Bri’jit ran in ahead of us and took the reins on damage. She shook her staff, making the linked metal rings chime, and a stillness came over the Dryad. The hatred in her veins settled, and the tree-woman closed her eyes to rest.
Keres took care of the kobolds again, in much the same fashion, using her light as a decoy to lure them away from the trapped elf. The mushrooms looked between us and the elf, then to the sleeping dryad, and scuttled away.
“Was the forest protecting her?” I asked Bri’jit as we ran to the woman’s side.
“We’re neighbors, after all,” she responded.
The woman, Am’skia, was doing her best to pry open the bear trap. The leather of her boots had taken most of the damage, but a nasty bruise was forming. Fortunately, Acuity told me no bones were broken. I popped a HoT on her to help with the swelling and sprain and tried to pry the metal jaws open myself. To no avail.
“You’re too weak,” said Bri’jit, bumping me out of the way with her hip and trying herself. She couldn’t force it down either but kept trying.
I tended to my patient, rubbing her back and having her breathe with me as the healing magic worked its way into her leg.
“We got you now, don’t worry,” I reassured her.
Am’skia fell into my chest, crying, and gripped my robes tight. I froze, then kept rubbing her back.
“Tell me what happened?”
Her story came out all at once through stifled sobs. She thought we were the Dokkalfar come back at first, this time with friends, what with the red of my robes and the purple look of Bri’jit’s. But she saw Keres’ orange, and knew it was her people, and she was saved. She was a huntress out searching for mushrooms to feed her children and elderly parents and had summoned the Dryad to protect her from the kobolds when she ran into the trap.
A Dokkalfar man, his head shaved, had set the trap and mocked her as he stole her food. She guessed it had been about fifteen minutes, but it was hard to tell time with her foot in a vise.
Keres came back, covered in sour kobold blood, and used her strong legs to help reset the trap. I dragged Am’skia away and helped her stand. Keres poured the waterskin over her face to wash up. We shared some of the Chickenwood and herbs we had gathered to encourage the young huntress to head directly back to the city and got back on the road ourselves.
“This is weird,” said Keres. “Dokkalfar usually keep to their swamps. They don’t come this far north.”
“There’s plenty of Dokkalfar in Rowanheath, though,” I said, thinking of Robby.
“But they’re allegiant to the Empire. The swamp tribes, like the Ak-Hani in Yunnam, don’t usually leave their home.”
“Maybe they’re Rebellion after all,” offered Bri’jit.
“If it’s weird to have two, are we sure it’s not the same guy?” I asked. I had met an Illusionist once, someone who was able to skew reality. My NPC, Veronika. But Kismet had said they were quite rare. At least we thought they were. It’d be difficult to tell who an Illusionist was if they were pretending to be someone else, after all.
“For a Dokkalfar, Chief Kolle is an honorable man. His people would have no reason to encroach on our land. It’d be a declaration of war,” said Keres. “Besides, no one has mentioned the ceremonial masks.”
Bri’jit nodded her understanding and I followed suit to keep up appearances. I knew even less about Murk Elves than I did about Dawn Elves. I had to agree though, it was weird.
My Divinity meter was more filled. Not enough to cast anything yet, but close. It reminded me of the combo points I’d find in other games when I tried different classes, like rogue or hunter. Unlike a combo point, Divinity didn’t seem to have a natural decay. Or if it did, it was very slow. Their faith stayed with me even out of battle.
“We have to keep going,” said Keres, fastening her chakrams to her belt. “No more distractions, alright?”
Bri’jit nodded. “We have to get there before nightfall. It’ll be awful if we lose the light to help us keep the ancestors at bay.”
We’d only walked a few more minutes when we heard yet a third call for help off to the side of the road, and even more kobolds. Bri’jit groaned and ran her hand down her face.
“Is it a Dawn Elf?” asked Keres.
I couldn’t see anyone at first. The kobolds were gathered around a hole in the ground, so I climbed a tree by the road to get a better view. Inside a pit trap, spikey spears and all, was a Wode man impaled on one of the wooden stakes. The object seemed to be holding back a Bleeding debuff, but not the man’s ire and rage.
