by Edwin McRae
The last tentacle sank from view, and Vari looked back to Dayna in time to see another creature materialize behind her. She caught the ranger’s eye and pointed, giving Dayna just enough time to throw herself from the saddle before the things were upon her.
Unable to get a shot away at such close quarters, Dayna dropped her bow and drew her hunting knife. The poor horse panicked and bolted, bowling into Dayna in the process. The horse’s flank slammed into the ranger’s knife arm, the force driving Dayna’s own hunting knife into her thigh. She let out a scream of frustration and pain as she crashed to the ground.
The monstrosity dropped from the horse and scrambled across the wet grass towards the stricken ranger. Dayna wrenched the knife from her leg and struggled to her feet to meet her assailant, but it was clear to Vari that she would struggle to kill the thing, lamed as she was by the injury.
Vari stretched out her hand, pointed her fingers at Dayna’s leg wound, and muttered "Mend Flesh". A look of surprise crossed Dayna's face as her leg wound closed over, gone in less than a second. The ranger had just enough time to nod her thanks at Vari before the first creature reached her, tentacles outstretched, claws unsheathed.
Dayna danced to one side, quick as a Karajan mountain cat, and slashed upwards with her knife, dissecting the creature up from end to end. The thing deflated like a punctured bladder as it flopped to the ground, lifeless.
Vari and her companions looked about them, searching the drizzle for signs of more creatures, for the distortions that would give away their attack. None appeared.
Your party has defeated four Level 3 Mist Wraiths.
Your XP reward per party member = 30 XP
"What in fuck’s name were those things?" Dayna didn't sound angry, simply on edge, even a little bewildered.
Braemar tugged at his beard, his lips pursed. "I think I've read about them. There was this book about a ranger, Marton Wayfarer. He went into the Barrens. They found his diary, but nothing-"
“Not they. Me,” interrupted Dayna, her voice quiet and solemn.
“Shit, really?” responded Braemar. “So you read it too?”
Dayna shook her head. By the clenching of her jaw, Vari could tell that Dayna had said all she was going to on the subject.
“This Marton Wayfarer, did he describe these creatures in that diary?" Vari asked Braemar.
"Pretty much. The man was a bit vague on the specifics. No mention of tentacles, but he definitely said they appeared out of the mist like they’d formed from the very raindrops themselves.”
"Bastards must be able to do that same spell that Mark used when we attacked the reiver slavers,” concluded Dayna. “Must be an animal instinct thing.”
"Seems like it,” agreed Braemar. “Not that I know what you mean by Mark's spell."
With a start, Vari looked to where Mark's body had fallen. He was gone, leaving only his armor, and the creature that Dayna had shot through with her arrow.
"Shit. Where’d he go?" Braemar sounded more shocked at Mark's disappearance than he had been at the appearance of monstrosities out of the mist.
Dayna rolled her eyes. "He'll be back at Citadel, waking up in his library, most likely screaming."
Vari scowled. "How about a little compassion, Dayna? How do you think it would feel to get stabbed in the eye by some tentacled monster?"
Dayna pointed at one of the dead creatures. "I almost found out.” Her eyes softened a little. “Thanks for that healing spell, by the way."
The ranger’s gratitude took the wind out of Vari's angry sail, and all she could say was “That's okay."
In the meantime, Braemar was still staring at the space where Mark wasn't. "Wait, so is he immortal or something?”
Dayna sniggered. "By my thinking, immortal means that you can't die. Mark tends to die quite a lot."
Vari shuddered. “Can't imagine what that would be like, dying over and over again."
"Well, we only get to try that once, but at least we’re better at avoiding it than Mark is.”
As she collected up Mark’s belongings and strapped them to her saddle, Vari had to admit that Dayna was right. Although this attack had been quite literally “out of the blue”, perhaps Mark did take more risks, was a bit more careless because he knew that he could get away with it. She'd have to have a chat with him about that.
