Val understood all too well the terrible risk he was taking. A wipeout at what must be well over a hundred miles an hour could kill any man, dwarven armor or no, and he could only hope the purple regeneration potion he had taken to synergize with his own inhumanely rapid healing would save him from certain death, should he end up crashing to the pavement at these speeds.
But his one beautiful trick continued to work flawlessly as he raced along the perfectly straight road, and it was only when he caught the flash of his friends’ ambush point, smiling in exultation, that he was near knocked off his bike as a single circular wheel slammed against his helmet with what would have been lethal force, had he not been armored.
You’ve been struck by a physical projectile! 10 HP damage taken. Concussion avoided! Save versus catastrophic fall made!
Val gasped and lurched, his right wrist banging painfully against the bar jerking out of control, having to abruptly let go of his Psiblade, instantly deactivated lest folly turn to horror. The priceless artifact disappeared in the distance and Val prayed he’d be able to find it later, after spending perilous moments getting a grip and stabilizing himself. He laughed from the sheer rush of death narrowly avoided, never feeling quite so alive as he did when dancing with fate, the pain in his strained wrist gone within heartbeats as his PRM skill and alchemical regeneration healed him at miraculous speed.
Val whooped with fierce joy as he took hold of his second two-handed Psiblade, having the foresight to ready both just in case folly should occur, knowing he’d abort and retrieve them both, should folly strike a second time.
Transport has been critically disabled! Disaster avoided! Carry on.
Val smirked at the internal commentary as his Psiblade effortlessly sliced through the side of yet another vehicle, sparing a single cold smile for the panicked driver moments away from skidding out as Val squeezed his throttle and prepared to take out the sixteenth vehicle, heart hammering with the thrill of the hunt as the wind roared in his face.
His target just ahead. Now! A sweeping slash as he leaned into the blow, Psiblade blasting through the undercarriage holding thousands of perfectly circular coaster-like wheels in odd suspension.
A bump in the road at just the wrong moment.
The massive vehicle’s wheels exploding free of the undercarriage at just the wrong angle, no less than a dozen hitting Val dead on.
You’ve been hit by pressurized shrapnel! Dwarven helmet converts Critical Wound to Moderate Wound! Finesse check failed! You have lost your balance! Survival check to release Psiblade before cleaving your head off… success! Position poor! Right arm fractured! 50 HP & Serious wound taken! Left hip cracked! 40 HP & Serious Wound taken. Multiple ribs broken, internal organs have been punctured! Additional 120 damage taken! Save versus broken neck made!
And suddenly Val was flying, sky and road flipping in a dizzying carousel of horror as he braced for impact, his body slamming against the road, a single brilliant golden flash of his hover-blade soaring over his head, and blinding pain blasting through his skull.
The stench of hot pavement somehow filled his nostrils even though he fought just to breathe.
Vitality check made!
His diaphragm's awful spasms eased up just enough to allow him a single gasp, and an agonized groan even as the screeching crash of the last vehicle he had struck filled his ears. But all he could focus on was the awful waves of pain roaring through his skull, hip, and arm. Cracked bones throbbing with fire in awful counterpoint to the sickening sensation of cold ice piercing his guts.
A tiny whisper in the back of his mind thought now would be the perfect time to practice Season’s Mending. A bitter bloody smile was all he could spare for that idea as exhaustion and agony kept him in chains of torment, even as the pain grew hotter, hideously so, and Val fought back the scream choking to be free as his Greater Regeneration potion kicked into full gear.
Alchemical success! Your Greater Regeneration potion synergized with boosted healing is restoring 5 HP a second. Too bad your alchemical genius was inspired by Season’s Mending, a spell that believes in healthy nerves. The louder the better! Feel the pain, Val, and be glad you’re alive after that mad stunt. Cutting free hyper-pressurized wheels squeezing 3-D physics in ways no Terran physicist can hope to understand to achieve frictionless movement, and you didn’t think that cleaving through those reinforced undercarriages would blow up in your face eventually? Oh look, your dislocated shoulder just twisted back into place, and you only screamed once! Looks like you’re on the mend, Val. Too bad the same can’t be said of your master plan.
