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As soon as he was in the forest, Royn teleported, emerging in the forest right outside the base. At least I appeared where I wanted to this time. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and headed to the captain’s office. The secretary looked up, then immediately looked down, talking into the mic attached to his headset. Royn never stopped, opened the door and saluted. “Permission to report, sir!”
Captain Crane’s eyes narrowed, but he waved his hand. Royn stepped forward, closed the door, and stood at attention, waiting. “Proceed, private.”
Royn launched into a detailed depiction of everything he had found, seen, or heard. Everything from the first time he ventured to the forest to the new information he’d just found out in the bar. “Sir, if they’re right, we’re in great danger! We have to do something—try to kill this thing, at least evacuate—”
“That’s quite enough, private,” he said, slowly standing from behind the desk, fists clenched. Stepping around the desk, he walked straight to Royn, staring down at him, eyes ablaze with fury. Oh no. In his hurry, he’d forgotten how much the captain didn’t like him. And that he was not a rational man. “Private, I’ve told you several times now that you’d better not make a mistake, that you’d better clean this mess up. Well you’ve failed, private! And now, since you have disobeyed no less than three direct orders, I’m going to have to—”
The secretary popped his head in the door. “Um...sir, there is an, um...situation, sir.”
“Not now, Jones.” The captain turned back to Royn, the Skeptor bone just visible, still hanging on his neck. “I will not tolerate this made up mumbo jumbo from a half breed who thinks he’s better than everyone else just because he’s got two Quantums—”
“Sir, there really is something. The sentries are saying they’re detecting movement on the perimeter, and—”
“Jones, I said not now—now get out! You, Crowell! If you think for one second I’m going to let you disrupt my unit, disregard orders, demonstrate a complete lack of skill, well then you’d better—”
“Captain!” the secretary yelled.
He spun on the secretary, fire blazing in his hands, then swirling through the room. “Jones! You’d better have a damn good reason to—”
The secretary had his hand on the headset speaker covering his ear, listening to the radio chatter. “Sir, we just lost a...no, make that three sentries. Something is out there, sir. Something is killing our men.”
The fire in his palms died immediately, the captain regaining his poise. “Then let’s go figure out what it is. We’ll continue this later, Private Crowell.”
“Sir,” Royn said, following him out the door, drawing his sword and sending energy into the steel, encasing it in power. A slight hum issued from the blade, and it glowed a faint yellow. All Senturians—no matter what their powers—could energize their weapons, making them stronger and more powerful.
They heard the screams just as they exited the building.
Explosions and fire lit the dwindling sunset so it was almost as bright as day. All around him men ran calmly to their posts. Battle roars echoed all around the camp, and flashes of yellow energy on weapons sparked as steel rang on steel. “Orcs,” the captain said, “and a lot of them from the sound of it. To the perimeter!” He drew his own sword—the yellow energy glowing brightly—lighting up the night around him. Any Senturians within earshot dropped what they were doing and launched themselves toward the edge of the encampment, Royn in the middle of the pack. Rounding a building, he knew he had to be getting close to the front lines.
But he wasn’t ready for it.
Orcs—their grotesque bodies puffed up with power from the glowing jewels stuck inside their chests—were engaged in mortal combat with the Senturians. Normally orcs would be no match for even a novice warrior, but these had been altered, been given power. They were stronger, faster, and uglier than they should be.
Just like the old man said in the bar. Now he knew what the stones in the cave were used for.
Royn dove in, beating down his fear as the first orc approached with a hiss. He went for Royn’s throat, but a quick teleport directly behind the creature caught it off guard. Royn kicked one leg out from under it, stabbing it with his sword as it went down, the sword blazing bright white as Royn issued the killing blow.
He jumped off, parried a battle ax, and said, “Air Spear!” He punched, sending the missile directly through the orc, splattering those behind with blood. Teleporting again, he came down on top of another, impaling it in a flash of yellow. Turning, he said, “Air Ram!” Thrusting his arm out, he bowled over three orcs with a blast of solidified air that were on top of another Senturian. Crushed by the impact, the orcs didn’t move.
An ear splitting screech echoed through the base, and fear crept into Royn’s heart. By the looks of the others, it had the same effect on them. The Skeptor had arrived.
Royn saw the creature as the horrifying mass of teeth and claws stalked through the battling orcs and Senturians. One tried to attack it, but a swift claw swipe decapitated the soldier. Another Senturian dove in, only to be slain just as quickly, the Skeptor punching through his chest, spewing lifeblood everywhere. It paused to take a couple of bites, and Royn teleported.
