Chapter 41: Want to see my magic?

Mason woke up coughing. Smoke filled his vision, covering everything except the ground and especially the small dip into his stream. Pain came second, coursing from his gut up and down his body. But at least he woke up.

He remembered the assassin and the dagger in his side, and checked his wound. The flesh was already mostly healed. He moved his limbs and shifted his body, relieved to find he still had considerable strength. He felt hot, and in general pain, and expected he was fighting infection. Without his power of regeneration, he knew, he’d be a dead man. One life down, he thought, how many left?

He wasn’t exactly sure where he was. The smoke kept him from inspecting the trees except at the bottom, and he couldn’t even tell which direction was which. Or indeed how much time had passed. But he had another group of raiders to kill, and he needed to move. The corpses, he realized, I should check the corpses first.

With a long, suffering groan he forced himself to his feet. Smoke could kill you too so he knew he had to be careful. Still, he walked out into the mixture of charred and slightly burnt trees, head down and shirt over his mouth while he looked for what he thought was the places he’d killed the raiders. One by one he found them. But with the exception of a few pieces of metal, everything they’d had was completely burnt away. He clutched his bow, and thanked God he’d had the presence of mind not to leave it.

Now what? He wondered, still trying to figure out which direction to move. Then he noticed his profile was blinking and pulled it up.

[You’ve earned enough experience to reach  level 12! Please choose a power or one will be selected for you.]

Oh shit. He flipped to the power list and hoped he wasn’t already out of time. The list was considerably longer. The now familiar ranger powers were all available, but he quickly realized the druid had a much larger range of options. Ranger Mark was still tempting, but also probably unnecessary. It seemed like it made a target vulnerable, but he hadn’t encountered anything he couldn’t kill. The druid powers mostly seemed like ‘spells’, used anywhere from healing others to covering an enemy in swarming insects. Nearly all of them sounded kind of awesome, but Mason had very limited mana to actually use them. It was likely better to wait. He also realized he had a new ranger option: Wayfinder.

[Wayfinder: never ask for directions again.]

The typically vague description remained annoying, but it sounded very much like a mapmaking power. If it was even remotely close to as useful and powerful as his trap function, he knew he had no choice but to take it, either now or later. He chose now.

He blinked, then the world changed. In the corner of his vision he saw an expandable toggle that could instantly cover his entire view. It was a God damn map.

Not only did it show North, East, South and West—it showed which way he was facing. He turned his body just to test it, and the damn map adjusted like a GPS. He stood there just staring in sheer bloody amazement for longer than he should have, but there was little time to admire his newfound ability. He needed to get the hell out of the smoke, and find the second group of raiders.

Nassau was already shown on his map, and with a grin he started walking to test the pain. He felt vaguely ill, but healthy enough to  move quickly, and soon broke into a jog. As he moved away from the impromptu battlefield, he saw his map had actually marked it with a small flag as a ‘point of interest’. Apparently it would expand and grow based on where he’d been, remembering things for him. He realized he was able to move it, too, and began looking around to see the map also knew where he’d been thus far.  It showed the Great Trees, the coast, and a variety of other smaller details.

Focus, he chastised himself. New shiny toys weren’t relevant. He knew where Nassau was, and that was good enough. The town would certainly be on high alert. But what would they do? Send out more people? Not likely that they had much left, unless they sent out every player they had. He wasn’t actually sure how many that was, but he knew it had to be a small number.

So, what to do? Run around chasing the other raiders, maybe uselessly? And for how long? A day, two? Or else he could go back to Nassau at top speed and see what kind of damage he could do. After a few moments, the decision seemed fairly simple. It was time to attack Nassau.

Jogging was painful but he pushed himself harder. He’d heal as he went, and if he couldn’t fight the infection with regeneration it meant he’d get worse and die so he had little time. When he got out of the smoke he felt somewhat better, increasing nearly back to full speed as he whipped through the trees, feeling as usual like the plants themselves were clearing him a path. Hours passed. He was working hard now and couldn’t even tell if the fever was with him, but it didn’t matter. He felt strong and healthy enough to fight. It would have to do.

The walls of Nassau came into sight, and Mason hardly remembered the run. It was late afternoon now, and the forest was cool and quiet in the last hour before sunset. He inspected the walls, circling Nassau with no sign of patrols or guards or of Kiaan. The scout had told him he’d trigger some kind of alarm if he climbed the walls. But an alarm only helped if you had the strength to enforce it.

If they did, Mason decided he could kill and run. With a last deep breath and the decision made, he ran at the wall and leapt the entire length, gripping the top and pulling himself up. It was time to end this.