“WHEN I FIND THAT TRAITOROUS BAG OF SWAMP GAS—"
“He needs help,” I said, pulling out the rope from the first man.
“But is he a—” said Keres.
“He’s not calling us ‘knife-eared,’ and he needs help,” I insisted. I shielded myself and tied the rope to a tree branch. I heard Keres sigh heavily and draw her glowing chakrams.
“Don’t make me chase you!” she cried as she charged after them.
Bri’jit tapped her foot as I finished tying off the rope. “Liset, we don’t have time for this.”
I peered over the edge of the pit. “You need me, right?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then you’ll make time,” I said, sliding down the rope into the pit. I saw Bri’jit’s shadow leave to go help Keres with the kobolds.
The man sat up. The effort pulled at the spike in his shoulder and he groaned.
“Steady there, friend. I got you,” I said, casting a shield to eat further damage. I didn’t want to start healing him with the spike still inside him, but he’d start bleeding out as soon as we removed it.
“Who the bloody—” he sputtered. I gave him a warning, then pushed against his back with my legs. “Oi! Oi! Stop that!” he howled.
I held him up with one hand and caught my breath. He was middle-aged, with stubble along his jaw and a gaunt face. He seemed to understand I was trying to help though and pulled out his axe.
“Use this,” he said, handing it to me.
“I can’t use blades,” I said.
“It’s for choppin’ wood, not me, lass. Give it a whack.”
The blade restriction didn’t seem to keep me from using cooking knives, so I did give it a whack. The spike shattered under the blade, and the Wode, Gunder, fell to the ground in a heap. The shield absorbed some of the damage, but I popped a HoT to soak up the Bleeding debuff, then cast Charity, my direct heal, to stitch together the hole in his chest.
Gunder took a few steady breaths and touched the rip in his leather armor in disbelief.
“Thank ye for the assist, sister,” he said, eying my priest robes. “I didn’t expect me prayers to be answered so quickly.”
“It’s been a day for getting people out of traps,” I said, inspecting the wound. It had sealed up nicely. I pushed out all my medical instincts from back on Earth that told me I had to pack the wound and rush the man to surgery. My heal had worked. He was fine.
We both looked up when we heard footsteps above.
“Liset! Get your ass up here!” said Bri’jit.
“Surely you can handle a few kobolds?” I called back.
We heard grunting, snuffling, and a guttural howl. Bri’jit peeked over the edge of the pit, her face panicked, then ran.
I shoved the axe against Gunder’s chest. “Can you fight?”
Gunder spun the axe over his hand. “Born for it, lass. I never turn down a good battle.”
Red Flags
He climbed up the rope with practiced ease. I could barely pull myself up an inch, even wrapping it around my foot to use as a step. Gunder snatched the rope and pulled hard, hand over hand, until I was back on solid ground.
I almost wished I were back in the pit. Thirty [Feral Wild Hogs], with their coarse black hair, red eyes, and oily bile dripping from their tusked mouths, waited for us. Gunder, Bri’jit, Keres, and I went back-to-back. They were infected with the plague, obviously, and larger for
it, at least the size of a jeep. They stared at us, waiting for anyone to make a move.
“‘Liset, we don’t have time for this,’ I said,” said Bri’jit. “But does she listen? Nooooo.”
I ignored her complaints. “Gunder, how’s your armor?”
“Good enough. Pigs ’ave better.”
I eyed my Divinity meter. It was nearly full. A few more moves, assuming we survived it, and maybe Gaia would step in and help a girl out. I twisted my fingers to cast Veracity on the nearest hog. Nothing too obvious, nothing to anger them. Almost instantly the feral, mangy hogs turned on the cleansed one, gnashing at its tough skin with sharp teeth.
I blanched at its squeals of pain and immediately regretted the action.
“Good call, Liset,” said Keres, clapping my back. “Keep the heals up. Come on, beard man,” she said.
Gunder grunted in response and lifted his axe. He hunkered down and gave a roaring battle cry before charging into the feral hogs. Sola Fide had worn off, so I popped another shield on him. I threw it on Keres, Bri’jit, then myself, along with a HoT. I missed hiding out of reach in the branches, but no one was here to help me climb up.
