Viridian Gate Online: Darkling Siege (The Viridian Gate Archives Book 7) Page 41

  Under other circumstances, I would’ve turned the tumble into a roll. But there was no place to roll, and I couldn’t give the Hungry Ghosts access to the Dampener.

  We had to hold it, no matter the cost.

  I landed on my knees, my scythe sword clattering beside me as I reached out with a clumsy hand to try to regain my feet. Something sideswiped me before I could get off the floor, arms wrapping tightly around me, teeth sinking into the side of my shoulder, and blood flowed freely as the Hungry Ghosts exploited the misstep. More arms encircled me, bodies collapsing down on top of me in a dog pile.

  I struggled fruitlessly, bucking and kicking, even using my head as a weapon. In the distance, I heard Abby calling for me, her voice frantic, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. Things were starting to go fuzzy around the edges, and for the second time in less than twenty minutes, I was sure that this was the end for me. My time had come. And this time I had no more tricks to play. We’d done everything in our power, pulled out every stop, but Thanatos had still outsmarted us, outmaneuvered us, and outplayed us. My movements slowed, becoming more languid as both my Stamina and Health bars dwindled.

  “Get your bloody hands off him, you goopy bastards,” Cutter roared.

  A golden blade flashed, zipping through the air, and the crushing weight that was piled on top of me started to lessen. I wriggled my hand, trying to get to a Health potion, but something still had my arms pinned tight.

  “Just a little longer!” Osmark called. “Cavalry is inbound!”

  Cavalry? I thought, the word incomprehensible to my ears. That can’t be right. There was no way they had gotten to us so fast. Still, the smallest ember of hope kindled in my chest and I renewed my efforts, kicking weakly at one of the creatures pinning me in place.

  “Incoming!” Jeff yelled, his voice hoarse and tired. The word was quickly swallowed as an explosion rocked the temple, undead wailing as a wall of unbearable heat blasted against my face, searing my eyebrows and transforming the whole world into a white blur. For a beat, nothing made sense. It was fire and light and heat.

  <<<>>>

  Debuffs Added

  Concussed: You have sustained a severe head injury! Confusion and disorientation; duration, 1 minute.

  Partial Blindness: Vision reduced by 47%; duration, 1 minute.

  <<<>>>

  Before Astraea, back IRL, my friends and I used to go down to Pacific Beach once in a while—when the weather was nice and our bank accounts were full enough for us to go out drinking in the trendy bars adorning Mission Boulevard. Honestly, I was never a fan of the bars, but I loved going into the water. Wading out into the salty spray. Once though, back when I’d decided to experiment with surfing as a hobby, a curling whitecap had pulled me into the surf, smashing me into sandy bottom. Water clawed at my nose and filled my mouth while I tried to figure out which way was up and which way was down.

  That was the last time I’d gone surfing. And this, right here and now, reminded me of that. Everything swirling around me in a mad mishmash of motion and sound.

  Eventually the screaming died off, leaving behind a high-pitched ring that filled my ears with its shrill noise.

  I just lay there, dying. Too tired to move or fight anymore.

  When the partial blindness finally lapsed and my vision returned in full, I blinked my eyes open. Shadowy, indistinct forms took shape in my vision, rushing into the room as the pressure on top of me vanished. Someone was kneeling above me, forcing my mouth open, pushing a bottle to my lips. I drank slowly at first, then more greedily as the haze started to lift and clear comprehension dawned on me. The figure resolved into the short-haired kid I’d saved in the ambush in the canyon. Page-Citizen Gnaeus Gessia. And with him was a veritable army of Janissaries, firing their blunderbusses and throwing black powder grenades with impunity.

  “But magic doesn’t work,” I sputtered weakly.

  “Their weapons don’t rely on magic,” Gnaeus said matter-of-factly. “And gunpowder seems to do just fine.” He offered me a hand, pulling me to my feet as more fighters swarmed in. Jay, the Blood Monk, waded through the undead, pulverizing the spirits with his bare fists. Amara had come, too. And moored in the courtyard was the Hellreaver.

