“My point is that Breena and I might be able to recreate your poison with our magic,” I said quickly, before we could all get sidetracked again. “Or at least, we could make something that would duplicate the effects with magic.”
Both Satellites looked at each other.
“Breena would have to figure out the correct spell…” the dark-haired woman began.
“Anahita would have to figure out the correct mixture…” the pink-haired woman added.
“But yes,” Anahita said.
“That could work,” Breena announced. Then she narrowed her eyes at me.
“Wes,” Breena warned, “just because I’m helping you try something new doesn’t mean you no longer have to behave. Poison is not something you get to do casual experiments with. I don’t care how many Rises you have now.”
“Of course not,” I snorted. “That’s one of the first things we learn in our high school chemistry class. I know enough about venom and other toxins to know they’re dangerous even when handled carefully.”
“Sure you did,” the tiny woman said in a deadpan tone.
“Although it would probably be handy to be able to coat my weapons with poison,” I mused.
Breena groaned and covered her face, but Anahita shook her head.
“The poison is not effective through contact. It must be ingested, preferably in some sort of drink. Besides, contact poison is rarely that beneficial in pitched combat, because most of them take time to work. Time you will not have, because your opponent is currently trying to kill you.”
“Good point,” I said, still privately wondering if there was any potential in the idea. “But at any rate, it seems clear that we can help refill your poison supply, or at least make something almost as effective. With a bit of trial and error anyway.”
“Assuming you have enough skill,” Anahita cautioned, holding up a finger in warning. “I am not a Blood mage myself, but I know that using the Ideal to create poison is beyond the abilities of most novices, and you apparently have six different Ideals to learn.”
“I don’t think I qualify as a novice anymore,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, yes, it hasn’t been that long since I learned the Ideal, time-wise. But event-wise, I learned it over three Tumults ago. I’ve managed to become a Practitioner in it; in another Rise or two, I could probably qualify as a High Practitioner.”
“Yup,” Breena sighed, “same as all his other Ideals.”
Anahita blinked again.
“On second thought,” she decided, “we will plan further tomorrow. Breena and I will take the bed on the left. You will take the bed on the right, with the understanding that you will be stabbed somewhere painful should you try and crawl into the wrong bed. For tonight, at least,” she added with a tone and smile that was as confusing to me as it was attractive to Teeth.
“Noted,” I replied, heading for the bed on the right, double-checking to make sure it wasn’t the bed that would result in getting me stabbed.
For tonight, Teeth pointed out, you heard her. That other one may not get us stabbed in the future. Say, do you think—
Good night, I replied, falling asleep instantly and happily, before some other asinine part of me could wake up and consider possibilities I couldn’t act on yet.
CHAPTER 26: MAINTAINING COVER
Chris’ Perspective
“Good afternoon, Chris,” Dr. Dalfrey said from behind me in a smug, suggestive tone. “How are you? Heard you took a pretty bad spill earlier.”
My brain filtered through a quick cycle of expletives before I plastered a casual look on my face and turned around. “Good morning, Doctor. Apologies, I didn’t realize you’d be here. Should I project somewhere else in the future?”
I had picked somewhere open in our main camp to send my projected body to, so that it would be a little less tempting for me to have any sudden ‘accidents.’
“Oh, not on my account,” she said with another suggestive smile. She was dressed in a dark-green gown that left her shoulders bare and shimmered with her every movement.
It accentuated her figure, but the good doctor was the one woman I had literally spent years training my brain to start flashing angry red lights, black skulls and crossbones, and thick streams of yellow caution tape every time she did anything even slightly provocative around me.
And since the bottom hem of her dress was occasionally leaking small plumes of green, dangerous-looking mist, it was even easier today.
Still, though, after spending so much time around Wes’ MILF, I was angry that this kind of training was still necessary.
God damned psycho powerful women and their god damned revealing outfits, my brain privately raged, they’re both strong enough to blow up a building by just waving their hands, but they can’t be bothered to put on some fucking clothes. I swear to God, Satan, and Capitalism, if I ever survive all of this, I’m going to find a way to make either armor or frumpy sweaters popular among sorceresses. Would probably make a fortune and save billions of male lives in the process. Crap, my internal monologue’s getting too long.
“Well, do you have any orders for me, or should I be going to find Dad or an officer?” I asked, hoping I was sounding obliviously stupid enough to make her lose interest in me.
“Oh no, this is merely a social visit,” the blonde woman said with a smirk as she took a single step toward me. Fuck. “Well, sort of. I heard you had just undergone your first death, and I wanted to check in on you. Our main medics are all swamped, unfortunately, so it will be a while to get you an official visit. But given just how crucial you’ve become, I figured I could take a break from managing things and offer my own medical experience. How are you feeling?”
