《Common Clay》


 B1Ch1: A Common Start

    It hurt.


    He didn¡¯t expect it to be easy. After all, a bridge collapse wasn¡¯t exactly on the list of pleasant experiences. His car had been going at least fifty miles an hour when the road had just vanished ahead of him. Everything after that was a brief, painful blur.


    Now, he found himself trapped inside the wreckage, fighting hard just to breathe. His vision was blurry; darkness nibbled at the edges of his sight. How had it come to this? He¡¯d done everything he was supposed to. He had played the sports, everything from soccer to basketball to track. He¡¯d studied hard, spending hours poring over the books and agonizing over every project and essay. It hadn¡¯t been enough to get into the best college, but he¡¯d gone to one with a decent reputation. His degree had gotten him into a decent job, one where he could at least pay back some of the loans.


    Now all of it didn¡¯t matter. None of it had saved him from being on the road for an hour every day in the morning. He¡¯d been on his way to that same useless corporate job in the city, where he¡¯d been making just enough to pay rent for an apartment with three roommates. Why had he worked so hard? What did it matter?


    He sucked in another painful breath as the darkness closed in around him. If only he could do it again, he¡¯d make it matter this time. Another chance to live, to make something of himself. If only¡­


    It was so hard to draw in the next breath. He struggled, fighting for it, and then he was drifting away¡­


    Today was the day.


    Clay had been looking forward to this day ever since he¡¯d turned eight. That had been the birthday that had brought him the [Gift]¡ªthe ability to see and develop his [Stats]. It had been an exciting day, the start of the chance to see a life beyond his father¡¯s farm and dream of the wider world. He¡¯d worked hard to raise those [Stats] as high as he could¡ªthere was a cap on them that kept him from getting them too high before his Choosing, but he¡¯d done the best he could. [Might] and [Fortitude] were both easy to gain on a farm; the day¡¯s chores had been more than enough to guarantee that. [Insight] and [Memory] had been a bit harder; he¡¯d borrowed books from everyone he could, poring over them until the words had made sense.


    The really tricky ones had been [Valor] and [Will]. There weren¡¯t any exercises to raise those, or at least not any easy ones. He¡¯d still managed by forcing himself to confront his fears and stay focused, even when he was tired. Luckily, his father Sam had given him plenty of chances to work through his own fatigue over the years.


    He hefted another pitchfork full of hay, tossing it out to the cows waiting in the stalls. They mooed appreciatively, bending to nibble at the feed. Wondering if he was doing the chore for the last time, he turned and shoved the pitchfork into the hay again.


    ¡°Are you ready, son?¡± Samuel Evergreen was a good father, one that had always looked out for him. He had a calm, plain face, though he looked a lot more nervous this morning. Clay gave him a confident grin.


    ¡°Yeah. I hope so.¡± He left the pitchfork in the hay and rubbed at a sore spot on his shoulder. He¡¯d been up with the sun, and the chores had kept him busy for hours already. The Choosing was not until noon, which meant he had an hour or two. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Sam grinned at his son and then scratched at his chin. ¡°Well, I¡¯d say those cows are already well milked and all. They seem happy to me, so I guess we just need to feed the goats and make sure the fence along the forest is in good shape¡­¡±


    There was a hint of humor in the old man¡¯s words, and Clay gave him a fake glare. ¡°You know what I meant. Today¡¯s the Choosing. What do you think I¡¯ll be?¡±


    His father chuckled a little. Then his face grew serious. ¡°I can¡¯t say I know, son. Not really.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just a [Commoner], so I don¡¯t know anything about the fancier classes. You¡¯ll have to ask your mother. At least she has the [Scribe] subclass and not [Farmer] like me.¡±


    It was a familiar excuse, one that Clay had heard ever since he¡¯d brought up his dream of becoming a powerful adventurer. Sam would have preferred to have his son stay on the farm and help out with the other kids, but Clay had heard tales of glory and power all his life. He wanted something more than to stay on the farm and work out his days. His parents would have plenty of help with the other four children. Will was already ten and had his [Might] and [Fortitude] raised to eight. His little brother was a tough sort, and a natural with the chores.


    Part of him wished he could be just as dedicated to the farm, but Clay knew there was something greater out there for him. He couldn¡¯t just drift through this life. He had to make it all matter. No matter what.


    He shook himself, coming back out of his own thoughts. ¡°Well, if you had to make a guess, do you think I¡¯ll get [Paladin], or [Outrider]? Or maybe [Mage]? [Mystic]?¡±


    Sam gave his son a steady look. ¡°I can¡¯t say either way. The [Gift] comes from the gods, as do the [Classes]. You have to be ready for whatever they will, Clay, cause their plans aren¡¯t the same as ours. Never are, and never will be. Remember that.¡±


    Clay nodded and sighed. ¡°So, is Mom going to come and see it? She said that she didn¡¯t want to last night.¡±


    His father chuckled again, this time a little less restrained. ¡°Your mother is a bit too nervous for you, son. She says she needs to stay at home with Finn, but¡­¡± He shook his head.


    Clay had to chuckle as well, despite a pang of discomfort. His mother, Amelia, was loving and attentive, but she worried a lot about the future. She didn¡¯t talk much about the farm she¡¯d come from, but what little she had said had told Clay that there had been more hunger than happiness there. She was constantly alert for another catastrophe that would cause her family to go through the same kind of suffering. His dream of leaving the farm had caused her all kinds of grief, and she was dreading the possibility that he would get a [Class] that would make it all possible.


    ¡°I get it, Dad.¡± Clay leaned on his pitchfork a little and grinned. ¡°She has to know that I wouldn¡¯t go that far. I might only end up heading as far as Rennford, for all I know.¡±


    ¡°Your mother knows you better than that, Clay.¡± Sam scowled at him. ¡°The moment you get some fancy [Class], you¡¯ll be off looking for the edges of the horizon. It¡¯s what you¡¯ve always dreamed of, and what you¡¯ll do if you get the chance.¡±


    The truth of that statement brought a feeling of discomfort with it. Clay tried to shrug it away. ¡°Is it so wrong to want something a little more than life as usual, Dad? There¡¯s nothing wrong with staying on the farm, but if I can make the world a little better, a little safer¡­¡±


    Sam fell silent, his expression growing pensive. His father hadn¡¯t always lived on the farm outside of Pellsglade; his family had been living out near Sarlsboro for nearly seven generations. At least, they had until a horde of Undead had poured out of an undiscovered Dungeon, forcing the entire family to flee for their lives. Not all of them had made it out, and Sam had always missed his former home. He knew as much as anyone how much the world needed heroes; he just seemed to think those heroes should be someone else¡¯s sons or daughters.


    When Sam finally spoke, he did so with a sigh. ¡°I hear you, son. I just wish I knew better what would bring you happiness.¡± He looked back over the fields, where the freshly planted wheat was deep below the furrowed ground. ¡°Whatever happens, this place will always be here for you. You know that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I know, Dad.¡± Clay shrugged again, feeling a burst of uneasiness. There was always a chance he would get a [Class] that the villagers of Pellsglade wouldn¡¯t be happy about. It had been a long time since someone had gotten something like that, but he doubted he¡¯d be a [Burglar] or a [Knave] when the Choosing was over.


    The two farmers exchanged a brief look, and then nodded. Little else needed to be said, and Clay turned back to his chores with a renewed will. He wanted everything to be done for the day before he left for the Choosing, and there was always plenty of work left for him in the day.


    Another hour or so later saw him on the road to Pellsglade.


    It wasn¡¯t that far of a walk, really. The family farm was located a few miles outside the village proper, and his father had been kind enough to give him a ride on the family cart. Their mule, Dasher, had been named in a fit of irony rather than accuracy, but he still moved at a fair clip over the rough dirt road.


    Clay ran an eye over the countryside as they moved, seeing everything from a fresh perspective. He had to have seen everything along that road half a hundred times, but today the fields seemed brighter and the trees more alive than he¡¯d ever believed. Even the birdsong seemed so much more beautiful, at least what he could hear of it underneath the clattering of the cart wheels. Of course, why shouldn¡¯t it be a wonderful day? Today was going to be when his life changed for the better.


    He felt a little nervous, but that was only natural. After all, no one could predict how someone¡¯s Choosing would go. Plenty of young folks had arrived at the Stone for their Choosing, sure of their future, only to have all their plans overthrown by an unexpected [Class]. How many stories had he heard of common folk suddenly raised to power as a [Dark Knight] or an [Oracle]? There was even the occasional surprise that revealed supposed peasants as unknown heirs by becoming a [Noble]. Not that he suspected anything like that in his heritage, but the gods hadn¡¯t been kind enough to tell him what kind of future they held for him. Not yet.


    Still lost in his thoughts, Clay nearly jumped out of his skin when something slammed into the side of the cart. He reached for the dagger at his belt, his fingers slipping a little on the hilt, until he registered exactly what was climbing up over the side of the cart. ¡°Enessa? What are you doing here?¡±


    She laughed, a bold, loud sound. ¡°Apparently scaring the hide off a farmboy, Clay.¡± Her grin was wide and her eyes were shining as she climbed into the cart, nudging him over so that he had to make space. ¡°You ready for your [Class]?¡±


    ¡°As ready as I¡¯ll ever be.¡± Clay relaxed a little, though not as much as he had been before. He¡¯d known Enessa since they were children. Slim and copper-skinned, she had always stood out from the rest of the girls in the village. She¡¯d been the first to challenge people to footraces and wrestling matches, even once the boys had outpaced her in both. Enessa never seemed to mind, however; she¡¯d shrug off a loss with nothing more than a laugh and a promise for a rematch.


    She also seemed to have no hesitation when it came to making him uncomfortable, a fact that Clay had come to regret. As she brushed her short, dark hair out of her eyes and fixed him with a smirk, he braced himself for another hour of suffering. ¡°So, what [Class] do you think you¡¯ll get? I think you might be a decent [Burglar]. You¡¯re definitely shifty enough.¡±


    ¡°I think you might sneak up on me too often for that to be true.¡± Clay tried to ignore his father¡¯s snort of amusement and continued. ¡°I¡¯m hoping for [Paladin] or [Dragoon]. Something that will let me help people out when they are in trouble.¡±


    Enessa reached over and grabbed his bicep, squeezing it a bit. ¡°Hmm, I dunno. You don¡¯t seem like you¡¯ll be big enough for a brickhead. Why not [Outrider]? You always liked the woods. Maybe a little too much, actually.¡±


    Clay rolled his eyes. He¡¯d spent far too much time trying to raise his [Valor] by climbing high trees and exploring the nearby forest, defying his own fears in the process. There had even been one time when he¡¯d talked Enessa and Charles into exploring one of the random caves near Pellsglade. Charles hadn¡¯t agreed to any more ¡®adventures¡¯ after they¡¯d nearly gotten stuck, but they had gotten a point of [Valor] out of it. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be too bad. I could track down the monsters and take care of them.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°True. We¡¯ll have to see.¡± Then she stretched her arms over her head, rolling her head back and forth to loosen her neck. ¡°Everyone keeps worrying about today, but I think I¡¯ll be fine with whatever I get. I¡¯ll just be glad to have it over with.¡±


    He nudged her a little. ¡°Oh really? So, if you get [Commoner] you won¡¯t mind?¡±


    ¡°[Commoner] or not, I¡¯m as uncommon as they come, Clay.¡± She gave him a wink and then lounged back against the cart seat. ¡°You just remember that, or I¡¯ll have to pummel it into you, no matter the [Class].¡±


    Clay shook his head, ignoring another amused snort from his father. Enessa hadn¡¯t won a wrestling match against him for nearly a month, but that wouldn¡¯t stop her from trying. Her [Might] and [Fortitude] seemed to be almost as high as any of the boys, something that seemed wrong given how slender she was. She might just end up with [Outrider] herself, now that he thought about it.


    The rest of the cart ride passed with a comfortable silence, interspersed with Enessa nudging Clay to bother him about some misadventure or another in their past. Before long, the village proper came into view around a bend in the road.


    Pellsglade was a small place, barely more than a few dozen houses clustered together. They had built the oldest and closest farms around a small clearing, with the handful of shops and taverns being constructed later. There was an old well there, along with the Stone of Worship beside it. Clay¡¯s heart beat faster as he picked out the ancient stone plinth, knowing that the time had come for him to use it at last.


    He wouldn¡¯t be alone, either. Besides Enessa, there were four other youths from the village and surrounding farms waiting near the Stone. None of them were strangers; Clay had literally been around them for all of their lives. Charles was the local baron¡¯s son, and he couldn¡¯t have been more destined for the [Noble] class had he tried. His refined bearing hid a genuinely caring heart, even if Clay found him a bit stuffy. George and Ned were cousins from just outside Pellsglade, and were rarely seen apart; many in the village liked to joke that they were twins, a fact that their near identical builds, faces, and hair seemed to agree with. They¡¯d even been born within a day of each other.


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    The last of the waiting youths stood a little apart from the rest, though she waved to Clay and Enessa when she saw them. Maribel was the daughter of a shopkeeper in town, only a month younger than Clay. She was a bit shorter than he was, but not by much, and her long brown hair nearly reached her waist. Clay returned her greeting, though he was shy about it. Maribel had a much more¡­well-rounded figure than Enessa, and ever since adolescence had set in, he had felt awkward around her. It wasn¡¯t fair, perhaps, but little in life seemed to be.


    Enessa chuckled and nudged him. ¡°What¡¯s that blush for, Clay? The Companion giving you impure thoughts?¡±


    Clay glared at her. ¡°I don¡¯t think that the Goddess of Love really has that much interest in me, Enessa. Probably as little as the Sage has in you.¡±


    She laid a hand over her heart and laid back as if stricken. ¡°Oh, you have wounded me!¡± Then she rolled her eyes. ¡°You know she won¡¯t take a little staring amiss, right? George and Ned have probably been ogling her all morning already.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I have to feel right about it.¡± He shrugged and set his jaw. ¡°Leave it be.¡±


    ¡°Oh, all right. Don¡¯t get sore about it.¡± She punched him lightly on the shoulder and settled back onto the cart. His father, on the other hand, seemed to be biting his lip to keep from laughing, a fact that made Clay¡¯s face feel all that much hotter. The last part of the ride felt like a small eternity.


    Finally, though, Sam pulled on the reins and brought the cart to a halt. Enessa was gone, jumping from the cart before it had even come to a halt. She ran over to give Maribel a wide hug before waving to the rest of the group. Clay took his time dismounting from the cart. He paused as his father leaned over, stretching out a hand. Sam¡¯s voice was rough, and pride and worry in his father¡¯s eyes were just as clear to see. ¡°Good fortune, son. Make the right choice.¡±


    ¡°I will, Dad.¡± Clay shook his father¡¯s hand, feeling sudden worry settle into his own guts. He tried to settle himself as he turned towards the Stone. The others gave him grins that were equal parts excited and worried, and he gave them a smile that probably matched. None of them spoke much, and all of them fell silent when Rector Semmon appeared.


    The old Rector was a figure of authority in Pellsglade, and for good reason. He¡¯d been the Rector back when all of them had been born, and for as long as Clay¡¯s family had been part of Pellsglade. He carried the weary experience that was common to every village pastor, and his age only made the stern look on his face that much weightier.


    He approached the Stone from the small village shrine that he¡¯d lived in most of his life. The tension among the youths who were waiting for ratcheted up, as if there were some kind of invisible crossbow being prepared for a shot. Clay felt his own heartbeat speed up, and he shared a nervous smile with Enessa. When the man finally drew close and spoke, Clay hung on his every word.


    ¡°Youth of Pellsglade, today is the day of your Choosing.¡± The Rector paused, his severe gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. ¡°Eight years ago, when you received your [Gift], you were given the chance to prepare for this day. The gods have watched you this long time, as you grew from [Child] to [Youth], and today they will deliver you the reward of your efforts. Those of you who are called to serve as their champions in this land will receive [Classes] that will guide you to your purpose. If you receive no such calling, you will still receive the [Class] and [Subclass] that match your efforts.¡± He looked them all over again, and Clay felt as if the Rector had weighed and measured him like a horse he needed to buy. ¡°Let us begin.¡±


    The Rector turned to Charles, who was waiting with an unreadable expression. ¡°Charles of Pellsglade, see to the Stone.¡±


    Charles paused for a moment, glancing across the village green. Baron Pellsglade was waiting there, dressed in riding clothes, and watching his son. The baron nodded to his heir, and Charles stepped over to the Stone, his face grim. He reached out to the worn surface of the Stone, pausing only a moment before his fingers made contact. Then he pressed his hand firmly against it and waited.


    The Rector murmured something that Clay couldn¡¯t quite hear, a chant that the man had recited for countless Choosings. As a [Commoner], Semmon had little to do with magic or miracles, but the Rector¡¯s [Subclass] was [Priest], which gave him more than enough skill for this simple ceremony.


    Clay felt his breath grow short as the Stone responded. Glowing blue lines stretched across the surface of the marker, bathing the green in ethereal light. Charles jerked slightly, though his hand remained pressed to the Stone. His blue eyes appeared to catch fire, glowing with the same unreal light as the plinth he touched.


    Then the Stone flashed and the glow faded. Charles backed away from the spot, his expression stunned. The Rector approached him, and they spoke too quietly for Clay to hear. He thought Charles sounded worried, almost fearful, but the Rector¡¯s unwavering grumble was unconcerned. After that short conversation, the Rector turned to address the watching baron, as well as the rest of the onlookers. ¡°Sir Charles has been granted the [Class] of [Paladin]! May he serve our realm well!¡±


    A murmur of surprise ran through the villagers, and the baron jerked upright on his horse. It was clear he¡¯d expected his heir to be a [Noble]; the idea of a riskier [Class] must have been an unwelcome surprise. At the same time, there was no argument against the Stone; a person¡¯s [Class] could never change, no matter whether they were nobility or peasants.


    Charles seemed stunned, but Clay gave him an encouraging nod. ¡°Congratulations, Sir Charles.¡±


    The new [Paladin] nodded, his expression growing less numb. He crossed the green to go stand with his father, who bent from the saddle to speak with him. No doubt the baron was already making plans to equip his son with the finest arms and armor before sending him off to adventure. Clay wondered if he¡¯d get the chance for similar equipment, if he gained the same [Class].


    ¡°George and Ned Furrows, see to the Stone!¡± With the nobility taken care of, the Rector clearly had no issue performing the ritual at a quicker pace. The cousins exchanged a quick look, and with near-identical grins, they stepped up to the Stone. They seemed far less nervous about touching it. Maybe they thought that if the baron¡¯s son could do it, a good farmboy could too. Either way, they pressed their hands to the Stone and looked at the Rector, waiting.


    Semmon began the chant again, his muttered words still completely incomprehensible. Enessa stepped up beside Clay as the glow ran all over the Stone again, bathing the ¡®twins¡¯ in its ethereal power. ¡°So, Charles is going to be an adventurer! Do you think that means the rest of us are [Commoners]? Last year only one youth got an interesting [Class], and there were eight of them.¡±


    Clay shook his head, his eyes glued to the ceremony. ¡°Just because there was one surprise, it doesn¡¯t mean there won¡¯t be more. It all depends on what the gods decide.¡± Privately, he wondered if the fact that he had gone on so many small adventures with the lordling would factor into his own judgement. After all, if the gods had decided that Charles was brave enough to be a [Paladin], then surely they would look on the one who had been dragging him everywhere with favor.


    The glow faded from the stone, and the cousins stepped back. They exchanged a look, and then shouted and hugged each other. Semmon looked nonplussed as they spent some moments slapping each other on the back, and then stepped forward to demand their attention. It took a few tries, but the two finally calmed down enough to speak with the Rector.


    This time, the elderly man seemed a little surprised, even disturbed. When he stepped back to address the crowd, his voice carried a hint of uncertainty it hadn¡¯t had before. ¡°Sir George has been granted the [Class] of [Dragoon]! Sir Ned has been granted the [Class] of [Dark Knight]! May they serve our realm well!¡±


    There was a moment of shock, and then another shocked murmur ran through the crowd. Enessa and Clay exchanged their own looks of surprise. Three adventurer [Classes], in one Choosing? It was beyond abnormal; Clay hadn¡¯t heard of a single year like this one. He was still trying to think through the meaning of it when the Rector cleared his throat and called out again.


    ¡°Enessa Moors and Maribel Cooper, see to the Stone!¡±


    An expectant murmur filled the air, and Enessa gave Clay one last pat on the shoulder before running up to the Stone. She slapped her hand against it and waited expectantly, though the Rector gave her a scandalized look. Enessa didn¡¯t seem to notice or care. Maribel, for her part, seemed much more worried, and approached much more carefully. She only touched the stone with her fingertips, as if it were a hot plate that she was trying to avoid.


    Again, the Rector began his chant. He seemed a bit more forceful this time, as if he was trying to cover up his own uncertainty about the situation. The Stone glowed again, and both Enessa and Maribel¡¯s eyes shone with incredible light. Clay watched them, his heart hammering in his chest, and tried to feel ready to confront the ceremony alone once they were done.


    As the light faded yet again, both girls stepped back with stunned expressions. Maribel looked almost on the edge of tears, while Enessa threw back her head and laughed. The Rector hurried over; apparently the previous Choosings had imparted enough urgency to him that the old man had given up the pretense of being slow and stately. He had a quick, urgent conversation with each of them. There was a long, silent pause, and then the Rector turned to address the crowd.


    ¡°Syr Enessa has been granted the [Class] of [Fighter]! Syr Maribel has been granted the [Class] of [Mage]! May they serve the realm well!¡±


    If the previous Choosings had created a buzz of conversation, it became something of a near shouting match now. Five adventurers from one Choosing was unheard of; the village would be capable of sending out its own adventuring party! Clay heard the onlookers speaking amongst each other, catching some of them talking about a ¡®generation of heroes¡¯. He licked his lips and looked over at his father.


    Sam Evergreen was staring in fear and wonder at his son. His expectations were clear. He could already see Clay joining the ranks of the others as an adventurer, with all the uncertainty and glory that would involve. Clay tore his eyes away from his father, and turned back to the Stone, just as the Rector raised his voice over the murmuring crowd.


    ¡°Clay Evergreen, see to the Stone!¡±


    The pronouncement brought a sudden silence to the village green. Clay could feel every eye on him as he stepped forward. Their expectation was almost palpable as he reached out and laid a hand on the worn, ancient surface of the Stone.


    It felt cool to the touch, and smooth, as if countless days of sun, rain, and wind had robbed the Stone of any trace of imperfection. He marveled at it for a moment; he¡¯d never dared to touch the thing before, always keeping a wary distance from it. Who knew what would turn the gods against a person, or what they would take offense to?


    He waited for a moment as the Rector began his chant for yet another time. There was a sudden tingle of energy under his fingers. It wasn¡¯t warm, he thought, just¡­intense. It was as if the lines that were flaring to life were crackling with power, like summer lightning against a sky of grey clouds.


    Clay peered closer at those designs, wondering at them for a moment.


    Then he was suddenly, abruptly, somewhere very different.


    Gone were the summer sun and the pleasant breeze. Gone were the murmuring onlookers, and the half-terrified, proud eyes of his father. Gone was the incessant murmuring of the Rector as the priest wove his way through the chant.


    Instead, he found himself in a chamber of light, pure glowing brilliance that filled the space around him. He looked down and gasped; there was nothing beneath his feet but more of the same ethereal glow. What was this place? What had happened to him?


    When he looked up, his heart hammering in his chest, he found he was no longer alone.


    Seven statues stood in a staggered semicircle in front of him. They were glowing, each with their own internal light. There was something familiar about each, though he could not say what it was at first. He took a step towards them, almost without thinking about it. Was it something he had seen in one of his mother¡¯s books?


    Then one statue moved.


    It was a statue of a woman, dressed in unfamiliar robes and wielding some kind of strange crossbow. She looked at him, her eyes shining with pure white light behind plates of glass held by wire frames. Then she frowned.


    He felt a cold burst of fear as the statue pivoted in place to show him her back. As he looked around the chamber, the rest of the statues made similar movements. A woman that sculpted from marble and wearing a fine dress sighed and turned her head. A man wearing a golden crown turned and began walking away. A cloaked man who bore a grim scythe grimaced and sat on the ground, ignoring him. Another who wore too much armor to determine their gender folded their arms and looked away. A third man carrying a broadsword and a proud aspect turned away as well.


    In the end, only one statue remained facing him. It was a strange one compared to the others. Where they were regal, dignified, this one seemed far more relaxed, dressed in a crude robe of furs. She lounged against the insubstantial background, with knuckles and knees that seemed scraped from some bare-knuckle brawl. Her golden eyes studied Clay with a curious, though not entirely interested, air.


    They watched one another for a time, as Clay¡¯s heart did its best to pound its way out of his chest. Was this real? He¡¯d never heard of anything like this when others had talked about their Choosing. What was happening?


    ¡°SO. YOUR NAME IS CLAY?¡±


    The voice was so overpowering, so intense, that Clay¡¯s knees almost buckled. He somehow remained upright, but just barely. Some part of him registered the voice as having come from the statue, though its expression hadn¡¯t changed and its lips hadn¡¯t moved. A dim realization washed over him as he realized who he faced. These had to be the gods themselves, and the one he faced now¡­


    ¡°Y-yes. It is.¡±


    ¡°A GOOD CHOICE. BETTER THAN YOUR FIRST LIFE.¡±


    The voice nearly drove him to his knees again, but this time he felt a wave of confusion at their meaning. He knew the goddess had to be the Trickster, the Cunning Soul. Why had the others turned away? ¡°My¡ªwhat?¡±


    ¡°YOUR FIRST LIFE. IT ENDED FAR TOO SOON, IN A PLACE BEYOND THIS ONE.¡± The Trickster smiled. ¡°YOU WERE GIVEN ANOTHER CHANCE HERE. TO MAKE THINGS MEANINGFUL. TO MAKE IT ALL MATTER.¡±


    The goddess paused. ¡°NOW YOU ARE HERE. HAVE YOU SUCCEEDED?¡±


    Clay blinked, his mind whirling with confusion. He hadn¡¯t expected this moment, not in any of the daydreams that he¡¯d had about his Choosing. How much time had passed in the real world by now? Was his father still watching as he stood, hand pressed against the Stone?


    He shook himself, trying to focus well enough to answer the question. ¡°I¡ªI have tried. Every day, I have tried to make myself better. To become more worthy of your approval and trust.¡± Clay looked up into that deific face, searching for signs of that approval. He found only a blank stare. ¡°I am ready to serve you, however is needed. To make the world a better place for my family and everyone in it.¡±


    ¡°IS THIS SO?¡± The statue¡¯s expression shifted to one of wry amusement. She glanced at the others, who were busy leaving or ignoring the situation. One of them, the one in the fine dress, glanced back, but looked away again as soon as Clay noticed. ¡°I AM SORRY, YOUNG ONE. BUT YOU HAVE FAILED.¡±


    Shock and horror washed across Clay, and though he was growing used to the overwhelming power of the Trickster¡¯s voice, his legs nearly buckled for a third time. He¡¯d failed? After having tried so hard? What did this mean?


