Moonlight Banishes Shadows

by J. T. Wright

  The Greater Were-Beast approached Trent with short erratic bursts. Trent appeared calm, but Martin knew that under that mask, the kid must be trembling. For a moment, the two opponents stood mere feet apart. Trent, with his sword raised and shield ready, and the Rat motionless, except for the swishing of its tail.

  As if reacting to some agreed-upon signal, both surged forward. Trent’s blade whistled as it cut through the air under the influence of Flash Strike. The Trial Beast’s claws blurred as they reached for Trent’s chest. Claws and sword connected at the same moment and Trent came out the loser. His blade hardly scratched the Beast’s side while it twisted, sliding past his shield to rend his shoulder.

  Trent stumbled to the side, his feet working to keep himself upright. Stabilizing himself and ignoring the pain, he thrust towards the creature. A paw closed around the dark blade, and Trent’s thrust came to a halt inches from the Wererat’s chest. Martin thought he could see smoke rising from the Beast’s fist, and he could smell burnt flesh from where he lay.

  Trent strained to push the blade forward, then stepped back and attempted to wrench his sword free. The Wererat did not budge, only chittered mockingly, before tugging the sword out of Trent’s grip and tossing it aside. Martin marked the location where it fell. If he could not have the contents of Trent’s Storage, he at least wanted that sword.

  When Martin looked back to the fight, it was just in time to be blinded by a stunning white light. His eyes teared up, and when they cleared, Trent and the Rat were dancing around each other, each evading the other’s attacks by the narrowest of margins. Having lost his sword, Trent had replaced the weapon and his shield with two thick bladed knives. Fire lined the edges of the blades, and Martin's nose twitched.

  The discarded sword he would sell, but once Trent’s body fell lifeless, those knives would belong to him! And Trent’s end was moments away. Martin could see that the kid wasn’t as skilled with the shorter blades. The one in his left hand looked especially sluggish.

  Trent did manage to score a few hits on the Beast’s hide. He paid for each one by taking a wound himself. Where Trent’s blades scratched, the Rat's claws scattered scale mail plates and soaked Trent’s torso in blood. When the Beast slapped one knife out of Trent’s right hand, and the other slipped from his weakened grasp after a bad cut, Martin trembled in anticipation of seeing this fight finished.

  The boy refused to quit! Throwing himself into a roll, Trent came to his feet, running behind the back of the Wererat. Screeching, the Trial Beast pursued. Trent was becoming desperate if he thought he could outrun a Wererat in the dark, and Martin was eager for the kid to discover his error.

  They reached the edge of the clearing, and claws were once again slashing, this time towards Trent’s back. Leaping, the boy caught a tree branch and swung up, lifting his legs high. The Rat ran beneath, unable to stop. Trent twisted and dropped back to the ground. Without pausing, he sprinted for the center of the clearing.

  Once there, he retrieved his lost sword, and when the Were-Beast came howling back, it faced a more confident opponent. Sword held in both hands, Trent delivered sweeping strikes and slashes. His feet hardly moved more than a step at a time, but he always avoided the Rat’s counters, and unlike his knives, the sword was able to harm the Beast.

  The Wererat was unable to avoid Trent’s blade long enough to employ its vocal Skills. Its rage mounting under Trent’s assault, it had one last trick, one the Swordsman had never seen, and Martin nearly swallowed his tongue when it was employed. The Wererat vanished and reappeared several feet in the air above Trent. It fell towards the Swordsman like doom given life and form.

  Martin would have died under this attack. Trent never looked up or back. Stepping back, he lifted and reversed his blade over his shoulder. The Wererat’s body slammed into him, and they both crashed to the ground. For a moment, all was still.

  Trent pushed himself up, grunting from the effort. It was the first sound Martin had heard him make. A second grunt and Trent heaved the corpse from his back and scrambled to his feet. Panting for air, Trent’s shoulders slumped, and blood dripped from the tips of his gloves. He stumbled, retrieving his sword from the scabbard of the Wererat’s heart. His hands shook as he picked up those magnificent knives, and it took him three tries to sheathe them.

