Mark of the fated 3 a li.., p.53
Mark of the Fated 3: A LitRPG Adventure, page 53
“Leave him! He’s keeping some of them distracted.”
Before she could argue, Spidey’s web snatched her up. I shuffled back against the charred bark, swiping out at anything that got within striking distance. My turn came and I went with it, even as my stomach lurched. Landing on the spongy bed of webbing, I quickly distributed more of the tutorial dungeon’s spider leg consumables to everyone. My party were all trapped, unmoving from the sticky coating.
“Eat that from your menu bar, not with your mouth. Then we climb.”
Only Abby took a couple of extra seconds due to her lack of familiarity with the process. She worked it out and the binding web fell away from her feet. Returning her attention to the wounded tree, she held out her hands and scowled, casting Decay and channelling Life Drain once again. I wasn’t in need of extra health, but I joined her efforts to suck it dry with a single-target Fated. The damage was minimal, and the red tendrils of wasted life fractured and blew away on the fire’s updraughts.
Turning around, I looked down. The clearing was a warzone. Craters and burning debris were scattered far and wide. Bodies and parts of the hulks too.
Sun moved aside to give herself space and started to swing her cleaver at the tree. Great chunks of foetid timber flew in all directions as she burrowed deeper.
“It’s too thick to cut down!” I yelled over the groaning sway of our new ride.
“I’m creating a hole. Place your bomb inside and get the spider to weave a web further round the trunk.”
I could see the reasoning for her idea. A contained blast might do more damage. Spidey weaved as if our lives depended on it, coating the tree in shimmering white silk. A decent hole had been formed and I tossed in a mortar round. Some of the branches above us started to twist their way around, allowing them to let their leaves fly. The hanging gunpowder was securely lashed nearby.
“Cody, when I’ve lit the fuse, fire off an arrow at that lot. We’re going to hit it with a double whammy.”
He nodded and moved into a safer firing position around the curvature of the ancient. I set my torch to the wick and ran away on the springy web. Cody fired off his shot as the tree resumed its barrage of shurikens. The barrels detonated, creating a vast fireball that ignited the dangerous branches as it rose. They reeled back like living arms touching a hot stove. It was quickly followed by the deafening crack of my mortar round exploding. Sizeable slivers of the sundered trunk pinwheeled out into the clearing. I chanced a look to see how much damage had been caused, only to find a light scorching and some embedded steel casing. The deeper wood was just too dense to damage from the blasts; it directed all the force outward, taking some of the bark but little else.
“We keep chopping then,” said Sun, peering over my shoulder. “I was making progress.”
“Fine. Do it.”
She moved back around to get clear of the falling embers that rained down from the fire. Winding up, she began hacking at the trunk.
Spidey had created a new floor for us to traverse, and he bobbed up and down on the web excitedly. I felt ridiculous petting the spider, but he’d done a brilliant job.
“Whoa!” exclaimed Cris as the tree suddenly shifted.
I caught her hand as she stumbled. “What the hell was that?”
“It’s waking up,” said Cody, his words laced with dread.
I followed his pointing finger and the ground below became even more disturbed as the ancient’s roots tore free of the tainted earth.
Spidey didn’t need an order to securely bind us all to the tree that was now rocking violently. I made a promise that I would find him a suitably evil bastard to cocoon and drink alive.
The ancient hadn’t just woken up, it had started to do its morning workout. The roots detached completely from the ruptured soil, providing a dozen limbs that acted like wonky legs. Suffering the combined damage of Abby’s draining spells and the lingering fire, it began to careen around the clearing. To describe what the stumbling felt like when the creature doing it was thousands of tonnes of primal fury was impossible. We were gnats, clinging on to the thick hide of an African elephant while it rampaged. I felt very, very small, and not just in the physical sense.
“Look out!” yelled Cris as our ride neared the forest’s edge.