    ¡°TAKE HEART, CLAY EVERGREEN. FAILURE IS NOT AN END, NOT HERE.¡± The Trickster¡¯s voice was filled with a curious kind of compassion, though it remained full of power. ¡°THE OTHERS DID NOT AGREE WITH MY BRINGING YOU HERE, NOR DO THEY BELIEVE YOU WORTHY OF YOUR TASK. I, HOWEVER, AM KNOWN FOR¡­DIFFERING WITH THEM ON OCCASION.¡±


    Clay looked up in disbelief as the Trickster stood, her casual lounge becoming a more regal stance. It was like watching a wolf stand up from the ground, and the grin the statue gave him was just as unnerving. He felt like meat in the goddess¡¯s jaws. ¡°I WILL GIVE YOU ANOTHER CHANCE, CLAY, TO PROVE TO ME AND TO ALL OF THEM THAT YOU CAN SUCCEED. FIND MEANING IN THIS LIFE, MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE IN THE PROCESS. DO NOT BECOME BLINDED A THIRD TIME, OR YOUR END WILL BE JUST AS SORROWFUL HERE. GO!¡±


    The last command was delivered with a bark of laughter, one that slammed into Clay as if it was a gale of wind. He recoiled, lurching backward, and suddenly the chamber was gone.


    He was back on the village green, and the light was fading from the Stone in front of him. The murmurs of the village green around him were nothing compared to the Trickster¡¯s voice still echoing in his ears, and he stared in numb shock at the fading light before him.


    Clay was dimly aware of the Rector approaching him, but he barely heard the footsteps. The insubstantial words floating in the air before him captured his attention, something he¡¯d grown used to after the [Gift] had come to him eight years before. He had been so excited then, immediately dedicating himself to the effort of preparing for this day. The day that was meant to be the beginning of the rest of his life.


    He felt no such joy now. Instead, he read with growing horror as a list of notifications grew before him.


    [Clay Evergreen]


    [Class: Commoner]

 B1Ch2: Choices and Consequences

    The shock still hadn¡¯t worn off by the time he returned home.


    His mind was still reliving the experience on the village green, even as the cart rattled into place beside the family farm. The Rector had spoken with him, clearly expecting another adventurer to join the other five who had already. A mix of relief and disappointment had appeared on the old man¡¯s face as Clay had muttered the truth, and it only got worse when the man had announced the result to the waiting onlookers.


    Clay flinched as he recalled the sudden hush that spread through the crowd. The whispers and quiet laughter had started soon after, and the pity that he¡¯d seen in the others¡¯ eyes was almost worse. He¡¯d shrugged off Enessa¡¯s hand and marched to the cart, refusing to even meet his father¡¯s gaze. Sam had said nothing, simply giving him a quiet hug before turning the cart toward home.


    Now that they had arrived, Sam gave him another side hug, squeezing his shoulder a little before he got down. As his father walked to where the rest of his family waited, Clay refused to look in their direction. Instead, he jumped down on the opposite side of the cart and went stalking away across the fields, heading for the woods.


    He¡¯d always loved the woods; they¡¯d been the source of plenty of adventures. Strolling along under the canopy of green relaxed him in a lot of ways, and he needed time to think through the turn his life had just taken. To figure out what exactly had just happened, and what he could do about it. At the very least, he didn¡¯t want to deal with his mother¡¯s look of relief, or his siblings¡¯ disappointment.


    He walked until he was under the leaves and the farm was out of sight thanks to the underbrush. It took him a little while, but when he finally sat down under the branches of a large oak tree, he was reasonably sure that he would not be disturbed for a while. Clay rested his head against the bark, breathing in the scents of the forest around him and listening to the idle birdsong. The sound of the wind moving through the branches calmed him a little, though it did nothing to soothe the ache in his heart.


    After a few moments, he summoned the [Gift]. It was something every [Child] learned how to do when they turned eight, giving everyone a way to check the blessings that the gods had given them and to keep track of their own abilities as they grew and matured. He almost wished that he couldn¡¯t see it now; being blind to his own weakness might have been less painful.


    The words were agonizingly clear, however, no matter how he tried to look past them. They spelled out injury and insult in devastating detail.


    [Clay Evergreen]


    [Class: Commoner] {Level 1} (All Stats have a maximum of 16)


    [Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]


    [Stats] {Might: 12} {Fortitude: 12} {Insight: 10} {Memory: 11} {Valor: 10} {Will: 10}


    [Experiences]


    {Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}


    {Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}


    Part of him wanted to spit on the ground as he read over those words. [Commoner] was rightly considered the weakest of the [Classes], for a broad range of reasons. First, it had the worst increases to maximum Stats of all the [Classes]. Most [Classes] raised at least two Stats to twenty. All of which meant that any of the other [Classes] would outgrow him in no time; it wouldn¡¯t be long before Enessa, as a [Fighter], could turn him into a human pretzel no matter how hard he worked.


    Even worse, there wasn¡¯t really any way to level up [Commoner]. He¡¯d never heard of a single person with the [Class] beyond level one. [Paladins] could level by taking and completing noble quests, [Mages] could level by diligently studying their spellcraft; even [Alchemists] and [Nobles] could level based off of titles or academic achievements. The only way a [Commoner] could level would be to fight monsters, which was almost certainly a death sentence.


    If his [Class] was dismal, his [Subclass] was that much worse. As a [Farmer], his father could harvest a crop in half the time a different [Commoner] could manage the same task. A [Scribe] like his mother could read and write well enough to impress even the baron. A [Laborer], however, was almost worthless. He¡¯d be seen as good for nothing but brute force and hard work by the rest of the village. Even the [Experiences] he¡¯d gotten alongside those things would not change much; the bonuses those skills gave him just would not compare to what others could do.


    What was he supposed to do now? All he had was a useless [Class], a worse [Subclass], and no prospects for improving either. Meanwhile, all his closest friends were going to be heading to the capital as soon as they could go; it was traditional for new adventurers to swear loyalty to the King before they moved on to their new lives of power and glory. They would go on to become a band of heroes, while he would be lucky to get work hauling loads on someone else¡¯s farm.


    Clay closed his eyes, trying to find peace in the sounds of the surrounding woods, and failing. All he could see was the bleakness of his own future, and not much more.


    Then he heard a twig snap, and his eyes flew open.


    The woods near the farm weren¡¯t particularly dangerous, but only some kind of city rat would presume to think there was no danger there. An occasional bear or starving wolf might not be a reason to call in a team of heroes, but they were still dangerous to people who wandered the forest alone. Especially a relatively weak [Commoner] like him.


    He looked around, searching for the source of the noise. When he didn¡¯t see it immediately, Clay slowly pushed himself upright, trying not to move quicker than necessary in case that would provoke whatever was out there. With a bit of bitterness, he wondered what had possessed him to enter the woods without so much as his hunting bow, though it was hardly the first time he¡¯d done so. It was different today.


    ¡°Is anyone out there? Hello?¡± Obviously, a wild animal wouldn¡¯t answer, but it was worth a try.


    To his relief, Enessa stepped out from behind a tree a short while later. ¡°Hey.¡±


    She seemed uncharacteristically uncertain; she kept her hands clutched behind her back as she meandered her way over to him.


    ¡°Hey.¡± He slumped back down and gave her a crooked grin. ¡°Well, you were right. You are anything but uncommon.¡±


    Her expression grew a little hurt by the words, and he shook his head. ¡°No, wait, I¡¯m sorry. I should be congratulating you. I really am happy that you have found your place.¡± Then he laid his head back against the trunk and sighed. The leaves fluttered and shifted in the breeze, making the light dance and hide. ¡°I just wish I was going with you.¡±


    She settled in beside him with a grunt. ¡°I know.¡± For a long moment, she just sat next to him, fidgeting a little. Then she sighed. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know why things turned out this way. I only know that without you, I doubt I would have been ready for this. I don¡¯t think any of us would have.¡±


    He grunted sourly, and she shoved him a little with her shoulder. Not any different than how she had done hours before, he noted. ¡°I¡¯m serious. Who was the one who kept dragging me and Charles out to the woods? You think that didn¡¯t lead to us getting the [Classes] we did? The twins were always trying to match whatever we were doing too; they had their sights fixed on you from the beginning as the one to compete with. And Maribel¡­¡± She trailed off for a moment, and then grinned at him. ¡°Well, she had her own reasons for trying as hard as she could. You inspired all of us, Clay.¡±


    ¡°But I won¡¯t be going with you.¡± He tried not to let the words sound cold. The hurt still seemed to leak through, though, no matter how hard he tried.


    Enessa was quiet for another few moments. Then she leaned against him and put her head back against the bark as well. ¡°No. No, you won¡¯t.¡±


    Hearing the sadness in her voice eased his hurt a little, but Clay didn¡¯t know what else to say. There really wasn¡¯t anything either of them could do about the situation.


    So instead, they simply sat together, watching the forest bend and flex as the wind played through the branches.


    Enessa broke away from him some time later, as he made his way back home. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if she ran a little faster already than she had before, disappearing into the woods with her usual agility.


    He trudged home, not looking forward to the conversations ahead of him. At least his mother would be happy, and his father wouldn¡¯t have to worry. That much was all he could see in terms of a bright side to the situation.


    When he got to the farmhouse, he noted Charles¡¯ horse tied up alongside the tree in front. He recognized the beast as something the baron had bought for his son a while ago, during his attempts to mold the boy into a more proper heir. Perhaps he regretted that now, since the animal would carry Charles into danger from now on.


    Clay shook his head and stomped up the steps that led into his family¡¯s meager home. He pushed the door open and passed there, trying to force some cheer into his voice. ¡°Hey everyone.¡±


    Charles was there waiting for him, as he suspected. He wondered if the baron¡¯s heir had given Enessa a ride; she had to have found some way of getting out here that quickly. His nobly born friend nodded solemnly to him, even as his siblings streamed forward with cries of outrage and excitement.


    ¡°Charles is a [Paladin]! He¡¯s going on adventures! Do you think he would take me with him?¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Where did you go? I had to do half your chores¡ª¡±


    ¡°Dad said you don¡¯t have to leave now, so you can help me read my book¡ª¡±


    Clay held his hands up and felt a more natural smile twist his lips. ¡°Okay, okay, I get it. Let me alone for a bit so I can talk with Dad and Charles. I¡¯ll tell you all about it later, okay?¡±


    Will and the others subsided a bit. His little brother gave him a quick hug, and then shepherded the rest outside, leaving the cramped space a bit more amenable for conversation. His mother stepped up beside him. She hugged him tight, her arms locked around his neck. ¡°It¡¯s good to have you home, son.¡±


    He tried to agree, but the words caught in his throat a little. ¡°I love you, Mom.¡±


    She drew back a little, peering at him. Then she smiled and gave him a little shake before she went back to the fireplace, where something delicious was already cooking. He walked over to where Charles and Sam both sat, waiting for him.


    Clay fell into the nearest chair and sighed. Then he looked over at Charles. ¡°Congratulations, Charles. You will make a fine [Paladin].¡±


    His friend seemed to be uncomfortable with the words. He shrugged, looking away slightly. ¡°My father would be happier if I had achieved a different [Class], but the gods do not always decide¡­¡± Charles paused, a mildly horrified look crossing over his face. ¡°I apologize. I just always thought it would be you going out into the world while I cared for things here. This morning was a shock to all of us.¡±


    Clay gave Charles a wry smile. ¡°Yeah, you could say that.¡± His father gave him a stern look; Sam had always had very little patience with anything that looked like jealousy, and he wasn¡¯t going to make an exception here. He nodded before looking back at Charles. ¡°So, what brings you out this way? I would have thought that your father would already be fitting you out with armor.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s already made an appointment with the smith for tomorrow morning, actually.¡± Charles seemed embarrassed to admit the fact, but he pressed on regardless. ¡°In fact, he has decided that since Pellsglade will be sending the five of us to the capital together, it would serve the kingdom best if he outfitted all of us. It will make for safer travel on the road.¡±


    He could read well enough between the lines. Baron Pellsglade was worried about Charles¡¯ safety, and if he had to outfit a bunch of would-be adventurers to make sure Charles survived, he would. The baron wasn¡¯t a bad person, just a narrowly focused one. Some might call him petty, but he had always been fine with allowing Charles to share his childhood with those other nobles would have called his inferiors. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to hear it. I would be worried for you all out there. The world is a dangerous place.¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± Charles nodded slowly and turned his gaze away slightly. ¡°I had thought to persuade my father to include you in our party. We would need someone to help us with the camp and everything¡­ but he said that it would be risky to bring you. That if they dispatched us on a quest, you would have to travel home alone. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Part of Clay felt a little insulted. He would have been nothing but a servant, one that would fetch and carry for the more important people on the journey. Another part of him saw what Charles had really intended, though, and appreciated it. He reached across the table and grabbed Charles¡¯ forearm, meeting his eyes when the [Paladin] looked back at him. ¡°Thank you. I mean it.¡±


    Charles gave him a half-hearted smile. ¡°All the same, I was able to persuade him to reward you with something as well. To help you start out your new life.¡± The words seemed clumsy, almost awkward, and Charles¡¯ face grew red. ¡°It seemed wrong to spoil the five of us and leave you with nothing. He agreed, after some¡­discussion.¡±


    Clay¡¯s first instinct was to refuse the gift, but another stern look from his father silenced him before he could. Instead, he thought it over and smiled. Charles had fought with his father to get whatever it was for him. To deny his friend the opportunity to leave him something would be ungrateful. ¡°Again, I¡¯m grateful you¡¯re looking out for me. It means a lot.¡±


    ¡°It is still a poor exchange for¡­well, enough of that.¡± Charles fished in his travelsack for a moment, eventually drawing out a scroll of parchment. ¡°My father has entrusted a deed for some land to you. A barren plot, but one that he hopes you will be able to clear and farm. He¡¯ll even supply you with some coin in the meantime.¡±


    Clay took the parchment, his eyes wide. He looked at his father, who smiled proudly. ¡°That¡¯s very generous of you, Sir Charles. Please let your father know that we appreciate his gift.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± Charles leaned across the table and extended his hand. ¡°I wish you could go with us, Clay, but at least the village will have you here to look after it. It makes me feel better, knowing that.¡±


    He took Charles¡¯ hand, shaking it firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, Charles. Good fortunes, and a safe journey.¡±


    ¡°And to you.¡± Charles pushed himself up from the table and offered them a small, graceful bow. ¡°Until next we meet.¡±


    Clay watched him go and then turned back to the parchment in his hand. A new farm, all his own? Maybe the future wasn¡¯t looking so bad after all.


    The next day, Clay looked over his new ¡®farm¡¯ and had to reassess his view of the baron¡¯s graciousness.


    His father and mother were with him, and by their expressions they were feeling slightly less grateful for the ¡®gift¡¯ the baron had given him. Sam looked doubtfully over the fields and grimaced a little. ¡°Well, you¡¯ll always have a meal at home, son.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Dad.¡± He might very well need it for quite a while. Charles had not been exaggerating when he mentioned that the place was abandoned. Clay couldn¡¯t see any large rocks or other obstacles in the fields, but that was mostly because he could barely see any of the fields themselves. Young trees and old weeds choked the entire farm. Tall sagegrass competed with thickets of sablethorn bushes, creating a wild tangle that promised to be hard work to remove. Deep within that mess, he could barely see the outline of an old, dilapidated farmhouse, with the wooden roof half collapsed inward and the chimney crumbling.


    Of course, the state of fields was only one problem. Clay was used to clearing land and picking out the weeds and stones that could cause problems. It was more the location that threatened his peace of mind, because his brand new home was tucked right up against the Tanglewood.


    There had been a time when the Tanglewood had been no more offensive than any of the woods that bordered most of the farms around Pellsglade. The occasional wild beast and poaching fox were hardly a real hardship for the majority of the farms in the area, and everyone was more than ready to deal with them.


    That time was now long past. Something had taken root in the Tanglewood, twisting it into something darker, something more dangerous. Farmers had been abandoning the area since Clay had been young, and those who hadn¡¯t had often come out to find their cattle dead under mysterious circumstances. More ominous were those who simply stopped coming into town. A farm near the Tanglewood was a bold risk, or a foolhardy move, depending on who you talked to.


    All in all, it spoke to a certain¡­lack of gratitude on the baron¡¯s part. Maybe he held a grudge for Clay¡¯s part in helping his son become a [Paladin], or maybe it was simply a bit of miserly resentment at having to part with any land at all, but the farm was clearly a means to have Clay out of town and out of mind¡ªperhaps permanently.


    His mother was looking over the new ¡®farm¡¯ with a sour expression. Amelia Evergreen was not a fool, and it was clear that she didn¡¯t think much of the baron¡¯s gift, either. She eyed the nearby stretch of the Tanglewood with deep suspicion and seemed to come to a decision. ¡°You can take your time working on this, son. For now, you can come back home and sleep with us. You might¡­ rest better.¡±


    Clay smiled a little. ¡°Thanks, Mom, I appreciate it.¡± He looked over the half-concealed farmhouse, wondering how long it would take him to clear the place. It might be a few days before he could even reach the front door. Then he sighed. ¡°Well, I suppose there¡¯s only one way through it.¡±


    Sam nodded, his expression full of sympathy. ¡°We¡¯ll be here for you, son. Just let us know.¡±


    Clay nodded at him and then climbed down from the cart and stomped back to retrieve his tools from the back. The sickle, shovel, axe, and hoe seemed a bit underwhelming compared to the task, but he had no other way to go about things. The only way out, this time, was through.


    Three days later, Clay stood sweating and panting at the front door of his house, stretching sore muscles and looking over the insubstantial words that floated in front of him.


    {Might increased by 1! Fortitude increased by 1!}


    He grimaced at the notification and dismissed it. It was the second time both [Might] and [Fortitude] had increased as he sweated under the sun. His [Will] had gone up once as well, when he staggered into the field on the second day after the hour-long walk to reach the place. Apparently, clearing an entire field by himself was good practice for raising at least some of his [Stats], even if he was only a [Commoner].


    Of course, life had been busy for the rest of his generation as well. The five newly created adventurers had spent the time preparing to leave, gathering belongings and saying farewells. Enessa had dropped by to laugh with him over the work and give him a sincere hug. Charles had visited as well, taking the time to help cut down a tree. Word in the village was that he¡¯d had an argument with his father afterwards; Clay could only hope that it hadn¡¯t been about the state of his new home.


    Even Maribel and the twins had come by, though all of them had been awkward and hadn¡¯t said much. It was clear that they had expected him to be leaving with them, and didn¡¯t know how to respond when reality had confronted them. For his part, he had wished them well, and then settled back into his bitter, unhappy labor.


    His feelings of resentment and anger had not dimmed at all. Clay had hoped that the hard work would have lessened them, but it had utterly failed. For three days, he¡¯d spent hours full of chopping, digging and pulling every weed, thornbush, and tree between him and the house. It was brutal, tiring work under a bright sun, all of which was bookended between the hour-long walk it took to reach the farm from his father¡¯s house. He ended each day in an exhausted sprawl and began it with his siblings poking him out of bed. The only thing that had kept him going was the poisonous determination to not let the field beat him.


    Now, as he stared at the dilapidated mess that represented the place where he was supposed to sleep, he heaved a massive sigh. His friends had left that morning on their journey to the capital, and he was going to spend the day ripping out the weeds growing between his half-rotten floorboards.


    Clay turned around and sat down on the doorstep. The flat stone was warm, but he hardly noticed as he leaned back against the doorpost. He looked up into a blue sky half-covered in clouds. It didn¡¯t look like rain would come today, but he was sure that one of these days he would chop through underbrush in a driving rain. At least it would be something different than the normal grind.


    His jaw clenched in frustration, and he looked out over the field again. Was this going to be the rest of his life? Raising his [Stats] through backbreaking work until some monster wandered out of the Tanglewood and ate him? He¡¯d dreamed of so much more, of being a hero that would make things better for his family, for the village, maybe even for the kingdom. Now he was just hoping to have a place to lie down without having a thornbush in the same room.


    What else could he do, though? A [Commoner] wasn¡¯t meant for adventures. [Commoners] lived quiet, boring, vulnerable lives, protected by those the gods had chosen for better things. If he had good enough fortune and worked hard all his life, he might even live long enough to die of old age. Is that what he was promised for doing everything they expected him to do? Was that what the Trickster had wanted him to do? Just follow the rules and die after a life full of quiet desperation?


    His tired mind continued in a few more discontented thoughts, particularly griping to himself about sablethorn bushes, when he realized that something was wrong. It took his weary brain a few more moments to think it through, but when he finally realized it, he sat bolt upright in shock. The Trickster was expecting him to follow the rules? That sounded¡­ uncharacteristic.


    Clay frowned, his thoughts going down a new path. He had assumed that his [Class] had been a punishment of some kind. Perhaps it had been, but he doubted the Trickster would aim for just one thing. But if the Trickster wanted Clay to make the world better, how would a [Commoner] do anything else? It wasn¡¯t like he was going to be leveling up by chopping through bushes or pulling weeds.


    Then his gaze wandered over to the east, where the Tanglewood waited at the edge of his land. The Tanglewood, where monsters lived. Monsters, which any [Class], from [Paladins] to [Mages] to [Calculators] could kill to level up. Any [Class]¡­


    An idea began to form. It took him a while of arguing with himself, but in his heart, he¡¯d already decided. He wasn¡¯t going to work himself to death on the farm, not when he had the chance to do something more. Not if there was a chance to make more of a difference in the world.

 B1Ch3: First Encounters

    The next day, he spent a good number of hours trying to clear the space around his house. He¡¯d told his mother that he was going to try to spend the night out at the broken-down old place. When he¡¯d left his home, he¡¯d taken his hunting bow with a few arrows, and a sling as well. His father had asked him about it, and he¡¯d told him he might try a bit of hunting in the Smallgroves, the woods west of his new home. Maybe they had thought he was worried about monsters. They were right, in a way.


    Around noon, he¡¯d sat down to eat for a moment. Then he fastened his axe on his hip and slung a bow and quiver over his shoulder. After another moment¡¯s thought, he stuffed his sling into his belt and grabbed his pitchfork for good measure. Thus armed, he started for the Tanglewood. One way or the other, he was going to put his new idea to the test. He only hoped that he would not be dead by the end of it.


    He thought he heard a hint of delighted laughter in the wind as he stepped into the woods.


    It wasn¡¯t like he didn¡¯t know the forest. He¡¯d spent plenty of time running through the woods around his father¡¯s farm, and Sam had been sure to teach him plenty of the skills a person needed to survive. Hunting had been a useful way to supply the family with meat, and he¡¯d helped Sam track and trap various pests and vermin. The Tanglewood might have been a dangerous place, but he thought that as long as he was careful, he wouldn¡¯t be in too much trouble.


    His expectations changed after the first few minutes in the Tanglewood.


    The woods he¡¯d known had been full of the sounds of life. Birds chirped and squirrels chased one another through the branches. Occasionally, larger creatures like foxes or groundhogs would move through the underbrush. Every so often he¡¯d see signs of deer passing through, their hooves making marks in the dirt.


    The Tanglewood was quiet. Wind moved through the branches in the same way, but the birdsong was absent. He couldn¡¯t hear any wildlife rustling their way through the leaves or snapping twigs along the ground. If he had to describe it, it was as if the entire forest was holding its breath, waiting for some dangerous creature to wander past. There weren¡¯t any recognizable tracks in the dirt either, as if wildlife had been smart enough to avoid the place entirely.


    Clay listened to that silence and began to wonder if he had made a mistake. It was unnerving, as if just by stepping forward, he was going to draw the attention of some terrible beast. Of course, in a way he was. Nobody was entirely sure of what kind of creatures were lurking in the Tanglewood, and if he was going to kill one of them, he would need to find one first.


    So, he forced himself to continue forward, placing his feet carefully in an attempt to avoid making even the slightest noise. It meant he took a longer time to move, but he thought it would be worth it if he could avoid being ambushed by whatever was killing this place. It wouldn¡¯t look good if he managed to get himself killed the day after a bunch of adventurers left the town. He loved his friends, but he had plans to be more than a tragedy in their backstory.


    It was about an hour after he had entered the Tanglewood that he saw the trap.


    He only noticed it by chance, as he was scanning the forest floor for tracks. An errant gust of wind stirred through some of the fallen leaves that lay scattered around the forest floor, shifting them into a different carpet of rotting vegetation. His eyes followed some of them, watching the dull-colored things slip and skid.


    Some of them didn¡¯t move. The breeze passed over the leaves, but they didn¡¯t stir, aside from a small flutter at the edges. It was as if they were stuck there, fastened by some kind of adhesive. His fingers tightened on the pitchfork, and he felt a chill steal across the back of his neck, as if Death itself had breathed on him.


    He kept his eyes fixed on the spot, searching for any other signs of something wrong. It took a few more moments before he could pick out the edges of something hidden beneath the foliage. There was something circular, almost like the bulge of a rock, underneath the covering leaves. Another gust of wind swept through, and once again, the leaves in that spot didn¡¯t move at all. They had to be stuck to something, as if someone had daubed the back of the leaves with pitch, and the only reason to do that was to disguise whatever was hidden underneath.


    Given that he was in the Tanglewood, he doubted that the thing hiding there was good for his health.


    The next half hour passed as he continued to watch the spot. He examined the rest of the forest floor around him as well, realizing that he very well could have walked by a similar hidden threat on his way through the woods. Clay didn¡¯t spot any other suspiciously still patches of leaves, but he would keep his eyes a bit more alert as he made his way home.


    First, however, he had a job to do. Whatever was hiding there would be his first target, and he was not going to abandon his mission now.


    Moving slowly and carefully, desperate to not make a single sound, he withdrew back behind the nearest tree. Clay was very careful to see if there was anything hiding there; a sudden burst of paranoia had him even looking up, making sure that nothing was waiting to drop on him from the branches. Once he was sure that the tree concealed him, and that nothing was about to try to eat him yet, he unwound his sling and slipped a stone into it.


    He didn¡¯t need much effort to get the stone going, just enough to heft the rock across the patch of trees to land in front of the hidden thing. His heart was still pounding so hard he was half sure the monster would hear it by that alone, but he did his best to keep his breath even and quiet. With a trembling hand, he sent the stone tumbling through the air.


    It hit once and bounced, far short of the patch of unnatural stillness. The rock skipped across the loose dirt, hitting a second time just past¡ª


    The patch moved. One moment the rock was hitting the ground for the second time, the next he saw the entire patch tilt up, like it was the door leading to somebody¡¯s cellar. A nightmare of fangs, claws, and eyes darted out, striking at where the rock had hit. Before Clay could even register what had happened, the rock was gone, and the lid was closing over whatever thing had been hiding inside.


    Clay remained frozen, his mouth open in astonishment. He couldn¡¯t help but picture that thing appearing out of the ground and latching onto his leg, dragging him under the ground. It had been so fast, he still couldn¡¯t quite put together an image of what he¡¯d seen. This plan had been a mistake. He had to get out of this forest. He was a [Commoner]. He wasn¡¯t supposed to be killing monsters; he was supposed to be clearing fields and raising chickens. If he didn¡¯t leave now, then something just as bad as that was going to kill him and feast on his bones. What had he been thinking, coming¡­


    His thoughts trailed off as the lid slowly tipped up again. He tensed in panic, not even daring to breathe. Was it coming for him? Had it seen him?