  Assassin’s Blade

  WE DID IT, I thought while staring dumbly at the Hellreaver—Jake Blackblade manning the helm, the Goblin crew scampering about the lines and securing the sails. We’d taken the Necropolis and, almost impossibly, Skálaholt. True, Thanatos had gotten away, but without his city, he’d be weak. Vulnerable. And the only place he had left to run was the Empirical Library. We’d backed him into a corner, and now all that was left to do was track him down and put things right before he could stir up any more trouble.

  It wouldn’t be easy, but it couldn’t be much harder than what we’d just endured.

  At least, I fervently hoped not.

  Amara was helping Cutter to his feet. The thief looked worse for the wear, but he was alive. From the looks of him, however, he’d need a week of rest, a hot bath, and a fresh set of clothes. His hair was singed, his leathers were in tatters, what remained of his armor was coated in green spectral goo, and an arrow wound made a bloody star on his cheek.

  “I like it,” Amara said, pressing in close to him as her fingers explored the injury. “It is dignified—a worthy badge of honor to take away from such a battle. Perhaps you should keep it.”

  “And ruin my dashing good looks?” he said, eyebrows climbing high. “Are you bloody insane, woman? My looks are all I have going for me. Other than my skill and wit and charm.”

  Her lips quirked up at the corners, eyes narrowing to thin slits. “No, love. Now you have me going for you, and I say I like it.”

  He fidgeted under her brutal, unwavering gaze before finally throwing up his hands in surrender. “Gah. Fine,” he muttered, “it stays. Although speaking of you, love, just how in the bloody hell did you get here so quick, eh?” He draped one arm over her shoulders. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. But Jack only knocked the shield out not but two minutes ago. If that.”

  Her grin deepened as she reached out, tapping at the amulet strung around his neck. Her wedding present. “I had it fitted with tracking runes so that I could find you no matter where you slipped off to. Originally, I planned to use it to sneak up on you when you least expected it, but this seemed like a good use, too.”

  “There is something deeply wrong with you,” he said, looking at her askew. “But it is exactly my flavor of crazy.”

  “Not crazy,” she said, patting his chest. “Cunning. And only the most cunning huntress gets the kill.”

  I looked away, smiling to myself.

  Pulling my thoughts away from the couple, I scanned the temple. Osmark and Sandra were standing a little apart from everyone else, and Jeff was on his feet, dusting himself off from the fray—beaten but not broken.

  I didn’t see Abby anywhere, though.

  “Abby?” I called out, turning in a lazy, sleep-drunk circle, searching the faces. Where was she? We had some celebrating to do. “Abs?” I yelled again.

  Nothing.

  Panic started to rear its ugly head like a cobra preparing to strike. I looked again, my senses sharpened by worry. Cutter and Amara, clinging to each other. Osmark and Sandra conferring in hushed whispers. Jeff, now inspecting the edge of his axe blade with a frown. Everyone was fine. Abby had to be okay. We’d faced worse. Well, maybe not worse. Okay, definitely not worse, but everyone else had survived. I kept searching. Gnaeus was with his contingent of Janissaries securing the perimeter of the temple while members of the Cheeky Bastards picked through the piles of the dead, no doubt looting whatever they could find.

  Still no Abby.

  My heart felt like it was going to explode through my chest when a pile of bodies not far off shifted and a red hand emerged, popping out and clawing at the air. I moved quick, heading over and digging through the corpses, ignoring the disgust rising in my throat as I followed
the red limb down into the pile, frantically searching. With a grunt and a heave, I pulled a robed cleric from the pile and found her beneath. Sweet relief bubbled up and tension drained from my shoulders as I released a breath I hadn’t even been aware I was holding.

  “Jack?” Abby moaned with a wince. “Well, that sucked some serious balls.” She coughed and wheezed, pressing a fist to her mouth. “God, I feel like shit.”

  She was still in her Spectral Revenant form, and to be honest, she looked like a dumpster fire—about two inches from death’s door—but I still smiled because at the moment she was also the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She was alive, and that was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.

  “It’s good to see you too, Jack,” she said with a grimace, shoving at one of the bodies pinning her legs down. “But maybe I can get a hand here?”

  “Sorry, sorry!” I said with a shake of my head. “Of course. Let’s get you out of there.”

