Book 1: Chapter 7

Book 1: Chapter 7

The group had already packed up their belongings, so they set off immediately, with one last question of how to carry Brin. Galan offered to hold him in a princess carry, with assurances that Brin’s slight weight wouldn’t strain his arms in the least, but Brin objected to it on the principle of the thing. They eventually settled on having him ride on Galan’s shoulders. It wasn’t exactly comfortable to sit on the [Knight’s] armored shoulders, but much more dignified.

The heroes ran in a full on cross-country pace as quick as professional athletes, even while wearing armor and carrying weapons and packs.

Galan’s armor didn’t seem to bother him at all, in fact it barely so much as clinked with his running steps. The detailed work was extremely impressive; all the interlocking plates fit together so well that he could move without any hindrance. It was almost futuristic in the way it fit him so perfectly.

The Heroes ran on, none of them even breathing heavily. Their sheer endurance was legendary in his mind, but they didn’t see it as anything worth remarking on. He had a million questions he wanted to ask. If they could run like this, what role did horses have? Lumina had mentioned taking horses part of the way. Could animals level up like people? Exactly what attributes had they improved to get to this point? How many did you get for a level, and which had they chosen? What about Lumina; why did she have such high physical attributes?

He couldn’t ask any of them. It might be rude to ask for personal details, and he didn’t want to give away his Otherworlder status by asking about things everyone knew.

Lumina must’ve noticed something, because she asked, “Oh you might as well ask. I can see you fighting with the questions on your lips. Ask, before you explode.”

Thinking quickly, he picked the one he thought would be least likely to cause offense or expose him as an ignoramus. “I was wondering, well, you’re really good at running. I thought a [Mage] would put everything into mental attributes.”

“Oh!” said Lumina, raising an eyebrow. He was right. It was taboo to ask someone about their stats.

“Sorry,” said Brin, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t–”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s refreshing, really. Why not just ask? How else will you learn these things? It’s not like you can...”

She stopped herself in time, but Brin heard the unsaid words. It’s not like you can ask your parents about this. Now it was Lumina’s turn to be embarrassed.

She cleared her throat and continued on as if nothing had happened. “The answer is that you’re right. I’ve put every single free stat I’ve ever gotten into mental attributes. Magic, Control, Will, in that order. As for how I can run like this, it’s mostly training, and a few achievements. The real truth is that I’m slowing us all down. I could move faster with Hasten, but I’m conserving my Mana for what lies ahead.”

“Oh,” said Brin. “What lies ahead?”

“Lurilan?” asked Lumina.

The [Hunter] pulled back from scouting ahead to answer the question. “I’m growing certain that these tracks belong to a Lambent Phasmid.”

“What’s that?” asked Brin.

“You don’t know?” asked Lurilan.

“I don’t know what I know,” said Brin, panicking. Was this common knowledge? He started babbling, “I remember some things, but not others. Like I don’t remember my memories, but I know what lots of things are like trees and water and–”

“Apologies,” said Lurilan. “Phasmids by themselves are nothing special. They’re scavengers mostly, and amphibians that eat forest creatures that wander into bogs and drown. At higher levels, though, they stop waiting for things to die on their own, if you catch my meaning. Lambent Phasmids have natural illusion magic. At first they’ll use it to create bobbing lights to lure their prey. At higher levels, they’ll create illusory copies of themselves, and make themselves invisible while they attack their prey directly. They have long, thin limbs that stab like spears. We must assume that this one is very high level.”

“Can it raise the dead?” asked Hogg.

“Well, no,” said Lurilan.

“Then what are we doing right now?”

Galan answered in his slow and steady way. “I believe Lurilan’s train of thought proceeds thusly: that the illusion monster must have been the one casting the false flames upon the undead soldiers we defeated. Is that correct?”

“Indeed that describes my thinking, sir,” said Lurilan.

“That being the case, it seems likely that this beast serves the same master as the army. In which event, following it should–”

“Oi,” interrupted Hogg. “I get the drift, no need to drive it home. Fine, find the servant, find the master. But why haven’t we found the tracks of the master?”

“He flew,” said Lumina, matter-of-factly.

“What?” asked Brin.

“He or she flew. Think about it. Most Classes that involve necromancy branch off of [Witch]. They fly.”

“They really fly? How hard is it to get the [Witch] Class?” asked Brin.

“Don’t even think about it kid. If the System offers you [Witch], say no. Even if you have to keep your [Child] Class,” said Hogg. “And why are we assuming that this is a person? Could be a goblin. Could be a vampire, or a cannibal who turned himself into a wight.”

“Can you fly?” Brin asked. Being a twelve-year-old wasn’t great, but hopefully it was at least useful at giving him a pass for interrupting with inane questions.

“No. Someday, maybe,” Lumina answered, then to Hogg, she said, “Brin described the undead army as growing more organized that day, not less. That suggests a living, human mind. Thus, a [Witch].”

“A [Witch],” repeated Hogg. “This keeps getting better and better.”

“Nothing. But I thought unkindly of you, and that was wrong,” said Galan.

Hogg straightened his back, smiled slightly, as if trying to act like he was unaffected by what he’d just confessed to. And why wouldn’t he be? If Brin was right, he had been inches away from slitting his throat earlier in the day. Hogg might be the type of person who could kill evil or dangerous children, but apparently he would feel bad about it afterwards, and that at least made Brin think better of him.