    He tried to move, but he couldn¡¯t. All he could do was watch as the nightmare emerged slowly. It was not any less of a terrible sight moving slower.


    The thing was a spider. A spider the size of a small dog, with glistening eyes and wet fangs. It tossed the rock he¡¯d thrown to the ground with an almost petulant motion and then stared around at the surrounding forest. Then, with a dull, almost resentful attitude, it cleaned the space in front of the hole, rearranging things to hide the marks it had made with its lethal lunge. Then it withdrew back into the hole, letting the lid close over it once again.


    A moment later, and the forest was once again still. It took until his lungs burned for Clay to breathe again.


    He pivoted to nearly collapse against the trunk of the tree, his whole body shaking from the fear he was feeling. That was what he was up against? How was anyone supposed to fight against a spider that popped out of a hole in the ground to eat you? It was insane!


    His mind was still spinning at a terrifying pace, jittering through imagined times when another monster latched onto his leg and killed him. He died in half a dozen different nightmarish scenarios, each of them equally horrifying, until he finally tried to shake himself back to reality.


    The last imagined horror was the worst. He pictured those things stealing closer and closer to his home, digging their little burrows and setting their traps in his field and taking him while he worked. He pictured them attacking him as he stepped up into his vacant, half-ruined house. He pictured them springing out of a divot in the road as he ran for his father¡¯s house.


    Then, worst of all, he pictured them attacking his family. He saw them taking Amy, Saphy, Finn, Will, Amelia, Sam¡­


    It was that image that snapped him out of it. His hands on the pitchfork stilled, and his breathing suddenly grew calm. Clay felt a sudden, burning determination spark to life inside him. Everything seemed to suddenly grow clear.


    These things weren¡¯t just monsters in the woods. They were invaders. Everyone in Pellsglade had known that the Tanglewood was dangerous, and that whatever lurked inside was getting worse. There wasn¡¯t a single person in town that thought things were getting better, and everyone had heard stories of people disappearing near the edges. Families had fled from the borders of the Tanglewood, or vanished.


    Yet no one was doing anything. Everyone was aware of the danger, but they were hoping that things got better on their own, or that a passing band of adventurers would solve things. The idea was immediately ridiculous; he pictured his friends wandering through the Tanglewood, not seeing the trap in time. He pictured Charles, or Enessa, being pulled into that thing¡¯s jaws¡­


    Clay clenched his hands tight around the shaft of the pitchfork now. His heartbeat was slower, but somehow louder. He made a decision in that moment. Whatever that thing was, he wasn¡¯t going home before it was dead. There was no other way.


    He edged his way around the trunk again, still careful not to make any sudden moves or noises. The forest was still quiet; even the breeze had died down. There was no sign of anything different.


    Clay reached for a stick off the ground. He carefully lifted it, testing its balance and heft. The spider hadn¡¯t struck until the stone had hit twice. There was no sign of any kind of web or anything, so it had to be listening for its prey. Either that, or maybe it was sensing the steps through the ground.


    He threw the stick towards the lid, trying to make sure it tumbled through the air so that it would hit multiple times. Clay resisted the urge to duck fully back behind the tree trunk, but he tried to remain as still as possible. Flinching and giving himself away was likely a terrible idea.


    The stick hit, pinwheeling over the ground end over end. He watched as the second end hit, and¡ª


    It happened in the space of less than a heartbeat. The spider flashed out, struck the stick, and was back in the hole before he could even flinch. He waited, almost holding his breath. Would it come out and start hunting for him now? Could he run fast enough if it did?


    A moment later, the lid once again tipped open. The spider emerged, throwing the stick out of its burrow with obvious frustration. It scuttled fully out of its burrow this time, something that nearly made Clay pull back. Fortunately, it seemed more interested in turning over the nearest leaves and tipping over a rock or two. He watched as the monster rustled through the undergrowth, searching for its tormentor.


    Then it seemed to exhaust itself. It rearranged the leaves and dirt in front of its hole and then withdrew again. Clay waited a bit longer, and a moment later it flipped the lid up again, its multiple eyes searching the woods. Then it retreated, its displeasure with the outside world both obvious and curiously funny. He fought down the urge to laugh out of incredulity and amusement.


    When he was sure that the thing had gone still again, Clay pivoted back behind the trunk. His breathing was still this time, though his gut was still roiling with disgust. The thing had responded to the second impact; it hadn¡¯t mattered that the type of impact had changed. It hadn¡¯t been smart enough to tell that it was a fake, either, which meant it couldn¡¯t see through the lid of its hiding place.


    The attack hadn¡¯t been any different either. Just a straightforward lunge to take whatever had caused the noise. It wasn¡¯t responding to light touches like the leaves dragged by the wind, so it had to have some way of telling the difference. Maybe it only struck for heavier things?


    Either way, it seemed like a fairly glaring weakness he could exploit. Weren¡¯t monsters supposed to be just as clever as people were, thanks to their increased magical power? Why would the thing be dumb enough to try eating a rock or a stick?


    Clay suddenly had a vivid memory fill his mind of the time he and Charles had challenged the twins to a tree climbing contest. They had eventually turned to a tree jumping contest, where each of them had been jumping across from one tree to another. It had ended with George breaking his leg and needing to hobble around his farm for months. Perhaps being as smart as a person wasn¡¯t as impressive as it sounded.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Somewhat reassured, Clay settled on a plan. He tightened his grip on his pitchfork, letting out a slow breath. Then, trying to ignore his still-pounding heart, he turned around the tree trunk and started for the spider hole.


    Each step felt agonizing. He didn¡¯t know what the range of the spider was, but he imagined it had to be close to give it the chance to lunge. Clay willed himself to stay steady; now was not the time to shake. If the spider bit him, he didn''t know if he would survive it. Could he kill the thing and then just die, anyway?


    He shoved the thought out of his mind. As he got closer, he adjusted the angle of the pitchfork so that the three prongs of the tool were between him and the hole. The instant that hole opened, he needed to stab it. Clay repeated that fact to himself in his mind, picturing it in his mind. Time after time, he saw the thing leave the hole, and he lunged to meet it. It had to work; it had to.


    Step after step, he crept closer, picturing that moment of attack. Each moment brought it closer, and he felt his breathing start to quicken. Could the spider hear him coming now? Would it still be waiting, or did it have some kind of tunnel it could use to escape? Would it pop out of the woods in a different spot?


    Clay took one last step, and the moment arrived.


    One moment he was moving towards the hole; the next, the pitchfork jerked out of his hands, and he was shoved into the dirt. Something hideous and spiked and screaming was scrabbling in the dirt nearby. Clay yelled as sharp-edged legs skittered across him, and he rolled away. His hand snatched for the woodaxe at his side. He yanked it from his belt loop and came up into a crouch.


    He saw the thing trying to turn towards him. The pitchfork was buried in its face; the shaft stood out like a flagpole. Its movements were twitchy, almost spasmodic. Clay didn¡¯t wait to see if it was dying; he brought the axe up and down in a brutal strike. The axe bit deep, and he yanked it out and struck again, and again, and again.


    When he came to his senses, he was hacking at the mangled corpse of a monster, its limbs still twitching with each hit. He was gasping for breath, and his limbs were burning from the effort. Abruptly coming back to himself, Clay let go of the axe and scrambled backward through the leaves. He watched it for a long, frozen moment, trying to get his trembling body under control.


    Then he saw words appear in the edge of his vision. A glance showed him something he¡¯d never seen before.


    {Valor increased by 2!}


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    He stared at those words for a small eternity. It slowly dawned on him what he¡¯d done, and he looked back towards the dead thing in the dirt. His breathing slowed, and he allowed himself to shiver. Still shaking, he slowly reached for the axe. It twitched again as he grabbed the axe, and he had to stop himself from trying to run screaming into the woods.


    Clay fumbled the axe back into his belt loop. He looked at the pitchfork and shivered. It took him a long time to make his way over to remove the tool; he eventually placed a foot against the remnants of its head and yanked it free. How it had survived with the tines stabbed into its skull was beyond him, but a monster didn¡¯t have to make sense.


    He stood there a moment longer, still shivering in the afternoon sunlight that filtered through the trees. Eventually, he turned to begin his way home. Every stretch of ground became a source of terror; at one point, he spent an hour watching a rock to make sure there wasn¡¯t another nightmare hiding beneath.


    It took him a while to realize he was still covered with the spider¡¯s ichor. The stinking fluid soaked his sleeves and the front of his shirt. When he finally broke free of the Tanglewood, he was still shaking from the cold. It took everything in him not to run home to his father¡¯s farm. As it was, he staggered into his vacant farmhouse, seeing the snarl of weeds and thorns. A nameless terror filled him, and he searched every exposed surface for evidence of a spider hole.


    By the time he finished, the ichor had dried on his clothes. It made it all that much harder to wash it out, scrubbing it with the water from a nearby stream all the way in the Smallgroves. Once it was finally gone, he started on the road back to his father¡¯s home, his mind numb and his body more tired than he¡¯d ever felt before. He barely remembered arriving before he stumbled into his bed.


    Waking up the next morning was¡­unpleasant.


    He jerked awake out of a nightmare full of spiny, hairy legs, glistening eyes, and fangs that dripped liquid death. It took a moment for his frantically beating heart and panicked breathing to slow down. Clay lay in his bed and waited for that to happen, mentally running through the events of the previous day.


    He¡¯d survived. As a [Commoner], he¡¯d killed a monster and survived. It had been terrifying, and dangerous, and quite possibly the most awful thing he¡¯d ever experienced, but he¡¯d done it.


    Remembering the message he had received the day before, he brought up his [Gift]. The words hovered in the air in front of him while he looked them over.


    [Clay Evergreen]


    [Class: Commoner] {Level 1} (All Stats have a maximum of 16)


    [Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]


    [Soul: 10/100]


    [Stats] {Might: 14} {Fortitude: 14} {Insight: 10} {Memory: 11} {Valor: 12} {Will: 11}


    [Experiences]


    {Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}


    {Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}


    His eyes fixed on the line below his [Subclass]. It was the only real change, and it was something he¡¯d never seen before.


    He¡¯d heard about it, of course. Soul was how adventurers increased their level. Gain enough, and the [Class] advanced.


    If that was true for his [Commoner] as well, it looked like he needed to kill at least nine more of those things before he saw any real progress at all.


    For a moment, Clay was almost ready to give up. The prospect of facing another nine multi-limbed, fanged horrors was not something he wanted to do. Yet even as he thought about giving up, he got that vision again of the spiders inching their way through the Tanglewood towards his farm. Towards his home.


    Grim determination filled him, and he waved away the status screen. He picked himself off his bed, grabbed a fresh shirt, and went out into the main room of his family¡¯s home. His mother was cooking breakfast already, and she gave him a tired smile. ¡°You off to the farm again today, son? You were so tired yesterday I didn¡¯t know if you would want to take a day off!¡±


    It was a common joke in their family; farmers never really knew the meaning of a day off. Clay smiled, thinking of exactly how accurately that fit his new perspective on life. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m headed out again. Love you, Mom.¡±


    She gave him a strange look, but he just paused long enough to swipe a meat pie from the table and to take up his tools. Then he was off towards the farm, and Tanglewood beyond it.


    He had plenty of work to do.


    The next four days boiled down to a pattern, one that began feeling almost comfortable.


    For the first four hours of each workday, Clay spent his time cutting through the field of misery that the baron had granted him. Weeds, thorns, and small trees fell in hours of tough work, something that he would have considered a decent start to the workday. [Laborer] helped him more than he would have expected, as he went through the familiar motions of clearing the land and preparing it for civilization.


    Then, as the sun climbed high in the sky, he would eat a brief meal, take up his arms, and enter the Tanglewood.


    This time, he took far more care in his approach. It had been one thing to go hunting monsters without really knowing what they looked like. Having an image of the spider in his head as he walked through the woods made sure that he was examining every rock, root, and leaf pile before he stepped anywhere. The branches overhead got their own intent study as well; some of the choicer nightmares that haunted his nights involved one of those things dropping on him from above.


    The first day he returned to the forest, he spent nearly six hours stalking beneath the branches, searching the silent woods without finding a single monster. It was frustrating to return to the farm for a brief dinner and then another couple of hours of work before wandering back home to his father¡¯s house, weary beyond measure.


    On the second day, however, he found two of them.


    The first monster had tucked itself away in a similar spot to the first; he found it hiding beneath a glued carpet of leaves along the side of what had once been an animal path. Clay approached it the same way, holding onto his pitchfork, ready for the leap. He¡¯d wrapped cloth around his hands to give him a steadied grip on the pitchfork, something that paid off when the thing came flying out of the hole. This time, he stayed standing, though it forced him back a step or two while it impaled itself.


    He watched as it hissed and spit and screamed at him, the tines of the pitchfork holding it at a distance. Then he smashed it to the ground, holding it in place with one hand while he fished out his axe to finish the job. The [Gift] helpfully reported him gaining another point of [Valor], along with ten more Soul, after the second swing.


    When he found the next one, Clay had just managed to stop shaking from adrenaline. Incredibly, he actually found it hiding in the same hole as the first spider he¡¯d killed. The thing had apparently been too lazy to prepare its own spot, so it had moved into the vacated burrow¡ªhe had no idea where the previous spider¡¯s corpse had disappeared to¡ªand waited. It fell for the same rock trick as the other two, and he dispatched it the same way. When he wandered home, with another stop to eat and wash out the ichor, he felt far less shaken and far more ready to sleep easily.


    By the third day, he was moving through the Tanglewood more confidently. He was still careful, and he examined every likely spot he could for a monster hole. He only found one and took his time observing the thing. A corner of his mind took a perverse kind of enjoyment in throwing things to draw it out of the hiding spot, trying to observe how it moved. When he finally charged the thing, it died just as gruesomely as the others.


    After he entered the Tanglewood on the fourth day, he was starting to believe that he might actually survive the war he¡¯d declared against the spiders. They were terrifying and dangerous, true, but if they were this predictable, he might actually be able to level up without dying. A part of him was even becoming excited for the next kill.


    Which, of course, is when things went wrong.


    Clay had closed in on one of the holes his former targets had used¡ªafter they had reoccupied one, he had made it a habit to check them afterward¡ªwhen something stopped him. He froze in place, his senses telling him he needed to stay absolutely still. Turning his head as little as he could, he looked around the forest, searching for signs of danger.


    He stared at the ground first, looking for a spider burrow he had somehow missed. It was the first thing he expected, a brand-new spider that had made its new home at his feet. Yet as far as he could see, the ground was clear. There were no suspicious mats of unmoving leaves, no oddly shaped bulges in the ground, and no implausibly empty spaces for the spiders to use for their attacks.


    Still, the feeling remained. Clay gave up searching the ground and lifted his eyes. He didn¡¯t see anything standing in the undergrowth; none of the bushes or tree trunks seemed to conceal anything unexpected. Bit by bit, he raised his gaze to the leaves. What could be more threatening than the spiders on the¡ª


    It was in the branches off to his right. The thing was hard to spot at first, even though its body was nearly the same size as the mantrap spider¡¯s. Unlike the trap spider, this monster had long, slender legs that stretched its size out nearly to double the size. They looked like thin, leafless branches, and they only moved when the breeze brushed against them. Its eyes were bigger, especially the central pair, and they were watching with patient silence. He felt a chill as he realized that a few more steps might have taken him directly under it.


    Clay watched it out of the corner of his eye a moment longer, as the breeze whispered through the trees again. It swayed slightly, and he caught sight of a slender filament that tied it to the upper branches. More filament stretched between the two front legs, forming a narrow net. His heart beat faster as he realized what that fiber was meant to do; he suddenly had the image of it launching itself with outstretched legs, and catching him in the sticky strands. Then the fangs would strike¡­


    He flexed his fingers, considering his options. Stepping forward would put him closer under it, and he wasn¡¯t sure his reach would be long enough to keep the net away from him, even with the pitchfork. If it moved even half as fast as the other spiders, a retreat wasn¡¯t going to work either. The thing would be on him before he could blink. Clay could almost feel it considering him, maybe deciding to pounce before he moved away.


    So he took his next step to the side, as if he¡¯d seen something in the distance. In the same motion, he fell into a crouch. He set the pitchfork down against a tree, taking up his bow instead. Keeping the new abomination in the corner of his eye, he slowly nocked an arrow and half drew it once or twice, re-familiarizing himself with the pull of the weapon.


    Then he turned and stood, pulling the arrow back as far as he could. Clay sighted the spider dead ahead of him, saw the sudden recognition of danger in its eyes. He smiled and loosed before it could react.


    The broadhead arrow sped through the air in a flat arc. He¡¯d aimed for one of the over-large eyes, hoping to kill the thing in a single shot, but his rushed attempt was off. Clay saw the arrow smash into the ¡®shoulder¡¯ of one stick-like limb and grimaced. Despair exploded in him as he desperately reached for a second arrow, knowing he might already be too late.


    Fortunately, the blow had unbalanced the spider a moment longer. It growled and hooted in panic and dropped from its perch, landing with unexpected clumsiness in the leaves. He saw it scrabbling there and realized that the limb he¡¯d hit was looser than it should be; apparently, the arrow had done some damage.


    He didn¡¯t wait to see if the spider recovered. With strength born of desperation, he drew his second arrow and loosed, sending a second broadhead shaft into it as it pulled in on itself for the lunge. This shot took it in the abdomen, and the arrow buried itself up to the feathers in the thing¡¯s body. Clay felt a moment of surprise at the sight; a mantrap spider had such a hard shell that even a direct hit from an axe barely made a dent. Was this monster somehow weaker?


    Wounded or not, the thing still tried to leap for him. It seemed that the strength had gone from at least three of its legs, however; it barely managed a pained lunge that carried it half the distance to him and a fair way off to the side. When it hit the ground, it rolled, its stick legs thrashing and kicking in the undergrowth.


    Clay was already reaching for a third arrow. As the thing tried to right itself, he drew the bowstring back one more time and loosed, sinking a second shaft into its abdomen. It shuddered and groaned, a sound that twisted in Clay¡¯s gut. He put a fourth arrow into it, and then a fifth, before it finally twitched and sagged.


    When it finally went still, his [Gift] supplied him with the good news.


    {Insight increases by 1!}


    {Troll Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    Clay let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding. So, there was more than one kind of monster loose in the Tanglewood. Perhaps that was where all the corpses had been going. Either way, he was going to be checking the branches just as carefully as the ground now.


    He tried not to think much about the fact that both of them had been labeled as spiderlings, implying that there were far worse things to be worried about. Instead, he moved forward carefully to recover a few shafts from the slain monster and continue his search.


    Between the new monster, and the mantrap spider he killed an hour later inside its burrow, Clay considered it a fairly effective day of hunting. He¡¯d gained even more Soul, and had survived yet another nightmare. Even the hours of fieldwork afterward failed to dampen his suddenly lightened spirits. He had broken at least two of his arrows, though, so he made a note to spend some of the baron¡¯s allowance on replacements in town. An actual spear would be helpful as well.


    When he trudged back to his father¡¯s home, listening to the wind move the grass on the fields he passed by, Clay couldn¡¯t help but smile. Things were finally beginning to go his way.

 B1Ch4: A Visit To Pellsglade

    Clay woke the next morning with the sound of a gentle rain in his ears.


    He immediately put aside any thought of entering the Tanglewood. Hunting the spiders on a good day was nightmarish enough. Trying to find them with the wind and rain limiting his visibility seemed like a recipe for disaster.


    So instead, he shrugged into his thickest cloak, gave his parents a brief hug, wrestled a moment with Will and Finn, and tickled Amy and Saphy. Then he headed to Pellsglade, for the first time since he had gotten his [Class]. It was time to make the abandoned farmhouse his home, especially as it would save him the long trip home.


    Sam walked along with him the first part of the way, shrouded in his own cloak. ¡°Make sure that old Adam doesn¡¯t take you for a ride, son. He doesn¡¯t mean anything by it, but the old codger is simply incapable of not shorting someone if he can manage it.¡±


    ¡°I know, Dad. I know.¡± He glanced at his father, wondering what had made him so worried now. It wasn¡¯t Adam; the whole village knew all about the storekeeper, and how to handle him. ¡°Do you need any help on the farm?¡±


    ¡°No, son, we¡¯re doing fine.¡± Sam¡¯s tired smile gave the lie to the easy words, but it was the next ones that caught at Clay¡¯s heart. ¡°I went by your place yesterday. Seemed like you¡¯d gotten a lot done.¡±


    There was an expectant silence, and Clay felt a sudden burst of concern. Had he noticed Clay was entering the Tanglewood? Would he try to stop him? ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡¯s been hard.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Sam nodded slowly, the rain dripping from the hood of his cloak. ¡°I remember what it was like when I needed to clear our farm. It¡¯s not easy, son, but as long as you keep at it, you¡¯ll get through it. Don¡¯t give up.¡±


    Clay relaxed as he suddenly realized what Sam thought was happening. His father had noticed the lack of progress and had obviously decided that Clay was simply slacking off out of resentment. That reaction would have made much more sense than what he had actually done, now that Clay thought about it. ¡°I won¡¯t, Dad. I¡¯ll keep at it.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Sam grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him slightly. Then he turned back toward the family farm, allowing Clay to continue on alone.


    Feeling a little guilty, Clay pulled up the edges of his cloak. He knew what he was doing was necessary, but he imagined what would happen to his father if one of the monsters managed to kill him. Would Sam grieve him? Would he try to find him and fall victim to the same creatures?


    He shook his head and continued forward. All he could do was keep going.


    Pellsglade was quiet as the rain continued to patter down on it. Clay was not alone in making his way through the muddy streets; several other villagers were trudging from place to place, their features shrouded by cloaks. He took a moment to stare at the Stone, where it stood on the village green. Then he sighed and continued on his way to the stores. There was too much to do to stand in the rain and mope.


    His first stop was the village smithy, which remained bright and warm despite the rain. David the blacksmith was inside, working his way through half a dozen tools that the local farmers had asked for. When Clay stepped through the door of the smithy, his nostrils filled with the smells of hot iron and smoldering coal. He coughed a little, shaking his cloak to rid himself of some of the damp.


    ¡°Be right with you.¡± The smith was a large man, with a careful, considered way of moving. Clay hadn¡¯t spoken with him much, and he only knew that the man had the [Smith] subclass, which meant that he was the best at working the forge in Pellsglade. The village wasn¡¯t large enough to attract someone like an [Artifactor], so they made do with the [Commoner] equivalent.


    Once, he would have found that disappointing. Now Clay felt a curious kind of kinship with the man as he watched him work.


    After a few more moments, David quenched the latest piece of work that he¡¯d been pounding on and set it aside. He stepped over and doffed his forge gloves, reaching a meaty hand out to Clay. ¡°So. What do you need?¡±


    Clay shook David¡¯s hand, feeling the strength in his grip. He made sure not to squeeze too hard; he was pretty certain he¡¯d lose that contest quickly. ¡°I need a few things. For the farm I¡¯m working on.¡±


    A flicker of sympathy went through David¡¯s eyes, and he nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the old Rivers¡¯ place, right? Up near the Tanglewood?¡± When Clay nodded, the smith grunted. ¡°Shame what happened to them. Been a while since anyone was up that way. Hope it isn¡¯t too rough for you.¡±


    He resisted the urge to vent his frustration. In a small village, bad feelings had a habit of becoming public disagreements far too easily, and he didn¡¯t need the baron making his life more difficult. ¡°I¡¯m managing. I do need a few more things to help, though.¡±


    David nodded again, his face serious. ¡°All right. I imagine a new sickle might help. Maybe a new axe?¡± He stepped towards a table, where a few examples of common tools were laid out. They all looked plain, but were functional enough. Clay felt like he recognized the style; Sam had always come to David for his tools. His father always said the smith was dependable.


    ¡°A new sickle, maybe, but I need something else a little more.¡± He paused, hoping that David¡¯s reputation was well earned. ¡°I need a spear. Something you¡¯d use to hunt boars, with a nice crossguard. Do you have anything like that?¡±


    The smith stopped in place. He looked back at Clay in surprise, his eyebrows climbing halfway up to his shaggy hairline. ¡°A boar spear? I thought there wasn¡¯t much hunting up that way.¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t. Or at least, not much I¡¯ve seen.¡± Clay tried to smile easily. He didn¡¯t know how convincing it was. ¡°That¡¯s why I have to make the hunting trips up near my father¡¯s place or in the Smallgroves matter. When you only get an hour or two, you have to make it count.¡±


    Realization dawned in the smith¡¯s eyes. ¡°And the more meat you can bring in at once, the better, eh? I see.¡± He folded his arms, bringing one hand up to stroke at his beard. ¡°As a matter of fact, I might have something like that. I got it half-finished for someone else, but they left before I could get it done. A little work, and I think I could have it for you by tomorrow.¡±


    Clay wondered which of his now-adventurer friends had abandoned a spear, and then shook the thought away. ¡°Excellent. With that and the sickle, what do I owe you?¡±


    ¡°Four pieces, copper.¡± It was a steep price, but the baron¡¯s money wasn¡¯t close to running out yet. Clay handed it over gratefully, and they shook on it one more time.


    Then he went back out into the rain, heading for the fletcher¡¯s shop. He hoped the arrows wouldn¡¯t cost too much more, but at least he¡¯d just be asking for broadheads and not something more unusual. The villagers should just think he was after large game, and not the horrors in Tanglewood.


    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t our latest [Commoner]! Welcome!¡±


    Clay forced a fake smile on his face, trying to hide his actual feelings. ¡°Thank you, Adam. I¡¯m here to buy some supplies.¡±


    ¡°A good day for it.¡± Adam grinned and gestured to the rain outside. Then he turned and raised his arms. ¡°Come in, come in. I¡¯m sure we have just what you need.¡±


    Clay crossed the threshold of the so-called Great Storehouse of Pellsglade, a grand name for an over-glorified general store. Adam had run the thing since he had been young and had built it up into the main place for the farmers of Pellsglade to shop. Adam¡¯s apparent friendship with the baron had given him a rather large competitive advantage, something the wily old merchant wasn¡¯t shy about using. The fact that he occasionally appeared to have fits of generosity kept him reasonably tolerated in town, though everyone had at least one story of a deal gone bad at Adam¡¯s.


    Adam led the way through the store, passing the bags of seed and other sundry items that a farmer might find use for. Clay had to admit that the merchant had done well for himself over the years. He certainly hadn¡¯t been going hungry, judging by his waistline.