  Martin’s first thought was to flee a Swordsman who could do what Trent had just done. Seeing Trent’s condition, his twitching nose convinced him to leave his hiding place. Trent’s back was to him as he stepped into the clearing and dismissed his animal form. It was time to collect what the boy owed the Thief as compensation for all the trouble he had caused.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I got to admit, kid, that was unexpected,” Martin drawled, slapping his hands together in drawn-out mocking applause. “Too bad it left you in such bad shape. Not good to get cut up like that; might give some people the wrong impression. Make them think you’re vulnerable.”

  “Third bush to the right of the aspen,” Trent uttered this nonsense without turning. Martin thought he must have misheard or that Trent was hallucinating from a poison in the Wererat’s claws.

  “Did I lose you, kid?” Martin came to a stop ten feet from Trent’s position. “I need you to come back now, come back and empty out your Storage. Place your weapons on the…"

  “Third bush to the right of the Aspen,” Trent repeated, carefully, turning around.

  “What are to you babbling about, boy? I need you to snap out of it. You’re carrying things of mine that I'd like to have!” Martin drew his favorite persuading knife to show to Trent.

  “Do you not know what an aspen looks like?” Trent dragged out the words, speaking as one would to a small child. “It’s that one, with the white, white-grey bark, and the yellowish leaves.”

  “Think I'll look, and you can jump me, kid? That’s just insulting.” Martin was going to enjoy cutting the tongue out of Trent’s head.

  “I don’t need to trick you.” Denying the accusation blandly, Trent’s head tilted. “You were in the bush, the third one to the right of the aspen. You sounded like you thought you were sneaking up on me. You were wrong.”

  “Bullshit!” The tip of Martin’s knife pointed in Trent’s direction. “You don’t see shit unless I want you to see it! You are done, kid! And if you keep pissing me off, your screams will bring every Beast in this fucking place running!”

  “I didn’t even need Perception to notice you. There’s no place for you to hide, not anymore.” Trent started coughing. Or that was what it sounded like at first. After a moment, Martin realized the hacking held more laughter than pain.

  “The time for mind games is over,” Martin said, gritting his teeth. “I have the upper hand here. Now empty your Storage or…"

  Trent’s broken, jerky chuckle increased in volume. “Or what? You are a walking corpse, and you don’t even see it. My belongings won’t help you, and your threats are empty wind. No one would believe or trust an honor-less dead man. I certainly won’t do it twice.”

  Trent pushed his cowl back and Martin saw his face for the first time. Trent’s complexion was pale from blood loss, but his eyes burned with a violet glow. He called Martin a corpse. Under the moonlight, Trent looked like a ghost, a specter sent to claim souls. Martin wanted to open his mouth to refute Trent but was afraid the scream welling up from his chest would escape if he did.

  “I did not understand why you attacked me when we entered together.” Trent took a step forward. “Then I baited a Werewolf. Meat and blood; that was how you intended to use me, yes?”

  “Stay back, kid, I'm warning you!” Martin drew a second knife and dropped into a defensive crouch.

  “It’s too late for warnings, Martin. Afraid I'll kill you? I could… but I don’t need to. Can’t you feel it? You broke the Truce. There is not one place you can hide in this Trial. I can see the mark on you. You spilled the blood of another hunter, another challenger. You’re finished.”

  Trent grew
before Martin’s eyes. Not a dramatic change, no more than an inch, but in Martin’s current state of mind, Trent became a giant. He became a vengeful wraith, bringing judgment. The flames that enshrouded the Swordsman’s body enhanced this image.

  “You should put your knives away, Martin; throw them away. They won’t help you, and the extra weight will slow you down.” Trent moved faster than he had against the Wererats, his palm lashing out to strike Martin’s sternum, and Martin’s chest burned! He lost hold of his weapons as he found himself being hurled backward.

  Hitting the ground hard, Martin’s vision clouded for a moment. When he could see clearly, his eyes found Trent standing, shaking with laughter. “I don’t need a weapon to kill you, Martin. But you needn’t worry. I'll spare you today. You should run now. The hunt is coming, and you are the prey.”