We all shied away instinctively. It obviously wanted to use the mighty trees all around the clearing to scour us from its body in an attempt to stop the pain. The only problem was this godlike creature didn’t know we were sponsored by real gods. Its blazing canopy hit the invisible dome high above, shattering the remaining upper branches by the dozen. Its momentum carried the vast, twisted body forward, deafening us with the cracks that sounded like the heavens were firing off artillery.
The inevitable result dawned on us all at the same time. I think even Abby used some of my choicer curse words as the heavy base carried onward, while the blazing top fell.
“Timber!” I yelled, half-laughing, half-screaming in terror.
Only Spidey wasn’t paralysed by the slow fall of the ancient and whipped around us, firing off string after string of web that partially cocooned us. He finished off with a half-dozen anchors that held our hastily made pods and then latched on himself.
I’m not sure if it was the shifting weight or the creature itself that moaned as it fell. Incalculable weight was drawn back to the earth from which it crawled, unable to stop itself with no arms. The gigantic trunk struck the ground with enough force to send two waves of mulchy earth away from the impact line. We were all shaken so hard I thought my teeth would fall out. Only Spidey’s flexible tethers stole some of the transferred energy and saved our lives.
The ten thousand hawks above screamed in fury at the treatment of their master. The woodland creatures all around went berserk, biting and raking at the barrier. I gave them the finger from my dangling position. Spidey followed my command and started to untangle us from the protective webbing. I dropped to the horizontal trunk and quickly climbed up one of the damaged branches to get a better view.
“Whoa,” I muttered at the sight that lay before us.
The tremendous power of the crash, coupled with the disjointed nature of the ancient had served to tear it almost in two. I noticed immediately that the corruption had only managed to penetrate about halfway to the centre of the Hyperion. The further in you looked, the cleaner the layers of grain appeared.
“How is it still alive?” asked Sun after climbing up beside me.
I surveyed the scene and had no answer. If any of us had been laid so low, we’d have died instantly. “It’s almost a god,” I offered weakly, and Sun grunted.
The health bar was still sitting at forty percent. We climbed back down and waited for the next threat to emerge. After a minute or so of patient tension, I started to relax. Was it stunned? Or as stunned as a several hundred foot tall demigod tree could be. I could only liken the accident to one of the viral videos I’d guiltily chuckled to in my coin booth. An overly confident drunk, showing off, only to have the solid surroundings put them back in their place. In some cases it was a building’s wall or a streetlight’s pole that gave them a bumpy reminder. In our enemy’s case, it had ran full tilt into a boss shield and came off second best in the exchange.
Abby resumed her Decay and Life Drain, slowly sapping the remaining health.
I readied some more explosives. Now that we had exposed the metaphorical heart of the creature, any fire or blast would be far more devastating.
Fen was about a hundred and fifty tards away, barking furiously and bounding at the side of the tree. Only the sopping bark prevented him from climbing as it peeled away in rotten layers.
“Whatever he’s found, I want to see it,” I said, jogging carefully along the sundered trunk.
Fires that had been dampened by the felling were growing in strength again. I dodged past the flames, shielding my face from the heat. With each step I took towards Fen, I could hear another noise over the sound of the warg’s throaty barking. It was like an injured animal, keening shrilly. I figured a helpless squirrel or something had been disturbed by our fight and now lay hurt somewhere ahead. What I stumbled across had me come to a dead stop.
“What is that?” gasped Cris, staggering to a halt at my side.
“I have no idea,” I replied, still too shocked to analyse further.
The creature before me was the size of a small baby, but was most definitely not a human baby. Its position within the tree had been torn open by the fall and it was flopping helplessly in a small cyst within the grain. A sloppy yellow and black ichor covered the thing, dribbling over the damaged tree like a broken egg. As I studied it closer, I realised that was exactly what it looked like.
“Is that the ancient?” gasped Abby as she reached us.
“I have no fucking clue,” I muttered, filled with primal disgust.