  Even as weak and pitiful as I was, I laced my hands beneath her armpits and began to gently pull her free from the corpses, all heaped together like fallen leaves. It took some serious wiggling and wrangling, but finally I managed to haul her out. I was floating on cloud nine, relief and joy washing over me in alternating waves. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling the gentle heat of her body. We turned, ready to head for the doorway and out into the courtyard, where the Hellreaver waited to whisk us away from this nightmare.

  The smile slipped from my face when I caught sight of Sandra and Osmark, directly in front of me.

  Time seemed to skip a beat, lurching and slowing around me even though I knew that was impossible with the Arcane Dampener in place. This wasn’t magic, though. No, this was something else entirely. It was the same way that time seemed to go catawampus during a car crash—everything moving in slow motion, odd details framed in uncanny clarity. Sandra’s face was a mask of shock, her mouth forming an “O.” Beside her, Osmark’s jaw clenched tight and he went for the repeater at his side. Normally, the Artificer could move like a pit viper when he wanted to, but his hand seemed to float toward the weapon as if he were wading through water.

  Finally, it clicked that something was wrong, I just couldn’t understand what.

  We’d won. We were alive. Reinforcements had arrived.

  I caught an odd glint of motion in the goggles perched on Osmark’s stately top hat—now firmly back in place. Something behind us. I turned, my body sluggish and unresponsive.

  An Undead Wode in dark leathers, branded with the mark of the Sicarii, materialized from thin air, a gleaming Malware blade already plunging toward Abby’s back. The tip less than a foot away. She was completely unaware, badly injured, and still trapped in her Spectral Revenant form. Clearly, he’d been biding his time in Stealth, waiting for an opportune moment to strike, and there would never be a better one. If he landed his blow with a Backstab multiplier...

  I couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let it happen.

  I threw my weight into her side, trying to shove her out of the way of the blade, even if it meant the Assassin buried the dagger in me. I couldn’t move fast enough, though. Abby lurched right, eyes flaring wide in confusion, but the Sicarii was locked in on his mark and angled the blade to follow. The dagger traced a precise, unwavering path through the air and slammed into the base of Abby’s neck with a burst of swirling green light.

  Critical Hit.

  A deafening shot rang out and the undead Sicarii’s head exploded from Osmark’s round; the Hungry Ghost’s knees buckled and what remained of him toppled over backward.

  But it was too late.

  Abby and I fell.

  By the time she hit the ground, the life had already faded from her eyes.

  No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

  I scrambled to my knees and pulled Abby’s body into my lap, cradling it against my chest as I tenderly brushed the hair away from her face. Her skin was already waxy, her eyes clouded with death, lips slightly parted in a look of surprise. I willed her body to disappear, to vanish in the familiar shower of sparks that meant she’d just been sent for respawn. Death, sure, but not of the lasting variety. Thirty seconds passed.

  No one moved. No one spoke. Abby didn’t vanish.

  I startled when Osmark laid his hand on my shoulder, his fingers gently pressing down. Reassuring me. “I’m so sorry, Jack,” he said, the words little more than a hoarse croak.

  I batted his hand away. I didn’t want reassurances.

  Instead of replying, I just pulled Abby closer, feeling the remaining heat of her body drain away by the second. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be, I told myself once more. I’d done all the right things. I’d completed the Path to Victory quest. Accomplished every objective. I’d done the impossible. She couldn’t be... Not after everything I’d gone through. I looked down at the wedding ring encircling her limp finger. A promise that things would be okay—that we would be okay.

  It was slick with blood now.

  “Out,” Osmark snapped, the word a whipcrack of supreme authority.

  Sandra rounded everyone up with brutal efficiency, speeding Janissaries and Alliance infiltrators into the courtyard in record time, then pulling the doors shut behind her—a thing that had been impossible only minutes before, thanks to the legion of undead.

  Only Cutter, Amara, Osmark, and Jeff remained.

  None of them spoke as I rocked back and forth, clutching Abby tight against me.

  No, this wasn’t the end. Couldn’t be. I was a Champion—one step removed from an Aspect—and I had a weapon that could change reality.

