by Ember Lane
“So, shall we start?” I asked.
“Ground rules. First, you are the only one of us with magic.”
“Yes…”
“And the diversion that by now Sedge and Star will be planning will involve the use of that magic?”
“Yes…”
“Then it’s my job to get you up to speed. Lazmador’s got a rat problem, and you need to improve your attack magic.”
“Okay…”
“So, you can destroy those rats while you’re fighting me. Get to a hundred, and we can call it a day.”
“Is that some kind of quest?” I asked.
Mezzerain looked at me weirdly. “You really need a quest to kill a little rat? You people are strange.” He pulled out his staff. “One strike at a time, there’s plenty of rats—this is all about your ability to cast and strike at the same time. And put up that magic shield thing.”
We sparred. He danced around flaunting his agility, swiping, arcing, prodding with his staff, while I dodged, counter-thrust, snuck the odd blow. All the while I cast Flame of Demon on the unsuspecting rats.
“Take care with your magic, we don’t want to be setting the pile on fire,” Mezzerain growled at me, just before he lunged again.
We were used to grinding out a staff session—the rats just made it extra interesting. I soon leveled up Flame of Demon, and when we swapped from staffs to swords, I changed my spell of choice to Fork of Lightning. Once I’d gotten that subskill to level 2, I was able to pick out more than one rat. It was a strange spell to cast. I had to think of the spell, mentally tap on one target, then the next, unleash—or cast, tap, tap, fire! At level 3, it was tap, tap, tap, 4 and 5, and so on. I liked it much better than the demon one. The rats didn’t, and charred bodies were soon strewn all around.
We took a break while Mezzerain smoked a pipe, well, he did. I practiced my arrow skills, imbuing them with Tungsten Tips and Straight Shot. I even managed to get one to vanish using Stealth Shot, but not for the whole flight—I guessed my stealth still wasn’t high enough.
I made archery level 8 by the skin of my teeth, the same for swords. Mezzerain pushed himself up, and we started on a mix of daggers and close-Q- fighting, with Quazede’s Trident thrown in. I soon realized what a particularly nasty spell it was too. Whereas Fork of Lightning was a bit like giving the rats an electric shock, Quazede’s Trident was like a bullet of pure energy, and as I leveled it up, I could only liken it to a machine gun spitting its fire. Mezzerain loved it—it was by far his favorite and forced me to carry on until I got it to level 6, outstripping both the others by a level. Even Arcane Shield ended up at level 6, though by now that was more of a passive skill for me.
I had no idea what time it was when Mezzerain said we could call it a day, but I can remember thanking a god of some deity or the other. I can remember turning away from the pile of rubbish and stashing my dagger in my belt. I can also remember hearing a sound, a little like a mini eruption. I’ll never forget the screech.
We spun around. Mezzerain already had his sword in his hand. I drew my own and instinctively powered up my Arcane Shield. Rising up from the rubble, a dread, multi-headed Hydra-like beast emerged. I counted one, two, seven, ten heads all swaying around like a rattler ready to strike. Mezzerain glanced behind him, but saw no one else was close. For a moment I thought he was thinking of running but then a grin spread across his face.
“Looks like we’ve got it all to ourselves.”
Then another head reared from its midst, much bigger than the rest, drool flowing from its open maw.
It screamed in anger, then hissed and spat, swaying closer, then farther back in some deadly, but hypnotic, dance.
Andromeda Hydra. Title: Queen of the Dump. Level = 14. Status = Hostile
Breaths of pungent wind washed over me. I didn’t know whether it was the beast’s breath or if it had just disturbed something in the rubbish.
“You can hunt for the loot when we’re done,” Mezzerain said through gritted teeth.
“No, you’re all right,” I muttered, and then cast Quazede’s Trident, splitting it into six bolts, all aimed at a head each. This was going to be a piece of cake.
The beast flickered, shimmered, then its horrific image instantly sharpened, now surrounded by an ominous yellow aura. The magical bullets smashed into its heads. Sparks flew, one head exploded, but the others just pulsed and stuttered as the bolts of mana-born energy were absorbed by the beast. So not so easy, I thought. It was then the central head roared, a great bellow that spat huge gobs of foul spittle all over us. Mezzerain wiped his face and charged for the beast’s core, stomping up the rubbish pile, slipping on the rat corpses.