  Martin was fleeing before Trent finished speaking. He fell further into his Beast form than he ever had before. His chin sunk and his nose extended. By the time he reached the shelter of the trees, fur covered his entire body. Martin ran without looking back, and he felt eyes in the darkness following him.

  **********

  Heart of the Inferno. It was the first Ability Trent had ever acquired. It provided him with resistance to fire and enhanced all fire-related Skills and Spells, reducing their costs and giving them a purifying effect. These were passive benefits, but when it had leveled up, the Heart gained an active effect. At the cost of all his Stamina, Trent could increase his Strength by 10 and radiate an Aura of Fire for thirty seconds.

  Martin should have looked back. If he had, he would have seen the flames surrounding Trent fizzle out and the boy collapse to his knees. Trent had only used this active Ability of the heart once before, and that time it had been cut off prematurely. Now that Trent’s Stamina was depleted, he did not have the energy to even raise his head. He would never touch the gift of the Inferno again if this was the price he would have to pay.

  Numerous notifications were begging for his attention, but Trent was preoccupied with more immediate concerns. He had suffered serious injuries in the fight with the Minor Guardian. His upper arms, his legs, and side all showed signs of conflict. He could feel a wound on his back that still dripped blood down the length of his spine. Only his forearms and head had escaped the Wererat’s claws, protected by soul-bound equipment.

  Orion didn’t step forward to heal him, and Tersa didn’t tell him to drink a Health potion, then call him stupid for not having one. The Health pool at his center felt alarmingly low, and Trent pulled up his Status. His HP was at 231/585, and his Stamina was empty. As he watched, his Health continued to drain away. More disturbing, his SP didn’t recover. Endurance was unable to support him due to the damage he had taken.

  He was still bleeding. That was the only explanation Trent could fathom for his dropping health and weakness. He had to bind his wounds! Numb fingers clawed at his belt and tugged at his armor. Removing his mail and shirt caused pain to ripple through his body, and he groaned.

  A soft whimper answered Trent’s murmured expression of discomfort. Pup, hiding during the battle and the ensuing confrontation with Martin, placed his front paws on Trent’s hip and began licking at the gash in his side. Trent did not have the energy to push the Dog away. He winced at the animal’s ministrations and focused on cutting the remains of his shirt into strips.

  Wrapping the injuries on his legs, he did his best to do the same for his side. His arms were harder to bandage, and Trent wasn’t satisfied by the loose-fitting job he had managed to achieve. The wound on his back was still a problem. He could not see it, much less reach it. The trickle of warmth told him it was there.

  He needed a Healing potion, and the Trial refused to give him one. Balm only restored 3 Points of HP. That wasn’t enough to counter the Health that was still seeping away. He opened Storage to take out a second shirt to cut up for bandages.

  Greenhouse was his newest addition to Storage. He hadn’t had much time to fill the space meant for herbs while in the Moonlit Forest. Wolf Vine was the only valuable plant he had come across here, and its petals came away as glass vials. A hundred slots meant exclusively for plucked plants were all empty.

  However, Greenhouse had a second use. It had five spaces meant for cultivating seeds. Seeds planted in these spots grew at an accelerated rate. It appeared that the five seeds Trent had placed in them were ready.

  Herbs had to be prepared by an Herbalist or refined into potions by an Alchemist to be most effective, but even freshly gathered, they had their uses. Set Leaf, Wild Garlic, Aadrage, Terah’s Mercy, and Gray Mint; of the five, it was the Set Leaf and Garlic that caused Trent’s eyes to brighten.

  Herbalism told Trent that Wild Garlic restored 20 HP when eaten and reduced bleeding. He tried to take it from Storage immediately and was presented with a choice.

  Wild Garlic is ready to be collected.

  You may choose to pick five cloves, or three cloves and two seeds.

  It was agonizing to wait, and the increasing ache in his body demanded that he take the five cloves. Trent remained clearheaded enough to go with the second option. Three cloves of garlic fell into his waiting hand. Of the two seeds, one filled a Storage slot for later and the other was planted.

  Trent’s quivering fingers peeled back the garlic’s sheltering leaves and popped the bulbs into his mouth one after another. A pungent taste filled his mouth, and it was a tossup whether the tears that welled in his eyes were from that taste or his pain. He swallowed hastily, gagging slightly as the half-chewed mush slid down his throat.