Val forced a bitter smile even as he stumbled to his feet, spitting up a mouthful of blood and broken teeth, holding back a scream as two fresh teeth smashed free broken remnants to take their place, horrified by just how much pain these purple potions caused even as they promised steady regeneration over time. Maybe he would have noticed it before if he hadn't immediately blacked out.
The red potions had been both exquisitely potent and blissfully free of pain, but ancient tradition, not mad inspiration, had catalyzed their formation. And had Val taken that instead of having the foresight to take a purple before attempting this incredibly stupid assault… he shuddered to think the state he’d be in now.
Gasping even as dislocated fingers popped back into place, glad he had blanked out the dry voice that had been going over all his injuries with such unwholesome relish, he now felt almost human. Then he spotted the surviving four vehicles fleeing off into the distance, and Val missing bike and Psiblades alike.
Shit.
Val frowned. Just how much pain had Gregor and his other friends been in when he had used the purple potions to prolong their lives from the Red Death anyway? Which just emphasized how horrific the disease had been, so awful that his friends thought nerves throbbing with agony had been a small price to pay for a desperate shot at survival. Or perhaps healing sores was infinitely more comfortable than feeling shattered bones bind tightly together before twisting themselves back into alignment. Either way, not a single soul had complained or even mentioned it, only smiling gratefully at his bittersweet boon.
Val slowly turned about, catching sight of the smoking wrecks of the closest pair of haulers, making out the glimpse of blaster fire, knowing his newest pilots were going ahead with their part of the plan, take out the drivers, by surrender if possible, as hard and fast as they could. Val frowned, finally making out his dwarven bike at the edge of the field, just a few hundred yards away.
Congratulations! True Artificer skill check successful! You have managed to repair your dwarven hover-blade after damaging near-indestructible parts, racing about at well over 150 MPH without even bothering to put on the force field, because of course you needed to slice open massive pressurized undercarriages. At close range. With a Psiblade. As if you had no other options. Carry on!
Val grimaced. Alright, his plan had been a bit foolhardy. Maybe. And if he were a level 1 Terran without a massive reserve of hit points and regeneration, he’d be dead several times over, wiping out at that speed. But did he really need the universe to rub it in his face?
“Val. Val! Are you there? Targets secure! But if you die on me, I swear I’ll kill you!”
Val couldn’t help smiling at hearing Bethany’s crackling voice, amazed to see that the Dominion equivalent of a walkie-talkie was still in one piece.
“Val here. Glad targets are secure. Anyone hurt?”
“Oh thank Phoebe, Val. You broke off all communication. Is that you up there? Did you wipe out? We’re coming to help.”
Val shook his head, then grimaced, still slightly dizzy, eyes roaming for his Psiblade even as he felt the last of his agony receding, the sharp pain of shattered ribs and pierced organs replaced with a dull throb that faded even as he took a deep breath, pushing the last of his pain and self-recrimination aside, focusing only on the cool breeze all around him, the rippling fields of lush green grass and flowers, the hot tarmac cooking under the
bright sun overhead. And Val was soon one with all of it, a single point of awareness that was somehow the sum of all he saw, felt, and sensed, including that oddly resonating, nearly indestructible crucible of energies exotic and alien, not even scratched after flying hundreds of yards into the grass, now comfortably resting in his palm once more.
Val smiled as he came back out of Shadowmind with Psiblade back in hand, seeing Bethany expertly pulling up her velimobile, her expression a mixture of anxiety and relief. In a heartbeat she was there, darting out of her vehicle and sweeping him up in a fierce hug.
“Damn it, Val, you scared the life out of me!”
Val grinned. “It’s alright. I’m fine, Bethany. I just had to find my bike and blade.”
The beautiful girl stepped back and frowned, pinning him with her gaze. “Because you wiped out like an idiot with that madcap stunt. Not even my mother, who was one of the best pilots on Jordia and a woman who loved her hover-blades, would have tried what you just did. What happens to us all if we lose you, Val?”