I cast Heal over Time, in the hope it would protect him. He grunted as its power infused with his body. He began slashing away at the Hydra's ranging heads, jinking to avoid its snapping jaws, ducking and swerving. I tried Quazede’s Trident again, all six hitting home, but all six absorbed by the thing’s aura. I decided to go old school, and jumped on the pile aside Mezzerain, unsheathing my sword. Together we slashed and thrashed, and Mezzerain even managed to lop another head away, but the Hydra was in frenzy now.
Each time we cut one of its necks, with a sizzle from its yellow aura, it simply healed.
“We have to sever them,” Mezzerain called, as he loped one clean off.
I hacked, cast, hacked again, but getting a clean strike was next to impossible with all of its ranging heads to avoid. One swooped so close to mine, I felt its breath sweep across my cheeks, its jaws snapping by my ears—a nasty, hollow sound. Another severed head landed at my feet, another great strike from the Valkyrian. I timed my next strike, waiting for a head to overextend, leaning back to avoid its swoop. My blade struck home, but I was hopelessly off-balance and staggered back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mezzerain glance around, making sure I was okay.
That single action turned the fight on its head. The Hydra struck, Mezzerain parried a split second too late and slipped, and our valiant offence was over.
As if he was a mere ragdoll, the largest head snapped up the falling warrior, its teeth sinking into him with a sickening crunch, his bloodied body tossed aside. Mezzerain rolled and rolled, rising to one knee, his hand over his shredded side, a grimace fixed in place. I sent Stitch and Stem to him and quickly faced the beast. Every one of its remaining heads had reared back ready to strike me in one, devastating attack.
In that split second, I hesitated, knowing that to charge would be futile. I threw my sword to one side, ripped out my sack and hovered my hand over it. I called for the Black Knight’s dagger.
“Let’s finish this,” I muttered, but then glanced at my hand. Lying in my palm was a little stick—the Crooked Wand of the Street of the Elven Martyrs—I stared back at the beast and mustered my courage, gathering my mana, casting Quazede’s Trident, then Flame of Demon and Fork of Lightning one after the other. This time, I kept all focused on the larger, central head. This time I felt my shadow mana fill and pulse, and this time, I poured my now anger-filled soul into it.
Magic spewed from the wand with gray streams of power. Quazede’s Trident hit first, blasting the thing’s huge head clean off. Flame of Demon crackled around it, a lattice of gold and black energy shattering the beast’s aura, and then Fork of Lightening hit home, and the Hydra exploded.
Huge lumps of its frazzled flesh rained down on me as it erupted in a wave of blood, bile, and guts. The force of the explosion hurled me backward, sliding on the mess of entrails and ichor, drawing close to my fallen comrade.
Critical Hit! Wait? What? What in Lamerell’s name was that strike? Damage done -775 HP for Quazede’s Trident, -825 HP for Flame of Demon, -395 HP Fork of Lightning. Total Damage 1995 plus 15% enhanced by The Crooked Wand of the Street of the Elven Martyrs, total 2294. Andromeda Hydra is obliterated.
Congratulations! You have been awarded 2000 XP. The land rewards those who put out the trash!
I took no satisfaction from it. Mezzerain was lying on the
ground. His arms and legs were spread out, his head lolling to one side, and his eyes stared out, wide and lifeless. Forcing my body back to the floor, I knelt by him.
“Oh no, no you don’t,” I told him, ripping a health tube off my potion belt and forcing his mouth open. I poured the gloopy liquid down his throat, and then cast Solid Soul, Stitch and Stem, Heal over Time, all of them, over and over until my mana was gone, my energy was spent, and my health was plummeting.
“No!” I wailed as I collapsed next to his lifeless body.
29
Lifelong Friends
All that while ago, those part-forgotten times, I’d woken to see Greman’s face staring down at me. He’d shoved jaspur leaves into my mouth and saved me from finding out what it was like to respawn in this land, what it was like to die. That was my first day in the land. Who knows how things might have gone for me if he hadn’t been the one looking down that well.
