“So we kill it while it’s distracted.”
“Exactly.” The wizard pointed to two mortars and pestles. “Justin, grind the vervain. Zaara, you grind the thyme.”
“Am I making a stew?” she asked under her breath but she set to work.
The two worked until both had aching arms and he realized his magic reserves had gone almost to zero. On a hunch, he twisted his arm with the pestle and the bar decreased slightly. When he examined both the bowl and the pestle, he noticed runes carved on them. It must be set to imbue the herbs with magic as it was used.
That explained why they had been in charge of grinding herbs, then.
Kural mixed a few herbs in careful proportions and stored others separately. Each packet was wrapped in a square of cloth that was slippery and silky, held together with a dollop of hot wax that glowed with spells. When he was finished, he gave his two assistants a critical look and retrieved two potions from one of his hidden shelves.
Justin had played a number of games where his character drank mana potions but he had never felt one take hold. It was as if he had swallowed an entire packet of pop rocks and washed it down with soda. His vision went blue at the edges as his mana bar climbed to full.
“Whoa.”
“It is a good feeling, yes?” The wizard smiled. “There have been more than a few who got addicted. Be careful.”
He nodded. “You have what you need for the summoning now, so what’s the plan?”
“I’ll need your help to devise one,” Kural said bluntly. “I’ll set a spell within a spell. The angel summoning will draw the demon close, then I’ll release the second one. What I’ll need, however, is someone to watch my back and people to keep the wider demon army at bay.”
“Lyle, Zaara, and I can watch your back,” Justin said. “The bandits know how to fight together, so it makes sense to have them fight as a group around us, and the three of us can alternate between more than one way of fighting when necessary.” He looked at Zaara, who nodded, and then at the dwarf, who had recently entered the house. Lyle nodded as well.
“I don’ have more’n one way of fighting,” he said gruffly. “But when I punch somethin’, it stays down.”
“I believe you, Master Dwarf.” Kural beckoned to him. “And I have something for you. This oil here will make your knuckle weapons deadly to anything of the demon realm. It is called Angel Fire, and it is quite precious. But, if ever there was a time to use it, that time is now, I think.” He used another piece of the slippery cloth to smooth the oil over the knuckle weapons Lyle used and nodded at him. To Justin, he said, “I would appreciate it if you would convey the plan to our friends. I think someone they have fought with before would be a better voice to tell them what they must do.”
He nodded agreement. “I will tell Hildon first,” he said. “Any reservations he has may well show us a weakness in our plan. We will call you when it is time to tell the rest.”
“Hey.” Jacob beckoned to the technician he’d spoken to earlier. “Come watch this.”
Not surprisingly, the rest of them crowded around as well. The essential work was done and they were merely bringing the excess pods online and updating now.
“This may show you part of why games are important,” he explained. “When Justin first came into this game, his biggest goal was to get glory and win the…er, gratitude…of tavern wenches everywhere. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s probably worse than that. Trust me—I’ll show you the logs. But watch what he’s doing now. He’s speaking to multiple people, asking them if there are problems in his plan, and then he’ll speak to them about why they’re doing what they’re doing.”
“But these…aren’t people,” one of the technicians said blankly.
“They behave like people and they look like people,” he said. “Not only that but if Justin dies in the game, he may well die in real life. It’s one of the ways the game works—it forces his brain into an acceptance of life and death.” He settled into his chair. “Just watch.”
Hildon listened to Justin’s explanation with a furrowed brow. At his shoulder, Mira hovered with a carefully blank expression. When he finished, the two of them looked at one another. There was clearly some communication, although he could not tell what they had agreed. He suspected that was by design.
“You know what you’re asking of us,” the bandit leader said at last.
“I’m asking you to be the first line of defense against the demon army,” Justin said. “It is dangerous and it will be difficult.”
“And you’re willing to admit as much to the bandits?” Hildon asked.
“Yes.”
“Then do so.” He gestured with his chin. “They’ll pull no punches with their questions, I warn you.”
Mira gave him a smile. “Good luck.”
“I have to ask.” He crossed his arms. “Do you expect me to do well at this or fail miserably?”
She considered the question. “I could see it going either way.” With that not very reassuring assessment, she left to take her place among her comrades and Justin beckoned the others out of the hut.
He didn’t want to share the entirety of the plan at a high volume in case the demon was listening, so he abridged that part and told them only about the fact that there would be a summoning for an angel.
Then he told them which people would do what.
“Hang on.” One of the bandits, a woman with hair that was almost white, leaned against the wall and pierced him with a look. He was reminded of Lyle’s assessment that old mercenaries had learned how to get other people to go into danger instead of going in themselves. It seemed it was probably the same with bandits. “We’ll be slaughtered if we do this.”
“Not slaughtered,” he said. “If I thought you’d be slaughtered, I wouldn’t have suggested this. There will be many waves of demons and it is imperative that whoever stands against them be strong and accustomed to fighting as a group.”