    ¡°I have seed for you, but I doubt you are ready for that quite yet. Still plenty of work left to do there, correct?¡± Adam¡¯s joviality was hard to place. Clay suspected at least some of it was false, but the prospect of making a sale was often enough for the old man to grin. ¡°Instead, can I interest you in a plow? You might need a small one to get you started in the fields. Perhaps a bucket for the well?¡±


    ¡°The well?¡± Clay felt a moment of genuine surprise. ¡°I didn¡¯t know the field had one.¡±


    ¡°Oh, certainly. The Rivers family was quite proud of digging it themselves.¡± A brief look of sadness crossed Adam¡¯s face, before the man banished it with another too-bright smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just been a bit hard to locate in everything. Have you already been to David¡¯s smithy? If you haven¡¯t, I do have some of his finest sickles¡­¡±


    Clay waved the question away. ¡°I¡¯ve already been there, but thank you.¡± He looked around speculatively. ¡°What I¡¯m interested in are furnishings for the farmhouse. I could use some shingles for the roof, and a place to sleep.¡±


    Adam¡¯s smile grew. ¡°Why, I just so happen to have some wooden roof shingles right here, along with a few struts for reinforcing a ceiling. Freshly delivered from the Calmfords this morning, in fact.¡±


    Clay grimaced despite himself. His father had something of a feud going with the local carpenter; Josiah Calmford had been refusing to build anything for the Evergreens for years now. That fact had been the reason that almost every piece of furniture his family had owned had been handmade. If he wanted something built from wood, it was either make it himself, or buy it from Adam, and he had no time to sit around whittling.


    ¡°How much for the shingles? I¡¯ll probably need at least¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ten or twelve, I¡¯d say?¡± Adam¡¯s eyes glinted. The man was practically rubbing his hands. ¡°You may want fifteen, just in case of an accident or additional repairs. It pays to be prepared, young man.¡±


    Clay really wanted to argue the point, but he could hear the wisdom in the advice. ¡°Fifteen then. How much?¡±


    ¡°I could see my way clear to letting you have all fifteen for a copper piece each.¡± Adam held up a hand as Clay began to protest. ¡°You can pay me in installments, or favors as needed. You know I bring a fair deal.¡±


    He could have bought the shingles for half that price, if the Calmfords weren¡¯t such stubborn fools. With gritted teeth, Clay nodded. ¡°Deal. I¡¯ll also need some utensils and a bedroll.¡±


    ¡°Now that you mention it, I do have a bedroll available. I will also let you know I will soon have a bedframe as well, which should be delivered in a few weeks.¡± Adam¡¯s smile practically split his face in half at this point. ¡°I have also put together a package of various cookware that you can inspect, along with some candles. I¡¯ll let you have both things for an additional four copper pieces.¡±


    Clay couldn¡¯t help but sigh. The old man had practically had him weighed and measured before he¡¯d even set foot in the store. ¡°That sounds perfect to me. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No, thank you, dear customer!¡± Adam led the way back to the place where a pair of bundles were arranged. The shopkeeper had obviously prepared them well in advance. ¡°Remember, if there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to ask!¡±


    Slightly disgruntled at being so predictable, Clay sorted through the items, finding just about everything he expected. When he looked at the candles, however, he paused. The monsters he¡¯d been fighting had so far been manageable with just his own strength, but what would happen if he faced something worse? He¡¯d need something a bit more potent. Magic was out of reach, obviously, but maybe fire would help.


    ¡°Do you have anything like lantern oil? Or the kind of tar you¡¯d use to make fire arrows?¡±


    The questions came before he could stop them, and Clay almost immediately wished he could take them back. There was a sudden silence from the merchant, and he looked up, almost dreading what he would see.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    To his surprise, he found Adam staring at him in consternation. It was as if he had farted in a party the merchant had invited him to. Adam fidgeted a moment, as if containing his own irritation. Then the broad smile returned, though it seemed far less sincere. ¡°That is a¡­surprise. Might I ask why you¡¯d want such a thing?¡±


    Clay¡¯s mind scrambled for a likely excuse and hit on one that his father had already hinted at. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­been struggling to clear some of the sablethorn in my field. I was thinking that perhaps a controlled burn¡­¡±


    Adam was shaking his head with remarkable force. ¡°No, no, I cannot agree, young sir. Using fire in such a way is sure to be a disaster. After all, fire is like a rumor. It can spread far more than you expect, and ruin far more than you hope. It is as likely to turn on you as it is to help you. Better to stick to hard work. It may be difficult, but it can also be relied on.¡±


    The advice rang true, and Clay nodded easily. He¡¯d have to be a little more careful about the questions he asked. ¡°You¡¯re right. Can you show me if you have any rope around? That might be pretty helpful if I ever find that well.¡±


    Adam relaxed and his smile grew more genuine. Clay watched as the shopkeeper went to look for some on a nearby shelf¡­ and made a note to think more about the idea. Whatever Adam said, there had to be a way to test if the monsters of Tanglewood feared fire as much as the old man did. Even if he ended up burning half the cursed place down, it would be worth it.


    Once his supplies were all purchased, Clay asked if he could leave them in the shop while he completed his final task. Adam agreed, his eyes still glittering with the happiness of a good deal finished, and Clay stepped back out into the storm.


    The rain had still not lessened; if anything, the downpour was getting worse. Whatever other members of the village had been traveling between the various buildings were jogging, hoping to minimize the time they spent getting soaked through. Given that his own home was a good hour¡¯s walk away, Clay simply tightened the cloak around himself and walked quickly. He arrived at his final destination a short while later, his cloak still half drenched from the rain.


    The town shrine wasn¡¯t the most popular place during most of the week. Those villagers and farmers that considered themselves devoted to the gods would gather every Valiance, the first day of the week, in order to listen to the Rector speak. Aside from the odd festival, there wasn¡¯t much reason for them to visit the place, a fact that the cantankerous Rector didn¡¯t seem to mind.


    Clay stepped through the doorway and examined the dim interior. It was a wide open space, and someone had painstakingly cleaned the old stone that made up the walls and floors. The sight seemed odd to a farmer¡¯s eyes, and he idly wondered how much effort it would take to scrub that much bare rock.


    ¡°Welcome, traveler.¡±


    He blinked in surprise and turned to see a young girl standing to his left.


    ¡°Oh. Hello, Novice. I didn¡¯t know you would be here.¡±


    The girl smiled slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t have many other places to be, Goodman Evergreen.¡±


    Her name was Olivia Shrinekept, and Clay frowned as he realized he didn¡¯t know much about her. She wasn¡¯t a common sight in town, and most of the village seemed to be uncertain as to how she had arrived at their shrine. Olivia was supposedly only a few months younger than he was, but she seemed far more serious somehow. Her blond hair fell halfway down her back, and her green eyes watched him with a kind of wariness that he hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°I see.¡± He turned to look back around the shrine, suddenly uncomfortable. ¡°I was looking for the Rector, actually. I didn¡¯t know if he had a book about monsters I could read.¡±


    ¡°A book about monsters?¡± Olivia¡¯s expression grew vague, as if she was absorbed in thought. ¡°We have several, actually. Which tales were you interested in? Our most popular are the Lay of Sir Mem, or the Legend of the Golden King.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. Nothing like that.¡± Clay scratched at the back of his head, searching for the words he needed. ¡°I need something more like a¡­bestiary, but for monsters. You know, the details about what they are and what type of things they do.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± She frowned, her eyes sharp. ¡°We may have something like that, but¡­ the Rector may need to give his permission. It is a very old tome, rarely seen outside the capital. An adventurer left it here, before traveling further to the east.¡±


    Clay smiled in triumph. It sounded like a kind of training manual that an adventurer might have picked up in the capital and then forgotten about. That kind of book would be perfect for what he needed now. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll be careful.¡±


    Olivia gave him a look. ¡°It¡¯s also written in Old Balois. I don¡¯t think that you would be able to read it.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Yeah.¡± His heart sank. ¡°Well, that¡¯s okay then. I guess I¡¯ll just have to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can read the book for you, if you do not object.¡± She brushed her hands over her dress, smoothing the skirt.


    ¡°Wait, you can read Old Balois? I thought nobody but the Rector might have even learned a few words.¡±


    Her chin came up. ¡°I learn quickly, according to the Rector. He has hope that I might be a decent [Scribe] after my Choosing, if the gods are willing.¡±


    At the mention of the Choosing, Clay felt his smile go a little stiff. He nodded woodenly. ¡°I would appreciate your help, if the Rector is willing to spare you.¡±


    Olivia studied him for a moment, her hands still fussing with her novice¡¯s robe. Then she bowed slightly and turned to head deeper into the shrine. Clay was left standing on his own, with only the sound of the rain outside to keep him company.


    Left to his own devices, Clay wandered deeper into the shrine. The building had been built back when the village was young, raised stone by stone as generation after generation of farmers, traders, and artisans left their mark. The most defining feature of the place was the row of statues set into the alcoves on the back wall.


    He walked closer to them, his eyes trying to pick out the details of those statues. The faint light filtering in from the rain outside was not helping matters, but the handful of flickering candles only partially ameliorated the problem. Mostly, the visages of the gods and goddesses were reduced to foreboding outlines, staring down at him out of the dark.


    Clay glared up at those statues, his mind revisiting the vision he¡¯d gone through during the Choosing. He searched for similar features in the stone, but he only caught vague glimpses of the real deities. The artists had captured some of the details, but he wondered if they had simply forgotten most of the things they had seen during the Choosing. Perhaps the gods simply appeared differently to each of their followers, depending on what fate they had determined for those they visited.


    Either way, he was having a hard time not spitting at their feet. If they had granted him a real [Class], maybe he wouldn¡¯t be hunting monsters in the Tanglewood with a pitchfork. Maybe he¡¯d have abilities to help him, with training and equipment along with it. He¡¯d be off at the capital right now, along with the others¡­


    Clay paused at the feet of the Trickster, looking up at her. He could somehow see the smirk despite the gloom that shrouded her face. If he had been less sure of his senses, he could have sworn a low chuckle echoed through the shrine.


    He gritted his teeth for a moment, glaring up at her. ¡°I will do what I have to. None of you are going to stop me.¡±


    Silence, broken only by the wind and rain, was all that answered him. He stared up for a few more moments and then turned away. The gods had obviously made their own decisions. Now it was up to him.


    Olivia returned, her plain robes fluttering around her legs as she walked. She stopped, her eyes fixed on him. ¡°The Rector has permitted us to use the book. Come along.¡±


    He felt a flicker of amusement at being ordered about by a girl a year younger than him. One moment a slayer of monsters, the next a biddable follower. ¡°After you, ma¡¯am.¡±


    Her face twitched, as if she had detected his sarcasm, but she simply turned and strode away. Clay trailed along in her wake, following as she led him deeper into the shrine. The statues he left to their own silent vigils.


    ¡°Here.¡± Olivia reached up and took down the book from the shelf where it lay. ¡°This is the compendium I mentioned. We can search it for the information you require.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Clay found himself fascinated by the shrine¡¯s library. He¡¯d never been invited into it before; while his mother was a welcome visitor, the Rector had not had any interest in having a rambunctious farm boy bouncing off the walls of his private sanctum.


    Now, however, it was both more than he¡¯d expected and less than he¡¯d imagined. It wasn¡¯t some grand, multi-story room with walls entirely made up of books. His younger self might have been disappointed, but it made sense that some remote village would not be the site of such riches.


    That said, Rector Semmon had apparently managed to collect and maintain plenty of books. The library was a cozy little room with at least three bookshelves, all of which had volumes on them. They appeared to be organized in neat rows, grouped by subject. They ranged from loosely bound manuscripts of ragged pages to leather-covered tomes with embossed text on the spine. The room also held a pair of desks, set near the middle of the room; one of them had a loose pile of parchment set beside an open book, and an ink quill nearby that suggested the Rector had been copying the book onto new pages.


    Olivia had climbed a small stool to reach the book she¡¯d been looking for, taking it from a high shelf with only a few other texts present. It was a small, unimpressive thing, barely more than a simple journal. He couldn¡¯t read the text on its cover, and something about the way Olivia held it spoke of extraordinary age. She carefully set the book down on the empty desk, opening it slowly.


    Then she looked up. ¡°What were you looking for?¡±


    Clay paused, searching for a way to phrase his question. ¡°I was hoping to find out something about spiders. Monster spiders, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Spiders.¡± She raised an eyebrow at him and then began to leaf through the pages of the book. ¡°There seem to be many of them. Do you have a specific interest, or should I start from the first?¡±


    He was already searching his memory for the notifications he¡¯d received from the [Gift]. ¡°Is there one called a Mantrap Spider? Or a Troll Spider? Either one would be helpful.¡±


    Olivia tilted her head as her eyes ran over the pages. She turned to the next page, her lips moving silently, and then she turned it again.


    Then she blinked in surprise. Her fingers reached out to flatten the page, smoothing out the parchment. ¡°Mantrap Spider, here.¡±


    Clay came around the desk and leaned over her. The page showed a crude, rough sketch of the first monster he¡¯d killed, its hardened carapace and fanged mouth drawn with particular care. There was also another illustration of it crouching inside its burrow, waiting for prey. ¡°That¡¯s it! What does it say?¡±


    She glanced back at him, her lips pursed. Then she turned back to the page, running her fingers over the baffling text scrawled across the old parchment. ¡°They begin as spiderlings, and ambush victims from inside concealed burrows. Their flesh is armored, and their bite is full of poison. A single strike fells a man.¡±


    He felt a shiver work its way up his spine as he caught sight of a drawing that showed a man with a mantrap latched onto his lower leg. Olivia paused again, and he gestured for her to continue. ¡°They are blindly aggressive. Approach from behind, strike behind the head.¡± Her fingers brushed over another illustration, which showed a knight hacking down at a mantrap as it emerged from its hole, cutting through its neck as it emerged.


    Clay struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. Of course! If he knew it would always strike, why not attack it from behind? Only an idiot would keep putting himself right in front of it every time, hoping to stop it with a mere pitchfork.


    Olivia reached the end of the text and calmly turned the page. The next showed an even worse nightmare, one that seemed larger and more menacing. Below it was something that looked like a tree draped with curtains of spiderweb. Tunnels appeared to bore through the soil beneath it. He felt a sudden chill as he thought about what it would be like to approach that kind of place, knowing a monster waited beneath it.


    ¡°Mature mantrap spiders dig deeper, branching from a central tree. Beware of multiple exits and pitfalls. The skin is thick and they are fierce. They spit webs from some holes.¡± Her voice was dispassionate as she read, and her fingers brushed over another drawing, which showed men with spears and swords striking up at rearing spiders, or stabbing at crouching ones. ¡°They remain weak of belly and eye. Strike true, or perish.¡±


    Decent advice, he supposed. Still, it sounded like he¡¯d need to be careful if he saw those things in the Tanglewood. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    She turned the next page, which seemed curiously blank, aside from a few scribbles and another drawing of web-covered trees. ¡°Elder mantraps build nests. They defend the Lair. They kill the land itself. Be brave.¡±


    Not quite as promising. He shook his head. ¡°What about the Troll Spiders?¡±


    Olivia sighed, flipping through the pages until she stopped on a very familiar, stick-limbed figure. ¡°Troll Spider. They hunt from the trees. Beware the branches. Prey is wrapped in web, then carried away. None escape.¡±


    The illustrations showed an example of that, an archer snared in a net of webbing with the spider¡¯s limbs seeming to embrace them. It was all too easy to imagine what that feeling would have been like. Olivia didn¡¯t seem to notice his grimace as she continued. ¡°Fragile of limb and eye. Break the legs with stone, then finish from afar. Be wary.¡±


    Message received, he supposed. Perhaps next time he¡¯d reach for his sling first; blunt force might slow it down faster. The drawings showed a broken-limbed spider crawling towards another archer, this one taking slow aim at its head. Better than wasting arrows on a doubtful first shot.


    She continued to the next page without prompting, and Clay nearly jerked backwards at the first pair of drawings. The first showed the same monster as the other page, but the second showed a much larger version, with a person for comparison. The spiderling had been about twice the size of a dog, with limbs included. From the look of it, the body of the mature version was the size of a person, with the spindly legs stretching even further.


    ¡°Mature troll spiders hunt above the branches. Seen to fly at times.¡± Olivia¡¯s fingers paused beside a picture of a spider plunging through the branches onto a surprised knight, a net of webbing outstretched. ¡°Beware the wind. They are silent. Free the bound, break the limbs, and slay.¡±


    Though the drawings showed a knight snapping a long limb, it also showed another knight trapped in the spider¡¯s webbing already on the ground. It was¡­less than helpful advice to someone fighting these things alone. How was he supposed to anticipate and kill something that could fly through the air and pounce on him from above the trees?


    Once more Olivia turned the page, and again there was a page nearly empty of information, save for a drawing of an archer taking shelter beneath a broad-limbed tree that was surrounded by streamers of webbing from above. ¡°Elder troll spiders hunt from the skies. They patrol around the Lair. The skies are theirs, but meet treachery with strength. All is not lost.¡±


    Again, not the most helpful, but at least he knew something about what could be coming. He was starting to wonder what this Lair was, but he¡¯d probably need to kill a lot of spiders before he needed to worry about that. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    She turned to the next page, which contained another strange monster, something like a hawk. ¡°No, that was everything about those two creatures.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, then. It was exactly what I needed.¡± He straightened up and stretched a little. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I disturbed your work. Please thank the Rector for me as well.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± Olivia also stood, stepping to the opposite side of the chair from him. She bowed slightly, her expression carefully neutral. ¡°May you have good fortune.¡±


    ¡°And you as well.¡± Clay turned and started for the exit. He paused as he reached the door to the rest of the shrine. ¡°Do you think it would be all right if I came back? I might want to study this kind of thing a little more. Maybe bring some of my own parchment, so I could write some notes?¡±


    She looked at him for a moment before responding. ¡°I will consult with the Rector. If you return, I will let you know.¡±


    ¡°Thanks again. For everything.¡± Clay gave her a quick bow, something that felt curiously formal, and then backed out of the room. He then turned and headed for where she had told him to hang his cloak. Adam was sure to have some ink and parchment, though he might be a little unhappy at being asked to dig it up now. Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t raise as much of an issue as he had with the fire arrows. There was only so much more of the wily merchant that he could endure.

 B1Ch5: Making Progress

    Over the next three days, Clay helped out around his family¡¯s farm and made the long walk in to the village through the continued rain. He didn¡¯t mind helping with the usual chores¡ªif anything, it was a welcome break from having to clear the field and hunt monsters in the forest¡ªbut he did wonder if an entire host of nightmares was going to be waiting for him when he got back. It was all too easy to imagine that a mantrap would sneak a burrow into his field while he was away, just to surprise him at an inopportune moment.


    Still, at the very least, he could spend time learning more about the various monsters of the world. Olivia patiently endured his presence for part of the day while the rain lasted, translating for him out of the old adventurer¡¯s book. She even found a handful of other books on the subject of monsters, though they were just as sparse on the information as the first had been. None of the books were written in plain language, but she seemed to have an infinite amount of experience with the older tongues.


    He''d started his own transcription of the journals, but Olivia had endured his sloppy penmanship for all of ten minutes before stealing the quill from him and doing it on her own. Her neat, legible writing soon covered half a dozen bits of parchment that he¡¯d pried loose from Adam over those three days, in exchange for a copper piece and a few favors-to-be-mentioned in the future.


    There was at least one bit of scribework that he held back for himself, though. Clay only worked on it when the rest of the family was asleep, knowing the trouble it would cause if his mother or father caught him at it. He wrote down what he¡¯d seen of the monsters so far, adding his own notes to Olivia¡¯s far cleaner writing. If the things eventually got him, he wanted to leave the village with a far better idea of how to fight the creatures than the few hints tucked away inside the old books.


    When he woke on the fourth day, the rain had finally ceased, and he headed back to the field. His father lent him a small cart, which he dragged along behind him to the village. From there, he visited the fletcher, the smithy, and Adam¡¯s store, and then pushed his newly laden cart all the way out to the farmhouse.


    He found it in much the same state he left it. The weeds and thorns had grown a little larger in his absence, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as when he had started. When he pushed his cart up to the doorstep, he found plenty of evidence that water had leaked into the building, but he was sure that Adam had given him enough material to fix what was left of the roof.


    Clay spent the next few hours unloading his cart and putting the materials to work. It took some time to find a place where he could place his bedroll that wasn¡¯t waterlogged or stained from the rain. Breaking out the rotten, useless pieces of the roof took some time as well, though it was satisfying to toss the pieces out into the wild patches of the field. He dragged the broad wooden shingles up on top of the low roof. Fortunately, the beams that supported the roof were still solid, so he could pound them into place without issue. After that, he dragged a few small boxes of food and other furnishings inside, cleared a few more bits of rubble from the building, and hammered the door into place.


    Once done, he sat on the front step of his new home and ate a meal of hard bread, beans, and cheese, scraping up every last piece of it. Once that was done, he went back to the cart and hauled out a few more things. His bow and quiver, along with the sling and pouch of stones. The axe came next, destined for the belt loop in case all else failed.


    Finally, Clay hefted his new spear, a definite improvement over the simple pitchfork. It had a broad blade, tapering to a lethal point. Just behind that blade, it had a pair of wings that would act as a guard, preventing whatever he struck from lunging up the shaft towards him. The shaft of the spear was made of solid oak, the kind of wood that felt like someone had carved it out of the bones of the earth. He hefted it a bit, feeling the difference in weight. Maybe he¡¯d be a bit more tired, carrying it around, but it was better to be tired than to have the thing snap at the wrong moment.


    His equipment ready, he turned to face the Tanglewood and paused. It seemed different today. Still dangerous, still a threat to his home, but not as unfamiliar and strange. Clay knew more about what he was facing now. He only hoped that there wouldn¡¯t be more surprises waiting for him within.


    Of course, there was only one way to find out if there was.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 5}


    Clay stared down at the dead monster, his brand-new boar spear stuck directly between its head and its body. The tip had cracked straight through the armored carapace, and the book¡¯s suggestion had been perfect; the monster hadn¡¯t even had the chance to scream when it had popped out of the hole, chasing a rock.


    The problem was he¡¯d been expecting his Soul to increase by twice as much. He¡¯d been counting on it, really, since that would probably have earned him his first level before the end of the day.


    After all, the Tanglewood had been generous with its surprises today. There had been a troll spider waiting for him just ten minutes into the woods; it had given itself away by shifting, just slightly, when the wind had blown. A well-thrown slingstone had broken its front leg, leaving it snared in its own web once it dropped. His broadhead arrow had taken it in a bulbous eye a moment later.


    The second troll spider had been waiting a few dozen yards from the first. He might have been surprised by the fact that it hadn¡¯t come to its fellow monster¡¯s aid, but Clay suspected the creatures weren¡¯t exactly sympathetic to each other. Besides, the thing had caught a rabbit in its net. It had been too late to save the thing; the hare was fully cocooned in web, and likely suffocated before he even reached the spot. The monster that had killed it was too busy continuing its wrapping to notice when Clay stole up behind it and put an arrow into its back. It was still thrashing in the leaves when he charged in and put the spear through its relatively soft belly.


    Both monsters had given him an increase of ten Soul each. Why had the mantrap been different?


    Shaking his head, he freed his spear and cleaned the ichor from it with a cloth. The thing had been hiding in the same exact hole as his very first kill, something that he was coming to recognize as an inherent weakness of the things. He¡¯d have to check both of the other holes to see if they had new occupants as well.


    It took him another hour of careful creeping through the Tanglewood. He was now more wary than ever of the ground and sky, hoping against hope that his next step wouldn¡¯t bring a mature troll spider crashing through the branches towards him. He doubted that the bigger spiders had taken notice of him yet, but if they had, it was going to be an uglier day than he had hoped for.


    When he reached the second hole, he performed the same trick. First, he threw a rock out in front, confirming the thing was inside. When it snatched it, he padded forward, deliberately coming up on the lid from behind. Once the hole was in striking distance, he tossed another rock up in the air, set his hands on the boar spear¡¯s haft, and waited.


    The rock came down, bounced along the forest floor, and the mantrap came hurtling out of its hole to strike. Clay moved the instant he saw the lid opening, driving the spear down towards the back of the spider¡¯s skull. It twitched once as his shadow fell over it, as if trying to pull back into its hole, but it was far too late. He drove the point in, wrenched the spear to the side, and waited for the thrashing to stop.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 5}


    Well, obviously, something had changed. What was different? And why was he still getting ten from the troll spiders?


    He thought back over his work the past two weeks. The technique he was using to kill the things was different, but that shouldn¡¯t matter. He¡¯d used new strategies against the troll spiders, too, and that hadn¡¯t changed the amount he received. What else was different?


    Clay shook his head and started for the third mantrap hole. He¡¯d at least get rid of another one before he finished for the day. Surely killing five monsters was worth something, even if it didn¡¯t give him quite as much as he wanted. His thoughts kept going back over the differences, though. Was it that he wasn¡¯t as much at risk anymore? If that was the case, maybe less growth was better, as long as he didn¡¯t expose himself more. It was easier to level if a person wasn¡¯t dead, after all.


    His distraction almost cost him his life twenty minutes later as he maneuvered around a small tree. He had looked up to make sure there were no troll spiders lurking and had taken a step forward before he examined the ground in front of him.


    Clay caught sight of the mantrap lid just a fraction of a second before the thing burst out of it towards him. He frantically brought the spear up and around, getting it into position just in time. The spider came out of the burrow with fangs ready to strike, slamming its armored skull against his spearpoint.


    It was more fortune than anything that the tip caught it between the mandibles. The mantrap hissed and spit at him, its legs trying to drive it forward as Clay pushed to keep it back. To his relief, the crossguard just behind the spearpoint easily earned its worth, making sure those sharp legs stayed far from him. Eventually, he shoved it to the side and onto its back, where he could pull his axe and strike at it.


    A few moments later, it went still, even as he was gasping for breath beside it.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 5}


    It brought him to ninety-five. The thing had nearly killed him, and had been just as dangerous as any of the others he¡¯d killed at first, and it still only gave him half as much. Clay tried to catch his breath and then kicked at the corpse in spite. A part of him wanted to curse the whole system and go back to his farmhouse, where he was mostly sure there weren¡¯t any monsters waiting to kill him.


    He was too close to give up now, though. Clay gritted his teeth and then stood up. There was still another hole he could check, and even with the lower rewards, he¡¯d finally gain that next level. Just one more spider, and he could call it a day.


    Slowly, still shaking a bit from the rush of the fight, he pushed himself to his feet. It took a few moments more to clean his axe and spear, and to tidy up a few bits of ichor that had stained his clothes. Then he was off into the Tanglewood again, eyes searching far more carefully now. Distraction had a price here; he could wait for the next time rain came to analyze things. The worst thing that could happen then would be a lecture from Olivia, or a bucket of spilt milk.


    Setting aside his own recriminations, he continued his journey, even as a breeze sighed through the trees around him.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 5}


    {Commoner reaches Level 2!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 17!}


    {Experience gained (Slayer: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.)}


    {Experience gained (Forrester: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a forested area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a forested area.)}


    Clay studied the notifications, even as he pulled the spear out of the spider. It had been waiting in the hole where he had expected it, and this time he¡¯d come up on it from behind. There had been significantly less danger in killing it.


