AuthorLeftright
patreon
Chapter 8: I Spy
🕑 Added 2023-03-06 21:29:38 +0000 UTC“I spy something… silver,” Jude said, together with Glenny and Leland.
The boys walked alongside a nine cart caravan, plenty of mounts, and more than a few Lords of Mercantile. Together, their party walked the long and twisting dirt roads, heading through the forest of Pinefield on route to Liontrunk.
“Is it Leland?” Glenny asked.
Jude snorted. “He’s a Silver, not silver.”
It had been a long and slow last few days, but that was expected this time of year. Mating season this time of year left the predators in the area continuously hunting, oftentimes settling on prey that would not normally be their preference. So, they were unlikely to encounter anything other than Trihoof Wolves – and even then, no pack of wolves would attack such a large caravan.
No, the boys were simply around in case something bizarre happened. Which, in Jude’s case, he wished would happen soon.
“My daggers?” Glenny asked, continuing the game.
Jude rolled his eyes. “Nope.”
The caravan was just reaching the edge of the forest when this particular round of “I Spy” started. The trees were becoming less frequent, the grass was turning dry, the ambient temperature was warming. They were nearing the border of the Dill Savannah, gnoll country.
“The buckle on that leather strap right there?” Leland asked, pointing to the adjacent cart.
“Ah man! That’s correct.”
A whistle came from the front coach, signaling the caravan to stop. Soon the workers pulled out seats and pots, lunch was on its way. Today’s menu consisted of dried meat reconstituted in boiling salted water and boiled vegetables. Suffice it to say, the boys were not excited about the meal.
“Your turn, Glenny,” Jude said.
The rogue scanned his eyes over the horizon, no doubt picking something along the backdrop of nature. “I spy… something… brown.”
Both Jude and Leland stared at their friend.
“Brown? Really? That’s like anything. That tree, those roots, the patch of dirt over there. Maybe that weird mound thing right there?”
“Ah! You got it! That mound thing!”
Jude only blinked.
Leland sighed, his gaze looking out across the slowly distancing trees. They were over two thirds of the way to Liontrunk and hadn’t seen a single battle. Truthfully, Leland thought Gilbert’s caution a bit strange. The lack of monsters truly put the rank of the quest into question.
But then his eyes fell on an old man, one of the leaders of the caravan. His leg was set in a splint, having been broken only three days into the trip. At the time, Leland had offered his ring of regeneration until his bone was fully set, but the man waved him off stating, “I’ll get to ride in the wagon if it stays broken. Thanks anyways, Sonny.”
It was then Leland realized the true danger of this quest. The isolation. Sure, they could run if there was any real danger, but truthfully there was no backup. If something happened, injury, maiming, death, or otherwise, the closest place they could receive help was the next town.
An abrupt pain shot through Leland’s hand. A bead of blood appeared, soon scabbing over but not before pulling his attention. The crow tattoo had changed positions, from a full wingspan of flight to a pulled back guard.
Leland scrunched his face, eyeing the purple-black ink on the back of his hand. “What do you want this time?” he whispered to himself.
Across the clearing, a flock of birds took off in startled fright. Leland watched them fly off, only realizing they were crows a moment before the ground moved. It was subtle, almost invisible, but he saw it. The mound Glenny had chosen moved.
“Uh, Glenny?” he asked. “Does your heightened senses tell you anything weird about that mound over there? It just moved.”
Jude laughed at that, shoveling warm meat water into his mouth. “You’re seeing things, Leals.”
Leland didn’t respond, neither did Glenny. Instead they both watched the mound, the hairs on the back of their necks slowly rising.
Glenny went for his daggers first, popping out of view only a moment later. Leland pulled his grimoire from his hand, allowing it to flip to the spell page he needed.
The silent battle operations caused a wave through the caravan. Pots and chairs were packed away, people rushed into hiding, finding refuge in the very wagons carrying their wares. Jude finally got the message, standing and cracking his neck. He stepped up, removing his great battle axe from the back of his hand.
“Let’s get this show on the road, eh?” Jude said to Leland before yelling. “We know you are there! Come do battle!”
His words were enhanced with part of his Legacy, easily booming across the clearing and shaking the tall blades of grass alongside the dirt road. He took up a battle position, raising his axe to his shoulder.
