Queen Killer Page 6

  6

  Congratulations! Saber Rank 2 successfully quantized!

  John flashed a pleased grin, happily swinging his sword in a series of moulinets as the shafts of golden morning light pierced the thick forest canopy. The balance was perfect, made of an exotic polymer and what seemed a microthin strip of some exotic alloy reinforcing the actual blade edge. It was lighter than the sabers he and Mitch practiced with, and unlike the Earth variant, the back edge was both serrated and sharpened. John's newly claimed blade brought home just how brutal and savage fighting for one's life could be, nothing like the romanticized fencing salons of yesteryear.

  Though it had little place on a Napoleon-era saber when few wore armor and fewer still used shields, here, in the press of combat, ripping draw cuts from backhand blows that looped around enemy shields before abruptly yanking the sword back, tearing open poorly armored backs or necks, might be far more likely to score a telling blow than slashing strikes easily parried by a rim-reinforced round shield.

  For better or worse, John and Mitch had taken the intricacies of sword and shield fighting systems very seriously when they had joined HEMA together, and John had the sneaking suspicion that all his brother's intensity had been in preparation for the day he would find himself in an alien world infested with monsters he was somehow expected to take down. Of course, Mitch had also enjoyed practicing both longword and zweihander forms, or 'rules,' as the treatises put it, and John shuddered to think what horrors he might face that would require the use of those massive two-handed swords.

  He knew he should be tired, but for some reason, he was bursting with energy. The fresh forest air felt thick with the promise of magic and wonder, and the night before seemed no more real than a dream. He couldn't help smiling as he gazed down at his feet, still covered with traces of loam, blood, and mud. The cauterized stumps of a severed pair of toes he had feared facing were no more real than an awful dream, as were the scabbed-over holes he thought had perforated his abdomen.

  Somehow, he had forgotten about his injuries during his frantic escape, and instead of collapsing as shock and septicemia took him down, he found the dried clots of blood lining up with the holes in his shift easily rubbed away to reveal flesh completely free of any perforation. Only the ragged state of his hospital gown and the blood and mud spattered all over his body gave any evidence of his ordeals so far.

  Remarkably, his naked feet were also holding up just fine, despite more than one painful encounter with rocks or branches he could have sworn had at least bruised if not torn open his flesh. But the morning light revealed feet free of any disfigurement save ground-in dirt.

  He took a deep breath of pine-scented air and couldn't help smiling as he stumbled into a quiet little forest glade, the warm sunlight washing over him like a soothing lullaby. He leaned against the welcoming trunk of a nearby oak and rested his eyes for just a moment, knowing he was far too excited to actually doze off, and he'd be a fool to do so, with unknown predators nearby and soldiers that might still be after him.

  He then cracked a great big yawn and promptly fell asleep.

  Quest offered!

  Lady Everwood of Goldenwheat Province is offering a quest to all adventurers within a twenty-mile radius who meet basic requirements!

  Requirements: Free of the Oathbreaker title. Not guilty of rape or murder within the last three years.

  You meet the requirements!

  Do you wish to accept the quest? Y/N

  John's eyes snapped open, the voice in his head as jarring as any alarm clock.

  He blinked, seeing what looked for all the world like a shimmering portal slicing through the air, exactly two feet from where he was now sitting, displaying what looked to be a Renaissance fair town, though it wavered slightly, as if seen through the ocean. John didn't know if that was due to the spell or not, but it was such a startling sight, and the view of the town within drew him like nothing else.

  His heart was pounding.

  His best friend? Brother? Mitch’s insane declarations seemed no more real than a dream. Part of him hoped that the madness of the last few days was nothing more than his brain reacting to actually daring to put on a black cat helm and try Endless for himself.