Gunder’s whirlwind attacks kept the hogs’ attention and most of mine. I threw out my stronger heals, easily 100 HP a spell, but it wasn’t something I could keep up forever. I only had to buy time for that meter to fill and pray something useful happened. I could spare a HoT for Keres now and then, but that was it.
“Bri’jit, can you heal, too?” I called out, dodging a boar that barreled for me and stunned itself on the tree behind us.
“I can,” said Bri’jit, doing her best to put some of the boars to sleep, “but it’d be easier if you’d cleanse them!”
That was too cruel. I couldn’t bear the thought of doing that again and using the poor creature as bait. It didn’t deserve that. Maybe it’s because I had been infected with the plague myself, but it was horrifying to think of people, my friends, turning on me if I was cleansed.
“I have an idea,” I told her.
“A good one?” she called back, twirling her staff to cast more spells I couldn’t identify.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but, trust me.”
I did my best to keep up, trying to get back into a rhythm like I did with the pancakes that morning. Shield, HoT, weak heal, weak heal, trying to get that critical chance to bring their Health back up, strong heal to finish it off...
Finally the Divinity meter was filled. I really hoped this worked.
“Bri’jit, take over heals for a second,” I said over my shoulder. “Gunder, protect me as if your life depends on it!” I called out.
The berserker tank couldn’t seem to hear me in his fury, but he responded as if he had. He tilted his head back and roared, the deep cry echoing off the trees in the forest, and stomped the ground. A shock wave rumbled along the ground and knocked a few hogs onto their backs.
Bri’jit raised her staff and bowed her head. A wind swirled around her as she cast her healing spell. I followed suit, trusting Keres to keep them off me, and closed my eyes as I activated the prayer.
“Gaia, your daughter beseeches you. Aid me,” I whispered. I felt warmth fill my chest where my Divine Spark branded me as chosen. I opened my book to the right page, my hands glowing. The holy light hit the places where the plague had replaced my cells and burned, but I stayed focused. I felt as if I were drowning in white light, effervescent and under water. I couldn’t catch my breath from the shock of that much power surging through me.
I didn’t hear a voice, so much as understood a presence saying, “I’m here, what do you need?” It didn’t feel like Gaia. But the Light answered.
What I needed most right now was a way to cast Veracity as an area of effect, even though I hadn’t put points into the second level yet. The person in the light understood, whomever they were, and the power building around me rippled out and around, across the boars, like a boulder dropped into a pond. The light passed over my companions, washing away any debuffs they carried and stunning them with a serene stillness during battle. In the quiet aftermath, I heard small birds start to chirp and leaves rustle as life returned to the forest.
Even Gunder’s acne was cleared up.
The hogs paused in their tracks and glanced at each other. A family of a boar and sow found their child, glanced at us, and hurried off into the underbrush. The other hogs followed suit.
I let out a long sigh and sat on the bloodstained grass. Keres and Gunder caught the slowest hog and butchered it for leather and meat. I did my best to ignore the squeals. My stomach was rumbling and the Hunger debuff was going to start massively affecting our Health and Stamina regen soon. Not to mention, the tribe did need the meat and leather for those quests.
“What’s your secret, Beard Man?” asked Keres, popping a squat next to me and taking a sip of her water. “You weren’t scared at all.”
Gunder grunted. “Get mad. Not scared. Same adrenaline boost.”
Keres knocked knuckles with him and offered him the waterskin.
Bri’jit frowned as she squinted at the sky. It was getting late. She sighed and took the waterskin from Gunder. “Let me guess. You fell into the trap while chopping wood and a Dokkalfar came upon you?”
“How’d ye reckon?”
“Just a guess,” I answered for her. “What’d he look like? Mohawk? Shaved head?”
“Braid,” he corrected. “Purple skin, nearly gray. Thought him a corpse without ’is mask.”
We exchanged glances. Bri’jit gave me The Look that said we were not going after these Murk Elves.
Gunder stood and stretched his muscled arms. He looked between us all. “Sisters, I know I’m a bit too far north for yer comfort, and I apologize, comin’ onto yer lands like that. But—”
“The trees down south are corrupted, too?” I answered for him.