Leland glared at him but said nothing, instead he turned his attention to his tome. The knowledge of magic came to him, along with the subtleties of curse casting. All he needed was a target…
Abruptly the nearby grass let out war cry, which was quickly followed by four camouflaged gnolls rushing to their feet. They charged, only to be intercepted by Jude’s own battle shout.
Crude stone weapons met Legacy strengthened steel and folded against the weight. Bloodied, Jude’s weapon cleaved into the next target. One after the other he blitzed through the wave of monsters, his maniacal laughs louder with each kill.
Small wounds appeared along his body, a nick there, a cut here. He ignored the pain, it only added to his decimating blows. Legacy of the Berserker, the longer Jude fought, the more damage that was inflicted against him, the more powerful he became.
With a mighty yell, a red shimmer blasted from a wide horizontal strike. The ability carried through the open air, cutting down a gnoll as it evaded the initial axe swing. A deep laceration appeared along its torso, cutting into its belly and instantly killing it.
From the tree line, new enemies appeared – the main forces. Leland cursed to himself, but was idly thankful they found the scouting party when they did. Magic came to his lips, turning his mouth dark purple. With a shrill whistle, magic poured.
“Maul,” Leland said, his focus on the largest of the gnolls.
Movement caught his attention about halfway to the trees. Glenny’s translucent form appeared, jumping from behind a short bush before stabbing into the brown mound. The mound shook and tumbled, but the rogue only stabbed again. When the shaking stopped, Glenny moved on.
Leland cracked a smile at the scene but the sight of his summoned crows pulled his attention. They appeared, glowing blue and in full frenzy. All four took to the command, rushing to defend their caller. They flapped and cawed, each pecking with the force of the Lord of Curses.
The gnoll’s animalistic bipedal body bled from the sudden assault, the crows doing more than just superficial damage. They ripped at the monster’s skin, pulling full chunks of flesh with their razor sharp beaks. They ripped into the shoulders and elbows, severing tendons and creating terror.
Some of the other gnolls tried to help, but the crow’s small ethereal bodies only proved impossible to touch. Crude weapons passed through their wings, slipping through harmlessly and only causing more panic.
Then Jude arrived.
He came in full force, swinging his axe without a care in the world. His plated armor was dyed red, his boots covered in bits of flesh. He laughed and laughed, his eyes long having glazed over in the glory of battle.
Glenny made his mark, striking the gnolls who tried to retreat. He expertly dispatched those he neared, stabbing where his Legacy told him. Critical areas, spines, hearts, brains, throats, anything the Legacy of Chameleons deemed necessary.
Meanwhile, Leland didn’t sit idle. His crows batted down their target until the gnoll was nothing more than a mangled corpse of torn skin and bleeding welts, while he himself took on a support role.
“Fracture, fracture, fracture, fracture,” he repeated like a broken record.
Gnolls, mainly the ones Jude was battling, yelped in surprise pain, some even crumbling to the grassy floor. Cracks and pops echoed through the clearing, each successful curse breaking something in the enemy fleet.
The last of the gnolls died with a throwing knife to the back originating from Glenny. The sudden stoppage of battle made Jude groan.
“Ah man!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t realize how many cuts I was receiving.”
Leland sighed, slipping off his parent’s ring of regeneration. He handed it to his meat head friend. “You really need to get a handle on that. Some damages can’t be healed.”
Jude smiled, his eyes falling a bit. “Yeah… my mother said the same thing last time we sparred.”
That made Glenny speak up. “You two sparred?”
“It was before my Dream Ceremony, but yes. Even back then I forwent light injuries for tempo and leverage. Now, it’s just a bonus.”
Leland raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you keep that ring until we can find you one? I think you are going to need it a lot more than me.”
Jude smirked at that, pulling back his shirt a bit. “Already got one. It’s not a ring of regeneration but rather a tattoo of regeneration.”
Glenny’s eyes went wide. “Aren’t those super expensive? How much did you folks spend?”
“Not-a-gold. Favor or repayment or something from a Legacy of Runes.”
The tattoo in question was quite different from a Legacy tattoo. Besides simply being on his chest, the tattoo of regeneration was called a “body augment.” The runic glyphs and circles of power only did one thing, increase regeneration over his entire body. It was man made, in other words, not created or gifted from any Lord.
“Wait,” Leland said, his eyebrows furling. “Give me back my ring!"