Coming in from above, sword first, Royn braced for impact. At the last second, the thing looked up, sidestepped Royn and backhanded him, sending him spinning into a mass of wooden buildings. His armor took the brunt of the hit, but there would still be a large bruise where he’d been struck. The splintered wood collapsed on top of Royn, pinning him down, leaving him only a limited field of view once the dust settled.
He tried to teleport, but immediately regretted it—blue flashed around him, but nothing happened other than a splitting headache that latched onto his brain, and a searing pain in his leg. What the hell? He couldn’t move much, but then found the problem: he’d been skewered by one of the pieces of wood, right through his calf muscle. That piece must still be attached to a lot of other pieces. And all that mass meant Royn couldn’t teleport. Normally he could teleport himself and another person thousands of miles, two people hundreds, three people a couple dozen. But the more mass he had to move, the more his power was limited. All that debris attached to him in his weakened state meant he was trapped.
The sounds of battle were dying down around him. Through his porthole he saw the Skeptor taking bites of random dead Rangers, while it allowed the orcs do the final killing. So many bodies! How many Senturians were dead? Were there any even alive?
Suddenly it turned, and there was the captain, decked out in a full suit of armor. Royn didn’t like him, but he had to admit he was intimidating. Twice as big as the Skeptor, he was clearly a formidable opponent.
With a step and punch, the captain launched a fireball at the creature, which it dodged swiftly before attempting to close the distance. But the captain threw up a stone wall with a spinning kick, the Skeptor smashing into it when it couldn’t stop in time. Seeing an advantage, the captain launched several more fireballs, each slamming into the creature, sending it backpedaling until it was up against another building.
Keeping it pinned with fire blasts, the captain grabbed a spear lying on the ground, preparing to throw. He’s gonna beat it! As he threw, the creature ate the last three fire blasts, caught the spear just before it pierced him, closed the distance in a blink to the stunned captain, and stabbed him in the throat. Blood oozed from between his lips, a horrible squelching sound the only noise he could make before he was slammed to the earth.
The Skeptor cracked its neck, then looked oddly at the captain. It reached down, grabbed the bone fragment from the necklace that hung around the captain’s ruined throat, and reattached it to its own forearm.
Then everything was suddenly silent. Oh crap. That’s never good. Where are they?
He caught movement through the small opening—one of the sergeants had survived! He was making his way out of camp, trying to dodge the vast number of creatures milling about after the slaughter, bleeding in several places.
But the Skeptor was directly in his path. If he moved now, he would be caught! What can I do? Wait! “Sergeant!” Royn said in his head, projecting the thought to the other Senturian, who recoiled slightly but composed himself quickly.
“This is Sergeant Brady. Identify yourself.”
“This is Private Crowell, sir.”
“Thank God you’re alive!”
“Barely. I’m buried under some debris. Listen, don’t move! The Skeptor is just around the building you’re hiding behind, and if you go now, you’re dead. Don’t make a sound!”
“Confirmed. Get me out of here, private. I’ve got to report what happened here.”
“Understood, sir! Go to the next building on my mark. Three...two...one...NOW! Then stop again at the next building.” Royn cut off the communication for a couple seconds, breathing hard. His vision was tunneling, and he was having trouble staying awake. His leg hurt, and his foot was wet with blood.
The sergeant leapt to action, clearing the opening just before two orcs came around the bend.
Reestablishing the connection, Royn said, “All right, move in three...” Royn guided him all the way off the base to the forest, second by agonizing second. If he had any hope of survival, it was with the sergeant getting out and sending help. “Good luck, sir!” Royn said as he slipped into the concealment of the trees.
“Thanks, private. I’ll send help as soon as I can. We will avenge the loss here today. Stay safe, son.”
Thoroughly exhausted, Royn passed out.
Suddenly the weight was lifted off him, and Royn found himself awake, with a throbbing leg, surrounded by snarling beasts.
“There you are, Ranger,” the Skeptor said, throwing aside the entire debris pile that had Royn pinned. “Attack!”
With a snarl, smaller badger-like creatures launched themselves at Royn. Where were the orcs? He slashed with his sword, cutting down several of the fiends. Others roared. Royn said, “Air Wall!” and pushed with both hands. Condensed air shot out from him in a burst, flinging back his attackers, giving him room. Blood clouded his vision as he tried to see an escape route, some way to get out.
But there was none. He was hemmed in.
Think, Royn, think! Teleport! He could teleport! He tried, but his power failed, and nothing happened. No, no, no, not now! His head was too clouded to do it correctly, too beat up and weak. He couldn’t concentrate.
The creatures leapt into another attack, and again Royn repelled them, their bodies lying all around. “Air Slice!” Sword thrusts kept them at bay, until so many were dead they buried him to the waist. Then to the shoulders. Then he lost his sword.