"Right, so it's a warlock thing?" asked Braemar, still wrestling with the whole Mark-dead-but-not-dead concept.
"Yeah, that’s the easiest way to think of it," answered Dayna.
As Braemar shook his head in disbelief, Vari noticed something odd, just off the path. It was a withered tree on the brink of death, yet every other tree around it was strong and healthy. She pointed it out to Dayna.
"Why is that tree sick while none of the others are?"
"Not sure."
She lead her horse over to the sickened tree and pried some of the bark loose with her knife.
"It's been poisoned by something." She pointed beyond the tree, deeper into the forest. "There’s more of them, one after the other. I reckon it’s a trail of sorts."
"You think this might have something to do with these creatures?" asked Vari.
Dayna nodded. "Maybe, yeah."
The trail of sick and dying trees led them to a gully filled with yellowed and blackened vegetation. A ravine had opened up in the earth along the gully floor, and from it rose a dirty, grey vapor. It wasn't smoke, as far as Vari could tell, and the colour was disturbingly close to the coloring of the creatures that had attacked them.
Braemar picked his way down the slope to get a better look at the ravine, but stopped well short of the sludge-grey cloud.
"Something real wrong here." He called back up to them. "This crack’s not natural. It's like something is seeping up from deeper down, like the mountains have some sort of infection. This ravine’s an open sore."
"Can you close it?" Dayna called back.
“Think so, but it’ll take the rest of my essence," he answered.
“Don't worry, Braemar, we’ll protect you," encouraged Vari with a smile.
"But only if you don’t fuck this up,” added a sardonic Dayna.
Braemar shot Vari an appreciative smile, and pointedly ignored Dayna.
They stood at the edge of the gully, watching Braemar work as the horses grazed nearby. The animals seemed to have forgotten their ordeal with the mist wraiths, but Vari didn’t think she’d ever forget the sight of Mark’s dead face, that tentacle protruding from his blood-rimmed eye socket.
Braemar murmured and scooped up handfuls of dirt to trickle into the gently steaming rift. Over the subsequent hour, it closed little by little, and no further creatures appeared out of the mist to attack them. Danya and Vari rested their legs, Braemar’s steady murmurings lulling them almost to sleep.
“There you are!”
Vari sat upright with a start and scrambled to her feet. It was Mark, crossing to them from the treeline, his dark eyebrows clenched in frustration.
“Why didn’t you leave some sort of marker, to let me know where you went?”
Dayna didn’t bother to get up. “Figured you’d follow the sick trees like we did.”
“Well yeah, I did, but it took me a bit to work that out.”
“Sorry, Mark.” Vari felt terrible for not leaving a note or sign for him. “How did you get here so fast?”
Mark’s shoulders relaxed a little and he managed a small smile. “A couple of hours ago, I stopped to take a leak in the forest. I reset my respawn point then.”
“Like a dog marking his patch,” muttered Dayna.
“Well, lucky I did. Oh, and thanks for the 30XP boost. Four Level 3 mist wraiths, eh?”
Dayna sat up, coughed up some phlegm, and spat it onto the ground in disgust. “30XP? For lying on your back for the whole fucking fight? Doesn’t seem right.”
“At least Mark got one of the wraiths to sit still so you could shoot it,” quipped Vari as she winked at Mark.
&nb
sp; Dayna shrugged. “Suppose so. Got to have bait in a trap.”
Mark chuckled, but Vari sensed the forced nature of his supposed good humor. He was doing his best to forget about the death he’d just experienced. She knew it was the best approach, at least for now. Vari had practised this same coping strategy many times herself, but it was a bandage, not a cure.
She followed Mark’s gaze down into the gully where Braemar was working at closing the rift. The druid was about two-thirds done.
“So what’s going on?” he asked.
Vari filled him in on their theory that the mist wraiths were rising up through the ravine and spreading whatever corruption was spawning them. Then she placed a hand on his arm and drew a little closer.
“Mark?”
He turned to her, his expression implacable. “Vari?”
