to the last remaining firespit. He sent me his laser, and I returned the favor with a devastating blast of my own magic. I took his hit, staggering briefly, Talbear’s armor holding firm. The firespit went down, so I chopped my way through the razors, ducking, weaving, using every move I could muster, every ounce of my new power and strength.

  Pog still fought the mageborn. As he stabbed one eye out, the other appeared to regenerate. I sent a flurry of bullets into its gut then set to work on its gangly, front legs. The scarletite severed them easily. I knew to aim for the joints. The mageborn went down on it knees. As it did, it began to summon its magic, green power crackling around it like a dire aura.

  “Run!” I screamed at Pog, and he instantly understood, dropping from the mantis’s neck, severing a razor mantis’s head on the way down. “All of you, run!” I screamed, sending a debilitating bolt into the dying mageborn and then darting for the farthest wall. I threw myself on the wet floor and slid along to crash into the black blocks.

  The mageborn exploded, showering us with its guts and ichor: a second wave strafing us as it took out the remnants of its own army. Flesh and chitin rained down briefly, a futile splattering. I pushed myself up, easing myself around and slumping back against the fault’s wall. I took a huge breath, relief washing over me as I saw Pog get up and stumble toward me. Sutech spit out a load of bug guts, and Mezzerain growled and grumbled his way to his feet.

  “That could have gone better,” Pog said as he slumped next to me.

  “What happened?” I asked, scraping the bug guts from my face.

  “He sensed me. Must have had some kind of perimeter protection.” Pog shrugged. “Got through it in the end, just cost a bit of pain.” He grinned, and I couldn’t work out what was so funny. “We have our answer, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look’s like Faulk’s immune to magic.” Pog pointed out.

  The devastation spread all around: their corpses piled like a ghoulish crater. Faulk was sitting up, right in the middle of it all. At first I thought he looked dazed and confused, but then I got the impression he was actually sitting there fairly revolted about the state of his new suit. As if to confirm my suspicions, he began to pick bits of bug off it one by one. He looked like he was retching as he pried off chitin scales, their slime trails sticking to him. He discarded them with the revulsion of a germaphobe in a trash chute, finally pushing himself up and looking around.

  “Well, that ended as quick as it started,” he said then looked toward Pog and I before finally standing up.

  “I was beginning to think he’d gotten his legs blown off,” Pog whispered to me.

  Sutech was making his way toward us. He looked a bit mad.

  “Before you say anything,” I protested, “the plan went slightly wrong.”

  “Just slightly,” he replied, surveying the scene. “What was the plan?”

  “Short version?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Too many to defend in a little horseshoe. They were marching too fast for us to go back and tell you. We decided to thin the herd, but they had a few tricks up their sleeves.”

  Sutech assessed my words.

  “I’d say the correct choice. Battle is fluid, Alexa. It can’t always be fought on the terms we’d want. What did you learn?”

  Pog passed me his water bottle. I took a drink while I thought.

  “They have no defense, but they’ve adapted. I think that once they receive a critical blast something alters, and their bodie
s become sponges, soaking in as much magic as possible to protect the next in line. That was the impression I got from the firespits and the soldiers.”

  “And the mage?” Sutech inquired.

  Pog stepped forward. “It can’t defend—use defensive magic, but it regenerated instead. Much the same thing, really, a cheat, a hack, and one we don’t have available to us. We have to accept that this is their land, and they’ve evolved the cheats.”

  Sutech knelt before him, tapping his shoulder. “Indeed, but you’ll think about it for me, won’t you? A way around it would be good. Give us back at least parity, if not an advantage.”

  “Nearly there already,” Pog said confidently.

  “Good man,” Sutech said, rising and turning to Faulk. “What part of run didn’t you understand?” he growled, as close to an admonishment as I’d heard slip from him.

  Faulk took his helmet off, walking over to us. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  If it hadn’t been for all the blood and guts, for our recent narrow escape, I would have laughed. Pog held no such reservations, giggling all the way over to his friend and snatching the helmet.