It was blind, and deaf, with no visible orifices to speak of. What was the point when it dwelled in the centre of the tree. It couldn’t breathe. It couldn’t hear. It couldn’t see. It just was. The smooth skin was a brownish green, veined like a common leaf. It had two stumpy legs and two twiglike arms that thrashed around.
Abby held out her hand and cast Life Drain again. The tiny creature started to shriek in pain and she immediately stopped the spell.
“I guess that answers the question,” I said, withdrawing my halberd. Stepping forward, I raised it overhead and prepared to strike.
“Mark! Wait!” Abby cried, moving to block me mid-swing.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, missing her by inches. The blade of my weapon thudded into the trunk and started to char the wood.
“I…” she struggled to articulate her words. “I’m not sure. I just… had a feeling.”
Ordinarily, I would’ve just retrieved the weapon and gone all choppy-choppy on the entity, but I knew there was more to the girl than met the eye. Far more. “Take your time. What can you feel?”
Abby climbed down into the broken cocoon of the pitiful ancient and stared at it. Though it couldn’t see, it knew a threat was close and tried to flop away. Millennia of inertia had stolen any strength it might’ve once had. The thing was a helpless as a new-born in the crib. “My father is the cause of this.”
“It doesn’t look undead,” I replied.
“It isn’t,” she confirmed. “But he still managed to corrupt the poor thing. I can feel its pain. Its longing.”
I could only see a horrid little gremlin thing writhing in filth. “Longing? For what?”
“To return to its dreams. To sleep forever again.”
I hefted my halberd. “I can make that happen. Just step aside.”
“No,” Abby replied with an authority that belied her age. She reached out and touched the mewling form.
I figured it might’ve been a form of childish comfort, but instead she cast Cleanse. Nothing happened, so she cast it again. The level of the spell spiked from its use on such a powerful target. At level twenty-three, the creature’s fearful thrashing calmed down. At level twenty-five, the boss’s threat marker changed to neutral. Whatever affliction had beset the ancient was now gone, as was our protection from the horrors of the wealds.
“Everyone get ready!” I yelled, swapping out my gear for a sword and shield.
The freed hawks swooped down en masse. Around the perimeter, the monstrous beasts charged in, dodging the fires and craters.
“It’s ok,” said Abby, calmly stroking the tiny ancient. “You can go back to sleep now.” She started to channel a series of Heals into the quivering form until the health bar was back to full.
I activated Holy Shield, ready to repel the thousands of meat-birds that swarmed all around us. Fen turned to face the approaching animals and dryads, his haunches tense, ready to launch at them.
Instead of dive-bombing us on the trunk, the vile hawks actually landed in ones and twos. Then tens and hundreds. Until the whole thing was alive with shuffling movement. They gave my glowing shell a wide berth, sensing the danger it posed. Some of them hopped down to join Abby, watching over the tiny form as it settled back into a timeless slumber. The ground based enemies neared and Fen jumped. They dodged his attack and completely ignored him, running past as he tried to get back on his feet. I gaped at the audience as they too gathered around and watched us intently.
“Erm, what’s happening?” I asked.
“Oh! No!” gasped Abby, throwing herself back and startling the surrounding hawks. They chittered irritably but didn’t attack.
I spun round and helped her up. “What’s the matter?”
“It was the piece of my father! I didn’t steal it, I promise!”
Sun was at her side, offering support. “His heart? What happened?”
“It just went straight into me. I didn’t touch it. Something appeared in my vision, and I recognised it from before. Then it was gone and I felt the power flow into me. I’m really sorry.”
I relaxed, having expected something terrible. “Don’t worry about it. They’re designed for you anyway. It’s all part of the world.”
“Mark?” Cris asked, her tone telling me all was not as well as I’d thought.
“What?”
The ancient was slowly being encased in tiny creepers that wrapped around its frail form. That wasn’t the problem, though. The birds had stopped watching over their master. They had all turned and now looked up at Abby.
“Erm, shouldn’t they all lay down and die now?”