“But you’re putting us on the front line,” another argued. Where the first was old, he was young, although his eyes didn’t look any younger. “If we wanted to fight in the wars of the powerful, we’d have stayed in our villages. We don’t get caught up in those messes.”
“Do you remember what Hildon said at the ruins?” Justin challenged. “To avoid confrontation with an enemy like this is to let it gain strength.”
“That was when we were trapped,” the woman said.
“Now we can leave,” the man agreed. “Who will the army follow? They won’t choose a group of bandits. They’ll target the town.”
“You’d let them attack the town?” he asked, horrified.
“They could be bandits too, ʼcept they make themselves a target.” The man shrugged. “Everyone makes their choice. If you have a house and flocks, someone will want those. If you stay in one place, you’re a target.”
He gaped and looked at Hildon, who seemed to be enjoying this. The man leaned against the wall of the cottage with his arms folded, and he shrugged.
“I told you they wouldn’t be easy to persuade.”
Justin thought about it. He did not look at Zaara or Kural and focused instead on the bandits. His father had once said that you could learn much about a person by really looking at them. At the time, of course, he had tried to convince his son to wear something other than jeans and hoodies, to which he had only rolled his eyes.
Now he thought he’d try to take the advice.
The bandits lived hard, but their gear didn’t show it. Each patch was well made, and the gear was beautifully maintained. Leather armor and scabbards were oiled and worn easily. Knives were kept clean—cleaner than the bandits, in fact. These people lived and breathed defense, not comfort.
They weren’t paladins, moved to protect the weak. Still, he suspected they weren’t malicious, either. They merely tried to protect themselves and didn’t see why other people wouldn’t run as well.
In addition, they were used to being able to pick their battles.<
br />
“You came out here because you didn’t want to live in their world,” Justin said. The bandits had gone silent. They didn’t nod but they no longer objected either. “And the odds were that you’d make it a few years before the world caught up with you. You knew there might be someone like Sephith or bored royal guards, or you knew that someday, you’d pick the wrong target or luck wouldn’t go your way. That’s how things go out here. Until then, you’d be free.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” a different bandit muttered at the same time that the AI popped up its input onscreen.
FLOWERY SPEECHES, Level 38
“Fine, I get it,” Justin muttered under his breath. He shrugged. “You’re used to being able to choose your fight. Well, this one wasn’t what you thought. You chose it, way back when the demon was that one witch. You didn’t even realize what you were stepping into. The thing is, now the demon is pissed and it’s making an army and you have a choice—you deal with it now, or you deal with it later. You’re looking at basically the only person around who can kill it, which means this is probably your best chance for a while, if not ever.”
A sulky silence followed that.
“It sucks,” he said. “I understand that. And if any one of you wants to switch places and guard the wizard while the demon tries to kill him, you’re welcome to do that. It would probably be best if it’s someone with magic if you have that. I’m doing this because the demon is attacking people I care about and I won’t leave them. I think you all feel the same about those you fight with. In the end, though, it’s your choice.”
They began to talk and muttered among themselves. Tight knots formed. Some were arguing, he could see. Others had made their choice, and still more waited to see what others said.
They divided into two groups with two thirds on one side and one third on the other. It was clear what was happening, and he could only hope the larger group had chosen to help.
“We’ll do it,” Mira said, from the head of the larger group. She nodded at him. “You watched my back before, now I’ll watch yours. Not to mention that I’d still be cursed if it weren’t for you.”
The two groups looked at Hildon now. Justin could see a certain fear in the smaller group. He didn’t understand until the leader spoke.
“It’s a heavy choice to make, isn’t it?”
He realized then that those who didn’t fight were relinquishing their right to be a part of the group. Horrified, he looked at Hildon,. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“You didn’t?” The man returned his look. “Where are you from that you’ll keep someone with you even if they won’t guard you through thick and thin? We don’t guard townsfolk but we guard each other.” He nodded at the smaller group. “I’m sad to see you go, all of you. I wouldn’t have kept you in my team if you weren’t worth it. May we never meet again.”
“May we never meet again,” the others murmured in response. They left, shouldered their packs, and vanished into the mist.
“Better to have fewer allies than uncertain ones,” Kural said. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” Justin swallowed and nodded. “There’s a demon to kill.”
“And a chance of killing it, thanks to you.” Zaara squeezed his hand. “I didn’t think you had a hope in hell of convincing them.”
“Neither did I,” Mira agreed.
“Thanks a lot, guys.” He rolled his eyes.
“We weren’t going to hamstring you by telling you that,” Mira protested.
“Right. Let’s go. And no one give me your opinions on our current odds, please.” He shuddered. “I’d like to imagine a future where I survive.”
Chapter Sixty
Kural led the group through swirling fog. Justin couldn’t see more than a foot or two ahead of himself, but the wizard seemed to know exactly where he was going.
Everyone else hung onto each other’s cloaks to make sure no one got lost.
He was sure they would run into the same issue as the last time, with their enemy drawing out the suspense to breaking point and attacking en masse from the mist. Not so much as a flicker of movement caught his eye, however, and eventually, they stepped out of the fog with surprising suddenness.