  “Let me have a look.”

  He fiddled with it, teasing something around, and then flipping it over and doing the same to the other side. “There, try that. Some form of vapor protection over the ears.”

  Faulk slipped the helmet back on, trying to avoid the goo dripping from its rim.

  “Can you hear me?” Pog shouted.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Faulk said, waving him down. “No need to shout. Loud and clear.”

  “So,” Pog surmised, “no defensive magic, but your gear works to counter it.” He reached out, brushing his fingers against Faulk’s suit. “Interesting.”

  “That was so much fun.” Charlotte broke the tension, swooshing onto the scene, wielding my staff like a long bat. “B-bam! C-crash! I got one, maybe two, before they did that self-destruct thingy.”

  “Did any get you?” I asked.

  “Not a scratch. Seems my Billy might just be adverse to fighting against Ruse.”

  Hedging his bets? It fit. He had a history of it.

  “Let’s move out,” Mezzerain said as he fished in the remnants of the mageborn’s guts and pulled out a silver staff. “Any good to anyone?”

  Pog darted over, looking at it with envious eyes before saying, “Alexa’s the only one with real magic. Mine’s just spells ‘n stuff.”

  Mezzerain tossed it at me.

  It wasn’t a staff at all.

  Nexus Rod

  The Nexus Rod consists of shadowmana in its purest form. While the rod has no magical power itself, it acts as a conduit and amplifier. As shadow magic passes through the rod, the shadowmana, trapped in the solid lattice of the rod, agitates the passing magic and sends it on in an enhanced state. The level of enhancement is subject to the charge the Nexus Rod is carrying at the time. The rod currently has 0 charge and would amplify any magic passing through it by a multiple of 1. The rod may only be charged by placing it in its designated charging area or by cycling passive shadowmana through it. Caution! Cycling agitated shadowmana through it will cause its internal lattice to break down and the Nexus Rod to explode. Nexus Rods are linked to their owner. As the last owner of this rod has perished, it may be claimed. In order to claim it, you must be a child of Ruse and have shadowmana cycling your core. Do you wish to claim the Nexus Rod?

  Y/N

  It wasn’t a hard choice, apart from the child of Ruse thing, but then I guessed I was as good as adopted.

  “Yes.”

  State your name.

  “Alexa Drey.”

  Accepted. You are now in possession of the Nexus Rod. Your name has been added to the register of all rod owners.

  “Shit,” I said. “I think we have a problem.”

  “What is it?” Pog asked, reaching out to grab it.

  I pulled it away from him. “Not quite what it seems.”

  “Let’s move out,” Mezzerain pressed. “Find somewhere to eat whatever we have, at the very least.”

  “Somewhere to wash would be mighty fine,” Faulk added, still sloughing guts off his new suit.

  “Let me go have a look-see,” Charlotte said, on a high from her bug-bashing victory. She vanished, swishing my staff in the air like she was swatting wasps.

  I reinforced my awareness, noting her distraction, and we all moved out.

  “So what’s up with the staff?” Sutech asked me, drawing me aside.

  “It’s no staff,” I told him then told him what I knew.

  “So they know we’re coming,” he surmised.

  “I think we have to assume that it's put us in Ruse, but it depends if anyone takes any note of this register. It might just be a dusty book in a library, somewhere in Slaughtower. It might be something like a duty rosta. Let’s hope for dusty book.”

  “Except!” Pog exclaimed, drawing alongside us. “Except this land seems a little different. Dust-covered ledgers don’t quite suit it. Anyone surviving here had to do it the hard way.”

  I knew what he meant. This was one barren place. It was certainly no Valkyrie where folks still thrived even under the oppression of the combinium. Plus it was medieval but not quite. A lot didn’t fit with the general feel of Barakdor. I could almost see my name plastered across some information screen, flashing in bright blue neon as similarly dressed operatives looked up.

