Born a Monster

Chapter 77

Side Door

We made our way around to the side door, only to find that courtyard was being used as an assembly point for Tide troops.

“We go a block over, approach through that alley, there.” Philecto said.

“This is a stupid plan.” Achmed said. “And you are a stupid person for coming up with it.”

“Quiet.”

.....

Somehow, we made it around the stables and into that alley without being spotted. Someone had left bales of hay in that alley, at both ends, as though to help us hide.

To say it was stressful would be an understatement. But in time, their over-sergeant stopped yelling them into formation, and shouted them into a charge.

“Now!” Philecto said, and bolted for the side door.

With pride, an Uruk woman watched the backsides of troops from that door. Twin arrows struck her in the head, and she fell without a sound.

The younger girl with her did make quite a bit of sound, until Philecto reached her and cut open her throat. She gurgled there on the floor, until Dina stabbed her through the heart while passing.

That pantry had barely enough room for the larger ones to pass. The kitchen was hardly better, though it was empty. Dina reached the door inside first.

She fell back from the door.

A young Uruk warrior, still buckling on his armor, burst into the kitchen. He looked at us in shock, and Dina’s spear point entered the back of his head. He was too young, at that age when one insists they are ready to fight and are forbidden by their wiser parents.

“This way!” Philecto led us to the left.

“The other right!” I reminded him.

“New plan!”

New... plan?

Gods save us all.

He led us straight to the barracks, where two dozen soldiers were donning armor and checking weapons. You might think their numbers matter, if you’ve never fought in just part of an armored suit before.

There was a time when I was faced with one of them, smelling of beer and panic. I barely had time to slice him before an arrow whizzed overhead, striking him in the shoulder. His war axe fell from limp fingers, and he turned to flee, tripping over a bench.

There was another, attacking me with a sword. His technique was terrible, and he couldn’t get past my shield. I never saw who finished the axeman.

That room was left as a charnel, just like the streets of Montu’s glory when Rakkal had past. How were we any better?

Philecto turned to Awda. “How does Achmed feel about taking out the laboratory first?”

Awda asked and listened. “He eagerly accepts the change in priorities.”

Not EXACTLY what he said... this was my first suspicion that Awda’s translations might not be accurate. What can I say? I was very trusting as a child.

We met a group of four guards, but they held us less than a minute.

There was a sturdy lock on the laboratory door; some fool had forgotten to bolt it.

From the far wall, the Uruk battle-mages watched us with eager eyes.

Between us, a pair of spirit bison gnashed their teeth and prepared to charge.

#

When fighting spirits, it is important to remember they are not innately physical beings. If they possess a Might score, they can assume physical form. For example, the one bison was a thing of smoke and mist until just before it struck Philecto, knocking him clear of the doorway.

Even as it cantered back into the room, it faded again, someone’s arrow falling from its side.

Dina charged into the room. Rina and I followed, then Achmed. The twins took up opposite sides of the doorway, sniping at targets of opportunity.

“Powers of storm and thunder!” invoked the eldest of our enemies. “Heed my rage, accept my direction! It is I, Blue Clouds, who call upon you. Enhance and protect my ally. Lightning Aura!”

The bison on the right took solid form, wreathed now in crackling blue-white energies. Or perhaps... lightning wrapped around it, but it was not a solid sheath, if that helps you imagine it.

Others among them cast rather than invoked. Fools.

“Bolt of Death!”

“Nimbus of Hatred!”

What were they DOING? Those spells were dangerous enough to use invoked!

The bolt of necromantic energies desiccated my shield, leaving it cracked and weak. I don’t know who had to endure the emotional aura.

Dina engaged the enhanced bison, and Rina spun beneath hers to engage one of the Uruk. As I may have said, all Uruk are warriors, even if they later in life learn magic. She found herself confronted with spears, axes, and a sword.

I didn’t have time to watch that, having barely the time to raise my shield against a pair of descending hooves.

It shattered. The shield, not my arm. The remaining impact knocked me to the floor, sent my knife sprawling. I rolled and dodged, as thunderous hooves cracked the stones around me.

The crashing stopped with a meaty noise, and my spirit bison turned toward the door, an arrow suspended in its beating phantasmal heart. With a snort, it loosed that arrow to fall upon me, and charged the door to meet Philecto.

He was braced for that charge, but it still carried him out into the hallway.

Three and five and seven and thirteen; these are the numbers common to ceremonial magic. Our enemies were five, and must have been exhausted from the rapid summoning of their allies.

They didn’t move like it.

Achmed’s Bolt of Ice was wrapped in a shroud of sunlight and melted. A whip of vines pursued Rina around the room, even as she dodged spear and axe.

We needed to find – salt. From where the conflict had upturned a table, there was a mixture of salt and cornmeal. No, clearly they had not been mixed before, but were now.

I rolled to avoid the two handed axe, a single blow borrowed from attacking Rina. I heard her sword strike and slide along armor.

But I ended up close enough to grab double handfuls of salted cornmeal.

#

Salt is a symbol of purity. Corn, a symbol of a link between the mortal and spirit worlds. There’s a story behind both of those, but neither belongs right here.