  I pulled the Reality Editor out, clenching it tight in a white-knuckled grip. Despite the presence of the Arcane Dampener, prismatic light wept from the key. But there was no telltale buzz as I pushed it against Abby’s chest, willing life back into her unmoving form. I pictured what I wanted to happen in my mind—color returning to her skin, her chest rising and falling, her eyes fluttering open—but the key remained unresponsive.

  “I don’t think it’s going to work, friend,” Cutter said softly, none of his usual cheer to be found.

  “Sophia!” I screamed. “Goddamit, where are you! I want to call in my favor!” I lifted my face and yelled the words straight up, tears streaming down my cheeks, cutting furrows in the dirt and blood marring my skin. “I want her back! Give me Abby back.”

  I raged at the heavens, but there was no answer.

  Gently, I laid Abby down and stood, fingers tightening around the Reality Editor. I’d done everything. Played her game. And still there was no answer. That was unacceptable.

  “Sophia,” I growled, not bothering to raise my voice. In my gut, I knew she was listening. She was an Overmind, and there was little that escaped her notice. “You’d better answer me right this second, or I will hunt you down.” I raised the key. “Just try me if you think that I won’t...”

  A message pinged in my ear, and I brought it up on my interface in an instant.

  <<<>>>

  Personal Message

  You know I can’t come to you—not in the heart of Thanatos’ realm. I may be powerful, but there are rules that even we Overminds must obey. As for your favor... I’m sorry, Jack. There’s nothing I can do. Even if I could manifest inside of Morsheim, I simply cannot return Abby to you. All that remains of her is a husk. A shell. Her essence is now within the purview of Thanatos. My hands are tied. For what it’s worth, though, you have my deepest condolences.

  —Sophia

  <<<>>>

  I dismissed the message with a thought. That was it? I had her deepest condolences. I glanced down at the weapon in my hand, which burned like the sun in response to my anger. Maybe I couldn’t use it to revive Abby, but I could certainly use it to get a little retribution against the monsters that had set all of this in motion.

  “Jack,” Cutter said, padding forward, hands raised. “Might be best if you put that
thing away, eh?” he said, eyeing the Editor nervously. “You’re in a bad state right now. Wouldn’t want to do something you might bloody well regret.”

  “He’s right,” Osmark said. He’d already regained his composure, cool and collected once more. “Besides, you’re proving Thanatos’ point. ‘The world cannot survive a race of infinitely powerful and wildly unstable Immortals.’ This is the real test, Jack. It wasn’t the battle. It wasn’t even taking the city. It’s this. Right now. Time and time again you have done the impossible, and you’ve been rewarded for it. It’s easy to do what’s right when everything always works out in your favor, but what about when it doesn’t? Can you do the right thing even in the face of loss and tragedy?”

  His words flayed my soul, both because they were coming from Osmark and because he was right.

  There were consequences to choices—Abby had decided to be here and she paid the price. Like Zendu. Like the piles of Hungry Ghosts scattered all around us. My dad’s voice echoed in the back of my mind. “Control of others is only an illusion. All you can do is control you. Be your best, do your best always, but let go of this guilt.” My heart hurt, but nevertheless I lowered the key, the brilliance fading as my anger ebbed away.

  Jeff pushed himself away from the wall, stowing his axe. “There might still be a way,” he said, his voice reverberating off the marble ceiling.

  I turned fervent eyes on him, burning with need.

  “What way?” I asked. “Not sure if you noticed, but that’s a Malware blade in her neck. There’s...” I faltered, the words stuck in my throat, refusing to leave. “There’s no coming back from that,” I finally finished. “Malware deletes code. Burns you out of the game. Done. Gone.”

  “Eh,” he said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “That’s what everyone believes, but that’s not what happens. Not exactly. The overall effect appears to be deletion, but the devil’s in the details.” He bent over and picked up a toxic black Malware blade from the limp hand of a dead Battle Warden. “Let me break down how these things actually work. Malware weapons upload the Thanatos virus, and that virus rewrites code. Specifically, the chunk of code responsible for respawning. In essence, it turns Travelers into NPCs—sort of the reverse process of what happened to your friend there.” He nodded at Cutter.