    He cleaned the spearpoint idly, thinking over what the [Gift] was telling him. Clay knew that [Classes] could gain improvements to the [Stats] and [Experiences] with levels, but he¡¯d never heard of a [Class] where all the [Stats] improved at once. He¡¯d also thought that each level only granted a single new [Experience] each time. Maybe he¡¯d heard it wrong? It wasn¡¯t like Pellsglade was a haven of knowledge about adventurers.


    All the same, it was hard to complain about what he¡¯d received. Clay could already feel the effects of [Forrester] kicking in; the trees of the Tanglewood seemed far less dangerous, and he felt¡­stronger somehow. He could only imagine how much easier that would make hunting down these abominations.


    There was some temptation to continue the hunt, but he¡¯d already killed six spiders today. He could only push his fortune so far, and Clay was starting to suspect that the deeper he pushed into the forest, the closer he would get to the Lair the book had mentioned¡ªas well as the larger versions of those things. Better to save that for another day.


    Feeling tired, yet victorious, Clay turned towards home. It would take him at least an hour, but at least he was going home different from what he had been coming in. Tomorrow would be a brand-new day.


    The morning dawned bright and early, and Clay found himself rolled into his bedding like it was a cocoon. His body felt sore and worn, but he forced himself up. He wouldn¡¯t have breakfast prepared for him, now. If he wanted food, he¡¯d have to make it himself.


    Hunger was a wonderful motivator, and soon he was stretching his sore muscles as the fire licked its way to life in the fireplace. After a few frustrating attempts, he warmed himself a pot of simple gruel. Normally it wouldn¡¯t have been the best of meals, but the vacant hole that appeared to dominate his gut made it seem absolutely delicious.


    Once he was full, he started in on the morning chores. There weren¡¯t many of them, thanks to the lack of animals, furniture, or generally anything at all. He mainly spent the time organizing his few possessions and making his plans for the day.


    Then, with the sun still barely risen and his muscles still mildly sore from his work the day before, he began his work on the field. Tired as he was, Clay felt far better than he had the previous week or so. Skipping the hour-long walk from his father¡¯s house gave him both strength and time, and Clay had no intention of wasting either.


    The bonus from [Laborer] once again made itself felt as he went to work with the sickle and axe, clearing a steadily widening space around his farmhouse. He thought he¡¯d seen a sign of a well the day before, buried within the carpet of vegetation, and he hoped to cut his way to it now. Boiling water from the creek to drink was fine, but he didn¡¯t want to need to walk for half an hour to fill a bucket. Of course, he didn¡¯t know how much he¡¯d be able to trust an abandoned well, but it would probably be better than a creek flowing from the Tanglewood.


    Clay worked for most of the morning, putting in nearly six hours of work clearing the land in careful, steady labor. He cut down patches of thorns, carefully stacking them with the weeds he¡¯d pulled. Then he started a small fire, and slowly fed the debris into it as he worked, letting the flame turn it into ash. When he reached a larger obstacle, like a tree, he laid into it with an axe, felling it. They were all young growth, so none of them took too long. Even the green wood went into the fire, though. Occasionally, he set some kindling aside to feed his cookfires later.


    By the time the sun had risen towards noon, he took a moment to stagger back to his house and eat. It took a few moments to roll together a bit of flour and water, giving him a rough roll to cook on the hearth. He ate it with a bit of salted pork his father had sent along, washing it down with water he had boiled that morning.


    With a decent amount of work done, Clay turned his attention back to the Tanglewood. He knew the monsters were waiting there, and if he was honest, he¡¯d rather spend the afternoon amidst the branches compared to the evening. Less chance of being caught there as the daylight faded, and it would give him the chance to eat at home, anyway. With a sigh, he pushed himself up and gathered his weapons. It was time to kill monsters again.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    The moment he entered the Tanglewood, Clay could sense the difference.


    It was as if the world had grown brighter. His fatigue from the morning work faded quickly, as if washed away by the forest breeze. He noticed details that would have passed him by before, from the way the leaves had been disturbed to the way the wind moved through the trees. Simply put, it was as if he felt more awake, more alive than he had for as long as he could remember. In a way, he felt as if he belonged in the Tanglewood, monsters or no.


    Slightly off balance, Clay grew worried that he would miss some sign of the spiders. Would he grow so distracted with all the new details that [Forrester] was showing him that he would end up wandering under a troll spider¡¯s perch, or step in front of a mantrap¡¯s hole? The differences in how he perceived the world made him paranoid and twitchy, willing to leap away from anything that stuck out to him in the slightest.


    He needn¡¯t have worried, however. When he came across the first troll spider, hanging from the branches of an oak tree, the thing stuck out to him as if someone had painted it red. Clay practically stared at it in bafflement, wondering if it was simply a slow example of its kind. When he brought it down, it seemed to die quickly, as if the stones from his sling had hit harder.


    {Troll Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 10}


    The notice was as confusing as it was reassuring. He had no idea what the difference was between the troll spiders and the mantrap versions, but at least the former was still giving him the rewards he expected. Perhaps it had something to do with their underlying power?


    Even as he thought it, the idea seemed wrong. Both spiders were dangerous under the right circumstances. Now that he thought about it, though, most of the threat came from their ability to ambush a victim. Without it, they were far less of a nightmare than they had been.


    Frowning, he looked up into the trees, searching the branches. He didn¡¯t see another spider¡­but he saw the signs the one he had killed left behind. Scrapes along tree bark, snapped twigs, torn leaves. Clay could even pick out the wisps of spiderweb the thing had left.


    A smile worked its way across his lips. He could track them now. No more ambushes from nowhere. No more walks full of horror through the Tanglewood. He would be on even terms with the monsters now.


    Maybe they would even learn to fear him soon.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 5}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Spiderbane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 10% versus Mantrap Spiderlings.}


    Clay pulled his spear free of his latest victim and studied the announcement with surprise. He¡¯d been expecting nothing more than the same death announcement, but he¡¯d never heard of an [Achievement] before. Was this something all adventurers received?


    Idly cleaning off the end of his spear, he thought over his next move. The mantraps weren¡¯t as important now, with their relative lack of reward, but the bonuses were too tempting to ignore.


    He looked from side to side, his newly increased abilities picking out details he had never noticed before. There were scrapes in the dirt, overturned rocks, something that traced out a distinct trail the deceased mantrap had left on its journey to the burrow.


    Curious, he followed the trail. Maybe it would lead back to something worthwhile.


    To his surprise, the traces were fairly easy to follow, even though he continued to search for signs of other mantraps or troll spiders lying in wait. They led him a little deeper into the forest, where they crossed paths with another trail of scrapes and traces. He turned back along that track, and a handful of minutes later, he reached another mantrap burrow.


    He paused, shaking his head in amazement. Between the [Spiderbane] bonuses and the benefits of [Forrester] and [Slayer], the concealed burrow almost seemed to leap out at him. It was going to be entirely too easy for him to find the monsters now.


    Spear in hand, he crept up on the spot, pausing only to pick up a decently sized stick. He hefted it into the air, getting his hand back on the spear with plenty of time before it came down. Then he waited for it to hit.


    The mantrap launched itself to strike, just as all of its fellows had before, but this time it seemed to almost be moving in slow motion. Clay struck it before it could even react, piercing the iron-hard exterior and twisting the weapon in a practiced motion. Then he pulled it out with something like a flourish. His prey thrashed for a few moments and then lay still.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain!}


    He waited for another moment before realization dawned. The thing was dead, but he¡¯d gotten nothing for killing it. Why?


    His mind raced back over his memories of the past few kills. He hadn¡¯t done anything different, but things had changed. Was it the [Achievement]? Did that mean he would only ever get Soul from new enemies?


    Something about that idea held a germ of truth. Thinking back over the past two weeks, he dimly realized that he¡¯d killed far more mantrap spiderlings than he had troll spiderlings. In fact, this creature was the eleventh of its kind that he¡¯d put down¡­and the mantraps had given him less Soul after he¡¯d killed five. Did that mean he would start getting less Soul for the troll spiderlings too once he killed his sixth? Would they stop giving him anything after the tenth one, too?


    If so, then his plans had run into a major problem. He couldn¡¯t just keep killing these minor enemies to increase his level anymore. To keep improving, he would need new foes¡­perhaps even tougher ones than the ones he faced now. The wandering nature of the adventurers of the Kingdom now suddenly made sense. They gained nothing simply sitting in place and killing the same monsters over and over again. If they wanted to improve, they would have to wander the world, gaining what they could from what they encountered.


    Unfortunately, that would not be an option for him. Clay was a [Commoner] of Pellsglade; no one was going to sponsor him to travel the world and fight all kinds of creatures. So either he was going to have to come up with a way to face the greater monsters of the Tanglewood, or he was going to need to be content at the level he¡¯d already gained.


    Clay grimaced. Neither option seemed appealing, but maybe there was some other way out of the situation. Either way, the area needed to be cleared of monsters again. He wasn¡¯t going to allow them to creep any closer to his house, or to Pellsglade itself. Soul gain or not, he¡¯d kill every last one of the things he could.


    At least the bonuses were going to make it that much easier.


    Clay spent another three hours in the Tanglewood, growing more and more adjusted to his new preternatural senses and abilities. Another three mantrap spiderlings died, none of whom had any real chance against his abilities now that he could find their burrows with ease. He tracked down two more troll spiderlings as well, and sure enough, the last one only gave him an increase of five Soul.


    As he left the Tanglewood, he examined his [Gift] again, considering his next course of action. The decrease in Soul meant he¡¯d only be able to get another twenty Soul from the troll spiderlings before they stopped giving him any kind of increase at all, which meant he¡¯d fall well short of the two hundred required to advance to level three.


    So, he¡¯d need to track down and fight the more advanced versions of the monsters he¡¯d already been killing. Clay shivered slightly as he came out into the sunlight; the warmth of the afternoon sun was nothing beside the chilling prospect of facing one of those larger abominations. True, they might not be able to ambush him as easily as their smaller variants, but what did that matter if they were so much bigger, stronger, and tougher than he was?


    That thought made him frown slightly. He¡¯d been so focused on gaining Soul that perhaps he had been ignoring other possibilities. After all, he hadn¡¯t focused enough on gaining new [Stats] in a while, so perhaps that would be a good way to prepare. Maybe he¡¯d find more clues in the books with Olivia as well, if the Rector didn¡¯t get sick of him distracting her.


    Clay nodded to himself. Perhaps he¡¯d finish killing enough of the troll spiderlings to exhaust their usefulness and then focus on gaining enough [Might] and [Fortitude] to stand up against something larger and deadlier. It seemed like a good enough plan for now, and he was fairly confident he could keep the numbers of the smaller monsters down with what he could do currently. There was more than enough time to work out his next step.


    Satisfied, he came back to the farmhouse and set aside his hunting tools. Taking up the shovel and axe, he made his way to a stump still standing in the yard. Monsters or not, he had plenty of work left to do.


    {Troll Spiderling slain! Soul increases by 5}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Spiderbane: 10% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 20% versus Mantrap Spiderlings and Troll Spiderlings.}


    {Insight increases by 1!}


    Clay regarded the message with some satisfaction. A short distance away, the troll spiderling he¡¯d killed lay still. It hadn¡¯t even seen him coming, and neither had the previous three that day. He could only assume that would get even easier now with the bonuses from [Spiderbane]. Given how quickly he¡¯d been able to find and dispatch half a dozen mantrap spiderlings before the bonus had increased, he could imagine it would be nearly child¡¯s play now.


    Unfortunately, he¡¯d confirmed by killing those spiderlings that personal satisfaction was all he was going to get from wiping them out. There were no other Soul rewards, and now that he¡¯d finished off his tenth troll spiderling, he wouldn¡¯t get anything more from them either. [Spiderbane] would be somewhat helpful, but until he found and killed something more deadly than spiderlings, he was officially done growing.


    He grunted in irritation and stomped over to recover his arrow. The day was still relatively new; the sun shining through the leaves told him he¡¯d only been in the Tanglewood for a couple of hours. If he started for home, he¡¯d be back with easily enough time to finish clearing the portion of the field he¡¯d started that day. Alternatively, he could continue his work in the Tanglewood for some time more, killing whatever monsters he came across.


    The temptation was there, but he knew he needed time to prepare before he ran into something bigger. Clay turned for home, making his way through the forest easily even without the bonuses from [Slayer]. Clearly, [Forrester] was going to be his greatest asset from now on. He just hoped that he could come up with some kind of plan before he ran into whatever the next challenge was.


    ¡°It finally looks like you¡¯ve made some progress! Well done, son!¡±


    Clay smiled at his father, trying to ignore the sheer exhaustion he felt. He¡¯d definitely made progress on the fields, sure, but it was a long way from being done, and most of it had been due to his new work schedule.


    He worked from sunup to sundown every single day, now. Aside from a short, hour-long break which he used to make sure that the monsters of Tanglewood were being trimmed back, he spent nearly all the rest of his time cutting, pulling, digging and burning the mess that the farm¡¯s previous owners had left behind. Clay had been deliberately making things harder on himself, as well, forcing himself to go longer without breaks or water, and carrying far more than was reasonable.


    As a result, he was exhausted, sore, and barely awake on his feet¡ªbut both [Might] and [Fortitude] had gone up by two, and [Will] had gone up by another one as well. It wasn¡¯t a bad reward for two and a half days of work, and he figured that one more day would bring his physical attributes to his current maximum, anyway. It probably wasn¡¯t nearly as good as something a [Paladin] or [Fighter] would have, but he wouldn¡¯t be ungrateful for that extra strength in the future.


    Of course, his father was a bit too busy enthusing over all the progress he¡¯d made to sympathize with him. He¡¯d laughed a little when Clay had complained, and told him to get used to being a farmer. His mother, on the other hand, was a bit more concerned. She hovered over him, her eyes anxious. ¡°Don¡¯t push yourself too hard, son. Our farm wasn¡¯t cleared in a day.¡±


    ¡°True enough, but he needs enough space to get some planting in. The baron¡¯s not going to keep paying his way for long.¡± Sam looked back at him with a proud smile. ¡°I¡¯ll lend you the seed, though. No need to go to Adam for that sort of thing. What are you hoping to get in? Beans? Wheat?¡±


    ¡°Beans, I guess? I haven¡¯t thought that much about it.¡± The confession made his father¡¯s expression darken a little; if there was one thing that could ruin Sam Evergreen¡¯s mood, it was someone not taking the future seriously. If there were two things, it would be seeing someone ruin a nice piece of land by ¡®messing about¡¯, as he put it. ¡°I was thinking of taking a look at the soil once I got it a bit more cleared out before I made any final decisions. What do you think?¡±


    Sam¡¯s expression eased up, looking a little less like an approaching thunderhead. He glanced out over the cleared part of the field where Will and the other kids were chasing each other around the space. ¡°I¡¯d need to get closer to see for sure. Maybe smell it a bit, see what kind of water you¡¯re getting¡­¡± His father¡¯s fingers twitched, as if he wanted to get out there and start combing through the dirt already.


    Clay gave him a grin. ¡°Well, don¡¯t let me stop you. Go on and check. I¡¯m just a [Laborer] after all; I need the advice of a [Farmer] at some point.¡±


    His father gave him a very level look, but he couldn¡¯t help the answering grin that broke out on his face. ¡°All right, since you asked so sweetly. Wouldn¡¯t want to let down my eldest son, after all.¡± Hands stuffed into his pockets, his father ambled out into the cleared area, already kicking up the occasional clod to see what critters might have burrowed underneath. A part of Clay cringed to see it, but he knew that the only thing Sam might find in the field were worms and ants, not mantraps. He forced himself to relax.


    His mother chuckled as she watched him go. When Clay looked over at him, she shook her head. ¡°That man is never more happy than when he has his hands in the dirt. The gods chose well when they made him a [Farmer].¡±


    Clay tried not to grimace at the mention of the gods and managed to contain it with a tight smile. ¡°I¡¯d say so. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll have some good advice for me.¡± He looked out again over the field, watching his brothers and sisters play. They¡¯d been given the afternoon off, so that his family could drop by and check up on him. The pretense had been that Clay hadn¡¯t returned the handcart yet, but he was sure the real reason was that his parents were worried about him. They had better cause for concern than they actually knew, but Clay still felt touched by their care.


    ¡°He really is proud of you, you know.¡± Amelia¡¯s expression was warm with affection still, but she turned a more serious look on him. ¡°You¡¯re his eldest, and I know you always dreamed of more, but it means the world to him that you¡¯re here. It isn¡¯t the easiest place, but he knows you are doing your best.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°I thought he thought I was slacking off?¡±


    ¡°Moping, more like.¡± She softened the accusation with a small smile. ¡°You aren¡¯t the only one who has lost dreams along the way, son. Your father and I, we know what that is like, and what it can do to a person, especially when they¡¯re young.¡± When his mother looked back at the children, and her smile grew. ¡°Over time, you might find your dreams can change, though, and what grows up to fill them is better than what you could have imagined on your own.¡±


    The implications were clear, and Clay sighed. He didn¡¯t blame her perspective, but he had no intention of settling down to till the land all his life. Maybe that was the dream she and his father had settled into, but he wasn¡¯t done trying for something more yet.


    He didn¡¯t say any of that to his mother, though; it would only worry her. Instead, he forced himself to sit up straighter, groaning a little as the muscles along his shoulders complained. ¡°And how are things at home? Have you guys been missing me yet?¡±


    ¡°A little, I suppose. The cows might be glad for some gentler hands, but the outhouse has needed a thorough cleaning.¡± Her tone kept the words light, and he laughed despite himself.


    ¡°I see. I guess I should be glad I¡¯m out here, then. No cows to speak of, at least.¡±


    They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment, watching his father crouch down to pick at the soil. Will came over immediately, always the one most interested in farmwork, while Amy and Saphy continued to chase each other about. Young Finn simply picked up a stick and began to beat at the nearest weeds with it; maybe he thought he was helping. Perhaps he was.


    For that moment, Clay felt at peace. His family was happy; his parents were proud, and his siblings were safe. Tired as he was, things were going fine on the farm, and he had every confidence that he¡¯d have a decent patch ready for planting by the following spring. Fall would make it easier to root up and kill all the weeds, after all, and he didn¡¯t think anyone would expect him to make it happen any sooner than that.


    Then his eyes lifted a little, and the shadows of the Tanglewood filled his vision. Even now that he had slaughtered nearly two dozen of the monsters inside, the place oozed malice. Clay felt himself tense slightly as he remembered the terrors within. He promised himself yet again that he would never let those things touch any of his family. Not now, and never again in the future.


    It would mean doing more than simply fighting monsters, he knew. He¡¯d have to find a way to destroy them at their source. Maybe once he had hunted them all down, then he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about them attacking his home ever again.


    His mother apparently hadn¡¯t noticed the grim mood settle over him. She was watching the kids intently. A little too intently, in fact, as if she was trying to avoid his attention. ¡°So, I heard that you¡¯ve been visiting the shrine in town.¡±


    Alarm bells rang in Clay¡¯s head. Her tone was far too casual. Almost deliberately neutral somehow. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ve been trying to catch up on my reading a bit more.¡± Best if he didn¡¯t mention what he¡¯d been reading about, of course. Hopefully, she didn¡¯t already know.


    ¡°That is what I heard, yes.¡± Her voice was still far too casual for his tastes. She was definitely up to something. ¡°What was the name of that girl they have working there? Olivia?¡±


    He didn¡¯t quite repress a groan. Clay put both his hands over his eyes. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s her name.¡±


    ¡°She seems like a nice enough girl. The Rector thinks she¡¯ll be made a [Scribe], actually. Not a bad person to get to know.¡±


    Clay felt his face grow hot. Clearly, she thought she was a master of subtlety. Also, a matchmaker of some kind. ¡°She¡¯s a very nice girl, but I was just there to read, Mom.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure, nothing wrong with doing some browsing.¡± Her voice held so much mischief that he half wanted to laugh along with her. The other half of him wanted to run out into the Tanglewood and kill something.


    He gave her a look that he hoped seemed serious. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯d want anyone starting any rumors about her, Mom. She probably has enough to deal with from the Rector, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d never do anything like that. You know me.¡± He did, and she gossiped like a fish drank water. It was one of her few faults, but he supposed a [Scribe] working on a farm had to entertain themselves somehow. ¡°And anyway, I don¡¯t see anything wrong with you two getting to know one another better. After all, she¡¯s only a few months from her own Choosing day, and I hate to think of you being so alone out here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Mom. Really.¡± He reached over and gave her a one-armed hug. She sighed a little, and he continued. ¡°The only thing I¡¯m missing is your cooking, honestly. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever be able to make eggs the way you do.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. Amateurs have no place in the kitchen.¡± She sniffed haughtily and then laughed. Amelia stood up, brushing her hands on her skirt. ¡°Well, if you get too hungry, you know where to find us. Let me see if I can corral everyone into going home before one of your brothers runs off into the Tanglewood. Maybe I can keep your father from deciding which names your worms should have.¡±


    Clay laughed, and she walked over to where Will and Sam were both still crouched. Saphy and Amy finally gave up on their game and wandered over as well, and soon even Finn had given up his attempt to cut down the sablethorn bush to join them. He watched them, quietly content, for a while longer.


    Then he reached over and picked up his scythe. The Tanglewood was waiting for him, and he never knew how much time he had before life threw something new at him.

 B1Ch6: Making Plans

    As if summoned by his thoughts, the day after his family visited brought a rainstorm. It started a little after dawn, driving him back inside as rain pelted down. Once inside, he quickly figured out that his patch job on the roof hadn¡¯t been entirely effective; he had just enough bowls and buckets to put under the leaks, but he only had so many rags to stuff into the holes.


    It took him an hour or so before he was confident that he¡¯d kept his small home from being flooded barely a week after he moved in. The rain showed no signs of giving him any mercy, either; it continued in a constant deluge that threatened to turn the newly cleared part of the field into a muddy quagmire. Clay sighed at the thought of how much work it would take to clear any of the stumps he¡¯d been working on with the rainwater filling up the holes he dug and shook his head.


    Fortunately, he¡¯d hit the maximum for [Might] and [Fortitude] the day before; he¡¯d really just been hoping for another [Will] before he declared himself ready to try the forest again. As it was, he was mostly left to himself.


    He tried to keep busy. Improvising new patches for the leaks took some more time, and he spent a little bit more practicing a few stances with his spear. Going over his notes and adding a few additions consumed another bit of time, as did making a few small repairs to his clothing.


    Clay glanced outside. He couldn¡¯t see the sun, but he¡¯d had a candle burning its way down. It hadn¡¯t even been an hour.


    Throwing his hands in the air, he gave up. Clay put his cloak on, made sure the water wouldn¡¯t ruin anything in his absence, and stepped out into the rain. He tried not to hear his mother¡¯s knowing laugh as he headed into town.


    ¡°Welcome, traveler.¡± Olivia gave him a formal bow. Her expression was just as neutral as it always was, and Clay inwardly rolled his eyes at his mother¡¯s assumptions. Clearly, she hadn¡¯t exactly been waiting for him to show up. The very idea would probably have been offensive to her.


    ¡°It is good to see you, Novice.¡± He smiled. ¡°I hope I¡¯m not interrupting your work.¡±


    ¡°No. I was actually wondering if you would come today.¡± She gestured to the rain outside. ¡°Do you have more questions about our books?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°In a way, yes. Did you happen to notice if that training manual had anything in it about what a Lair is?¡±


    Olivia paused, her eyes looking back as if she was reading out the words in front of her. ¡°Actually¡­ perhaps. I can read it for you, to be sure.¡± She paused, as if hesitating.


    ¡°That sounds great! Thank you.¡± She smiled a little and made the formal bow again. Then she led him back towards the Rector¡¯s study. Clay followed, trying not to get mud all over the floor. He¡¯d tried to knock as much of it out on the steps and had even shaken out his cloak a little before he came in; after the first day, he¡¯d learned that Olivia was the one who cleaned most of the shrine. The last thing he wanted was to give her even more work.


    When he walked into the study, it seemed a bit different somehow. The place seemed somehow¡­ neater than it had before. Someone had tucked away the loose pages that had been stacked on top of the desk somewhere, though he didn¡¯t know if that meant the Rector had finished with his latest manuscript or not.


    To his surprise, the adventuring manual was already waiting on top of the other desk, along with a stack of notes and two other books. Olivia walked over to the chair and sat rummaging a little among the papers. ¡°I have assembled a number of notes for you. They are my attempts to summarize the parts of the journal that may interest you.¡±


    Clay raised his eyebrows. He started to shuffle through the notes, pausing as he recognized the names of common monsters. Spiders, undead, even demons of some kind¡­ ¡°Thank you, Olivia. This must have taken you a long time.¡±


    ¡°It was no trouble.¡± She bent over the adventuring manual, her eyes intent on the old parchment. Her cheeks seemed a little red for some reason, but he told himself he was just imagining it. ¡°I did not expect you to ask about Lairs, however. I believe there was a passage here¡­¡±


    Her voice faded away as she read the text, her lips moving silently. Clay waited patiently, occupying his time with the notes she¡¯d made. Olivia¡¯s penmanship made a mockery of his own humble scratching and made for a far easier read. When she spoke up, he almost jumped in surprise.


    ¡°A monster is created or spawned at the center of a Catastrophe. Most of these spring from poor judgement, from foul conspiracy, or from dishonorable murder. These places, if not consecrated or cleansed, become Lairs for a Curse that creates monsters after its own kind.¡±


    ¡°To stop a Lair, the Curse must be located and purged. Destroying the Lair is impossible in any other way.¡± She paused. ¡°A Lair which exists too long may grow in on itself, and bend reality to the whims of the wretched Curse within. These, in time, become known as Dungeons, for they are all that contains a Curse so powerful that merely purging it once is not enough to remove its stain from our world.¡±


    How long had Tanglewood been home to a Lair? The question filled Clay¡¯s mind. It had been long enough that he never remembered a time that didn¡¯t mention the place as a danger to those living near it. Was that long enough for it to become a Dungeon? ¡°What is a Curse? I¡¯ve never heard of that before.¡±


    Olivia frowned. ¡°Nor have I.¡± She turned the page, studying the tightly scrawled words. ¡°It doesn¡¯t say. It only mentions that the Curse is rarely found outside the Lair or the Dungeon it calls home, and that only the bravest adventurers should attempt to defeat it. As this manual belonged to a new adventurer, it recommends that such a task be left up to the senior members of their Guild.¡±


    Clay grimaced. The Guild wasn¡¯t exactly going to support his actions, yet he couldn¡¯t exactly ignore the danger a Lair presented, either. Maybe he could just weaken the monsters around it until a band of actual adventurers arrived? It wouldn¡¯t be quite as heroic, but it would mean fewer people would die. There would be less danger for the adventurers, too.