Startled, he looked behind him. The mist hadn’t met a wall, exactly, but it had ended within the space of a yard. It stretched up as high as he could see—which was unnerving, although he couldn’t have said why.
“Come.” Kural jerked his head at the group. “Down the hill. Quickly now.”
They were in a piece of land that looked almost like a volcanic crater. It sloped down from sharp peaks on every side except for the small area they had walked in through, which seemed to have been worn down by the sheer number of people. The bare ground cut a path through grass of varying heights and ended at a patch of white ground—a rough panel of rock that might either be natural or somehow brought there long before.
It looked like the kind of place where druids might dance around naked, Justin thought.
Or the kind of place where someone would offer a blood sacrifice. He wondered if he should ask what exactly this ritual entailed but felt that it might be too awkward to do so now.
The wizard placed his packets of herbs on the ground next to the circle and began to work. First, he knelt and took a stick of charcoal out of a hidden pocket in his cloak. A giant diagram began to take shape on the white circle. It didn’t look satanic, the young man thought. Not…exactly.
Only a little too close for comfort.
“Get ready,” Kural said.
Justin, Zaara, and Lyle took their places around it and looked out. The mist had crept around the crater now.
It knew they were there. The hair on Justin’s arms stood up and he gulped slightly.
The smell of herbs reached him. The wizard had cut some of the pouches open and followed the lines he had traced in charcoal as well as some he hadn’t drawn at all. He didn’t speak, but the sound of a muttered spell was almost audible in Justin’s head.
The bandits were still fanning out when the first attack came. A set of bear-creatures lumbered out of the mist at high speed. They seemed to pull the vapor along with them as they ran.
Hildon’s fighters didn’t waver and flaming arrows were loosed immediately. Most struck home and all the bears met attacking bandits a moment later. Shouts erupted but so far, they seemed to be fighters calling to one another, not cries of alarm or pain.
Justin settled into a crouch. He held his sword angled and tried to breathe. Something out there in the mist was looking at him, he knew it.
It didn’t come from where he expected. The ground directly ahead of him exploded and spiders poured out to skitter across grass and rock.
“Ignis!” he yelled. He shifted his sword to his left hand and swiped his right, the palm out, in an arc. Flames streaked from his palm and washed the spiders in a wave of crackling fire.
Some were obliterated but the problem with tons of spiders was that there were so many of them and they all moved in different directions.
“Spiders,” he moaned. “Why did it have to be spiders?” He wasn’t as afraid of them as his mother was, but that didn’t mean he liked them. One of them had started to climb his cloak and he twisted and spun. “Dammit! Get off. Off!”
In the lab, Jacob looked around to see that everyone’s shoulders were close to their ears. He couldn’t judge, though, as his were, too.
“Hello, everyone,” a cheerful voice said.
Under normal circumstances, an unexpected hello wouldn’t have had much effect. However, as the technicians were watching the proliferation of demonic spiders on the screen, they were more jumpy than usual. Several uttered undignified noises that were outside their usual vocal range, two fell off their chairs, and Jacob almost took the monitors with him when he stood too quickly and promptly fell.
“Is everything okay?” Mary Williams asked. Beside her, Tad watched with an expression of deep consternation.
“It’s fine,” the young engineer said much too quickly. He shoved the monitor behind him. “Fine. Everything’s fine here.”
“How are you?” one of the technicians asked hastily.
“What’s going on?” the senator asked and advanced on them. He wasn’t threatening, not exactly. But it was very clear from his expression that someone had better have a good answer.
“Let’s say Justin could use Mary’s help right about now,” Nick said. He had recovered more quickly than the others. “She pulled out one of the most powerful spells I’ve ever seen in-game for a single spider, and there are about eighty-five of them right now.”
“Eighty-five?” Mary asked. She had taken a step back but her hands had also come up in the spell-casting pose, clearly by instinct.
Tad looked at the technicians. He looked at his wife. Still utterly silent, he repeated the looks but with a deadpan expression.
“Is there, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Is there any video of that?”
“Get—the fuck—off me!” Justin yelled. He launched fireballs with wild abandon at this point, which seemed like a good idea until Kural yelled in protest. “Sorry!”
“I’ll deal with the spiders,” Lyle told him. “You deal with the big horse thing.”
“What big horse—oh fuck, what is that?” He had the impression of hooves and bright red eyes and decided there was no time like the present for an offensive strike. “Geronimooooooo!”
The animal reared at the last minute and its hooves lashed out. He skidded to his knees and thrust the sword up with all his might. A red shield appeared at the point of impact. It glowed with demonic runes and the blade slid uselessly off it.
“Fuckballs,” he said vehemently as he threw himself sideways. He barely managed to avoid rolling into the circle and the horse reared again. “How the hell do I—oh.”
It was difficult to hold a visualization as he dodged around the animal, but he tried to imagine waves receding from a beach. Oddly, that focus relaxed him. He began to dodge automatically, parried the stabs of the hooves, and jerked out of the way of its snapping teeth.
Too Young to Die Page 42