He gave me a curt nod. “I’m obliged you helpin’ me out like that. I know I got no right, but I’ll walk with ye to wherever yer goin’ if you’ll help me hunt that rebel. From the sounds of it, ye’ve met ’is friends, huh.”
Bri’jit shook her head at me and mouthed the word “no.” Keres eyed his axe.
“We could use a tank,” I said. Keres’ upper lip twitched, and I winced. “Not that you haven’t been doing a great job, Big Sis. But we really could. Look how much good we’ve done so far.”
Bri’jit shook her head. “We made this trek every day, but as soon as this one shows up...” she muttered to herself, gesturing towards me.
Gunder bowed his head and beat his chest with a fist. “It would insult my family’s honor to not at least avenge the indignity, or to repay you for your help.”
Keres clamped a hand on Bri’jit’s waist to silence her and pulled her close. “We’ll take him,” she said decisively. She glanced towards Gunder. “If the Murk Elves attack us, we’ll need his help.” She looked at me, frowning. “But no more side quests. We are our peoples’ keeper, but we’re not helping every wanderer trespassing on our lands. We’re allied with the Empire, but I’m not taking on the Inquisition’s work with you.”
False Flags
It was another fifteen minutes before Keres’ conviction failed her. The three Dokkalfar rebels had found another target, and the Dawn Elf children’s cries pierced the mother’s heart. We followed her into the clearing without a word.
Braid and Shaved stood by, arms crossed, while Mohawk held a wriggling elf boy by his ankles and shook various herbs and rocks out of his pockets. His sister had drawn her sword and screamed for them to let him go. I wished I had saved my miracle.
A carved wooden bear toy clattered to the ground along with an apple. Mohawk scowled.
“Tch. Is that it?”
The young woman, her scrawny arms trembling to hold the sword, demanded again that he let her brother go.
“Or what?” said Mohawk. “You’re going to stab me with that—”
The sword was in his belly and blood trickli
ng out of his lips before he finished his sentence. I shielded the young woman to protect her from Mohawk’s backhand, and she twisted the sword as she pulled it out. Mohawk let the boy go and held in his guts with a gloved hand. The young woman stared in horror but recovered when her little brother ran to her side and hugged her middle. She shushed him and protectively held him behind her, bloodied sword at the ready.
“Hey! You! With the face!” cried Keres. Her chakram flew in and struck Mohawk in the side of the head. A chain-smite of holy fury followed shortly, stunning the men temporarily.
Shaved broke out of the stun instantly, pulling a dagger. I noted it wasn’t black and sighed in relief. Gunder charged in with his axe and shouldered Shaved into a tree before the man could slip into stealth.
Braid was an archer and disengaged, leaping into the trees. I waved my arm for Bri’jit to keep her distance spells on him, but she was already on it, channeling her sleep spell. It’d have diminishing returns for sure; the bastard wouldn’t get a chance to set up traps.
Keres switched with Gunder to keep Shaved up against the tree while Gunder whacked Mohawk’s hand with his axe before he could finish drinking a red potion. The glass bottle shattered, and I couldn’t tell the difference between blood and healing potion for a second. Gunder and Keres took turns stun-locking the men, not letting them get a hit in. Between them, they demoralized the men with damage. Just in case, I kept them shielded and threw a HoT on them.
I ran to the young woman and her brother, holding my arms out.
“Are you injured?” I asked, coaxing her towards me. She thought about it, still scared, and bit her lip. Bri’jit’s aim had knocked Braid out of the tree to our left. The girl pushed her brother towards me and ran to join the battle. With a finesse I hadn’t expected of someone so young, she had his arm in her hands and his elbow under her foot within seconds.
I pulled up Acuity. The man’s arm was broken. He couldn’t hold his weapon for at least two minutes. I checked my comrades as well. Keres had an ability that reflected a percentage of damage done back to her opponents, as did Gunder. Another ability, Chastise, sundered Mohawk’s heavy armor and revealed fissures between the loosened plates. Mohawk stunned her back though, not giving her the chance to exploit it, with a whack of his hammer.
Viridian Gate Online: Schism: A litRPG Adventure (The Heartfire Healer Series Book 2) Page 10
