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22. Gorges at This Time of Year
🕑 Added 2024-09-27 16:00:10 +0000 UTCSitting beside the tent, Cam ground his blade, sharpening the ragged thing. He checked the edge. Still ragged, but sharper, now. Almost sharp enough to cut instead of hack. Putting it back to the block, he ran the whetstone down its length again. Over and over, as if he could rub the blood clean.
“The hell are you doing?”
He looked up. It was Tom, again. The same question as usual. He gestured at his sword. “Sharpening my blade.”
“What’s the point? We ran away from all that shit. No Captain here to kick our ass if it’s not perfectly sharp. No one to fight against but some chickenshit peasants. We don’t have to fight the King’s stupid wars for him anymore, so who cares?”
Cam sighed. He sat back, lowering the whetstone. “It’s relaxing. Quiets my heart.”
“There you go again with that bullshit. I hope Sarem gets back soon. I could use some fresh food. If the peasants have anything left, anyways.”
A man in a ragged, dark-red cloak stepped out of the forest. Tom stood, pointing as he walked toward him. “Speak of the devil! Sare,, my man! Did those peasants have anything hidden away in the cellar? I’m so sick of boiled roots and venison. Give me some good news!”
Sarem waved. He gestured Tom closer, reaching toward his hip as he did so.
Cam stiffened. He froze, whetstone raised in one hand, other hand pressed to his blade. There was something wrong. Something… off about Sarem. He lowered the stone and gripped the blade with both hands, rising from a sit to a crouch.
Tom grinned. He raised his hand to clasp Sarem’s. “Show me something good. Some chicken, maybe? Hell, I’d take some flour or butter—”
Silver flashed. Sarem drove his blade through Tom’s gut.
Tom stared. He glanced down. “Wha… why…”
Even as Tom fell, Cam jumped to his feet. He dashed toward the man, who wasn’t Sarem at all. “Attack! We’re being attacked!”
Not-Sarem snatched Tom’s sword from his belt and tossed it backward, then kicked Tom to the ground. Something behind him caught the sword. It vanished under the cloak at a slow, deliberate speed.
Shouting, Cam closed in on the man. The other deserters ran with him, all of them drawing their weapons. To his surprise, the man raised his hands.
“Whoa, whoa, same team, same team! I deserted, too!”
Cam slowed. The other deserters slowed just a beat as well. Lowering his blade, Cam tilted his head. “Then why kill Tom?” Was it a personal conflict? Tom was kind of an asshole. He could understand holding a grudge against him.
“Uh, ‘cause he killed a bunch of innocent villagers and set their town on fire like an asshole. Anyone here not do that?” not-Sarem asked. He raised his hand and looked around for anyone else to raise theirs.
Cam looked at the ground. He hadn’t directly participated, but could any of them say their hands were clean? They ate the villagers’ supplies, whether they went out of their way to procure those supplies or not. All their hands were tainted by the blood of the innocent.
Behind Cam, the other deserters rushed toward not-Sarem again.
“Yeah… thought so.” A blade hurtled toward Cam’s neck. Everything went sideways, and then it all went dark.
--
Two down. Ten to go. Levi stole the headless man’s sword out of his dying grasp and tossed it back to the Armalgam. The Armalgam caught it, drawing it under the cloak. The other men closed in on him, shouting war cries as they hefted their weapons.
And if there’s any in the trees, this much noise is bound to draw them. Levi grinned, spinning all three blades. There was only one thing to do: go absolutely ham on the men in the camp.
The first two closed in. Levi whistled. The Armalgam yanked off his cloak and threw it at the men. They grabbed at the cloth, tossing it aside. Before it even cleared their head, Levi closed in low and slashed diagonally upward, splitting their guts open. The men screamed and staggered back, clutching at their guts.
Levi ran past them. He closed in on the next men. They spread out, trying to drag him into the center of their small group where they’d have him surrounded. Levi raced right in. His eyes darted from face to face. Battle-hardened. Numb. Eager. Afraid.
That one. He leaped to the side and raced toward the furthest left member of the group. Fear transformed into panic. The man backed away, swinging his sword away from his body as if he were flailing at an insect.
Levi lifted his blade. He pushed the man’s sword outward and ran in. The man screamed in fear. From behind Levi’s back, the Armalgam struck. Blood flew from the man’s thighs. Squealing like a stuck pig, the man fled a few stumbling steps before he fell face-down. Levi stabbed him in the back before he could lose any more of his dignity.
The other three men raced toward him, quickly resetting their formation. Levi backed away, refusing to let the two to his left and right get behind him. The wall of the cliff loomed, closer than he’d like. The tents appeared in the corner of his eye. He stepped left, walking along the cliff.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys. Let’s talk this out. I’m sure it’s just a big misunderstanding,” Levi said.
“You killed half our men!” one of the men shouted.
“Yes, I did, and I’m very sorry about that. It was a mistake! I thought you were Ician soldiers. You know. Non-deserted ones.”