    He suddenly realized that Olivia had stopped reading. She was looking back and up at him, her eyes studying him. Feeling awkward, he drew back slightly. ¡°Sorry, I was just thinking.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡± The question caught him off guard, and he was still searching for an answer when she continued. ¡°You have never really explained why you want to know these things. Why are they important to you? You are not an adventurer. You never will be.¡±


    She said the words almost without inflection, except for a curiosity so genuine that Clay couldn¡¯t manage to take offense. He struggled with an answer for a moment, and then shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not, no¡ªbut that doesn¡¯t mean I have to be blind about these things. These monsters exist, Olivia, and they are closer than we like to admit. Am I supposed to just stay ignorant until one of them knocks on my door?¡±


    Olivia blinked. She turned in her chair so that she faced him. ¡°Are you worried they will come for you, Clay? I know that you live in a dangerous place, but if it is too risky, perhaps you could leave it. You could go home, or live here.¡± It seemed like she regretted those words as soon as she said them; she turned back away, folding her hands in her lap. ¡°You do not have to risk your life for a dream. Not when you have other options.¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not just for a dream, Olivia. It¡¯s for the people I know. This world can be so dangerous¡­ How many times have we all waited for someone to come and rescue us from a threat? How many would survive if someone had just been ready to act?¡±


    He stepped back and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, Olivia. I don¡¯t mean to upset you, I just¡ªthis is something I have to do.¡±


    She looked back up at him, and he was shocked to see her green eyes more animated than he¡¯d ever seen before. ¡°You have not upset me. I am at peace.¡± Then she turned back to the book, her face stern. One hand grabbed at a nearby quill, while the other dragged over a sheet of parchment. ¡°I will search for more information and let you know what I find. You may go.¡±


    Uncertain now, but fairly sure he had just been dismissed, Clay gathered the pages she¡¯d written and quietly walked to the door. He paused at the exit, and then turned and gave her a bow. ¡°Thank you, Novice.¡±


    She did not look up from her work, though her quill did pause for a moment. When he left, the thing was already scratching along again.


    Clay carefully tucked the parchment away inside the folds of his cloak, hoping that it would be kept out of the damp. He¡¯d need to be fast if he wanted to get home with them intact.


    The excuses he¡¯d given Olivia still echoed in his mind as he made his way through the downpour. It seemed like she was worried for him; that made sense, given where his house was located. Yet she didn¡¯t know what he was capable of. Nobody knew. As far as he was aware, he was the only one that had ever gained a level in [Commoner]. He was the only one who¡¯d even bothered trying to explore the Tanglewood, and the only one he knew who¡¯d killed a monster, let alone dozens of them.


    None of those facts helped his mood as he stomped back to his home, the mud quickly coating his boots. He got back to the farmhouse with the parchment more or less dry; he quickly put it with the rest of his notes, in a place that none of the leaks would reach. There were a few bowls and buckets that needed to be changed out, which he did with an appropriate amount of grumbling. After that, he settled in to read over the notes again and again, trying to commit them to mind.


    The details on each of the monsters seemed so sparse. A zombie resisted wounds, and had an infectious bite, but how did it fight? Where did it feed? Walking bones were vulnerable to blunt weapons, but how did they remain standing without any flesh? Did they even need to eat? Clay felt a mounting frustration that only had a little to do with the information itself, but he forced himself to stay at the task for another hour or two.


    It was a short while later that the notification arrived.


    {Memory increased by 1!}


    Clay let out a sigh, thinking that at least he had gained something that day. Yet it seemed like he hadn¡¯t done enough. The rain was still falling outside, but he could almost feel the spiders in the Tanglewood multiplying, encroaching ever closer to town. Could he really avoid hunting them for even a day?


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He stewed over his thoughts as he ate a brief, unsatisfying lunch. Finally, he came to a decision he was sure that no one would have approved of. With short, jerky motions, he strapped on his weapons, minus his bow¡ªthe string wouldn¡¯t have done well in the damp. Throwing on his already-sodden cloak, he swept out of the door and into the rain once more. The Tanglewood was waiting, and no matter what anyone thought, he was ready for it.


    The moment he stepped into the Tanglewood, he received another notification.


    {Valor increased by 1!}


    Clearly, the [Gift] agreed with his decision, at least. Perhaps that was a sign that he was making the right choice.


    It took him only a few minutes of walking for the doubts to creep in. The rain had transformed the Tanglewood, covering some sounds he made while hiding so many others as well. An ever-present patter of raindrops meant that he would have trouble detecting the occasional clack of a troll spiderling¡¯s feet, and the mud meant a mantrap¡¯s burrow might remain hidden in the mire. At the same time, it would slow him down and make it tougher to move and fight if it came to it.


    As a result, he was more cautious now than he had been before, moving a bit more slowly through the underbrush. His eyes were more alert for signs, searching for the traces which were now half-concealed by mud and moving leaves.


    His extra caution paid off a while later, as he caught sight of a mantrap burrow. It was a new one, dug into the side of a small hill. He approached it, staying behind the opening, and then tossed a rock.


    It splashed into the mud outside the burrow, and he frowned in sudden realization. If the mantrap reacted to something landing on the ground in front of their burrow, would they not be able to sense things when the ground was wet? Or had this particular spider simply learned to be more cautious?


    Clay waited for a few moments more, just in case the spiderling was just slow to react. When it stayed hidden, he grabbed another couple of rocks. Thinking back, he remembered that the thing usually struck on the second hit, not the first. So he tossed the stones again, one after another, and prepared himself.


    The mantrap came out of the hole on the second splash, and Clay was ready for it. His spear flashed down, taking it completely by surprise.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain!}


    He stepped back, considering the kill. The rain really would make the hunt more difficult for him, but he supposed it had its advantages as well. It wasn¡¯t like he would need to clean his spear off, at the very least. In fact, he really wouldn¡¯t have to worry about any of the mess¡­


    Clay frowned. The bodies of the spiders he killed always vanished. He¡¯d never really questioned it before, but now that he thought about it, the whole thing couldn¡¯t just dissolve. After all, he needed to clean the ichor off his clothes; it didn¡¯t somehow just vanish. So what had been happening to the bodies?


    His eyes narrowed, and he stepped further back. Clearly, something was eating the bodies, or taking them away. Yet it wasn¡¯t like there was enough wildlife to have other creatures scavenging the kills. If a fox or a wolf wasn¡¯t carrying them away, what was?


    He made the decision a moment later. With the rain still coming down on him through the trees, he made his way to a tree trunk just a short distance away. Gathering his cloak around him, he settled in to wait. Whatever was coming for the dead spiderling, he was going to see it soon.


    It took something close to an hour, but Clay remained determined. There was something going on here that he didn¡¯t quite understand, and what he didn¡¯t understand could get him killed. It didn¡¯t matter how long he spent in the rain, it would be worth the cost to have at least some idea of what he was facing.


    He wished that his certainty remained that strong when a brand-new monster appeared in his sight.


    Clay didn¡¯t see the thing at first; even with his senses boosted by [Forrester], [Slayer], and [Spiderbane], the thing moved too carefully and too smoothly for it to register at first. When he realized what he was looking at, it took everything in him to stay where he was.


    It began as a thin shadow, slinking through the trees. He saw it glide out of the branches like a ghost, seeming to step out of the shadows to lurk over the fallen mantrap. Limbs that stretched as long as his height reached down, carefully, delicately, silently. Silvery thread stretched from the tips of those limbs, unfurling in a shining net. With movements that could have almost been gentle, the troll spider wrapped the corpse into a bundle.


    Then, still silent, it lifted the package of broken limbs and ichor-stained carapace and stole back into the trees. Clay watched it retreat for a few more moments, trying to keep sight of it as the rain fell in a tattered curtain through the leaves. He stayed there, still watching, long after it vanished. Only when he was absolutely sure it was gone did he dare breathe.


    So. It appeared the monsters held even less loyalty to each other than he had expected. Where they found a dead companion, they simply feasted on it. For that matter, did they even wait to see if it was actually dead? Or had the spiders been hunting each other from the start?


    All sorts of things suddenly seemed very clear. It explained how the monsters of Tanglewood managed to survive despite the lack of prey. With them feasting on each other, it meant only the most clever and deadly of them survived to become a higher version of themselves; if those higher versions ate the lower, then that meant he¡¯d been serving up the small ones for the real threats all along.


    It also meant that he might have an opening to kill them. Clay felt his hard-beating heart calm slightly. He¡¯d been afraid that he¡¯d have to hunt down the greater abominations in their holes and hunting grounds, on territory they knew and controlled. If he could lure them out instead and fight them on his own terms¡­


    {Insight increased by 1! Valor increased by 1!}


    Perhaps it said something about his state of mind that he dismissed the notifications about his [Stats] with something close to irritation. If the adult troll spiders hunted mantrap spiderlings, was the reverse also true? What kind of trap could he lay for something that moved and acted like that?


    He supposed that there was only one way to find out.


    An hour later, Clay watched the dead troll spiderling with the same, if not greater, intensity than he had watched the last corpse. Olivia¡¯s notes had revealed how the troll spiders hunted from the branches, but it had only mentioned mantrap spiders acting defensively. Would a larger mantrap even appear? Or would it just be a troll spider again, coming to feast on its junior?


    He blinked the rain away from his eyes and tried to remain focused. Even with his cloak, being out in so much rain had soaked him to the skin, and despite the warmth of the summer, he was feeling cold. Despite that, his hands on the spear were steady, and he felt like he was ready for when an enemy might appear.


    Clay blinked again and felt his heartbeat quicken. There was a mound of leaves on the ground that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    It was irregularly shaped, as if it were a rock that was speckled with a few bits of foliage. If he had not memorized every piece of terrain around the spot, Clay might very well have missed it. Was the thing even colored grey and brown, like the dirt and rock around it?


    He resisted the urge to lean forward to get a better look. Mantrap spiderlings might not have shown signs of good eyesight, but he wasn¡¯t willing to risk his life on the possibility that the older versions might have improved the trait. The thing was already bigger and quieter; for all he knew¡ª


    Clay¡¯s heart skipped a beat as he blinked and the thing was suddenly closer, hunched up next to a tree like a pile of debris. It might have looked like a batch of windblown refuse to someone walking by. The thing was fast, though it didn¡¯t seem to have the unnerving grace of the troll spider. He could easily picture it jumping a target from twenty strides away.


    Again, he resisted the urge to hunker down and shake. If he gave away his position now, before he was actually ready to fight it, he wasn¡¯t sure how well he could deal with something that could move that fast. Better to watch and wait.


    One more lightning-fast lunge, and the mantrap spider had reached the corpse. It struck the body as if it were alive, biting into it and dragging it backward with such vicious strength that one leg came off. The mantrap shook the thing once, twice, and then settled in to eating it. Unlike the troll spider, it showed no signs of wanting to retreat to a safer place; instead, Clay had the joy of watching the spider feast over the course of the next hour.


    The experience did not make him wish for the chance to enjoy his own meal any time soon.


    As the mantrap finally withdrew, it did so in the same jerky manner in which it had approached. Clay kept his eyes on it, not wanting to lose sight of it, of how it moved through the terrain. It didn¡¯t so much skitter as it did travel in a series of leaps. Every motion was a predatory lunge, followed by a careful, patient stillness, until it finally vanished from sight.


    He nodded to himself and then moved back towards his home. The rain was already starting to threaten his health, in more ways than one; he couldn¡¯t exactly afford to sneeze inside the Tanglewood, especially not now. Besides, he had plans to make. Clay knew what he was up against now, and he had a chance to start making sure he was ready for it. As ready as he was ever going to be, at least.


    The rain continued the next day, but Clay didn¡¯t feel any frustration with it at all. After all, he had a job to do.


    Every formerly empty parchment he¡¯d had was now half-covered in sketches and writing. Clay had reached back in his memory and tried to adapt every trap his father had taught him, back when he was still learning how to set snares for snakes and birds. He¡¯d even gone over the ones they had set for rats, wolves, and bears.


    None of them seemed to fit. Wolves and birds didn¡¯t have armored shells that could resist axe strikes; rats and other vermin couldn¡¯t kill a man with a single vicious bite. Bears might be large and strong, but they weren¡¯t silent or able to strike from the trees. As clever as the natural animals could be, none of them approached the intelligence these creatures could display. How could he trap something that was deadlier, smarter, and faster than anything he¡¯d learned to plan for?


    It was a frustrating problem, and one that had occupied him much of the previous day. He¡¯d almost started scribbling before he had even taken off his rain-soaked cloak. It had been a terrible inconvenience to stop long enough to make himself a hurried meal, and even then, he¡¯d been picking away at new ideas as he ate.


    He¡¯d finally come up with something he could use in the later hours of the night, before finally falling into a long and troubled sleep.


    Of course, now he needed to start putting some of his plans into action¡ªand for that, he needed help.


    ¡°Clay! So good to see you again!¡± Adam¡¯s smile was back in full force, though there was a little bit of uncertainty lurking in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that it is a little too soon for the bed to be finished, but I am sure I could interest you in some of the foodstuffs that I have prepared for you¡­¡±


    He gave the shopkeeper a warm smile, partially helped by the fact that he was sure his requests would surprise the crafty merchant this time. ¡°Thank you, Adam, but I¡¯ve already eaten well enough. Perhaps later.¡±


    A slightly knowing look came across Adam¡¯s face. ¡°Then perhaps a few more pieces to help with repairs for your roof? The past few days may have put your new home to the test.¡±


    Clay opened his mouth to refuse again and stopped. ¡°You know, that actually would be helpful. In addition to the other things I came for.¡±


    Adam had been nodding in apparent satisfaction. ¡°Then of course I will help you¡ªwait, what?¡±


    He grinned. ¡°I need some extra rope and a good number of nails. More than what you were going to give me for the roof. A nice net would be good too.¡±


    ¡°It would?¡± The shopkeeper¡¯s eye twitched a little. He shook his head. ¡°I¡­can help you, but why¡­¡±


    Clay raised his eyebrows, and Adam cut himself short. He shivered like a dog shaking off water. ¡°I have what you need over here. If you would follow me?¡±


    Clay made his way back home, loaded down with the things he¡¯d bought from Adam. The rain was lessening as he reached the farmhouse, but it still was coming down.


    He pushed his way through the door and laid everything out on the old table there. He was so eager to begin that he nearly didn¡¯t hang his cloak out to dry.


    First, he took several of the nails and hammered them through part of the rope. Once there were enough nails shoved through the fiber, he laid it into a coil by itself. After that, he turned his attention to the net. He took a brief trip outside to gather some leaves and mud, which he then spread over the net, using a small bit of twine to fasten the leaves to the thing. When he¡¯d created a rough carpet of them over the tool, he set that next to the rope.


    For the next bit, he took up his woodaxe and some small bits of firewood from the place near the chimney. Clay spent a couple of hours trimming a set of wooden stakes, hardening the point of each in the fire. Once he¡¯d had a rough dozen, he lay them with the net, making a loose pile of them. After a moment¡¯s search, he picked up his shovel and added it to the batch.


    His tools prepared, he stepped back and rummaged through the drawings and scribbles he¡¯d made the night before. He selected the ones he needed and reviewed them carefully. The work would be hard, and dangerous too. Sound would carry in the Tanglewood, and who knew what it would draw to him if he wasn¡¯t fortunate enough? In the rain, it would probably be impossible.


    So all he had to hope for now was that the storm would be over soon.

 B1Ch7: Adjusting Expectations

    Clay waited in the Tanglewood.


    Mud covered his boots and clothes; just because the rain had stopped the day before didn¡¯t mean that the ground wasn¡¯t still a morass of puddles and mires. The sky was clear and blue, from what he could see of it through the leaves, but that didn¡¯t help him feel more confident about his situation. If anything, he would have preferred a little more shadow.


    He was watching a spot where he¡¯d laid a dead troll spiderling. The thing had been easy to hunt, especially after the rain had cleared. It was easy to look back and remember a time when he had been afraid of the things, and when one could have ended him as easily as he now ended them, but now¡­now he had so much more to worry about than a single spiderling.


    The work to prepare the trap had happened far before that kill. He¡¯d created the trap first, and then tracked down the creature he needed to use for bait. It had been a bit¡­unnerving to carry the corpse for the distance required, but sacrifices were necessary. His discomfort was a small price to pay to see a bigger monster die.


    Clay saw the monster in question appear out of the corner of his eye. Between one glance and the next, a suspicious pile of leaves appeared, crouching just within his sight. It was gone a moment later, and he saw a flicker of movement behind a tree. Then another, and the leaves were back, close to the dead spiderling.


    He licked his lips as the mantrap spider drew closer to the corpse. His fingers tightened on his spear; he was sure that if it failed, the spider would look for him, and even if he wasn¡¯t entirely sure the spear would be enough, he had no intention of giving up without a fight. Of course, it would be far more convenient if he never even needed to move. Time would tell.


    The mantrap jumped closer, then closer again. His breath grew short, watching it with bated breath. Had it seen through his attempt? Was it looking around for him in the woods?


    Clay saw it gather itself for another leap and held his breath. Would it work? Would the thing be jumping for him next?


    The spider pounced. It struck the corpse. Then it vanished.


    There was a sound like a squeal melded with a cough. It cut off a moment later. Clay waited for it to reappear.


    It didn¡¯t. Still holding his breath, he crept forward, still holding his spear. He heard spiked legs scrabbling at dirt, heard the wet sounds of something thrashing in the mud, and forced himself not to rush in. Better to be cautious and not allow himself to be lured into a trap.


    He was halfway to the trap when the notification arrived.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    The tension left him in a sudden, incredulous explosion of air. Clay stepped forward confidently now, and looked over the edge of the hole he¡¯d dug.


    The monster was lying near the bottom, partially impaled on the stakes he¡¯d set into the floor of the pit. It was obvious the initial strikes hadn¡¯t killed it instantly; the thing¡¯s death throes had torn and fragmented the net below it. None of the stakes had even pierced all the way through the thing, and he was reasonably certain that the fact that it hadn¡¯t been able to find any purchase for its legs had eventually killed it when it couldn¡¯t push itself off the spikes.


    Still, it was dead. It was dead, and he hadn¡¯t had to put himself at risk to kill it, and it had given him three times as much Soul as the smaller versions. Clay had been half worried that he still wouldn¡¯t receive anything for the kill, but the older versions counted as a new kind of monster. If he could manage to kill another four, he¡¯d reach the next level in no time.


    The problem was, he probably wasn¡¯t going to be able to repeat it. He¡¯d spent nearly two hours digging the hole, two hours where he had to stay in one spot to prepare the ground. If something had caught him while he was halfway down the hole, things could have gone badly for him.


    Worse, it looked as if each time he pulled this particular trick, it would cost him a net. He could try to replace it, but the baron¡¯s money wasn¡¯t infinite, and making one himself was going to be¡­difficult. If he was going to kill more of these things, he¡¯d need to find another way. Something quicker and cleaner, something he could repeat.


    Clay shook his head and backed away from the pit. He would be back to check on it later, but if something bigger was going to show up and feed on the corpse, he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to be here. There was other prey to find, after all.


    Another two and a half hours later, Clay was waiting beside another tree, this time watching over the corpse of a mantrap spiderling. Once again, he¡¯d prepared the trap first, and then gone out to locate the bait. Killing and transporting the thing was no less uncomfortable, but he knew it was better than trying to face one of the mature monsters head on.


    It was a relief when he saw branches move aside. They parted to reveal the same kind of long-limbed horror that had descended on the last mantrap spiderling corpse he¡¯d seen. The troll spider glided down on the fresh kill silently. There was no sign that the creature suspected anything was out of the ordinary, aside from a slight pause as it regarded the corpse. Whatever had made it nervous, it continued to descend.


    Unlike the mantrap, it did not launch itself on the corpse. Just like before, it reached out with its forelimbs, a length of webbing already stretched between them. It began to wrap the corpse, turning it over and over again to coat it with the strands. The motion was curiously calming to watch, even as Clay braced himself for the next move.


    Just as it lifted the wrapped package in its limbs, Clay kicked the stake he had been holding out of the ground. The sapling he had tied it to sprang upright, yanking hard on the rope he had fastened to it.


    He had tied the rope into a lasso, the one that had nails pounded through it. It wrapped itself around the monster a heartbeat later, catching its middle two sets of limbs in the process. They snapped, with a sound like brittle tree branches breaking after an ice storm. He heard a screech unlike anything he¡¯d ever experienced before, a grating vibration that went far beyond what he could actually hear. The troll spider dropped the wrapped corpse and writhed, trying to free itself. Nails dug into its flesh, preventing it from escaping.


    Clay came out from his hiding place, nocking an arrow. He loosed the first broadhead shaft before the thing had finished screaming. It struck the monster in its belly, and it writhed even more, trying to twist around to leap at him. The lasso dug deeper into it, keeping it steady, and Clay fired a second arrow, hitting just to the side of the first. His ears burned as the thing shrieked again.


    It was taking too long. If it thrashed much more, the rope would come loose, and broken limbs or not, that would make it far too dangerous.


    Clay set aside his bow and took up his spear. He crossed the distance separating him from the monster, raising his weapon to strike it.


    The thing sensed him coming. It paused in its attempts to get free, and then its abdomen twitched. Clay shouted in surprise as a lance of webbing shot out, wrapping itself around his lower leg. Clay had just enough time to try to pull back before the spider pulled, yanking him off his feet. He was dragged halfway across the ground before he realized it.


    Panic flooded him as he frantically tried to free himself. Kicking at it did no good. When he freed his axe from his belt loop, he hacked at the webbing, but the sharp edge of the axe just rebounded. He tried again, with the same result. The spider shrieked a third time, and this time there was something more in that cry. Something triumphant.


    Fear gave him strength, and Clay snarled as he brought the axe down one last time. This strike cut through the webbing at last, and he shouted as he scrambled backwards. The spider continued to reel in its webbing for a moment, and then it paused. Clay had a single heartbeat to realize that he was already too close, and then the thing lashed out with its hindmost limbs.


    He managed to roll to the side just before one spiked limb stabbed down. It dug a deep furrow in the dirt right beside him, and he rolled to the other side as it struck at him again. This time it came closer, tearing the sleeve on his tunic as he continued to backpedal away from it. His flailing hands landed on something hard and round; a glance backward told him he had found his spear again.


    Then a blinding flash of pain radiated from his leg, and he looked down in horror to see the spider¡¯s leg stabbed into the flesh of his thigh. The spider began another screech, yanking him hard towards itself. Only a fortunate, desperate grab locked his hand around the spear. Clay pivoted, bringing the weapon around to point up at it, screaming in rage and fear.


    The boar spear stabbed deep into the spider¡¯s thorax, and he could feel it stiffen in shock. He wrenched it back and forth, trying to do enough damage to kill the thing before it could recover. Giving it another chance was the last thing he could afford to do.


    He heard the rope finally snap, and the troll spider toppled to the ground, one of its broken limbs flailing across him. Clay shouted, part panic and part defiance, and then stabbed the thing again, trying to rip as big a hole as he could.


    Then he was on his feet, staggering backwards. He had no memory of standing, or of freeing his spear. Clay made it three strides away, still backpedaling on one leg that was threatening to collapse, before he realized that he¡¯d received a new message from the [Gift].


    {Mature Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    He let out a shuddering, relieved gasp, gulping air as he stared at the still-twitching corpse. A part of him didn¡¯t quite believe that it was dead. Clearly, the trap had worked, but it hadn¡¯t exactly been the solution he was hoping for. Just as clearly, his impatience had nearly killed him. How stupid and overconfident did you have to be to underestimate a mature monster?


    Clay grimaced, glancing down at his wounded leg. He¡¯d survived, but just barely, and it was long past time for him to head home for the day. Nothing he¡¯d seen suggested that blood attracted the spiders, but he really didn¡¯t want to find out the hard way.


    He took a moment to clean his wound, trying to clear the mud and dirt away from it. It occurred to him that he didn¡¯t know if the troll spider¡¯s limbs were venomous; the journal hadn¡¯t mentioned anything about it, but the notes he had were minimal at best. He fished out a rag and tied it around the gash in a makeshift bandage.


    It took a few more minutes to gather what was left of his tools. He had dropped his axe in the mud, but it was still serviceable. So was his bow, though the arrows had scattered along the ground where he¡¯d been dragged. The combined rope and nails were a complete loss; the spider¡¯s death had ripped it apart, and his fingers ached when he contemplated the work it would take to pry the nails out of the dead spider¡¯s corpse. He decided to cut his losses and head for home before anything else went wrong.


    Grunting in pain and leaning on the shaft of the boar spear, Clay made his way out of the Tanglewood, hoping that nothing worse found him before he escaped.


    Clay woke the next morning, and the first thing he felt was a faint kind of surprise.


    It wasn¡¯t that he hadn¡¯t expected to live; in fact, it wasn¡¯t even the first time he¡¯d taken a severe injury. There had been one time that he¡¯d fallen off of the barn roof and broken a leg; the following few weeks of him hobbling around on a cane had been painful in more than one way. He was not looking forward to something similar now. Even picturing hunting in the Tanglewood as he hobbled around was agonizing. If he tried it, he probably wouldn¡¯t last a day.


    He grimaced and forced himself to sit up, trying not to growl in pain as the wound in his leg twinged. Standing up the rest of the way was an unpleasant process that nearly had him falling back on his bed, but he managed it. By the time he made it to his chair, he was sweating slightly, and his breath was short. At that point, he decided it would probably be a good idea to check the wound.


    It wasn¡¯t as bad as he¡¯d feared, though the dressing certainly needed to change. He unwrapped the bandage and grabbed another bit of cloth from nearby. Then he braced himself and tried to inspect the damage.


    The gash wasn¡¯t as deep as he remembered it; had it healed, or had he just been too panicked to see it clearly? There was some pus forming, and he gritted his teeth as he attempted to scrape some of the foul stuff away. It was a brutal experience, but one that he intended to remember well the next time he was tempted to rush in. Pain was an excellent teacher, he supposed. At least he hoped that would be the case.