  Either way, the thought of being part of an actual, real-life quest, to be a hero while being conveniently teleported some distance from the manhunt that still might be going on and that he was insane enough to have tried sleeping through, was quite tempting. And though he still had minor reservations about blindly entering portals that could go literally anywhere, the growl of his belly decided it. The crystal-clear streams he had drunk from while racing through the woods had more than slaked his thirst, without the slightest trace of stomach upset. But as far as sustenance went? He was utterly famished. Who knew? Perhaps the townsfolk would take sufficient pity on their would-be hero to provide him with a meal and something more substantial than the stained and tattered shift he currently wore, and it wasn't like he was at all opposed to earning his keep.

  Heart racing as he suddenly found himself wondering if this was an incredibly stupid idea, he touched the shimmering portal and thought 'yes' as hard as he could.

  He stumbled back as a blinding flash of light sent him collapsing to the tiled floor of a grand chamber right out of a movie set or perhaps a museum. The finely woven rugs, picturesque tapestries, stained glass windows looking down upon the town below, and elegantly carved hardwood furniture polished to a warm glow made it clear this was a nobleman’s hall, or at least the manor of someone with power and influence.

  John slowly got to his feet, taking in the room as a whole with its grand arched ceiling as well as the occupants within. He caught sight of a young woman and a bald, powerfully built man completely covered in tattoos, the pair looking as surprised to see him as he was them.

  The man was wearing an odd mix of armors, including a leather jacket covered in steel plates and what looked like a shiny polymer breastplate and helm. At his hips he wore both a saber and a migration era blade that was perfect for cleaving blows, and the large shield he carried had both a steel rim and a shimmering polymer surface. He possessed hard eyes and a cynical scowl, looking like a man who’d seen more than his fair share of tough times.

  The raven-haired girl to his left was far harder to read. Her armor was almost entirely the plastic-like polymer John knew was the Dominion trooper norm, though her helm was reinforced with steel, and she held a shield and saber nearly identical to her companion's. She was young, maybe twenty, with a strangely worn-looking beauty. Her cheeks were slightly hollow, with dark circles under her soft brown eyes. Tiny but distinct mars to what had once been flawless features. The ravages of illness, or perhaps, addiction.

  She was the first to speak, looking genuinely awed by his appearance. "Mason, look, another player! Do you think he'd like to adventure with us? Oh shit, the kid doesn't even have anything besides a saber. Or even clothes. He's young, though. Do you think he's another high schooler?

  The man smirked, giving John an equally careful once-over, before turning to look at someone or something behind John’s shoulder.

  "Hell, lady, looks like your summoning spell worked after all. You actually managed to pull someone else working this area. Though from the looks of it, he's utterly wet behind the ears and doesn't know shit, but there you are."

  A warm, cultured voice from behind caressed John’s ears.

  "Greetings, adventurer. I am truly grateful for your arrival, though I was praying that more of your kind would be interested in our plight."

  John spun around to face the woman approaching him. She was strikingly beautiful by Earth standards, with golden curls and irises of liquid silver, and had that same young, mid-twenties perfection John had been told most Jordians looked like all their lives. Yet the weight of her gaze, and perhaps the robes she wore, made her seem considerably older.

  Her eyes met his own, and she flinched. "Why are you here?" she whispered, a strange tension su
ddenly in the air.

  "Your gate woke me up out of a sound sleep." John smiled. "I just got here, and wow. I can't imagine a better way to start my adventuring career than with a hero summons the moment I wake up. So, how can I help you?"

  She blinked, looking strangely nonplussed, before tilting her head and gifting him a thoughtful smile. "Despite your taint, you do not seek to deceive me. And I sense no malice in your words. You might be strange, but you are a Terran, after all, and virtue naturally redeems all other imperfections.”

  John grimaced. "Thanks, I think." Taint? What the hell was she talking about?

  Her gaze grew solemn. Even anxious. "As I just finished explaining to your fellow Terrans who arrived here by more mundane methods, this is the main town of Goldenwheat Province. Our mage councilors have been called away on urgent matters, and Dominion peacekeepers are no longer paying even token interest to this part of the South."