* * *

The remaining players of Nassau brought Blake, the re-disguised Seul-ki, and all their civilians to Sebastian’s ‘meeting hall’.

Sebastian sat at the end, his three most loyal minions intimidating everyone into the chairs. Alvaro was a stocky black Cuban, who carried a metal cudgel and seemed to have no powers other than a touch attack that the others said could basically wither anyone into a husk. David, who was maybe Mexican, carried a seemingly endless supply of knives, and juggled them like an acrobat when he was bored. Then there was Norman, a teenage track star from Arkansas, who understood the game better than most, and moved like a damn hunting cat with a pair of short swords. They were all very dangerous, and Blake had little doubt they’d be able to kill his allies, even without Sebastian’s help.

Blake had never actually seen the ‘chief’  fight. All he knew was from the minds of others, and that he carried a big metal disc that was probably a shield. He was some kind of ‘tank’ class that could soak up a lot of violence without going down, but he was also very strong.

“I want bonded contracts,” the big man growled in Blake’s direction. “At least a year in length. I want them now.” His dark eyes almost trembled, the anger in his voice barely suppressed.

Blake looked around the room. The civilians all stared at the table, or the walls, or their feet. If it wasn’t for Blake of course they’d still be rotting in a prison, half starved and dehydrated while Sebastian sweated them as far as he could without the system penalizing him. They’d already signed a service contract, but being bonded was something else entirely. It put them at the mercy of the chief and his goons, who could literally command them like slaves, and do anything except cause lasting physical damage, or kill them.

“Use your magic and make it happen,” Sebastian barked. “Or you’re a useless mouth to feed.”

Blake sighed, not sure how to pacify the man in such a state. “Don’t we have bigger problems, chief?” He countered with his most submissive tone. “Isn’t there some murderer out there trying to kill us? What difference does a bunch of civilian contracts make?”

Sebastian slammed the table. The closest leg snapped, and Blake realized whatever his other powers, the strength part was not an exaggeration. “You let me worry about killing who needs killing,” he growled low and dangerous. “It’s under control. You just get me what I want, and you do it right god damn now, or I’m going to beat you to death in this room.”

Blake swallowed as he felt the presence of Alvaro and his cudgel directly behind him. He tried to meet the eyes of the civilians but none would look at him. None, that is, except Hank. He gave a brave smile.

“I’ll sign,” he said. The others raised their heads in surprise. The angler met Sebastian’s eyes without a hint of fear. “Don’t think it’ll last long, to be honest. I expect you’ll be dead pretty soon.”

With that his eyes unfocused, and he swiped his hand as if in signature, then shivered as some effect took hold. Sebastian practically licked his lips.

“You shouldn’t have spoken like that to me. Get up,” he growled. Hank obeyed. “Strip off your clothes and sing the anthem.”

Hank rolled his eyes, but didn’t hesitate. He stripped down entirely naked and started singing with a surprisingly good voice, and Blake felt his chest swell with pride at the man’s courage.

Sebastian looked almost wet with sweaty anticipation. He looked at Blake. “The others. Now.”

Perhaps it was Hank’s example that inspired the others. Or perhaps it was watching him shamed. One by one the other civilian men stood and swiped their hands, then they stripped off their clothes without being ordered, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Hank. None of the women moved.

“Women too,” Sebastian licked his lips. “Now.”

Blake could hardly stomach the ugly look on the man’s face. He knew instantly the women would never, ever sign, nor would he try to make them.

He took Seul-ki’s hand beneath the table, for the first time truly understanding the depth of her fear, and indeed why so few women were players. Then he focused his mind. He flooded it with mana and will, releasing it in a spear of control straight at the least trustworthy of Sebastian’s minions—the mercenary knife thrower, David, just as he signaled his allies.

Now, or never, he whispered in their minds. Fight and be free in living or dying. Or do nothing, and crawl as Sebastian’s dogs.

David’s face contorted as he stepped back from the table and groaned.

“You want to see my magic?” Blake hissed. “Here it is.”

Kill him, he ordered with a violent thrust of Mind Bend, and a severe dose of greed. Kill him and take his place.

David blinked, then flicked his eyes at his unsuspecting chief, and the shield sitting on the ground. Then he spun with a knife in each hand, and threw.

Both struck exactly on target, both blades hitting Sebastian directly in the face.

The metal didn’t even sink in. They left two gashes on Sebastian’s cheeks, then dropped to the floor with a clatter. The big man stood and lifted his shield, his wounded face twisted into a terrifying scowl of rage. David shook his head and stepped back, preparing more knives with shaking hands, as if he could hardly believe his own situation. Sebastian’s other minions looked around the room in confusion, but didn’t move.