  “Let’s hope for the anonymous book, anyhow,” I said, and we walked on in silence until Charlotte reappeared.

  “Found somewhere,” she said and proceeded to lead us away, near skipping.

  We traveled for around an hour without incident. The Nexus Fault remained its constant monotonous self, thankfully. I did feel the presence of a few side passageways here and there but nothing that had any threat to it or even life about it.

  But it came, inevitably. A pulse of life throbbing away from up ahead.

  “We’re getting close to whatever she’s found,” I told them all.

  “Form up?” Sutech asked.

  “I don’t sense anything other than passive life. I think we may be okay.”

  “Good enough.”

  Charlotte stopped, offering out my staff like a route marker and directing us to another gap in the black blocks. “It’s this way.”

  “Pog, check it out,” Sutech ordered.

  Our thief stole into the passageway, back nearly as soon as he’d left. Two thumbs-up from Pog, and we all followed.

  Charlotte had picked well.

  The passageway led to a hollowed-out cavern. Water fell from a ledge at its rear that bled gray light in from above. Fresh air flowed down. Well, as fresh as anything was in this land. The water pooled in a square lagoon around twenty by twenty in size. A skirt of large, leafy mushrooms grew around it, iridescent-pink caps and vibrant-yellow gills throwing a pretty light around. It lent the look of some secret, luxurious, underground utopia, but I knew that was a long way from the truth. No such places existed in Ruse. This was as good as it gets, though. There were even ledges that would double as beds and an area we could cook and chill.

  “Looks ideal for a rest stop,” Mezzerain said, poking around, looking under the fungal caps as he checked for any sign of hidden danger.

  “And about the right spot,” Billy added, poking his head in. “By my reckoning the Nexus Fault ends in a couple of hours. It’s all above ground then. You won't find anything but wind-whipped slopes and black desert.”

  It sounded wonderful.

  “Then let's make the most of it,” Sutech said, stripping off his jacket and bending by the pool. He cupped some water, splashing his face, and gasping with tiredness. It was hard leading, taking the responsibility. He was doing well. I’d chosen well.

  I wondered if Pog had thought any further.

  Faulk ignored any attempt at cooking, choosing to finally clean himself up. As soon as he was done, though, he set about his chores. He was our quartermaster. I conjured him a focused gl
owsphere like before, and then finally at a loose end, I had a long bathe in the pool, all the while keeping my awareness solid.

  It struck me that it was an odd, out-of-place sanctuary, and at first, I worried that it had been formed just to hold us here. It seemed too convenient that it had just appeared the moment I turned up in some ledger. But it didn’t look like it had just been created. The pool filled and drained, its overflow vanishing into an eroded channel. The mushrooms sprouted from the lines between the blocks, their great leaves soaking up the light spreading from the top of the waterfall. If anything, it looked natural, like it was supposed to be. Perhaps I was just suspicious after the bland sameness of the Nexus Fault.

  “Just chill, Alexa,” Pog told me, swimming over. “Make the most of it.”

  I scoffed, “I’m trying. It’s just that…”

  “That it’s too nice, too needed, too welcome, too convenient.”

  “And maybe too deserved too. Did you ever think of that?” I asked him.

  “Hey!” Faulk shouted. “Anyone got any idea if the fungus is edible?”

  Mezzerain bit some off, nibbling at it. “Seems okay.”

  I tried my perception but got nothing.

  “That,” Billy said, sashaying over to the pink beds. “That, my friends, is probably Ruse’s gift to the world. It’s a delicacy. It’s a luxury. Pick what you need but leave enough to let it grow some more.”

  “What’s it called?” Mezzerain asked, still nibbling and clearly unsure.

  “Trust me, Big Man, it’s pure bliss when boiled,” Billy told him. “It is called parish shalmane. A rough translation would be passion fungus.”

  I choked a little. “Passion?”