  The tattooed man smiled. "From what I hear, the Dominion's eager to do everything it can to tear every piece of territory it can from the mages around here. You'd think this would be the perfect opportunity for them to prove how much more useful they are than the mages who fled."

  Their host gave a rueful chuckle. "True. But thanks to the succession and the… unusual nature of our contenders, the loyal soldiers stationed here on Jordia have been otherwise occupied. And with what were once monthly electromana surges now spiking multiple time a week, any soldiers garrisoned here have to spend as much time recalibrating their blasters as they do actually patrolling the few free towns that prefer Dominion rule to the reign of mages."

  "Wait, you’re saying blasters are shorting out every week here on Jordia now?" John frowned. He certainly hadn’t seen any sign of that while running for his life the night before.

  "At least," said the solemn-faced woman. "But only here in the South, and only near lands claimed by the most wanted man in the entire Dominion."

  John rubbed his temple, feeling like he had just accepted a quest with a huge backstory he had completely skipped. “I’m sorry, I just got here. Who’s this most wanted man? Is our mission to hunt him or something?”

  The tattooed man laughed. "Are you serious, boy? What rock are you living under? Valor Hunter. The player with the moxie to make a play for the throne. He's now got the entire High Council up in arms, eager for his head. Frankly, I'm surprised he wasn't arrested back on Earth. Black cat helm or no, even the best tech's gonna fold when every major government agency starts gunning for your ass."

  The girl by his side frowned. "I hear he's not even on Earth anymore. That he's here for real, and Caesar's pissed."

  The man shrugged. "It doesn't mean shit to us, either way. Alright, lady, you got our attention. You obviously have a problem, and you need us to fix it. So, what do you want, and what are you willing to give us in return?"

  She blinked, frowning at the trio of adventurers before shaking her head. "Blame not the tools..." she murmured before forcing a smile once more. "As I said initially, I am Elowin Everwood, mayor of this town, and chief speaker for Goldenwheat Province. We are, well, there is no good way to say it, we have been beset by a plague of darkness. A darkness from which no one awakens who is not transformed into a horror out of living nightmare."

  John’s eyes widened, shivering with dread and excitement in equal measure.

  The Plague Queens were real, and this was his first lead.

  Never mind the fact that he was all but untrained, unequipped, and utterly unprepared. The world obviously didn't have time for him to learn the ropes, so he'd just have to do the best he could.

  Assuming he cared to risk his life chasing after mad zombie infestations anyway.

  Tattoo frowned. "A plague of darkness, victims transformed into nightmares. Shit, lady, are you saying you've got living dead on your hands?"

  The mayor gave the man the strangest stare before sighing and bowing her head. "I… I'm afraid I honestly don't know. We wanted to think they were just lost in the throes of madness, or perhaps possession. My husband and I are the closest thing to mages our town has right now. Of the villagers under my care, most are now holed-up in the central keep, and we can only hope that our prayers to our goddess and the careful ministrations of my husband, our town warder and healer, will be enough to keep the survivors safe. Free of the madness. But countless scores were infected, and what is worse, they turned hostile! They raided the town, tore out the throats of their kin, and began eating their former families like ravenous wolves."

  Haunted eyes locked desperately upon John's own. "Their infection is beyond the physical! Wards repel them like they would demons or undead. But worse, they kidnapped our town's children! Some of those monsters even snuck into our home when we were rallying the townsmen, building our defensive ward. I thought... I thought she would be safe, for just a quarter glass! But our house guard was overwhelmed." She shivered, going pale as several grim-faced servitors entered, quietly placing down tureens full of steaming hot stew and several fresh loaves of bread with generous slabs of butter.

  "Your mission is simple. Find out where those monsters took our townsmen. Find out if anyone's still alive. The more information you can give us about wherever it is they are hiding, the better prepared our Highmage will be to take out this threat as soon he and his coterie return to us, and the bigger a reward I can give you. And if you actually manage to find out what necromancer or other agent is behind this, I'll be authorized to pay a considerable sum."