Sun surveyed the surroundings. “It seems they have other ideas.”
Fen sniffed around the now placid monsters. It didn’t compute to his doggy brain that we’d been fighting them for days, and now they were just standing there. He gave one bear a playful nip, seeing if he could lure it into a fight. It shook off the huge jaws with a wet moan that sounded more annoyed than hurt.
“I guess they’ll just go back to wandering and flying through the wealds,” I said, grimacing. The poor things would’ve been better off dead.
“Mark? Can I try something?” asked Abby, self-doubt creeping into her voice.
“Go for it. I’m totally lost.”
As soon as I’d finished the final word, the entire flock of flesh-hawks took off as one, buffeting us with their wings. I shielded my face from their ascent, then turned to the girl. “Did you do that?”
She shrugged, her face apologetic. “I think so. Is that bad?”
I watched the birds begin to circle high above. Their epicentre? The teenager at my side.
“Unless I’m off my meds, I think you’ve got a few followers,” I said.
“Followers?” scoffed Sun. “She has an army.”
Chapter 68
“Try and get them to…” I looked around for a target. Finding a lone tree at the edge of the clearing, I pointed, “attack that. Or get them to land on it.”
Abby grinned and stared at the tree. The hawks complied immediately and set about the branches, biting and clawing at them. In seconds, there were just too many to even see the tree and I asked her to call them off. Layer by layer they peeled away, leaving the naked boughs. It looked as if the season had changed and the leaves had been shed, along with a decent portion of its bark.
“Well that worked pretty well, don’t you think,” I marvelled.
“Abby, can you tell us what you’re feeling right now?” asked Cris, noting the overwhelmed expression on the teenager’s face.
She turned in a slow circle, taking in the wealds. “I can sense… life, returning to normal. Slowly, oh so very slowly, but it’s happening. My own aches are fading. I can sense the birds, and animals, and other things too.”
Our audience below was just as rapt on the teenager as when they’d first approached. “You mean the things watching us?”
Abby nodded. “Them and many, many more. Out in the forests. Sleeping, running, hiding.”
I had a mad idea forming. “Can you get the ones in the forest to move too?”
“I can try.” She picked a section of the dense trees to the south and concentrated. A series of shrill cries broke out. We could hear the movement as the bigger creatures thrashed around, out of sight. Some of the rotten crowns swayed as their trunks were hit by their shifting bulk.
“Holy shit,” I gasped. “You do have an army.”
“We have an army,” Abby corrected, grinning broadly.
“Do you think that means if I’d handed over the pieces in the dwarf holds we’d have an army of plagued dwarves and ghosts right now?”
“Perhaps. Though, I think it ended the best way for all parties,” said Sun.
I was inclined to agree. The thought of having them slopping along beside me was enough to have me shuddering. As bad as the weald’s enemies were, they had once been creatures of balance and beauty. Plus, Agnor would’ve been a bit upset if we’d tried to use his afflicted people as our own private soldiers. His own son among them, no less. Another idea came to me. “Will this mean we might be able to secure the power of the zombies and whatever the lich has brought with him from the grave?”
“If so, we might have a fighting chance against the vampires,” replied Sun.
The fear of facing Broderick’s army abated slightly. I didn’t want to rely too heavily on the hope. With my luck, the armies would line up for the final face-off and mine would pick the worst possible time to lay down and die like the poor dwarves had. I’d be left looking pretty stupid, surrounded by corpses and facing off against thousands of laughing fangers.
Abby’s caring nature took over again and she knelt by the throbbing kernel of the ancient’s new home. “You can rest in safety now. We’re leaving.”
As if in answer, the leg-roots of the upended, broken Hyperion groaned and twisted, burrowing back into the earth to find sustenance. Any normal tree, toppled, split into pieces, would’ve been doomed. I had a feeling that this ancient thing would be just fine, if not a little more horizontal going forward.
“Oh! Goodness!” Abby blurted, bounding to her feet.
“What’s the matter?”