Val bit back an angry retort, chuckling ruefully at his own folly. “You’re right. I was an idiot. I should have planned that part better. I was counting on my blade too much, and there are other tools at hand. Far safer tools.” He frowned at the distant dust clouds, already miles away. “We’re not quite finished yet. We have four more to go.”
Bethany nodded. “So let’s finish this.”
Val blinked as she grinned. “For someone who would dare the throne, you’re not very good at using the tools you have at hand.” A soft hand gently stroked back the strands of hair slipped free of Val’s scuffed helmet. “You have three Highlords who have sworn to serve you.” Her grin grew. “Three girls who know what it means to fight for their lives. Who know the bitter cost of failure, and what it means to crush an enemy’s mind with their own.” She reached down, squeezing his hand with her own. “Trust me, Val. I can take care of the drivers.”
Val grimaced but nodded. "Alright, Bethany. You know why I didn't use you before."
The beautiful flame-haired girl nodded. “Because you wanted us to secure the surrender of the drivers in the vehicles you already crippled. But really it was to keep us safe. Don’t worry, Val. My sisters have things well in hand.” She spent a moment gazing off into the distance. “And we are wasting time.”
Val smiled. “Not for long.” And within moments he was roaring down the highway, Bethany pressed snugly against him, shifting her weight in perfect tandem, as if they had ridden these roads together a hundred times before. “Are you ready?”
He could feel her assent as she just gripped his midsection more tightly, turning her head to face the massive vehicle they were overtaking, the rider hunched over the controls of his vehicle. Even in the split second Val glanced at the driver, he could sense the guy’s tension. Racing along at speeds that were already sending vibrations through his vehicle, Val knew the man sensed he was under the gun.
Willpower check made! You’ve survived being in close proximity to your partner’s Mind Blade. Finesse check made! Your bike doesn’t even wobble, Val. A good thing! A painful fall for you would be absolutely lethal to the beautiful girl holding so tightly to you!
But Val paid no heed to the bemused voice, instantly sensing the moment to race ahead as the vehicle suddenly swerved, the massive hauler’s driver and passenger now slumped over, perhaps dead.
Val laughed in the wind as he heard the roar behind them, well able to imagine the massive vehicle flipping end over end. he could only guess on the odds of anyone surviving that, but suspected they were slim to none.
And with their first successful strike together their ability to work in tandem only grew, Val swooping in for the kill and burying his mind in deepest shadow the moment they pulled up alongside their targets and Bethany let loose with Ego Crush or Mind Blade, the pair of them roaring away heartbeats later as the now driverless freighters inevitably wiped out in a cacophony of explosions and twisted metal behind them.
Val felt his lips curving in a hungry grin, like a wolf reveling in the hunt, as they closed on their final target.
“Val, look out!”
Time seemed to stretch and slow as Val fought to keep his hover-blade upright, the vehicle ahead suddenly spewing a deadly storm of titanium orbs as the undercarriage abruptly gave out, unable to maintain integrity at the speeds they raced.
And it was only by dint of desperate skill and mad luck that Val weaved away from the orbs, dwarven shield coming up with a furious burst of will. There was no way he could slow down in time as the massive vehicle began to collapse. His only choice was to squeeze the throttle and roar ahead, the air screaming with the sound of his bike tearing through the ever-narrowing opening between collapsing carrier and the now rocky lip of the road.
“Val!”
Bethany squeezed Val with the surprisingly fierce strength of a Highlord as Val shot through the opening, the screeching crash of the final carrier roaring behind them.
A whoop of triumph howling through the air, hitting Val’s ears oddly until he realized it was his own. Endless moments to process how close they had come to disaster, and Val slowly turned the bike around, looking at the massive smoking wreckage that had been both carrier and battle-mech just moments ago.
A squeal of delight from Bethany as Val stepped off his bike. “We did it, Val! All twenty carriers down. What a rush!”