“Oh,” I said awkwardly. “Um…” Fuck! “I guess I feel like I got stabbed in the neck and kidney a few days ago, but it doesn’t hurt anymore, but I still remember it, so I’m a little weirded out. It’s hard to describe, though.”
The blonde doctor-sorceress-whatever else the hell she was now took a step to the right as she considered me. She’s even wearing heels, I noticed angrily.
“In that case,” she replied, “you’re already doing better than most of our operatives. Usually they need an entire day to get over the trauma, sometimes even longer. I’m impressed you pulled together so quickly. You said she stabbed you in the kidney and neck?”
“Um, I think so?” I replied. “I should probably go make an official report though. Where’s Dad?”
“Your father is actually out doing fieldwork,” Dalfrey said with an indifferent shrug. “A pair of powerful Icons somehow rejuvenated in one of the kingdom capitals we were about to conquer. The Horde and Dark Icons were being overwhelmed, so your father went to turn the tide.”
“He had to handle it personally?” I asked, growing concerned, and privately happy that I was able to let my concern show. “Which world? And why aren’t you and everyone else still in the camp there, if it’s taking him and all our Dark Icons?”
“The Dawnlands, as usual. And I didn’t say your father was needed,” Dalfrey said with a shrug. “I said that he went. He’s been growing impatient ever since our loose ends with the Order back home were wrapped up. And ever since Little Malcolm started proving just competent enough to take advantage of our old complacency. The poor boy is going to be so disappointed when we’re finally able to turn our attention to undoing all his little victories.”
“Great,” I said, still sounding dubious since I was supposed to be surprised by how powerful certain people were. Despite what I had seen back on Earth, I knew for a fact that Dad hadn’t come close to showing me how powerful he was. “Glad to hear things aren’t that bad.”
“On the contrary, this will be a marvelous development,” Dalfrey announced. “Capturing two Icons at that level will open up all sorts of opportunities for us. A pity we’ll probably have to give one over the Horde, now that we’ve started making concessions, but that shouldn’t be a major concern in the long run. And while this next
country still won’t be enough to break our enemies completely, since your father went, he’ll be able to make sure its resources, citizens, and heroes are all harvested properly. He’s gotten so marvelously proficient at that. Even I’m impressed.”
Fuck, I thought. Why do I have to hear shit like this after deciding to do the right thing? Is there a rule somewhere saying I can’t feel safe or happy?
“In that case,” I replied, letting myself look unsure, “who do I go make my report to?”
“You don’t need to make one at all,” Dalfrey said with a shrug. “The Pit Knights felt terrible over your dying under their protection. Volg already came to report and apologize in person. He even offered a few concessions before we could demand anything at all.” She tilted her head, as if considering something. “You know, those creatures really aren’t all that bad, once you understand them a little. I think I’ll work on improving their reputation, and see what I can gain for it.”
“You know what,” I said as I forced my spine and abdomen to restrain my stomach, “on second thought, I’m not sure I’m over getting stabbed. I think I’ll go lie down.”
I turned to leave, because if I learned anything else in this moment, I’d be forced to share the info with Wes, which meant I couldn’t expel it from my mind until then.
Davelon’s Perspective
The robed man gestured furiously, but I slammed into him before he could complete his spell.
“Mother fu—” his words cut off as I impacted against him. Violent energy washed over me, only for the brunt of the magic to be turned away the next moment by my Fire and Earth wards. My armor easily handled the rest, and the next moment my armored shoulder slammed into the Malus caster’s solar plexus.
I heard the air blast out of my enemy’s lungs as my blow lifted his entire body off his feet, then, still maintaining contact, I angled my body and slammed the warlock back down into the sand, still driving my armored shoulder into his chest and carrying the tackle through in a way that would have definitely gotten my team a penalty back home.
But I knew the sand had cushioned some of the impact, so I rolled off the wheezing wizard and shifted around to where I could lock in one of the police submission holds my dad had shown me, turning him onto his stomach and locking his arms behind his back.
The smaller man continued to swear and struggle, but he had apparently neglected his physical traits in favor of improving his mental ones.
I was about to comment on how stupid that was, until he activated his signature spell and began blasting frigid air out of the hands I was restraining.
I bit back an oath of my own as I tried to keep his hands twisted away from me, but the edges of the spell still hit me enough to start seeping away at my vital guard. Eventually, I was able to twist his hands so that he was blasting directly into the sand, but we were now in a stalemate. He couldn’t hurt me as long as I maintained my hold, and I couldn’t change to a more lethal position until his mana ran out.
Then I heard Andre call out. I looked up to see my Hispanic friend rush toward me with both short blades drawn. He leaped over the frozen patches of sand to land right next to me.
Then I shifted my position just enough for him to stab his blades into the Malus caster’s hooded face.