“Are you alright?”
He made a show of looking at his body. “All in one piece.”
“Not like that, I mean…”
Mark nodded, his lips now pressed into a grim line. “It was a horrible way to die, but at least it was quick. The less I think about those times, the better.”
Vari nodded, and gave his arm a squeeze before drawing her hand away.
“So!” Mark clapped his hands together and presented them all with an overly wide smile. “Have I got time to get my armor on before any more of those facehuggers come out of the rift?”
Vari opened her mouth to speak when Braemar cried out in alarm below them.
“Shit! They’re coming!”
His warning had barely enough time to make its first echo before a swarm of mist wraiths emerged out of the steam above the ravine. Mark drew Garridar’s Punishment from the scabbard strapped to Vari’s saddle, shouted “Arcane Edge!”, and charged down the slope. Dayna took up position at the gully’s edge, and let fly with an arrow that skewered the leading wraith, sending it tumbling down into the rift. The remaining creatures surged towards Braemar.
“How long until you can close it, Braemar?” Vari called out to the straining druid.
Rivulets of sweat poured down Braemar’s face, dowsing his fiery beard. He scooped and scattered dirt at a ferocious pace.
“Half a minute, that’s all!” Braemar called back, his voice hoarse and breathless.
Dayna responded by dropping another wraith into the rift while Mark took two more on, head to head, slicing away tentacles like he was trimming an unruly bush. Out of the corner of her eye, Vari saw a shimmer near Dayna, a wraith materializing just behind her. She knew Dayna wouldn’t have time to react, and with visions of tentacles-in-eye-sockets in her mind, she stretched out her arm and shouted “Rend Flesh” at the stalking creature. The wraith ruptured in mid-air, a shower of blood and viscera pouring from its gut. The rest flopped down onto the ground, a rubbery carcass emptied of life.
The ranger stole a glance over her shoulder and looked to Vari, her eyebrows raised, her forehead wrinkled in surprise. Vari gave her a friendly wave and then turned her attention to Mark.
The warlock was holding his own. It was Braemar who had sunk to his knees, his face blanched, his chest heaving. There was still a length of rift left to be sealed, but Braemar had clearly reached his limit.
Taking an essence potion from her satchel, she rushed down the gully flank, skidding to a halt on the loose gravel beside the druid. So exhausted was he that he barely registered her with his bleary eyes, incapable of raising his hands to accept the flask. She gripped his hair, pulled his head back, and poured the flask’s contents straight down his throat. He coughed and spluttered, potion overflowing into his beard and down his neck. Color returned to his cheeks, clarity to his eyes. Moments later he was holding the flask for himself, chugging down the rest of Vari’s brew. Then he wiped his face with a muddy hand and passed her the empty vessel.
“Cheers.” He managed, more of a grunt than a word.
“You’re welcome.”
Braemar scooped up two great handfuls of dirt and hollered wordlessly at the rift. It answered by closing more quickly than before, the last portion sealing at the druid’s feet.
Vari looked up to see blood running down Mark’s side, a brighter red than the gore that was splattered across him. Vari spent her last essence points on a “Mend Flesh”, stopping the bleeding just as Mark sliced his final wriggling opponent in half.
Your party has slain six Level 3 Mist Wraiths and destroyed their Rift Nest.
Your XP Reward per party member = 45 XP
Your “Mend Flesh” spell has reached Tier 4.
Healing effect and Rending damage increased by 50%. Range extended to 10 meters.
Healing and Rending effects increased by 100% if in physical contact with the recipient.
Bonus Attribute Point!
You have received a +1 Mind bonus for being the one to notice the corruption of the trees.
You have received the “Mountains of Corruption” quest.
Foul things are pouring up out of the very earth. There has to be a source. Find the source and destroy it before all of Garland is corrupted.
Vari exchanged glances with her friends. They’d all received the New Quest notification, and while she knew she should feel exhausted right now, Vari had never felt more alive. Yes, she would help destroy this corruption. She would protect Garland. Why? It gave her a little thrill to even think it. Because Garland was her home now.