Val grinned as the beautiful girl leaped into his arms, planting kisses all over his cheeks, and most especially his lips. “Gods, I’m excited! It’s just like Mom used to say. Nothing gets your blood up like staying half a step ahead of your enemies!”
Val’s heart started pounding, captivated by wide eyes lit with inner fire, pearl-white teeth flashing in the sun from her smile. He was acutely aware of Bethany’s chest pressing against the fine quality mesh of her pilot suit, rising and falling with her rapid breaths.
Brilliant emerald eyes locked with his own, and her smile grew. “Do you like what you see, Valor?”
Val chuckled softly. “You know I do.” He then flashed a grin of his own. “I see an ace pilot I can’t wait to have fighting by my side.”
A teasing pout quickly turned to a grim, professional stare as they approached the still blazing wreckage. “Somehow, I don’t think there’s going to be any saving this mech,” Bethany said.
Val gazed intently at the crackling flames, his EM Mastery skill protecting him even from the thermal radiation of the blazing inferno.
“Creo Aquam!” The twisted titanium and steel plating was now hissing and sputtering under the flood of water Val had summoned forth with his boosted Water Spout spell, Bethany giving an impressed nod as Val methodically put out the flames, neither of them saying a word about the hunks of carbonized flesh found in the front compartment of the massive vehicle, instead focusing on the cracked carapace of what had once been a battle-mech in pristine working order. The blistering inferno had done nothing more than sear away the paint, the entire frame now looking like shimmering liquid metal.
Bethany sighed. “She looks a beauty. That’s the latest Saber-class model. Do you really think you can get it working again?”
Val shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said. “Keep an eye out for the others, pinch my ear if trouble’s heading our way.”
She gave a quick nod and Val turned around and got to work.
You have successfully cast Greater Dominion Catalyzation. Your Adept level of skill with this spell lets you cast it more efficiently than ever! Everything seems to be in working order. Too bad it was under the burden of Automative Folly, cast by the most powerful Mystic seen in centuries! Perhaps his curse will be too much for you, Val? Only one way to find out!
Val pulled himself back from his trance state as he felt the last bit of electromana coupling slide back into place, the outside looking as buffed and polished as when he had first seen it, just a few hours ago. He frowned, taking the mocking voice’s warning to heart, gaz
ing carefully at the vehicle with more than just his eyes, surprised to sense the spell web lingering upon the frame even now. If Bethany had dared to ride it… Val quickly shook the awful thought away.
The arcane web instantly ruptured as he willed its dissolution, eldritch energies rushing through him in a heartbeat. Not so surprising, really. It was his own spell, after all.
As Val came back to himself fully, he was surprised to see Bethany gazing so intently at him, her eyes filled with genuine wonder, and perhaps something more.
“Did you really fix it? In its entirety?” And before Val could answer, she gave an angry shake of her head. “No, that’s a stupid question. Of course you did. You fixed me, after all, when I thought I had lost the ability to ever fly again.” Her emerald gaze fastened intently upon his own. “Val? Do you think it would be okay if I, well, tried her out?”
Val grinned. “Of course. Why else would I have fixed it first? Hop on and let’s see if she’s everything you hoped for.”
And with a delighted squeal Bethany did just that, Val pleased to see how quickly she could go from perky banter to the cool-eyed gaze of a pilot doing a thorough system check before flashing him a final teasing wink as she put on the helm that would fuse her to her mech, the entire thing closing up around her as she took a close look all around. Now she was no longer just the sweet, eager-to-please former slave girl hoping to win Val's heart, but instead a highly skilled pilot ready to wield one of the deadliest weapons the Dominion had ever put onto the battlefield.
And how it chilled Val to see that engine of destruction mirroring Bethany's natural movements so well it was as if she really had become that towering titan of chrome and steel.
The silly pirouette Bethany had been practicing transformed instantly into the focused, deadly stance of a girl trained for war. The battle-mech snapped a salute with one massive arm. “Reporting for duty, sir.”
Oblivion's Peril Page 54