    He suffered through that and then was about to start working on tying a new bandage when a knock sounded at the door. Clay paused, tilting his head back in frustration, and then sighed. ¡°Come in!¡±


    It wasn¡¯t like he was going to be able to pretend he wasn¡¯t home, after all. Whoever was there was going to have seen the thin smoke coming from the remnants of the fire in the fireplace. Better that his dad or his mom help him with the wound, anyway.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Of course, his expectations changed somewhat when a man in a gambeson stepped through the door. ¡°Pardon the interruption. I was just¡­are you wounded?¡±


    Clay stared at him in surprise for a few heartbeats, his jaw hanging open. When his brain finally caught up to the situation, he tried not to stammer. ¡°I¡ªI managed to hurt myself yesterday. Sorry for not meeting you at the door.¡±


    ¡°Think nothing of it.¡± The man stepped forward, his expression concerned. ¡°Let me have a look at that. It seems like it¡¯s pretty deep.¡±


    Clay grunted, and the man came forward. He looked over the wound a little and glanced up at Clay. ¡°How did you manage to hurt yourself like this? It¡¯s like you stabbed yourself with a knife.¡±


    He grimaced. ¡°I¡¯d rather not get into it. Do you think I need to see the healer?¡±


    ¡°It might be a good idea, though you could always wait until it has a chance to clear up on its own.¡± The man took out what looked like a needle and thread, holding the slim piece of iron over the smoldering coals of the fireplace for a moment. ¡°The name¡¯s Herbert, by the way. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve spoken much.¡±


    Clay nodded, remembering him standing at the edges of the village get-togethers occasionally. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re one of the baron¡¯s men, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± Herbert nodded. ¡°He sent me out to see how you were doing, and to bring the next round of coin for you.¡± The man set a small purse on the table next to him, grinning as the coins clinked inside. ¡°You might find a little extra in there. It seems he might be feeling a little guilty sticking you out here by yourself, if you don¡¯t mind me saying so.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to.¡± Clay forced a tight smile. ¡°It¡¯s thanks to his generosity that I even have this place. I¡¯m grateful for his help.¡±


    ¡°Well, you could show it with a bit more fieldwork, from what I could see.¡± Herbert threaded the needle, and then glanced at him again. ¡°You might want to grit your teeth. This part¡¯s going to hurt a little.¡±


    A short time later, Clay managed to unclench his hands. Herbert had not been kidding. ¡°Th-thanks. I appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Better to keep it clean and closed for the next little bit. See the healer if it starts to swell or get sore. A little redness is okay, but if it goes on for too long, get it seen to. Better to lose a bit of coin than a leg.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°I will. And thanks again.¡±


    ¡°No problem at all.¡± Herbert stuck out a hand. ¡°If you need help with anything, just let me know. Us [Commoners] should stick together.¡±


    He grasped the hand and shook it. ¡°The baron wouldn¡¯t mind? I¡¯d think he had plenty for you to do.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not that much need for a [Guard] in these parts, unless he¡¯s traveling on the road, anyway.¡± Herbert shrugged. ¡°Luckily, the baron¡¯s managed to keep everyone happy around here, so nobody wants his head. Makes it easier on me, certainly.¡±


    Clay smiled at him. ¡°Glad to hear it. I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    Herbert gave him a friendly wave and stepped back out of the doorway. Clay saw him pick up the quarterstaff that he¡¯d leaned against the wall before the door shut again. He waited a while, giving the baron¡¯s man enough time to get some distance from the house. Then he breathed a deep sigh.


    He was lucky the man had stopped by, and even luckier that he¡¯d found Clay at home. Even better, it seemed like he had believed Clay¡¯s story about the accident causing his wound. Hopefully, the lie would hold up for a little while; he wasn¡¯t sure if Herbert had noticed anything else odd about his farmhouse. Just in case, he gathered up all the notes and designs he¡¯d made and tucked them away in a spot where they would be out of sight. His hunting tools were gathered up and placed in a spot where they wouldn¡¯t provoke comment, either. If he had any other unexpected visitors, then with luck, the oddities would pass below their notice.


    Then he limped towards the door and opened it, still wincing with every step. The work on the farm, at least, was something he could do. Tanglewood and its monsters would have to wait, at least until he no longer had a fresh wound to worry about.


    Hopefully, that was all he would need to worry about for the foreseeable future.


    He spent the next two days in pain and basic labor. His wound made it harder to cut and pull, but he forced himself to manage it. As the hours rolled on, the pain slowly grew less. [Laborer] at least meant he enjoyed some benefits to the work he was doing, and it had the pleasant upside of not risking death at any moment.


    As the pain faded, Clay¡¯s thoughts turned to the next attempt. He had to go back into the Tanglewood; that much was certain. Too many monsters were lurking within, and he knew that unless someone did something, they would spill out into the neighboring farms. Maybe they would even reach the village itself.


    All of which meant he wasn¡¯t done yet. He needed another strategy.


    His resolve helped him when, on the afternoon of the third day, he approached the edge of the Tanglewood. This time, he had decided to try something else. As he stepped into the Tanglewood, he received a notification.


    {Will increased by 1! Valor increased by 1!}


    Clay grimaced, smiling a bit. At least the [Gift] seemed to appreciate what he was doing. With good fortune, he¡¯d survive the day. Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t have much fighting to do. His objective over the next few days was not to confront the larger monsters right away. Doing that would probably lead to an early, unpleasant death.


    They were still the next target of his one-man war against the Tanglewood, however. Killing three more of the mature spiders would give him his next level; if he killed nine more of just one type, he might gain something more from [Spiderbane]. If he wanted to gain what he could, he needed to focus on just one type instead of going after both the trolls and mantraps at the same time.


    Given that the mantrap had died without wounding him, he decided to start with those first.


    It didn¡¯t take that long to hunt down a troll spiderling, and he felt a little relieved as it died quickly and easily. Carrying the corpse brought back terrible memories of the larger version nearly murdering him, but he pushed himself to do it, anyway.


    He set the corpse in a new spot, and then limped to where he could observe it. He¡¯d seen the adult spiders before, but this time he wouldn¡¯t be watching from a perspective of shock and horror. Nor would he be enacting a too-early plan. Instead, he watched and tried to figure out how their minds worked. If he could figure them out, he could destroy them.


    To that end, he watched the mature mantrap spider approach the fresh corpse. He watched it pounce, watched it tear into the spiderling¡¯s body, dissolve it, and consume the remains. Then he watched as it leaped away, returning to whatever nightmare burrow had spawned it.


    He spent the next two days killing spiderlings and observing their larger counterparts. It was a nerve-wracking process, one that took far too much time, and made him feel like they were just tormenting him, that they knew he was there, and were just waiting to ambush him when he had let his guard down.


    Still, when he finally had his plan in place, Clay made his way down to the village. His limp had lessened, and the pain from his injuries was less than it had been. He was ready to begin his work again in earnest¡ªjust as soon as he made a stop first.


    ¡°Another visit so soon?¡± Adam blinked in feigned surprise. Herbert must have talked. ¡°It is good to see you, Clay, but entirely unexpected. Are you injured? Not due to anything I sold you, I hope?¡±


    Clay grinned. ¡°No, no, nothing I can blame you for. Just managed to be a bit clumsy, is all.¡±


    ¡°Well, I am happy to hear I haven¡¯t failed you! Though I am still sad that you were hurt.¡± Adam¡¯s frown was perfectly calculated, with just the right amount of sincerity. ¡°You might be interested in a supply of mildleaf and calmroot. They could ease your recovery if you cannot afford the trip to the healer.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, they would be very helpful¡ªalong with the other things that I need, of course.¡±


    Adam froze partway into his gracious smile. ¡°Your¡ªwhat?¡±


    It was perversely satisfying to take the shopkeeper by genuine surprise. ¡°I need a harpoon, like something you would use for fishing. A large hook would be useful too, the kind that a butcher would use to hang pork, as well as some more cord or light chain. Do you have them?¡±


    The shopkeeper seemed completely off balance now. ¡°But I¡­you don¡¯t want to speak with David about this instead?¡±


    ¡°He said that it would take a few days. I need it sooner than that.¡± Clay tilted his head slightly. ¡°Do you have what I need?¡±


    Adam stared at him, blinking. He¡¯d never seen the shopkeeper so out of sorts, even when Clay had asked him for fire arrows. The silence was impressively long, and when Adam finally spoke, he seemed almost resentful. It was as if the merchant felt Clay had cheated somehow. ¡°I have them. You can take it back with you today. But I will require¡­ payment.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Clay smiled again, bringing out the pouch of the baron¡¯s coin. There was little left, but he felt like it would be enough. As he moved, the wound in his leg twinged, and he winced. ¡°Shall we take a look at that mildleaf?¡±


    It took him a while to walk back to the house, but he didn¡¯t pause to rest when he reached the door.


    The first thing he did was tie a length of the cord to the meat hook, testing it to make sure that it was secure. After he was sure of that, he cut a small notch in the end of the harpoon before wrapping the other length of the cord through it. With just those preparations, he was ready to try again.


    The spot he¡¯d chosen for his new attempt was under the branches of a large oak tree, with a small sapling close by. With slow, painful effort, he had bent the sapling, tying it in place with a rope. Then he had fastened the end of the cord to the top of it, throwing the rest of the cord over one of the oak¡¯s branches. It had taken a few minutes to disguise the cord as well, making it look like another one of the vines.


    The other end of the cord he had tied to the meat hook, leaving it in the dirt. When he returned with a troll spiderling corpse, he set it down over the hook, driving the point of it up and into the thing¡¯s head. He tried not to notice the ichor and where it leaked out onto his hands.


    Then he retreated to a nearby hiding place, peering out onto the trap. It was a much simpler attempt, but he had every hope that it would work. Time would tell.


    An hour after he¡¯d set things up, the mantrap spider arrived.


    It appeared just as they always had, suddenly leaping into place from seemingly nowhere. Clay still hadn¡¯t been able to figure out if they were using a tunnel, or if they simply had the ability to disguise their tracks too well for him to find them. They did, however, consistently arrive from the east; the one time where he hadn¡¯t anticipated that, the thing had nearly leapt on him, missing by a distance far too close for comfort.


    This one, however, seemed to be as predictable as he had hoped. Jump by jump, the disguised mantrap put itself into position. No matter the fact that the spiderling was clearly dead, the mantraps always attacked the head first, as if they were obsessed with making sure their target was absolutely obliterated.


    He waited, tense, as the spider gathered itself for an identical pounce. His fingers tensed on the rope, ready to release the sapling.


    It leaped, crunching down on the spiderling corpse. He yanked, releasing the sapling.


    There was a familiar-sounding squeal-cough as the sapling snapped upright, pulling the cord taut. His heart leapt in his throat as the mantrap suddenly snapped vertical, its spiked legs flailing at the air. It took a few moments for him to recognize that the monster was hanging completely off the ground. It thrashed like a terrible arachnid fish on a line, trying to cut the cord that held it imprisoned.


    Clay was up and moving before he¡¯d ever made the conscious decision to charge. His wound still sent lances of agony running through his leg, but he ignored it and pushed himself to lumber faster towards the hooked spider.


    He reached it as the spider had calmed slightly, reaching up with its limbs towards the cord it dangled from. Without giving it the chance to free itself, he drove the boar spear into its belly, sinking it up to the crossguard in the spider¡¯s guts. The spider squeal-coughed again, its limbs lashing out, but he was too far away for it to reach.


    Clay grinned and ripped the spear out. He stabbed in again and again. By the time he drew back for the fourth stab, he got the notification he¡¯d been hoping for.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    He studied the twitching corpse for a moment, and then stabbed it anyway, just for the vindication. One down, two to go.


    It had only taken about an hour to set up the trap, and only a few minutes to break it down. Recovering the hook from the monster¡¯s gullet was the least appetizing part, but it came back more or less intact, meaning that he could repeat this trick for as long as the enemy would fall for it. Not taking any damage in the process was another benefit.


    Once he¡¯d cleaned and recovered his tools, Clay put some distance between him and the site of the dead mantrap spider. He still didn¡¯t know if something larger would come for the corpse, but he had no intention of being there if it did. The only real question was whether it would be too much to go for another kill the same day.


    His wound throbbed at that moment, and he gritted his teeth. Was he being hasty again if he set up the same trap again? He¡¯d only been in the Tanglewood for barely a couple of hours now. He could easily catch another of the things before he needed to head back. At the same time, it might be too much of a risk.


    As his wound throbbed yet again, Clay came to a decision. Perhaps hunting an adult might be too dangerous, but pruning back the number of spiderlings was probably not. Besides, if he cut down a few mantrap spiderlings, he might be able to observe the adult troll spiders as well. He¡¯d have to kill them eventually, after all, and perhaps that same observation would help him prepare.


    The decision made, he began the search for his next target. If there was anything he was sure of, they would be waiting for him.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    {Commoner reaches Level 3!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 18!}


    {Experience gained (Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill)}


    {Experience gained (Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.)}


    Clay stepped back from the third mantrap spider corpse in three days. His wound was still healing, but he was starting to feel stronger again already. He was already killing more and more spiderlings between mantrap kills, and he had continued observing the adult troll spiders as well. A couple more days, and he was feeling confident enough to begin killing those monsters as well.


    Of course, his confidence had just increased by quite a bit. The new skills were going to make a major difference in his ability to pull off his ambushes. His additional bonuses were going to be an even bigger help. Clay could already imagine the larger mantrap spiders falling victim to his attacks.


    He turned to his next task; he still hadn¡¯t observed any of the adult troll spiders yet that day. Clay picked up the trail of a mantrap spiderling with an ease that was almost shocking, and he grinned to himself as he followed it to the burrow. It was going to be a good day, after all.


    Clay watched the adult troll spider reach for the corpse he¡¯d left it.


    It acted just as before, with the same fluid motions and careful wrapping. Yet this time, he noticed new details. The spider was using its two rear limbs to cling to the trunk of the tree as it worked, braced to keep it from falling to the ground. Unlike the mantraps, the troll spider seemed unconcerned that its food might still be hostile. Was it because the thing had better eyesight than the mantraps did?


    If true, it would make sense. After all, mantraps used vibrations to track and ambush their prey. They didn¡¯t need eyes for that, and he¡¯d noticed that the mantraps he¡¯d fought had been twitchy, as if desperate to make sure they weren¡¯t being ambushed in turn. The trolls never seemed to be taken off guard, unless struck from a distance, or by a trap. This one in particular seemed particularly intent on searching the surrounding terrain. Was it worried that an adult mantrap would pounce on it?


    The spider was also not using the branches to bear its weight. Perhaps it was too heavy, but the trunk also allowed it to have a secure anchor if it needed to jump. Its spinners were unoccupied too, leaving it able to use them to spray webs. That fact had nearly killed him before, and would cause him problems in the future. He¡¯d have to worry about being caught in its net, and if he was closer in, the two limbs it had kept free would be ready to strike at him.


    Better that he rely on a trap that kept him at a distance, especially one that wouldn¡¯t leave it capable of using the resources it had available. The lasso trap had been good at pinning it in place, but it had kept too many of the limbs intact, and had left the spinners open. If it wanted to stay anchored to the tree, he needed to pull it off balance and onto the ground, where its options would be more limited.


    Clay was so intent on his observations that he barely noticed when the notification appeared.


    {Insight increased by 1!}


    An idea for how to use his harpoon came to mind, and he grinned. His leg wasn¡¯t quite up to the task yet, but someday soon he¡¯d be ready to try it out. Once he had the bonus from killing another few adult mantraps, it would be time to try it out.


    It had taken a lot of pain and work, but things were finally working out.

 B1Ch8: A New Threat

    The next day, Clay woke to hear the village alarm bell ringing. It was a distant, muffled sound so far away from the farmhouse, but the message was clear, regardless. Something was threatening Pellsglade.


    He had a sudden vision of the town overrun by spiders, of villagers and farmers alike ambushed from burrows or caught by nets. Suppressing a shudder, Clay grabbed the boar spear, his sling, and his bow.


    Then he headed down the road towards Pellsglade at the best pace he could keep, his leg sending a stab of pain with every other step.


    His farm was far enough from town that Clay was one of the last to arrive. The continued twinges of pain were not helpful, of course, but the ringing bell lent him some speed.


    The town was still intact when he arrived, though it seemed like every farmer and villager had gathered on the village green. Clay couldn¡¯t even see the Stone in the center of that crowd, though he caught sight of his family. His mother and father were perched on the family cart, along with all of his siblings. They caught sight of him too; it was obvious that Amelia had asked Sam to stay at the edge of the village to let her see if he was coming.


    Clay smiled and waved to them, though his mother jumped from the cart and ran to him, anyway. ¡°You¡¯re hurt! What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°It was just an accident. I don¡¯t know any more than you do.¡± He looked over to see the baron speaking with his guards. ¡°What have you heard?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. They¡¯re waiting for everyone to gather before they say anything.¡± She was looking him over, as if searching for more wounds. ¡°You¡¯re sure you are fine?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± Clay looked over as Sam walked up, his hands in his pockets. The [Farmer] was almost too casual, as if he wasn¡¯t aware of how that shouted his relief. ¡°Just a little accident, nothing to make a big deal over.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡± Sam looked him over as well, though his eyes settled on something different. ¡°That spear. Where did you get it?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, paid for it. With the baron¡¯s money.¡± He hesitated, sensing he was on dangerous ground. ¡°It¡¯s useful for hunting, and I guess I thought it would help me stay safe.¡±


    ¡°You did, huh?¡± His father folded his arms, and his jaw worked as if he was chewing a piece of gristle. Then he sighed. ¡°I can see it, but you still could have spent it on seed or tools. Maybe even help for the farm. Be more careful in the future.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± Clay decided not to mention the other purchases he¡¯d made¡ªor what exactly he¡¯d been using them for. Then he looked up as the baron stood away from the guards. The chamberlain worked a minor spell, one that would carry the baron¡¯s voice to the entire crowd. As the baron stepped up on a podium, the alarm bell finally fell silent. His parents turned to watch, and the baron began to speak.


    ¡°People of Pellsglade! I have gathered you here to make a grave announcement. Undead have been spotted moving through the woods to the south.¡±


    A murmur ran through the crowd, and Clay¡¯s father went stiff. When Clay looked back at him, Sam had gone pale, and his eyes were distant. It was as if he¡¯d been thrown back into the past, to the time where the Undead had hunted and killed his family. Those monsters had been the ones that had driven him to flee to Pellsglade for safety. He could read the thoughts in his father¡¯s eyes. Would the monsters come here as well?


    Amelia stepped up beside her husband, laying a hand on his arm. He appeared to come back to himself and patted her hand in reassurance, though he was still pale. Clay felt his hands tighten on his spear, and anger flickered in his heart as he turned back to the baron.


    Lord Pellsglade had paused long enough for the murmurs to die down. When he spoke again, his voice was grave, but unwavering. ¡°There are not enough of them to be a true threat, but all the same, I will be leading a force of my guards to fend off this invasion. We will also send a request to the capital for help. They will surely send adventurers to help us deal with this threat.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. The baron was a [Noble], which meant he was technically an adventurer as well. [Nobles] were not particularly renowned as fighters, but they were tougher than [Commoners], and enjoyed the ability to gain levels from their titles and responsibilities. Rumor said that Lord Pellsglade was at least level six, which would have made him capable of taking on lower level threats by himself. There were a few lower level [Nobles], cousins of his, that remained nearby as well. It would be enough to prevent the occasional problem from becoming an issue, though more serious issues would still require professional adventurers.


    For the first time, he suddenly wondered why Pellsglade hadn¡¯t involved himself in the problems in Tanglewood. Surely an actual [Noble] could have cut a swath through the spiders. Why was the baron allowing that problem to continue? Perhaps he recognized that without a team of adventurers, he¡¯d never be able to stop the Lair from simply replenishing their numbers? Or was there another reason?


    ¡°We will work to lead the threat away from the village. Anyone who lives in the south will be invited to stay in the village until the threat is dealt with. Do not wander in the direction of the problem, and trust us to handle things. That is all.¡±


    There was more murmuring, but Clay barely heard it. His mind was already reviewing the path south. If the Undead were deciding to make their presence known, he was more than willing to extend his war to them as well.


    ¡°Welcome, traveler¡­¡± Olivia paused, and something very much like irritation flashed across her face. She quickly returned her expression to a blank neutrality. ¡°Was there something you needed?¡±


    Clay tried not to notice the amount of ice in those words. He forced a smile. ¡°I¡­was just wondering if you had discovered anything about the Undead. I mean, besides what we already read about before?¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± She regarded him with a dissatisfied expression and then turned on her heel. ¡°I have not.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± He searched for something else to say, but it seemed like the words refused to come. Suddenly, the quiet of the shrine seemed far less comfortable, even with the sunlight streaming in through the windows. ¡°Thank you for your help, then. I apologize if I have interfered with your responsibilities.¡±


    Clay bowed and turned to leave. He stopped a moment later when she spoke.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    He looked back at her, and was surprised to see uncertainty in her face. In fact, she almost seemed like she regretted saying anything, but she took a breath and forged on, regardless. ¡°What did you need it for?¡±


    Clay looked back at her. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The lore about the Undead. What did you need it for?¡± Olivia¡¯s expression became determined, something very unlike the serene detachment he was used to seeing. ¡°For that matter, what did you need any of it for?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI was just curious. That¡¯s all.¡± He took a slow step backward, as if to escape the situation. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about it. I¡¯m sorry I troubled you.¡±


    ¡°I did not say you troubled me.¡± She took a step forward, maintaining the distance between them. ¡°I said I wanted to know why you were asking for my help¡ªand I do not believe that it was for mere curiosity. Tell me.¡±


    He looked back at her, realizing that she hadn¡¯t been nearly as fooled by his deceptions as he¡¯d hoped. At the same time, he couldn¡¯t just tell her what he¡¯d been doing, could he? Then everyone would know¡­


    Why was he so nervous about that? It wasn¡¯t as if there were any laws forbidding [Commoners] from fighting monsters. It just¡­wasn¡¯t done. Without the extra training and skills of the adventurers, every [Commoner] knew that fighting the monsters themselves was suicide. Even [Guards] and [Soldiers] would have to be fools to try.


    Yet he had done it. He was fighting the monsters and surviving. If others in Pellsglade knew, what would they say? That he was a fool? Clay knew that most of them already thought of him as a failure, the only one of a ¡®generation of heroes¡¯ who had been given the [Commoner] class. Would being labeled a fool be that much worse?


    It would make his parents worry, but they probably already did. Would the town think he was somehow making that worse for everyone? Maybe they would say that he was stirring things up in the Tanglewood. Maybe there was some law or tradition that he was breaking by heading out to fight as a [Commoner], and they would run him out of town. Things would be that much safer and easier if he just kept it all to himself. Better to keep it all to himself, and stay at his work alone.


    Clay turned to tell her it was all just idle curiosity and to not worry about it¡ªand stopped. She looked at him, waiting, and the words wouldn¡¯t come. They couldn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯m killing them, Olivia. I¡¯m destroying them, one at a time. And I¡¯ll do it until they are all gone.¡±


    She stared at him, her face a mask of surprise. Silence stretched between them, and he suddenly didn¡¯t want to hear her response. Whether it was laughter or accusations or disbelief, for some reason, it seemed like it would be a bit too much.


    So, without waiting, Clay stepped back out of the shrine and into the day. He had work to do, now more than ever.


    He spent the first part of the day escorting his family back to their farm. Luckily, it was to the west of town, so they were not among the ones who needed to evacuate. Sam insisted on having Clay stay with them, however; though he was less pale than he had been, his father apparently wanted to make sure that his whole family was safe while there were Undead around.


    Clay patiently helped out around the farm, going through the motions of the old, familiar chores. He thought some of the cows and chickens seemed to remember him, and his siblings seemed to be excited to hand off some of their responsibilities. His mother was quietly content with the chance to feed him; she insisted he needed to put some more meat on his bones, and he had to admit that her food made the temporary stay at home worth it.


    Of course, it made his other responsibilities less simple. Obviously he wasn¡¯t going to be able to clear any more of his fields until the threat was over, and any visits into the Tanglewood would be put on hold.


    It also meant that sneaking out to go help with the Undead threat was going to be¡­interesting at best. None of the family was going to want to let him out of their sight. Not while the threat remained¡ªand while they kept him from helping, the threat would be there that much longer.


    Clay would have thought it an interesting problem if it wasn¡¯t so incredibly irritating. Still, he had plenty of time to think about it, as he went through the motions of chores that were both so familiar and so strange at the same time. He kept feeling just a little off balance as he went through the motions of those chores. Lifting the hay bales was a little too easy; he kept having to remind himself not to squeeze too hard when he milked the cows. Even with his limp, he seemed like he walked too fast, compared to what he had done before.


    When the family gathered for a warm dinner, he continued to think the problem over. His brothers and sisters bundled themselves off to the beds in the loft, and Clay was left with his mother and father, still sitting by the fire.


    Sam was still nervous and excused himself to go outside. Amelia followed him with her eyes, her expression growing worried as the door closed. ¡°I don¡¯t know if he¡¯ll sleep tonight. He rarely does, when the Undead rise.¡±


    Clay raised his eyebrows. ¡°This has happened before?¡±


    ¡°Every so often, yes. There is a place down by where Sarlsboro used to be; it releases more and more of them, and sometimes they wander in our direction. Normally, the baron tries to keep it quiet, so this time it must be worse than usual. Maybe there are more of them.¡±


    He wondered, for a moment, if the baron of Sarlsboro had tried to keep things quiet, while a Lair grew nearby. How long had it been before they consumed the town, sending Sam Evergreen and the family members that survived running for their lives? How long before a similar rush of monsters took Pellsglade?


    Then he shook his head. Those questions were for later, when they had more time. Right now, he had to figure out a way to slip past his parents and head south. Maybe he didn¡¯t have experience with them, but he was level three now. There had to be something he could do.


    Out loud, he sighed. ¡°Let me see if I can go and keep him company. At least he doesn¡¯t need to wait up alone.¡±


    As he stood, his mother reached out to him. ¡°Thank you. Just let him know we¡¯ll be safe. The baron will take care of things. He always has.¡±


    Clay nodded and went out to join his father.


    He found Sam easily, despite the gathering shadows. His father was sitting on the fence by the road, facing south. Sam¡¯s hands were working over a small bit of coiled cord. It was something he rarely did. He¡¯d mentioned, once, that it had been something his father had made for him back in Sarlsboro. When Clay joined him at the fence, he glanced over and patted the fence beside him, but his other hand continued to toy with the cord.


    Clay took a seat beside him on the fence. They sat in silence together, watching as the darkness fell over the country around them. As the sunset began to fade, reducing the details to shadows and smears. It still seemed clearer than it had a few weeks before. [Watcher] was clearly helping him more than he¡¯d expected.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a bad place, you know.¡± Sam¡¯s voice actually startled him. He looked over to see Sam still staring out into the dark. ¡°Sarlsboro. The people weren¡¯t bad. Sometimes there were fights, and we didn¡¯t all agree, but mostly they were just¡­people. Just [Commoners] trying to make things work. They did the best they could.¡±


    Sam shook his head, his hands bunching up around the cord. ¡°The adventurers tried to stop it, but there weren¡¯t enough of them, and they didn¡¯t come often enough. Things got out of control, and¡­¡± His voice faded out under the weight of his own memories. It was a while before he continued. ¡°Everything seemed like it failed all at once. Suddenly the Undead were everywhere. Marching into the village, the farms. One night, my father woke me up. He said there were Undead at the edge of the forest. Waiting for something.¡±


    There was another long pause, broken only by his father¡¯s voice, nearly on the edge of a sob. ¡°We tried to run, but it was too late. I barely survived.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen again, Dad. The baron will stop them.¡± If Lord Pellsglade failed, then he would do it. Alone if he had to. ¡°We¡¯re safe here.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what it felt like. For him to see them standing there, realize what was happening, and know what it meant.¡± Sam shivered. Then he turned to Clay and grabbed his shoulder. ¡°May the gods help me to never understand that feeling.¡±


    Clay nodded, and Sam turned back to the south. He tried to find a casual way to say his next words. ¡°I think I¡¯ll sleep in the barn tonight. It¡¯ll be less hard for Will and the others to not have to make space.¡±


    Sam looked back at him. ¡°There¡¯s always space here for you, son.¡±


    ¡°I know. I just don¡¯t want to make any more trouble than I have to.¡± Clay tried a smile. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m used to sleeping alone now.¡±


    His father chuckled after a moment. ¡°I understand, son. Go ahead. I¡¯ll be here a while longer.¡±


    Clay nodded and then slipped away. His heart ached to leave his father there, but he knew what he had to do.