  She swallowed, her gaze filled with sudden desperate hope. "And, if you’re able to locate our children, or somehow put a stop to this nightmare, I will be authorized to grant you all several acres of farmland, and you would earn the gratitude of the entire town. We would count you as beloved members of our community, no matter your Terran status. Now please, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the repast. My men will come back with mead shortly."

  John's belly grumbled so loudly the girl couldn't help flashing him a smile. John grinned back.

  "Name's John," he said.

  "Sophia," said the girl, her hand reaching for her partner, squeezing his hand. "And this is Mason."

  Mason gave a cool, measuring nod. "How ya doing, kid?"

  "Not too bad for a guy with nothing but a sword to his name, but there you go. It could be worse. I could be dead."

  The man flashed a silver-capped grin. "There is that. Can you use that blade your wearing?"

  “If by use, you mean mucked around with it in HEMA, then yes I can."

  Mason frowned. "No. I mean what rank did the game give you?"

  "Totally killing the immersion, but sure. The system? A voice in my head? Told me I'm Rank 2 with sabers a couple hours ago."

  Mason grunted. "Not bad for a noob, but I don't know about this hearing voices and shit. Just look on your character sheet. I'm guessing you're level 1?"

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “As obvious as the fact that you’re some rich kid from the suburbs. Hell, your pop’s probably friends with the local police chief. But none of that means shit here. What matters is how well you can hold your own. Besides outclassing you with sword and shield, I’m level 3, and I can feel myself getting pretty damn close to level 4. Sophia's been in the game for a few weeks now, and is about where you are with her blade."

  "Oh wow. This mission sounds like something out of Apocalypse Z!" Sophia said.

  Mason nodded, gazing intently at the nervous-looking mayor. "And they need us. Since diseases and psionic attacks have no effect on synth bodies, we're maybe the only suckers with a shot at messing with these fuckheads without suffering horrid consequences."

  The mayor swallowed, haunted eyes lowering. "I fear you are right, Mason."

  His smile grew cold. "And those poor little kidnapped children. From what you let slip, one of them is your own."

  The mayor winced and closed her eyes.

  "It must be a horrid feeling, knowing that someone you love is in dire peril and there is n
othing you can do to help them."

  The mayor's gaze hardened. "That's why I am offering you three this quest. This is a chance to make a name for yourselves and find a place to call your own, where you would be appreciated as more than a necessary evil. I know few of you Terrans do more than treasure hunt in dwarven ruins. Here, you have a chance to do something that matters."

  "Damn right," Sophia said, though her mouth snapped shut under Mason's glare.

  "And we're happy to help," Mason said. "Provided the price is right."

  Elowin’s lips pressed together in a tight frown. John noticed the way she squeezed her fists to her sides. "Two thousand credits when you find the source of this infestation. And, if you can actually rescue the children, 300 credits for every one you bring back to us alive."

  Mason coldly shook his head. "You're asking us to risk our lives when your precious mages fled. 300 credits for every zombie we take down, and a thousand credits for every child we bring back alive."

  The mayor's eyes widened. "Those 'zombies' as you put it, were the people of our village! Infected by madness or possession. You can't actually expect me to pay you to kill them, can you? And a thousand credits per child? Preposterous! Do you think we're made of money?"

  Mason shrugged. "Villagers who tear open throats and devour their kinsmen are hardly people any longer. You yourself said your husband's wards, designed to keep out demons and undead, were protections they couldn't cross. So, let's not delude ourselves, alright? Those zombies, or revenants, or ghouls, or whatever the fuck you want to call them, will be gunning for our throats next."

  Sophia shivered, her dusky skin taking on a deathly pallor, and John had the sense that fighting zombies was the absolute last thing she wanted to be doing, but Mason seemed oblivious to her troubled gaze as he spoke on.

  "What matters more? Purse strings, or us finding your little boy or girl? Are you telling me you wouldn't pay a thousand credits to the heroes who rescue your child?"