Hogg chuckled. “You know, I don’t tell this story to someone your age very often, Brin, but usually when I do, they say something naive like ‘Why’d you have to kill her? She didn’t do anything worth killing over, did she?’ And maybe you’d be right. Her parents never really recovered all the way, but I bet if I had asked them they would have forgiven her. The point is–”

“No,” said Brin. “No.” He practically spat it out. His voice sounded dark, much darker than the normal kid persona he was trying to act out, but he didn’t care. “I’m glad you didn’t forgive her. The [Witch] who destroyed my home, it probably wasn’t too long ago that she was just some pretty, popular girl with no self-control, was it?”

“He’s right,” said Lumina, eyes distant. “[Witches] level fast, especially when they throw morality to the wind. The one we hunt likely isn’t even eighteen years old.”

A weight seemed to settle on the party, as they realized exactly what it was that they were about. At the same time, a weight seemed to lift from Hogg. Maybe he had expected some kind of condemnation for killing Siphani, but even noble Galan hadn’t found fault in it.

As they went, the area seemed to grow wetter and even though he barely thought it possible, greener. The moss covered the trees completely, then spread out on the ground, choking out all other life and leaving a soft carpet for them to run across. Streams wove themselves throughout everything, but they were never wide enough to slow the party down. The largest was five feet across, and the Heroes leapt across without slowing or even remarking on it.

Lurilan ran ahead, disappearing into the foliage ahead. The party kept running in the same direction, until fifteen minutes later he returned, and had them adjust their course slightly to the left.

Again he disappeared into the forest ahead, and didn’t return for twenty minutes. When he did, he had them adjust sharply to the right, fully perpendicular to the direction they’d been running.

The next time he left, he was gone for a full half hour. When they saw him again, he was sitting on a rock, waiting for them.

“The beast did not flee in a straight line. It has been changing directions, going in circles. It leaves false trails, some of them convincing enough that I followed them for several miles before I noticed the deception. It even runs in streams for short distances, so as not to leave tracks. Clearly this beast is worried about pursuers, and has been taking steps to lose us,” said Lurilan.

“Can we overtake it?” asked Galan.

“For truth, I believe I may have lost the trail had it fled in one single direction, but by running in circles it has allowed us to catch up,” said Lurilan.

“Why would it do that?” asked Brin.

“Because its destination is somewhere nearby. In this forest, if I have my guess,” said Lurilan. “In fact, if our Lady [Mage] would agree to hasten herself again, I believe we could find it before nightfall.”

Lumina tapped her cheek, thinking. “That should be acceptable. Certainly, it is not an issue if all that awaits us is a singular illusion beast. But if I must fight a [Witch]...”

“I could carry you as well as Brin,” offered Galan. “A little extra weight would not slow or tire me.”

“No need!” said Lumina, her face growing slightly red. “A small spell like Hasten? Hardly a drop in my Mana pool. Yes, we shouldn’t waste any more time. Let us away.”

Lumina spoke a sentence of magic, and they took off again. They ran in a mad dash that Brin could barely believe. It was one thing to see someone else move that quickly, it was quite another to be on top of someone’s shoulders.

Galan’s steps were so quick that they stopped sounding like individual thumps and blurred together like the roaring of a car. He jumped over fallen logs and twisted between trees with effortless elegance, barely jostling Brin to avoid all obstacles.

Lumina hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said that she was holding the rest of them back. With her spell in place, she ran next to Galan like a ghost. Lurilan looked light and casual while he ran; only Hogg was huffing and puffing, though he kept up just as well as the others. Brin fully believed the old rogue could run like this all day, though not as easily as the others.

Cars were faster, to be sure, but that was on an open road. Moving this fast while weaving through a forest made the journey feel blisteringly fast.

Two dozen miles went by in a flash. The trees started to grow thinner and further apart, until all at once they disappeared completely. The party arrived at a wide, open field. It stretched out for at least twenty miles in a perfect circle before ending in trees again.

At first glance Brin thought it was a prairie, but the uneven ground and tepid pools meant it was more of a swamp. No, a bog. Obviously.

They stopped at the edge of the clearing. The heroes paused, giving each other significant glances.

“Why did we stop? What is this place? Why is it in a perfect circle? It’s unnatural,” said Brin.

“This is Kryst’s Bog. Or maybe Ylla’s Bog. And you’ve got the [Child of Travin’s Bog] Class but you don’t know why the Bogs look like this?” asked Hogg. Before Brin could make excuses he said, “Well, neither do I. It’s convenient, though. Great farmland, and the forest won’t expand into the circle for whatever reason.”

Lumina said, “To answer why it looks like this I’d have to get into the Fall of Ithmall, and perhaps this isn’t the time?”

“Indeed,” said Galan, lifting the faceplate on his helm. “Brin, I’m going to set you down.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

Galan set him down, and no one answered his question.

Lurilan cut a straight branch off a tree, one swift stroke like it was nothing, and whittled it down into a straight staff in a matter of seconds. He didn’t look up as he worked, and no one spoke.

It was strange. These guys weren’t jerks–except maybe Hogg. So why were they being so reticent? Oh, that was it. They were worried someone might be listening. The monster, the Lambent Phasmid, maybe they had all noticed some sign that it was nearby. Or maybe it was something else.

He was the only one here without years and years of experience in this type of thing. The best he could do was try to keep up and stay out of their way.

The Heroes positioned themselves in a ring around him, and let him set the pace as they entered the bog. There didn’t seem to be any kind of destination in mind; there was nothing there. Just a big empty field.