“You’re going to die screaming for that.” Sebastian looked from Blake to David, clearly unsure who to kill first. Blake made the decision easy.

He turned and ran towards the door, blasting indecision at Alvaro and hoping to escape without getting clubbed, pulling Seul-Ki behind him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of this.

Even if Sebastian killed David, he and the other two were more than enough to handle Blake’s other allies—if they even attacked at all. He reached the door and threw it open, Alvaro looking at him entirely without concern, more interested in his chief. Of course Blake didn’t have anywhere to run. He wondered somewhat idly if his luck had finally run out—if he’d been wrong about his destiny, and that things would end rather foolishly right here, right now.

Then the town alarm went off.

Blake smiled, and fled from the hall, pulling Seul-Ki as fast as he could.

* * *

Mason was starting to worry this was an ambush. He’d climbed the wall and slipped over the edge with ease and speed, but he’d expected to at least find some guards, or someone on the other side. Instead all he found were houses, something more like warehouses, a well, and abandoned streets.

So he crept forward ready for violence, an eye on the largest building on a hill in the center of the town. It was the only one spewing a bit of smoke in the cool evening air, so it either had people currently or at least not long ago. A thought occurred to him: could the patron and his allies have abandoned the town entirely? It didn’t seem likely. He supposed they might have gone out to meet up with the raiders, hoping to gather all their numbers before confronting Mason together. If so that would be a problem, but he could always run and pick them off in the forest.

He kept moving, eyes back and forth looking for danger, senses heightened and tuned to every sound and change in the urban terrain. Then the doors to the main hall opened. A couple holding hands burst through and ran towards the road, and Mason nearly raised his bow and loosed before really looking at them. It was Blake, and some unknown girl.

Mason instantly activated Aspect of the Cheetah and sprinted straight towards them.

“Here!” he shouted, bow in hand, ready for anything. But his speed was wrong. Somehow the town was weakening his nature powers and it occurred to him this likely wasn’t a wise place to fight. But it was too late for that now.

The doors behind Blake and the girl smashed open as a group of young men burst out behind them.

“Now, or never!” Blake was shouting as he raced down the hill. Mason didn’t need instruction. He stopped and drew, already accepting anything not Blake or Haley or apparently this new girl was his enemy. He loosed his first arrow, then three other men—who’d apparently been hiding on the top of the hall—either leapt down or started throwing spears.

Mason didn’t much care who they were or why. He loosed a steady volley of arrows at anything and anyone on the ground that moved closer to Blake, for now saving Power Shot and Crippling Strike and just using normal arrows. He pierced limbs and torsos of at least two of the players before the melee turned into a swirling maelstrom of weapons, magic powers, and curses.

“The ones on the roof are with me!” Blake shouted as he nearly reached the bottom of the hill.

Mason nodded, but still didn’t much care. As he was about to loose another arrow, one of the young men vanished from the melee, and appeared maybe two steps from Blake’s back.

“Duck!” Mason shouted.

They’d known each other too long and too well for Blake to hesitate. He grabbed the girl beside him and launched them both to the pavement. Mason blasted a Power Shot straight through where he’d been standing.

The duel wielding teleporter was smashed off his feet in a spray of blood. But Mason believed in finishing one’s target. He stepped forward and loosed arrow after arrow into the squirming body until the system sent its message.

[Player killed. Experience awarded.]

“Get behind me,” he growled, and Blake and the girl scrambled off bloody hands and knees to do as instructed. “Where’s Haley?” he said, watching the fighting but for a moment not interfering.

“She’s in that house.” He gestured. “But, she’s fine. You have to save my friends!”

I don’t have to do shit, Mason thought, pretty happy to watch the others trying to kill each other. The roof jumpers had a casualty on the ground who looked like he’d been torched to a crisp. They’d taken down the guy with a club, but the big man with the shield was chasing them off easily now and seemed to basically ignore their attacks. The guy with the knives was protected behind him.

Mason decided it was time to kill knife-boy. He was about to start launching a new volley when the nearby gate screeched and started opening. A group of male voices went from joking to alarm as the second group of raiders came running through, weapons in hand.

Mason’s heart finally started moving faster. He tried to drop his traps, but apparently they didn’t work in the town, either. He took a breath  and readied to take down the knife-thrower as planned, knowing his time was quickly running out. Blake wouldn’t be able to get over that wall. He couldn’t just run away, and this was no damn place to fight them all. He should have been in the trees, where he could withdraw and hide and pick them apart. But he wasn’t. And things were about to get interesting.