But he did, and now I found myself looking down as Mezzerain teetered on the edge of death, but not a death he could come back from. His health was dangerously low. I’d woken laid out on the floor of one of the makeshift huts, Glenwyth hovering over me. She’s brushed my brow as I’d regained consciousness, and told me I was away from death’s scythe. Then her face had clouded over, and I’d known the reaper’s blade was none too far away.
“I’ve made poultices with what I have in my sack, and I’ve molded them to his wound, but he waits for the boatman, and only his strength is holding him back.”
“A health potion?” I asked, but she’d told me he’d had too much and any more would be poison to his broken body.
“We’ve just got to wait. Either his health will bounce back with a surge, or it’ll fade with a whimper. How about you? Are you ready?”
“Ready?” I asked, and Sedge Prentice burst into the room.
“Time to get moving,” he muttered, his voice filled with grimness.
“Give me a couple of minutes with him,” I said, and knelt by Mezzerain’s bed. Sedge darted back out, and I rested my hand on Mezzerain’s boiling brow. My world polarized on the space between us. I could hear his stuttering breath. This man, this warrior that should have easily bested that beast were it not for his concern for me. His complexion was gray like a living corpse. I knew his fate was truly on a knife-edge, and wondered at this cruel world. Could such a warrior fall in a garbage dump? Surely a battlefield would be the place, leading a desperate charge or defending the standing king?
“You get better, you big lump,” I whispered. “And when you are, we’ll be waiting for you. Someone’s got to kick my ass, make me spar when I don’t want to, make me fight when I’m already done.” I trailed my finger down his scar-ridden cheek. The corner of his eye twitched just a little, just enough. “You fight, fight as hard as you can. Don’t welcome the boatman. You tell Billy I’ll kick his bony ass.”
Mezzerain twitched again, and that had to be good enough for me. Glenwyth sponged his forehead, and I knew that his fate was in the hands of his god, and I knew what he’d expect of me—nothing more than to do what was needed, what was right.
I sat back and inspected my attributes, and decided that my elevated agility was making a real difference. “All in,” I muttered to myself.
Name: Alexa Drey. Race: Human. Type: Chancer.
Age: 24. Alignment: None. XP: 22,250.
Level: 9. Profession: None. Un/Al pts: 0.
Reputation: Known.
Health Points: 550/550 Energy: 510/510
Mana: 1040/1040 Shadow Mana: 0/3000
HP Regen: 55/Min EN Regen: 51/Min
MA Regen: 57/Min SMA Regen: NA
Attributes: (Level, Bonuses)
Vitality: (12, 38), Stamina: (12, 5)*3, Intelligence: (26, 0)*4, Charisma: (6, 6), Wisdom: (11, 8)*3, Luck: (7, 5), Humility: (2, 0), Compassion: (3, 0), Strength: (3, 20), Agility: (19, 0)
Skills: Select to reveal
Magic tree: Select to reveal
Talents: Select to reveal
Quests: Select to reveal
Standing, I got rid on my cloak in favor of the loose, black jacket Jade had given me. It didn’t have any stat bonuses, but it covered my mauve tunic, my potion belt, and my holstered knives. For now, I put my staff, sword, bow, and quiver into my sack. Glenwyth had told me that the first part of Sedge’s plan needed a good degree of stealth.
The refuge was even emptier than the morning before. Jade was walking toward the hut we’d been dragged to.
“How is he?”
“On a knife’s edge,” I replied.
She bit the top of her lip, but seemed to accept my words.
“Meeting at Lazmador’s,” she told me.
“Is he?”
“Still annoyed with you? He’s cooled down.”
Oh yes, me and Mezzerain had made a slight mistake. The Andromeda Hydra had sort of been Lazmador’s pet, and it was also their waste disposal method and kept the rat population at bay. No, the fragile balance of the subterranean colony had been destroyed. Oops.