  Unprepared Herbs did not work as fast as magic or potions. However, checking his Status, Trent saw his Health had stopped declining and was slowly starting to recover. His Stamina also started to refill, and the worst of Trent’s shaking ceased.

  He received another message when he took out the Set Leaf and made a similar choice. Holding the three red leaves in his hand, Trent encountered a dilemma. Set Leaf wasn’t meant to be eaten. You had to turn it into a paste and apply it directly to an injury.

  That would work for the wounds on his legs, arms, and side, but the more serious laceration on his back Trent could not reach himself. His eyes drifted from the leaves to the Dog lying in front of him. Pup was covering his nose with his front paws and staring at Trent with wide worried eyes.

  “I need your help.” Trent held out a leaf. “You'll have to chew this and apply it to my back. Can you do that?” He was prepared to bribe the animal with dried meat, but Pup chomped down on the leaf without delay and began chewing.

  Trent had a horrifying moment when he realized that there was no reason Pup should be able to understand his directions. He expected to see the Dog swallow the herb and then beg for more. When Pup padded around and pushed at Trent, urging the boy to lay flat, Trent obeyed, wondering how the animal knew what to do.

  Circulating Spiritual Flame with Fire Manipulation to protect his bare skin from the frozen grass, Trent gasped as tiny claws pricked their way onto his back. A retching noise accompanied Pup's spitting of his mouthful of herbs, and Trent winced as a smooth tongue spread the plants evenly across the gash.

  When he was finished, Pup hopped down and pranced in front of Trent, his tail swinging violently enough to cause his hind end to wobble. Muttering a thank you, Trent eased his way back up and settled into a kneeling position. Numbness replaced the ache on his back and from the way Pup’s tongue lolled out of the Dog’s mouth, he was feeling the effects of the Set Leaf as well.

  Grey Mint was used to treat disease, and Terah’s Mercy was a poison. Neither would help Trent. And Aadrage was a mystery. When he tried to remove it from Storage, he was informed that his Skill Level was too low to pick the plant. He would look it up later. Trent applied the Set Leaf to his other wounds and waited for the Herb to take effect.

  It was terrifying to be sitting here in a Trial, with his body slowly growing numb. Had Martin or a Wererat returned, they would have found Trent helpless, his limbs
clumsy and unresponsive. He distracted himself by eating and tossing bits of dried meat to Pup. Pup thought this was a grand game and wasn’t upset when his own unresponsive jaws failed to catch the treats.

  When Pup collapsed with a full stomach and fell asleep, Trent pulled up the notifications he had ignored earlier.

  Dash leveled up. Dash now Level 10 (MAX) +1 Agility.

  Dodge leveled up. Dodge now Level 6.

  Three Steps leveled up. Three Steps now Level 2.

  You have learned Enhanced Jump Level 1. Enhanced Jump increases leaping height by 10٪ when activated. May fail if activated incorrectly. +1 Agility.

  You have defeated Level 16 Shadow Wererat (Minor Guardian). 1000 XP gained. Harvest Beast for additional reward.

  It was a puzzling series of messages. He had not learned an improved version of Dash after the Skill reached Level 10 like Sergeant Cullen had said might happen. Unless Enhanced Jump was a movement Skill, not unlike Dash. Had he learned it for mastering a Skill?

  Trent had unconsciously pushed Stamina to the souls of his feet while leaping for the branch to avoid the Shadow Wererat’s claws. It had been a desperate action, and while it had worked, the note that the Skill might fail concerned him. Trent wasn’t sure if it was an inherent part of the Skill itself or due to the way he had learned it.

  Feeling somewhat stronger, Trent forced himself upright. He wobbled as he took his last shirt from Storage and pulled it on. He left the ruins of his armor on the grass. There wasn’t enough of the scale-plated leather left to serve any purpose.

  Trent trudged to where Martin had dropped his knives and collected them. Lighter than Trent preferred, they still had their uses. He gathered his belt and placed one of the blades on it before swinging the rig around his hips. Then he turned to the corpses of the Minor Guardian and its minions.