He kept backing up. A fire flickered beside him, and he froze, unable to go any further. The men approached him, closing in around him.
One of the men rolled his eyes. “The first thing you said was—”
“Oh, yeah. I know.” Levi gestured. The Armalgam shot out one of its free arms and snatched the boiling pot off the fire. It threw it at the nearest of the three men.
Boiling soup splashed all over him, followed moments later by the red-hot iron pot. The man screeched in pain, batting at his own body in a futile attempt to stop the liquid from scalding his flesh.
Levi closed in. He slashed the man’s throat, putting an end to his suffering. The other two men darted in, closing what remained of the pincer attack. Levi turned his back to one and faced down the other.
The one he turned his back to scoffed. “You fool—”
Two blades whirled at him. The man’s mouth shut. He fought back desperately, putting his all into preventing the Armalgam from striking him with either of its blades.
Levi dueled the other man at the same time. He pushed hard, forcing the other man to back away.
“Getting away from the cliff?” the man huffed between blows.
“Well, that too.” Levi whistled.
One of the man’s fallen comrades’ eyes flashed green. The corpse lifted its hand and grabbed ahold of the man’s ankle. The man looked down. He yanked his leg, trying to break free.
Levi jumped in and stabbed the man before he could escape. At the same time, the Armalgam leaned off his body. Using all its strength, it beat the other man’s sword away, then slashed his throat.
The remaining men raced at him. Levi backed away, panting hard. His heart raced, his stamina at its limits. Calling that corpse back to grab the man’s ankle had taken the last scraps of his mana. He was running on fumes. On the bits he could absorb from the corpses around him and nothing. He backed toward the cliffs. Putting on a smug face, as if he wasn’t tired at all, he gestured. “Come on. I’ll take you all.”
A black blur flashed out of the forest. One man after another dropped to the ground, neck broken, throat slashed open. The men turned, facing the forest rather than Levi. Three remained. Two. One.
Holding the last man’s head in her clawed hand, the Count gazed into his eyes. “Do you know what you’ve done? Do you repent?”
The man’s lips trembled. He shook, too afraid to say anything.
Her eyes flashed. She sneered in derision. “Filth.” She clenched her fist and cracked the man’s skull. His eyes rolled up in his head. She dropped him, and he hit the ground, limp.
Levi waved. He pushed off the wall. “Took your damn time.”
“I was finishing off the men in the forest, so you and your pretty little healer wouldn’t get ambushed,” the Count flatlined. She nodded at Levi. “No injuries?”
“No, but plenty of EXP.” He drew up his status sheet.
Levi | 18 | Lv 25
Class: Necromancer [SPECIAL]
Str: 27
Mag: 52
Dex: 25
Spd: 28
Def: 12
Res: 48
[Basic Swordsmanship]
[Shadow Manipulation]
[Shadow Step]
[Raise Dead]
[Drain]
[Shape Dead]
[Heal Undead]
Expend mana to heal dead who are not aligned under you.
Levi raised his brows. “Alright. This is some bullshit.”
“What is?” Isa asked, glancing at him.
“I swear the Goddess is just making up skills as I do them. Or… I do something, and then it becomes a skill the next time I level up?”
Isa nodded. “That’s how it works. If you think of, or attempt, something with your powers, the System will consider it. If it’s a valid technique, it will validate it by turning it into a skill, at which point, it will be readily available to you without conscious thought. For some skills, such as spells, you won’t be able to call upon them until the System validates them, while others you will be able to use with conscious thought and effort even before validation. There are a few skills that the System will gift you at certain level intervals, but most skills will be the things you think up.”
“Oh. You know, that makes a lot of sense,” Levi said. “Explains why Colin can heal poisons now, too.”
“Afflictions,” Colin clarified.
“Like poisons?”
Colin hesitated. He nodded. “Well, yeah…”
“It’s pretty convenient,” Levi said.
Isa nodded. “It’s also dangerous. It means that most people you meet will have unique skills. No two Soldiers, Adventurers, or Heroes will be exactly the same. Don’t ever grow complacent and think you know what to expect from a certain class, because it will be at that moment that you’ll find out that particular Hero dreamed up a new skill no other Hero has ever thought up before.”
“Yeah… I’m used to that, though,” Levi said, nodding. He looked around, then clapped. “I think our job here is done. Shall we go check on the villagers one last time before we go?”
Isa snorted. She nodded. “And Valere, as well. She requires… punishment.”
“You can keep your ‘punishment’ between you two, you dang exhibitionist,” Levi muttered.
Isa grinned. “Wouldn’t you be disappointed if we did?”
He hesitated. “A little bit, yeah.”
Isa chuckled. She shook her head, then nodded at Colin. “If you’d like, you’re invited.”
Colin froze. He shook his head adamantly.
“I’ll come,” Levi offered.
“No.”
“Dammit.”