“Halt!” another eerie voice echoed from his left, and the badger-things stopped in their tracks, then backed away, leaving Royn with only one arm and his head above the dead. Then the Skeptor was directly in front of him.
From around a building stepped a second Skeptor. Holy crap, there were two of them!
“You fight well, Ranger. It’s always a pleasure when our prey shows so much spirit. It makes it much more sporting for us, don’t you think? You will make an excellent addition to our collection.” It looked at the other Skeptor. “The stones aren’t working exactly right; we need to tweak the formula. This one”—he pointed at Royn— “will make an excellent test subject.”
It’s over. I’ve failed. Failed myself. Failed these people. Failed everyone.
Both the Skeptors walked toward him, then leaned over to grab him. One of the badger-creatures got spooked and bolted in front of the first Skeptor, tripping it. The Skeptor stumbled and very slightly touched the second on the shoulder as it regained its balance.
The second Skeptor came unglued, screaming and flailing his harms. “Idiot!” he said, flames covering his hands as he blasted the other Skeptor with such force that it knocked him thirty feet away, “You know the dangers! Be careful!”
Bleeding profusely, Royn hardly cared what they were fighting about. He wasn’t going to live to find out anyway.
The second Skeptor started walking back toward him, then stopped. Both creatures whipped their heads to the north, some inaudible sound drawing their attention. One whistled, and both of them and the other creatures immediately set off at a trot.
Odd. Bloodied, battered, and bruised, Royn passed out again.
“Hurry, before they come back,” someone said. “That distress call won’t keep them busy for long.”
“Shut it, he’s heavy. I can’t lift him by myself! Come on, help me!”
“Dash it all, do I have to do everything?”
Royn couldn’t even groan. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he sensed he’d been placed on a bed. Someone fed him. A healer was brought in. They weren’t very good, but the purple energy from their hands eased the pain enough for Royn to sit up, catch a blurred glimpse of female forms tending to him, then crash back down on the bed.
He couldn’t tell how much time went by. Sleeping was broken up by small bouts of awareness, where he was fed, watered, bathed, then went right back to sleeping.
Finally the haze cleared, his strength started to return, and he sat up. He looked around for the first time at the room he was in: bare planks of wood for walls, simple wooden bed, a chair, nightstand, and dirt floor. That was it. In fact, the room appeared to be the entire building.
Suddenly the door burst open, and three extremely dirty women came in, one with food, one with water, and the other with shaking hands lit up with purple healing energy. “Ah, he’s awake! Only took two weeks. Fragile Easterners...can’t take a little monster coming to town.”
“Ethel, it was a Dealer. Two Dealers, actually. Lucky for him we know their distress call...”
Royn said, “That was you? Thank you, thank you very much. I thought I was dead.”
“You would have been,” Ethel said. “We almost didn’t make it out with you anyway. Damn things came back too fast, almost walked right over us.”
“Not sure it matters,” the healer said, getting to work on Royn. “After taking out that Easterner Fort, they will have everything they need.”
“Um...everything they need to do what, ma’am?”
“Why, everything they need to create their army. Lord knows why they need it, but they’ve tried this before, and it almost worked. Killed a lot of people before they were stopped by some powerful Senturian round about Sior Lake.”
Oh no. “What will your people do? Surely you can leave, get out of here, get away...”
“This is our home. Here, eat this. Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“So what will you do?”
The healer shrugged. “Die, most likely. But, you never know, something might happen. The good Lord might send a miracle our way.”
Royn started to get up.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to stop them,” Royn said.
“Not on my watch! You’re half dead!”
“That means I’m half alive.”
All three put their hands on their hips at the same time. “Are you seriously considering going after these things?”
Royn walked over to his clothes—freshly cleaned and pressed—and started dressing and strapping on gear. They’d even grabbed his sword while they were pulling him out, thank God. “Who else is going to? A good man has to act to prevent evil when it’s in his power to stop it. Protect those who are weaker than yourself. Or at least try.”
They all exchanged looks, then one said, “Then you’re gonna need this.” They loaded him down with food, supplies, water, and weapons. “Take these,” the healer said, handing him some beans. “They’ll replenish your energy supply plus some. But you’ll have a splitting headache when they wear off, so don’t take them all at once.”
Royn cracked a smile. “Thanks, ladies.” He unfolded a map and spread it on the table, talking to himself. “Now where was that cave...”
“Oh, you mean their hideout?”
“Wait, what?”
Another laughed. “Yeah, their hideout—you know, where they hide? Here.” She pointed, and Royn marked it just at the foothills of the Shadow Mountains, not five miles from Fort Highway. Or where Fort Highway used to be.
“So they must’ve been here around a lot if you know where their base is?”