A translucent barrier formed around our enemy’s face—that was the reason I hadn’t used my own sword yet—but Andre activated his own signature magic. His two swords shimmered into vapor for less than a full second.
In that time, though, they passed through the Malus Member’s wards easily.
By the time they turned solid, they were already inside his face.
The man screamed in pain as more magic activated to try and save his life, but I slammed my helmeted head into the back of his still-impaled skull.
With a crunch and a twist, our enemy went limp.
Nice thrust, I sent through the mindlink as we both rose to our feet, kind of surprised it didn’t kill him immediately.
That’s the one weakness of the spell, Mano, Wes’ short friend said as we turned to the rest of the battle. It can completely negate an enemy’s protection, in exchange for doing less damage to their vital guard. So it’s great for killing some caster prick, but not anyone with a high Constitution. Got a really annoying cooldown on it, too.
Still did the job here, I noted, and Andre smirked in agreement.
We looked for another spot in the battle that needed us, but the two surprise Malus operatives had been the last holdouts, and the girls in our squad were handling the other guy. Judging by his size, heavy armor, and double-bladed axe, he had some kind of tank build, but right now he was swinging about feebly as Himari danced around him, stabbing and slicing his unarmored joints with her spear.
He probably would have been able to handle her or any other one of us if we were on our own, but every time he came close to gaining the upper hand, Christina would peg him in the helm with an arrow from her powerful bow.
Finally, Rachel finished casting her sequence of spells, and as Himari danced away from him, the sand under the armored man’s feet turned into deep mud, sinking him down to his shins. Then thick frost coated his limbs, further restricting his movements. Then a small, green cloud formed around his helmet, one he now couldn’t escape.
And that hissed when it seeped through the armor’s gaps.
“That was for my brother,” Wes’ red-headed sister growled, as the armored warrior gagged and clutched his throat. “And this,” she said, as fire flickered over her fingertips, “is for my sisters. Burn and die, you abusive fuck.”
She hurled a small bead of flame in the green cloud covering the Malus knight’s head. The cloud ignited, turning from a hissing cloud of acid-like gas to a sticky, burning coating of napalm-like substance.
I turned away at that point to make sure the battle was truly over, but the Wealthwalkers had put down the last of the rabid Horde accompanying these two. They moved from body to body, slashing the still-twitching ones across the throat with their knives.
I turned back to watch the slowly dying man too injured to scream, and reflected that before I had spoken to all those kids Wes had rescued from their camps, I wouldn’t have wished this kind of death on anybody.
Instead, as the burning, choking man collapsed into the mud, I turned to my best friend’s sister.
You okay? I asked, walking over to her and trying to project concern, instead of judgment.
I—she blinked in surprise. Yes. Yes, I think so, thank you.
Apprehension washed over the mindlink.
I, uh, she began, I didn’t mean…I don’t want…
I recognized what she was worried about immediately.
She was afraid I would condemn her for what she had done, that she had become something else in my eyes.
I’m not worried about you becoming a monster just because you gave some semi-immortal, demon-worshiping child slaver a slow and painful death, I insisted as I walked closer to her. I wanted to hug her, but I still didn’t know if she’d want that kind of support in public, so I just stood next to her, trying to come off as supportive, but probably looking like a giant, awkwardly swaying idiot. I’m worried because you just had to work through some more of the messed-up nonsense your entire family’s been forced to go through, and I don’t want you to need help, and not get it. I just thought I should check on you, now that the battle’s all done. And if it’s too soon now, I’m happy to talk later. Okay?
Her shoulders un-tensed immediately.
Yeah, Davelon, she said, relief evident in both the mindlink and her new rate of breathing. I appreciate it. Thank you. Thanks for being available.
Then we both straightened up, because the rest of the group and the Wealthwalkers were walking up.
“Well done,” their leader said. Rashem, I reminded myself. His name is Rashem. “Those two were by far the greatest threat, and each had many more Descents than any of you had Rises. But you handled them without a single casualty. Which let
us put the rabid animals down without any difficulty. Your different Ideals were also a great help in preparing the battlefield.”
“Thank you.” Rachel beamed. “We make a great team.
The mindlink allowed us to have better teamwork than our enemies,” she explained. “We were able to stay coordinated even when we split up.”
“Still,” Rashem continued, “even from the beginning, your strategy for them worked wonderfully well, Challenger Davelon.”
“Thank you, but those were actually all Rachel’s ideas,” I confessed.
She probably didn’t want the credit, and she had always tended to shy away from the spotlight at school. But I knew things would get bad if I didn’t speak up.
I was willing to take up the job of leader if everyone needed me to, and I understood that the buck stopped with me, but if I started getting the praise and blame for literally everything, it would drive me crazy, and probably make the entire team resent me.
Knives in the Night Page 40