A few words, conjurers, if you wish to grow old and die in your sleep.

Do not let your enemies grab hold of the cornmeal you use for your summonings.

Do not let a Shaman, even an incompletely trained one, grab a substantial amount of it.

And if they get so much that it pours through their fingers like sand, make sure they do not know-

“Slumber!”

I charged it with all of my Dream mana, directed squarely at the beast that was shocking Dina with every clash.

It blinked, looked at me, and faded into the spirit realm.

With a whoop of victory, Dina leapt into the fray surrounding Rina, providing the latter with room to reposition herself.

Achmed finished his invocation, blasting frigid air toward one of the Uruk. He ducked, covering his eyes, and a patch of the bookcase behind him, rather than his face, froze over.

He didn’t see Philecto any more than I did, and Philecto’s sword cracked his ribs, hurling him against the wall.

It seemed the fight in the hallway was over, too.

Their eldest, however, had noticed me. Striding calmly over to me, he called out “Thunder Brand!”. He extended his right hand toward me, clad in a glove of lightning.

“Move Water!” I cast. Remember how magic always wants to hurt you? Perhaps you remember a time when I drained my own body of water, so severely that I almost died?

This time was not as bad as that time.

[You have taken 12 points of Biological damage from exsanguination. You have 3/20 health remaining.]

An explosion of blood and flesh burst from my mouth, spraying the Uruk.

Fun science fact, blood is a conductor of electricity.

[Your pain threshold has exceeded your remaining health. You will experience a period of unconsciousness.]

The last thing I heard of that combat was my foe and would be executioner, screaming in pain as his own magics turned against him.

Maybe I had a future in vengeance, after all.

[To empower this effect, thirty-six nutrition has been consumed. Three minute timer engaged; you will recover 4 health points when the timer expires.]

[Your health is now 7/20. You are conscious.]

“I take it we won?” I asked.

Philecto had a nasty cut on his face, below his left eye, down to his mouth. He was missing a tooth there.

.....

Dina was flexing her hands to restore feeling to them.

Rina was wrapped up in a chair, breathing normally, but blood leaking from the corner of her mouth.

Awta was missing the right side of her helmet, and her hair, and her ear on that side. The flesh underneath was black and cracked, blisters forming even as the magic tried to weave her skin back together.

“It will scar.” She told me.

Achmed had sweated through his ornate robe, which still smoldered along the hem. When he exhaled, his breath frosted, crystals falling from it but dissolving before they reached the floor.

Faraj, somehow, was completely unhurt.

“And now,” Philecto said, “the fight we actually came here for.”

#

Achmed used two words that were translated as “stupid”, though I think they may have been more colorful.

He, Faraj, Awta, and Dina all expressed doubts that we could succeed.

“One man, one minotaur, one monster.” Philecto replied. “He cannot stand against all of us.”

I sighed, and moved to follow him.

Achmed said some words.

“He will be just a little bit, to see if he can find some magic to help us.” Awta explained.

“Have him lock the door behind us.” Philecto said.

That is the last time I saw Achmed the Mentalist alive.

We doubled back, and returned to our original path.

We never made it to the throne room that day. There was a larger minotaur, with around twenty Uruk.

“We can’t get pinned down here!” Philecto said. “Fall back!”

As we started to reverse direction, the Armored minotaur charged. Dina set her spear, and caught him in the gap between neck and breastplate.

He howled, and severed the spear shaft with a cleaver. He fell to both knees and his shield arm, but he survived that wound. I am told that he needed two weeks of bed rest, and that it was three before he could begin exercising again.

But before Philecto and the others could finish him off, the Uruk swarmed around him, trying to get to us. Dina fought with a thin short blade, more knife than sword, until Rina could relieve her.

They drove us before them, a whirling melee with no time to account for individual blows. More troops joined them from behind; if we had been caught between them, I would likely not be the person writing this tale.

There was a bolt on the kitchen door, but it hardly slowed our pursuers.

In the courtyard, two frantic horses were harnessed to a covered wagon. Peretta and Phoenix were on the driver’s bench. Kyle helped us load into the back. The barest crack of the reins sent the wagon lurching, careening through the sounds of combat.

“That was a disaster!” Awta said.

Philecto smiled. “Indeed it was. But we are not the only ones with wounded or dead. The quest continues.”

Awta translated this, and the reaction was palpable.

“The quest continues.” I said in Kathani, from the area of floor where I still lay sprawled from our sudden start. The sounds of combat faded behind us.

Someone spat on me. Rina and Faraj pronounced curses, the one without power and the other which might have caused my tongue to rot. I buried that one in the salty brine of Ocean mana, and dissolved it.

The horses eventually slowed to a canter. We proceeded down the main road, and joined a line of vehicles waiting to exit the main gates.

By the time they searched the back, we had our weapons and armor hidden under the treasures of the temple fortress, which were openly displayed to the guards.

We wore long sleeved clothes to hide our bandages. Philecto, with his facial wound, sat toward the front in a hooded leather cloak and coughed.

They waved us through.

#