26
They made camp in Hawker’s Pass, under a rocky outcrop that provided some shelter from the persistent rain. It was too wet to light a fire. They huddled together and ate their bread and cheese; a dark, sweet, rye bread, and a type of rich blue cheese. It was the best damned bread-and-cheese combo Mark had ever tasted.
Funnily, all of his biological needs were the same here as in the real world. He still needed to drink, eat and go to the toilet. He enjoyed a piping hot bath before leaving Citadel, and was feeling like he could use another one. Speaking of warmth, he was acutely aware of Vari’s. The two sat side by side, the soft and comforting pressure of her body against his. He had no idea how these feelings correlated with the state his real body was in, but supposed he’d just have to keep rolling with it until he found some way to check on his flesh and blood self.
The adventurers discussed the day’s events as they ate, particularly the strange rift and its progeny of mist wraiths. Having given it some more thought, Braemar was confident about his initial read of the situation, that there was some sort of corruption within the mountains gradually seeping into Garland.
“Do you think it’s come up from somewhere deep in the rock, like geothermal activity?” wondered Mark. “Or is it somehow leaking through from the Barrens on the other side?”
“Hard to say,” answered Braemar. “Nothing much we can do about the former, but the latter...if we can find its source, we might be able to stop it.”
“You could close it?”
“I reckon, yeah.”
“It could be pretty bloody big.”
“I’ll just have to get pretty bloody good at closing rifts then, won’t I.”
Mark grinned, heartily approving of Braemar’s pragmatic optimism.
“What about the cave ghasts?” asked Vari. “Judging by the size of that queen, they must’ve been there awhile.”
“I was trying to work out how it got there too,” agreed Mark. “If the ghasts came over the mountains, like Dayna suggested, surely they’d have brought the queen with them, maybe in egg form?”
“Most likely, yeah,” confirmed the ranger through a mouthful of rye.
Just before he’d caught up with everyone, Mark had overheard Braemar refer to the rift as an “open sore”. If the mist wraiths were actually a symptom of some sort of magical corruption spreading through the land, the cave ghasts must be part of it, a type of large-scale blister or ulcer.
“What if the Ghast Queen came first, growing inside the mine like some sort of infection?”
Braemar tugged his beard in thought. “Yeah, c
ould be, I guess. If it was feeding off the ore veins, like you said, then it might just seep through the rocks until it finds a good spot for feeding and breeding.”
“Sounds a bit like fungus,” added Dayna. “Spores can float about, in the water or on the wind. They can travel for fucking years, dormant, until they find the right conditions. Then they hunker down and sprout themselves into a mushroom or mold, or some face-rotting ailment.”
“I’ve heard the inquisitors speak about the Barrens like it’s a plague they need to contain,” ventured Vari, her tone solemn. “And there are plenty of rumors about what they’ve done to contain it too.”
Mark placed his hand gently on her arm, encouraging her to keep going. She gave him a small smile, grateful for the support.
“At various times, reiver settlers have tried to eke out a living on the edge of the Barrens. Homesteads, sometimes a small village or two. There was even a fort once, founded by a colonel who wanted to launch expeditions into the ruins. None lasted very long.”
“What happened to them, Vari?” asked Mark.
“The official story is that they were abandoned. The inquisitors made excuses like the land was too poisoned for farming or that the expeditions found nothing worth salvaging.”
“And the settlers themselves?”
“Supposedly moved on to other frontiers.”
“Into lands that don’t fucking belong to them,” snapped Dayna. “If it wasn’t for the Barrens, Garland would be crawling with your people, and we’d all be in chains.”
Vari nodded, her eyes downcast. “You’re not wrong there, Dayna. And my ‘people’ know that better than anyone.”
Anger burned through any fear he harbored of putting Dayna in her place. He fixed the ranger with a “shut up” glare before turning back to Vari. “You were never a reiver, Vari.”