“We done told you they’ve tried this before. And most times there’s always one lurking about somewhere anyway. You live out here, you learn to steer clear of them if you value your hide being attached to your body.”
“Do you know why can’t they touch each other?” Royn asked.
They all shrugged. “We’ve never seen them try. They mostly work alone, but when they’re in pairs...come to think of it, they hardly ever get close at all. Interesting. Ranger?”
“Yes?” Royn said, strapping on his last bit of gear and turning toward the door.
“Why are you doing this? You don’t owe us nothing. Doesn’t make sense—helping people you don’t even know? People who—for the most part—wouldn’t care if you were dead or alive?”
Royn scratched his now two-week-old stubble. “It’s the right thing to do. Doesn’t mean it’s the easy thing. But it’s the right thing. That’s reason enough for me.”
They nodded. “You’d better hurry. You haven’t got much time. Tonight’s the full moon. That’s when they launched their attack last time. Good luck, Ranger.”
“Thank you again, ladies. I’m going to need it.”
Stepping outside, Royn still felt a little weak. Time for a bean, I think, before I get started. Let’s see if they know what they’re doing. He popped it in and swallowed. Nothing happened. Then his eyes went wide, insects crawled all over his skin while burning irons were pressed on his hands and feet. It burned! It burned! But the burst rejuvenated Royn, pumping up his power. He grinned. I think I have a chance now.
He shook his head, bouncing on his heels. All right, Royn. You’ve held to your principles. To what the Good Book says. Now you have to live it. He took a deep breath. Then another. And in a flash a blue, he was gone.
The power boost from the bean and the coordinates from the ladies honed his teleportation, and he popped back into reality just where he wanted. His lungs filled with moist air, the waterfall casting droplets onto the whole area. Mist covered the upper branches where he’d teleported as well as the ground below, leaving an open space sandwiched in the middle. Scanning, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing moving. It was quiet. Too quiet.
If he was going to have any kind of success, the ground needed clearing. Seeing where he was stepping could mean the difference between living and dying. Smooth Breeze! He pushed his hands gently, alternating left to right, as a soft wind picked up at dirt level, rolling the mist slightly but doing the job of clearing it, revealing moss covered soil, flat as a pancake.
And still nothing moved.
Sliding down the tree as quietly as he could, he used air to cushion his landing as he dropped soundlessly to the earth. Tiptoeing—taking extreme caution with each step—he worked his way through the forest, using every piece of cover available to make it directly in front of the caves. Still nothing moved. The dark maws held no answers for him, staring back with its emptiness. Two big eyes watching him.
Daring him.
Royn shifted again, moving ever closer, ghosting behind a large boulder. Checking the cave mouths again, he took one more step, repositioning slightly.
A stone shifted under his feet, making an almost inaudible noise. A horn sounded. Damnit.
Three power-infused orcs burst into the clearing, bearing down on his hiding spot, roaring and waving their weapons. Ugh, of course. Royn drew his sword, energizing it as he went, and teleported, appearing low and in front of the left orc, already swinging, taking out its legs with a hiss of burning flesh, sending it tumbling. Teleporting on its back and thrusting down, the orc died as his blade pierced its heart.
It must have pierced something else, because the damn orc exploded, flinging Royn off and into the trees in a spray of red light and innards. Grabbing branches, he brought himself to a halt, frantically searching to find the other two.
They weren’t on the ground. Scrambling noises from below redirected his attention. They were climbing the trees! One on either tree next to him, they would be there in seconds. Royn dropped to the ground, falling between the orcs.
“Air Blades!” he screamed, extending his arms. Four-foot razor sharp swords of air emerged from his fists, slicing right through the leather armor, skin, and bones of the orcs, setting off two more explosions. But he was well past them.
“Cushion!” he said, thrusting his arms down, blowing a pillow of air into existence, slowing his fall enough to make the landing relatively soft. Branches and trees crashed behind him as he ran. Waiting until the noise stopped, he turned, facing the caves again.
When he saw what awaited him, he popped the second bean in his mouth and chewed. Again there was a rush of power, almost intoxicating as he readied himself. He had a feeling he was going to need the extra power coursing through his veins to win this fight. Even that might not be enough.
Two figures stood, one in front of each cave. “This one has caused us enough trouble, brother. I think it’s time we rid ourselves of this pest.” The nightmarish creatures threw off their cloaks, reveling entirely bone-covered bodies, like their skeletons were on the outside. Hundreds of bones ground and clanked together as they reached behind their hideous tooth-filled heads to their backs and drew huge broadswords, each made of bone and sinew, the blades a foot wide at the base and arcing up to a sharp point. They growled and leapt at the Ranger.