Jade grimaced. “It seems the rats are crawling over the waste piles like a plague and soon they’ll be breeding like nobody’s business. Without the fear of being snapped up by the Hydra; they have free rein down here. There’s no immediate threat, but they’ve got a great big carcass to feast on and get them started. My bet is this place will be overrun in a month. Plus, it’s not really safe around here. Things are born funny this close to The Gilden Lode. It’s like it messes with their makeup.”
“Like the roach.”
Jade nodded. “Like the roach. It’s time to get out of this refuge—at least Lazmador is now heavily invested in The Thief’s safety. He needs that gold to move up top.”
“What about you?” I asked, tugging on her jacket, making her stop. “Are you invested?”
I needed to know why she was helping us. I’d met so many people with so many motivations, that as I’d looked down at Mezzerain, I’d decided my trust should be earned, not freely given. I knew why I was helping Pog, and that was because he was Pog. No glamorous reasons, no self-sacrifice to a cause, just because of his sweet, little face, his pureness. After I’d done that, I’d regroup. I was going to find somewhere and take a while to work out what was going on. Sedge Prentice was coming—I’d decided he could be trusted and Glenwyth too. I hoped Mezzerain would make it, and wanted Star. None had offered me anything but their undying loyalty, and none had tried to sway my will. With what Pog knew, we should be able to navigate a course together, seek the next veil, and try and work out whose side we should be on, who we should trust.
Jade shifted uneasily on her feet. “We help The Thief because Draylane foretold his coming. Draylane speaks to the dead when he’s raving. Says he speaks for the shaman. It’s what’s got us ostracized, thrown out of the Pantheons, excluded from the university. It’s why I long to find another way. It’s why I’ve scoured the city for snippets of Cronis’ teachings.”
I rolled back and forth on the balls of my feet. “I told you freely that I knew where Cronis resides, and I told you that there was an academy. The offer still stands.”
“But it’s not Shyantium. This is the place wizards are fashioned.”
“Cronis once told me that these wizards have no free magic, that it is stifled by their ways. He once showed me a ball of tobacco, and rolled it on the table. One second it was there, the next it was gone. He taught me how to look into the colors, and then told me that it wasn’t for me, that my way was a different way. So you see, if he’s willing to accept there are other ways apart from his, imagine the power he wields, as a jealous man can surely have no true power.”
She looked at me, her wide-open eyes betraying the desire for Cronis’ lore. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? What motivation do you have to help me?”
I reached out and pulled her hands into mine. “Because my friend needs wizards—true wizards who are eager to learn, those that will not run when the time comes.”
“For his
new city that nobody’s ever heard of.”
I knew how ridiculous it sounded. “Yes, for that, but if you doubt me, I can prove it.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor, shame appearing to wash over her. “Draylane trusts my judgment. Samuel’s future hangs on my choices.” She stared back up at me. “So yes. If you have something, forgive me, but I need to see it.”
I took out my sack, and withdrew the Black Book. “These are his memoirs. This is his magic. He gave it to me so that I could study it, but I know it just muddles my mind. The shaman Draylane talks to is alive—long story—and he told me about Draylane long before I came here. He told me of Draylane’s suffering.”
Jade reached for the book, and then her hand recoiled. “It can’t be true. Every tenant of Shyantium is built on the demise of the shaman and the denial of their ways.”
“But you can’t deny this book,” I whispered, and thrust it in her hands. “Cronis is the hero of this place you’ve never heard of. Krakus is alive. A shaman walks the land again, and he is headed to Beggle where we shall meet him. Help me today, and I’ll tell you how to get to Cronis, but just you three as wizards, though if you have trusty trades, you can lead them there, or send for them once you’re sure. The secret of the place, though, must be held above all.”
She made to give me the book back. “The three of us will go first.”
A small tab in my mind’s eye began to flash. I pressed it and saw it was labeled “Soulbound Items.”
The Auguries of the House of Mandrake is a soulbound item. Do you wish to transfer it to Jade Amin? Y/N
I selected Yes.
“No, you can’t; you mustn’t!” she blurted.
“He gave it to me to learn from, but my magic isn’t his. The magic Krakus gave me, that Cathelina enhanced, just comes so easy. That is my magic, not his, but his maybe yours, and if it is, then you should learn from him and pass it on in the academy for the magic and not the power.”