    Clay walked back to the barn. He paused beside the door and then continued past it. Skirting behind the building, he slipped back around it and made his way south. His new skill, Hide, meant that he moved far quieter than he ever had. For a moment, he thought Sam might have caught sight of him, but his father didn¡¯t move from the fence as he moved across the road and into the grove on the other side.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    From there, he continued heading south, crossing the occasional field and keeping to the trees where he could. [Forrester] gave him the advantage there, which he needed thanks to the gathering darkness. Fortunately, the moon was close to full, giving him plenty of light for travel.


    The Sarlwood was a large forest, one that stretched for miles to the south. He managed to get there without tripping over the baron¡¯s patrols, which was cause for some gratitude.


    It was also a living forest, something that felt entirely different from the Tanglewood. Here, there were birds rustling in the branches, small animals darting through the underbrush. His abilities now revealed many of their signs, but he didn¡¯t go after any of them. They were too comforting compared to the dead silence of the Tanglewood. Here, he could almost believe that life was normal.


    Unfortunately, all was not well in the Sarlwood. There were signs of more than just animals in the woods. Heavy bootprints had crushed vegetation and left deep marks in the mud. Some of the trees had marks on them, like men had pushed past them carrying weapons.


    At first, he thought it was because of the baron¡¯s men roaming the woods in search of the Undead. Then he realized he was finding the signs a bit too easily¡ªwhich meant that [Slayer] was giving him help. All of which meant he was seeing traces of monsters, not people. Monsters that were shaped like men.


    The traces grew more and more obvious as he pushed further south. It was a stark contrast to what he had seen in the Tanglewood. Unlike the spiders, it seemed like the Undead were not interested in concealing their presence. There would be no hunting them out of burrows, no ambushes waiting for him in the dark. If anything, it was making him worried about how many Undead there were. From the signs, there could be dozens of them wandering around the Sarlwood. Was that why the baron had sounded the alert this time?


    It took him the better part of an hour to find the first monster.


    The thing was staggering through the woods, making enough noise that any of the spiders in Tanglewood could have seen it coming. He thought it looked like a human wearing rags, carrying a pitchfork. A rotting scent filled the air, telling him that whatever that thing was, it wasn¡¯t a person. It was a monster, wearing a body that had once been a human being.


    Clay stepped forward carefully, tempted to put his boar spear through the thing already. He knew the Undead wouldn¡¯t go down easily, but he remembered his father, sitting on the fence with the cord in his hand¡­


    Something convinced him to stay his hand. He stayed silent and watched, searching for other clues.


    At that moment, a second Undead stomped through the underbrush. A third followed, then another, and another. Before long, an entire troop of the things were stumbling along through the woods, armed with a collection of repurposed farming equipment and rusted knives. They were clumsy, uncoordinated¡ªand a lethal threat to anyone they stumbled across.


    Clay drew back as one of them stomped its way closer to him. The information in the adventuring manual was sparse, the same way that it had been for the spiders. What it had made clear was how deceptively deadly the Undead could be. The moment they saw him, they would charge at terrible speed. Any self-preservation had died with the person who had occupied the body; an Undead would accept any blow for the chance to wound him, and a mortal injury for a normal human would not make them pause.


    It had not mentioned that they moved in groups, however, nor that they would coordinate their searches. Clay felt a chill as he realized that these were a very different kind of monster than what he had faced. The war in the Tanglewood was a matter of ambush and stealth. This fight was going to be far more upfront and direct.


    Another figure stepped through the underbrush, and he sank back behind the tree he was using as cover. The new Undead was different. It wore a kind of padded armor that reminded him of the baron¡¯s guards, with a metal cap that covered its rotting skull. There was a long pole in its hands, something with an axe, spearpoint, and a hammer on the end. He saw a glow in its eyes and realized that the manual had described it as well.


    The thing was a leader of the Undead, something that directed and organized the others. It had been called an Undead corporal in the manual, and the notes had been very specific that they should be destroyed whenever possible. He also remembered the things could see in the dark; he wouldn¡¯t be able to rely on the monsters¡¯ poor eyesight to hide him, the way he could with the spiders. His sense of danger grew with every moment.


    He still followed them for a while, trusting in his experience and newfound skills to help him avoid notice. Every bit of information that he could gain would help him destroy these things later.


    After another hour of observation, he made his way back north. It took him less time to get home, since he wasn¡¯t trying to avoid notice. The moon gave him a clear view of the land, and as tired as he was, Clay got home quickly.


    His father was no longer sitting on the fence when he got back. Clay watched for a minute to make sure that Sam wasn¡¯t making a patrol or anything. Then he stole back across the road, skirted the side of the farmhouse, and slipped into the barn. As tired as he was, he had very little trouble falling asleep.


    Tomorrow would be a very busy day.


    The following morning, Clay threw himself into the chores to disguise his fatigue. Missing a few hours of rest was a problem that his [Stats] and [Laborer] made up for¡ªjust barely¡ªbut it helped that his father seemed almost as tired. When Sam asked him to take the cart into town, Clay agreed readily. The prospect of leading the mule cart into Pellsglade seemed much more appealing than a long afternoon of chores.


    He rumbled into town on the cart and noted extra horses tied up outside the tavern. The Porters, who owned the tavern, had a few extra rooms that they offered to travelers. Perhaps the baron had reassured the village by moving some of his men there permanently. If so, then his respect for the man increased. Especially if the [Noble] was spending his time in the woods, going after the Undead as they wandered through the night.


    He unloaded the cart in the back of Adam¡¯s; apparently Sam had sold the shopkeeper a load of eggs and other foodstuffs. Adam had greeted him with a smile. The expression had a bit of an edge to it. Clay¡¯s previous business deals had obviously left a sour taste in Adam¡¯s mouth.


    Still, Clay gave him a friendly wave, and then set off to the tavern. The shrine wasn¡¯t the only place that had information that he might need.


    When he entered the tavern, he saw a half dozen of the baron¡¯s men picking over the remnants of their breakfast. Most of them seemed tired, almost exhausted. The baron himself wasn¡¯t there, but he could imagine that the [Noble] was resting a bit more. At the very least, Lord Pellsglade would have the privilege of having his meals in his room.


    Clay asked for a small meat pie and then sat with his back to two of the men. He was hoping that a combination of fatigue and general grumpiness would give him what he needed. His plans paid off a moment later.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t see why we should spend our nights walking through the Sarlwood. We can¡¯t even get to the real Undead, right? We should just wait for the adventurers to handle it.¡±


    ¡°And we want to just let the Undead kill half the village before they get here?¡± The contempt in the second guard¡¯s voice was clear, but so was his fatigue. ¡°The baron needs to have someone distract the lower ranks of the Undead while he goes after the bigger ones in the back. If that means we spend a few nights roughing it, then that¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do.¡±


    The complainer grunted to himself in clear resentment. ¡°I just don¡¯t want to get killed for nothing, is all. The things don¡¯t even stay down!¡±


    ¡°They will when the baron¡¯s done with their bosses.¡± The gruff veteran paused for a moment, his fork and knife clinking for a moment. ¡°So just stick to your job, and we¡¯ll get through this just fine.¡±


    More information, then. The lower level Undead could get back up when defeated, but they depended on the corporals for the ability. That fact would mean he¡¯d be able to cripple the enemy if he managed to get to their leaders.


    Of course, he imagined the Undead wouldn¡¯t make it that easy. If it was so simple, then Lord Pellsglade wouldn¡¯t have needed a bunch of guards to help him deal with the situation. He¡¯d need to be careful. It would be even more of a problem if the baron was in the same area; he¡¯d have to avoid Lord Pellsglade and the guards while he worked.


    Finishing off the meat pie, he made as if to stand. Then a hand landed on his shoulder. ¡°Clay! I thought that was you.¡±


    He blinked in surprise and looked over to see Herbert. The [Guard] grinned at him and crossed over to sit at the other chair on the table. ¡°So, what brings you into town? Are you tired of being out on your own?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m helping out with my family at the moment. They wanted me around until the Undead are dealt with.¡±


    Herbert nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why we¡¯re here, too. We spent half the night down south, looking for the enemy. We didn¡¯t catch any of them, or at least not enough to matter.¡±


    Clay frowned. They hadn¡¯t even found any of them? The monsters had been so obvious! Outwardly, he tried to look concerned. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. Do you think you¡¯ll find any today?¡±


    ¡°Not likely.¡± Herbert sighed. ¡°They hide during the day. We have to find them at night, which makes the whole thing harder.¡±


    The enemy was nocturnal. He thought the journal had mentioned something along those lines, but he hadn¡¯t expected them to hide during the daytime. Was that just because they couldn¡¯t use their advantage in night vision? Or was there another reason? Maybe he could track them to wherever they were hiding during the day and kill them while they slept.


    Suddenly eager to be about it, he stood up. ¡°Well, I should be going. Thanks again for your help the other day.¡±


    Herbert grinned up at him, a little incredulous. ¡°Uh, sure. How is that leg, anyway? Still healing up fine?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, absolutely.¡± Clay slapped his leg, ignoring the twitch of pain that ran through his leg. ¡°You did a great job on that.¡±


    The [Guard]¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Sure. The rest of these guys have given me plenty of experience with it.¡± He slapped the table lightly. ¡°The baron sometimes jokes that I should have been given the [Healer] subclass instead of [Guard]. Still, I think I prefer the chance to fight instead of stitching people up all the time.¡±


    ¡°True.¡± Clay nodded to him. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around next time.¡±


    Herbert seemed ready to object, but another of the baron¡¯s men chose that moment to call out to him. Clay took advantage of the distraction to make for the exit. He thought he heard someone call out to him, but he pretended not to hear and ducked out into the morning.


    He needed to head south as quickly as he could. If the guards couldn¡¯t find the Undead, they wouldn¡¯t be able to stop him either, and while they might not have been able to find any traces of the Undead, he was certain that he could. Once he tracked them all down and destroyed them, the invasion would be all over.


    After he checked with Adam, Clay made his way south. He reached the Sarlwood before the next hour was done, slipping past the handful of riders that the baron had set to watch over things. Once he was in the woods, it did not take him long to pick up the trails left by the Undead. The signs were literally everywhere, scattered all across the forest. Snapped twigs, bootprints, and trampled vegetation might as well have pointed a glowing sign to where the monsters had been. Would any of them have even lasted a minute against the spiders of Tanglewood?


    Clay followed the trail quickly and easily. Unlike the Tanglewood, where he had to examine every step for ambush or traps, he sensed no real danger from this place. At least, none beyond what the Undead would carry with them. Occasionally, a squirrel would skitter across his path, or a bird would burst into song, and he would freeze in place as his instincts shouted warnings. Then he would shake his head and force himself forward again.


    When the trail led him to a clearing, he paused in surprise.


    The continual tramp of Undead boots had torn up and ruined the ground. They had killed any grass, leaving the clearing a barren patch of dirt. He wondered if there would be any life in this place for a while. Perhaps the Undead themselves had drained this place of life.


    Littering the clearing were dozens of corpses. He could recognize some of them as the Undead that he¡¯d seen the night before. The weapons they¡¯d wielded were strewn across the ground, as if they were discarded toys.


    Beyond that field of corpses, there was a small cave. Was that where the corporals were resting? It would provide them some protection from the sun, something they would want if the sunlight weakened them. He certainly didn¡¯t see any of them laying among the lesser Undead in the clearing.


    Clay watched for a long moment, making sure that the corpses weren¡¯t just feigning death to lure him in. None of them moved, not even when a crow flitted by to peck at one.


    Deciding to test things a little further, Clay stepped forward. He approached the nearest corpse, his boar spear ready to strike. Once it was within reach, he stabbed down and into the thing¡¯s skull, trying to ignore the stench that wafted up from it.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    He blinked. Obviously the thing was dead, but he hadn¡¯t gotten any Soul for it. Did that mean he simply wouldn¡¯t gain anything from killing them? Or did it mean he just needed to kill more of them?


    Still frowning, Clay stepped forward and stabbed another corpse. Then another. And another.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Clay paused, looking over the rest of the field. Killing the rest of them would be thorough, but it didn¡¯t seem like it was gaining him anything at all. From what the [Guards] had been saying, the things would just get back up, anyway. What he needed to do was find the corporals and kill them.


    His eyes went back to the cave. It was time to move forward. The real targets were waiting.


    He did not rush in; his experiences in the Tanglewood had taught him better than that. Instead, Clay stalked forward slowly, careful not to disturb any of the corpses still on the ground. If one got in the way, he stabbed it, received the notification, and then moved on. The journey took a bit more time, but it was worth the effort to be careful.


    When he reached the mouth of the cave, Clay paused to look inside. It wasn¡¯t much more than a hole in the ground, a place that had been half overgrown by the roots of a nearby tree. There was a bend in the cave, preventing him from seeing too deeply inside, but the entire place was dark.


    Clay grimaced. It would make sense; if the corporals could see in the dark, they wouldn¡¯t need to use anything like a campfire. Bracing himself, he stepped into the cave, ducking under the low tree roots that overhung the entrance. He immediately felt a stab of discomfort; the walls of the cave seemed to close in around him. Fighting in such close quarters was going to be unpleasant at best. At least the cool air of the cave was a sharp difference compared to the heat of the summer sun.


    His fingers tight on the haft of the spear, Clay edged a little further into the cave, his eyes picking out signs of passage already. The boots of the corporals had overturned some rocks, and a patch of mud had at least one clear track left dead center within it. He followed those traces, straining to see in the dark.


    He reached the corner and paused. Clay took a deep breath, and then let it out. Then he turned the corner.


    The corporals were waiting.


    They stood within their cave, their weapons in their hands and their faces turned towards him. None of them were moving. He stared at them, a completely motionless gathering of armored corpses, and felt a chill steal through him. The corporals didn¡¯t look like they were resting. Instead, it was as if they were simply¡­waiting for something¡­


    All at once, they abruptly brought their weapons up and into position. He felt a sudden burst of dread strike through him, and he brought his own spear up. To his shock, he saw his hands shaking. What was wrong with him? They were just Undead. He¡¯d seen them before; why was their presence so unnerving now?


    They moved forward in unison, marching at him out of the dark. He could see more of them moving in the shadows beyond, forming up in ranks rather than rushing at him individually. Clay backed up, confronted by a hedge of spearpoints that were mounted on weapons longer than his own. How was he supposed to¡ª?


    A clattering sound rose from the entrance of the cave, and he glanced outside. Horror stole through him as he saw the corpses in the clearing beginning to stand up, picking up their weapons as they did so. If they turned on him, they could fill the cave entrance in moments, trapping him between the corporals and the levies. He¡¯d be surrounded, with no way out.


    One of the corporals lunged, and he caught the sight of its spear coming at him from the corner of his eye. He dodged to the side, feeling the weapon slide past him. Clay realized that he wasn¡¯t going to win this one. If he didn¡¯t escape, then his own corpse would be marching alongside the others when the Undead attacked Pellsglade.


    Urgency combined with his own gnawing fear to give him speed. Clay ran for the cave entrance, his breath sounding harsh in his ears as the corporals¡¯ boots pounded the ground behind him. He didn¡¯t dare look back, knowing that if he slowed down even for a moment, he was probably finished. If he didn¡¯t reach the forest before they caught him¡­


    He refused to focus on the thought, instead pouring more desperation into his legs. Clay nearly clipped the overhanging roots with his head, but he barely cared. One of the levies was already lurching towards him, a rusted sickle held high.


    Clay stabbed it with the boar spear, more to knock it off its feet than to kill it. The blow cracked the thing¡¯s arm, and it staggered back. He yanked his spear free as he passed by the levy, still trying to weave between the rest of the monsters as the Undead awakened. All of them were rising now, even the ones he had supposedly killed earlier. Soft moans and creaks echoed through the clearing, even as he dodged past the one with a spear-hole in its skull and made for the treeline.


    Somehow, he made it to the trees, even as the moaning rose to a collection of wails behind him. Part of him wanted to keep running, sure that he could feel the cold breath of the Undead on his neck¡ªbut another part urged him to at least look back, to see how close the Undead were to catching him.


    When he glanced back, sure that the corporals were going to be close on his heels, he nearly tripped in shock.


    The corporals were still at the cave mouth, their polearms facing outward in a network of spearpoints. All around them, the Undead levies were staggering to their feet, but their movements seemed clumsier than they had been even the night before. As he watched, one of them tripped over another one, laying in the dirt for a moment before it could push itself upright.


    It was like they were stumbling around in darkness. Like they were blind.


    Clay slowed down, his breath still coming in rough gasps. He watched the Undead milling about in the clearing, safely tucked behind the concealing foliage, and came to a realization. They didn¡¯t rest or sleep during the day, but they withdrew for a reason after all. At night, their vision was clear, but during the day¡­


    As he watched, the corporals withdrew back into the cave. The shadows covered their form, and he felt the chill of fear recede. Obviously, they had some sort of fear-inducing ability as well, something beyond the other monsters he¡¯d faced. Even if he managed to close with them, they would work together to fend him off, or to paralyze him with fear. He couldn¡¯t attack them in the cave, either; whatever was impeding their vision didn¡¯t seem to affect them in the shadows.


    Clay stood for a while, catching his breath. Beyond him, in the clearing, the Undead continued to search, occasionally stumbling a bit into the forest to tear at the trees. He started to step forward to get a better look.


    Just then, a cloud passed over the sun. A breeze of cool air accompanied it, which seemed to freeze the sweat on the back of his neck.


    At that moment, the Undead suddenly grew less clumsy. Two of them turned, and their empty eye sockets seemed to point directly in his direction.


    They started towards him, their weapons already coming up. He backed up, bringing his own spear into line. How had things changed? The sun was still out. Was having it behind a cloud really enough? Were they going to chase him halfway to Pellsglade now?


    Then the cloud passed, and Clay suddenly felt the heat of the sun on his skin again. The Undead in the clearing faltered, their rotten faces grimacing in confusion. One of them even put a hand over their empty eyes, gazing up at the sun in a bizarre parody of life. Then they both shook their heads and turned away.


    Clay watched them, his mind racing. Was the sunlight really the problem? Or was it the heat? Could they somehow sense heat, the way the mantrap spiders could feel tremors through the ground? If so, their attacks at night made that much more sense now. They didn¡¯t need a clear night; clouds and cold would only help them. Now that he thought of it, the stories of Undead attacking during the winter were common. In those conditions, their ¡®sight¡¯ would be especially keen. Their apparent fear of fire made sense too; a bonfire would baffle them like the shine from a mirror.


    The fact that they were here in summer seemed to not bode well. It suggested that the colder months ahead might bring more of the things, and that these were just a vanguard. Clay¡¯s eyes went back to the cave. Alone, he had no chance of digging the things out of there. If he was right, then the corporals could see him easily inside the cave, and they had enough polearms to skewer him no matter what he tried. Between that formation and their reinforcements outside, he was going to be forced to deal with them when they spread out through the woods.


    It would have to be at night, then. Clay smiled. At least he had some idea of what to do now.

 B1Ch9: Corporal Combat

    When he returned to town, he found Adam waiting for him. The shopkeeper was slightly irate with him for having left the cart there, but he was eventually mollified and Clay took the wagon back home. There, Will and the others made a few comments about the amount of time it had taken, but other than that, it was just another day of work around the farm.


    As night fell, he hid his equipment inside the barn and waited for his siblings to go to bed. They wouldn¡¯t be that hard to slip past, but it would still be better to limit the number of eyes.


    Sam was exhausted this time, so instead of staying up again, he and Amelia said their good nights around the same time as the kids. Clay stayed up a while longer, finishing a late-night snack. Then he went out to the barn, recovered his gear, and made his way south.


    This time, he carried a few rags that Adam had handed over. The merchant had been a bit mystified as to the request¡ªsomething that seemed to bother him more and more as the days went on¡ªbut at least he had the material ready. Clay had borrowed a tinderbox from his father as well. He hoped he could return it before Sam noticed it was missing the following morning.


    Once again, it took some time for him to make his way south. The moon had already risen in the sky, and a cool breeze was blowing as he ducked under the branches of the Sarlwood. Clay had seen riders further to the west, but there was no sign that they had noticed him.


    He headed in the direction where the Undead had been resting, hoping to run across a group of them isolated from the others. It was only a short time before he got his wish.


    Clay heard them before he saw them. There were at least four of them pushing through the undergrowth, making the kind of noise that would have buried them in troll spiders if they had dared attack the Tanglewood. He trailed them for a while, making sure to stay out of their sight.


    Then he peeled away, putting a short distance between him and the enemy. It took a few moments to build a small ring of stones, and to set a medium-sized stick into the middle of it. He wrapped one of the rags around the top of it and then began to work the tinderbox.


    A moment later, the improvised torch burned. Clay made sure a gust of wind would not put it out, and then ran into the forest a short distance, parallel to the path the Undead were taking. With any fortune, he¡¯d end up slightly behind them by the time they saw the torch. If he was right about how they saw things¡­


    He heard the moans a few moments later, and the sounds of a group of monsters crashing their way through the Sarlwood reached his ears. Clay grinned, and then cut back to the northeast, hoping that he¡¯d planned things out well enough.


    A moment later, he saw exactly what he¡¯d wanted to see. There were two corporals making their slow way through the Sarlwood after their levies. The Undead leaders had sent their minions on ahead, obviously wanting to hunt down and destroy whatever that source of heat had been. Which meant all he had to do was to strike at them now, while they were unprotected and alone.


    Clay moved to attack and then paused. That creeping sensation of dread hadn¡¯t appeared yet, but he had a feeling that as soon as they noticed him, it would come back. He took another moment to grab hold of his spear, and then he breathed out slowly. One corporal stepped closer, within a few long strides¡¯ distance, and it was time.


    He struck.


    The corporal had just started to turn towards him when Clay¡¯s spearpoint rammed into its neck. Clay shouted in fury as he felt its gaze sweep over him; the chill of fear suddenly returned, at least until the corporal stumbled backward and fell. He grabbed the axe from his belt loop, and just as if he was killing a mantrap spiderling, he hacked down at it in a desperate rage, hitting it again and again as it tried to struggle with him.


    It fought for a few terrible moments, while he was busy reducing its head to ruin. He heard the other one give a groaning cough, heard it swing towards him. Fear stabbed through him as the second corporal turned a terrible gaze on him, but he continued hacking until finally, the corporal went still. Notifications flooded the edges of his vision.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Clay yanked his weapons free of the dead monster and rolled away. He heard more corpses crashing into the underbrush, but he ignored them for the moment. If killing the corporal killed the levies, then all he had to do was kill one more, and he¡¯d be safe. Or at least as safe as he was going to get lately.


    His heart was still hammering in his chest as he came to his feet, and he was covered in a cold sweat. The corporal had lowered its polearm to point the spear at his chest, and it charged with sudden ferocity. Clay watched it come and jerked to the side as it stabbed at him. He brought his own spear up and stepped forward, letting the thing¡¯s momentum carry it onto his spearpoint. The boar spear buried itself up to the crossguard in the gambeson over its chest; Clay thought he heard a rib crack underneath.


    The wound would have killed a person, but the corporal just writhed and tried to hit him with the axehead of the polearm. Clay was too far inside, however, and the wooden haft just bounced from his shoulder. He shoved the corporal back, wrenching the speartip back and forth. The monster stumbled backward until its foot caught on something; then it was falling onto its back, its rotten mouth open in another rattling moan.


    Clay put a foot on the thing¡¯s chest and pulled the boar spear free. The corporal dropped its weapon and reached up with both hands; he could feel the cold grasp of its fingers as it locked its grip on his knee. He ignored the feeling and yelled again, bringing the spear up over his head, and then stabbing it straight down into the bridge of the corporal¡¯s nose.


    There was a brutal crunch, and the moan cut off. The notifications arrived a moment later, even as the grip on his leg loosened and fell away.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Valor increases by 2! Insight increases by 1!}


    Clay freed his spear with another yank and turned towards where the levies had been approaching. He heard nothing from there now; no moans, no crashing sounds, just the distant crackle of the torch he¡¯d set into the ground.


    He set the butt of his spear on the ground and leaned on it, breathing hard. The fear that had stabbed at him was gone, more or less proving that it was some spell or ability the corporals could use. Fortunately, killing the corporals ended it, just as it appeared to kill the levies attached to them. No wonder the manual had recommended killing them at all costs.


    Could he keep hunting? He hadn¡¯t been wounded, and technically, he hadn¡¯t been out in the woods for very long either. His leg was not hurting nearly as much, and if he could continue taking them by surprise¡­


    He heard shouting in the distance, and he turned to the west. Hadn¡¯t that been where the baron¡¯s patrol had ridden? Clay took a step in that direction, then another. If the baron¡¯s men were fighting, Herbert was probably right in the middle of it. Lord Pellsglade too, probably. What would happen if the baron fell against the Undead? Would the King simply send a new one, a distant relative who had no reason to care about the town? How long would the village go unprotected in the meantime?


    Those questions made the decision for him. Clay took one last deep breath and started through the forest. He had more Undead to hunt.


    Clay found the next group of Undead staggering through the woods on their own, this time with a single corporal guiding them. He tracked them for a moment longer, then set another torch lure for them. When the levies tore off after the heat, he stole up behind the corporal and stabbed it through the knee with his spear. It fell, and he put the spear through its head.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Just as he¡¯d expected, damage to the head seemed to finish things quicker, and they couldn¡¯t channel their fear ability if he was behind them. Good to know, especially if he continued to ambush them.


    Leaving the bodies where they lay, he continued off to the west, where he could still hear some shouting. As he drew closer, the clang of weapons rose over the shouts and moans. Someone was still alive, still fighting. He had to help them!


    Clay poured on a little more speed, and suddenly the flickering light of torches came into view. He slowed a little, trying to remain hidden, even as the details of the battle came into view.


    The baron was on horseback with a handful of his men. They were ringed by Undead levies, monsters that moaned and thrashed. As the [Guards] tried to hold them back, the levies threw themselves at the small group, flailing with their weapons, grasping with their hands, even biting at the men when all else failed. When a levy fell, it stayed down for a handful of moments. Then it stood, its corpse reanimated, to join the fight once more. At least two of the [Guards] were down, though he couldn¡¯t tell who. There was too much confusion and shouting.


    What drew Clay¡¯s attention more, however, was the corporal standing back from the conflict, watching the melee below them. Where it looked, the [Guards] fell back in fear, letting the levies pounce more freely. The baron was shouting for his men to give him an opening, and the sword in his hands flashed as he fought, but Lord Pellsglade had no chance to get past the levies surrounding him.


    Clay hefted his axe. The spear was good, but it would be too slow, perhaps. He could already see other corporals around the edges of the fight, and he¡¯d need to down at least two or three of them for the baron to escape.


    Moving quickly and quietly, he came up behind the corporal. It had just enough time to turn its head slightly before he struck it in the back of the neck. The thing dropped to its knees, and he hit it again, knocking it to the ground. His third strike took the corporal¡¯s head clean off.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    As the head bounced through the brush, he caught sight of an entire group of levies collapsing at the feet of the [Guards]. There were shouts of relief as the baron¡¯s men pressed the horde of Undead back, but Clay didn¡¯t stick around to watch. He moved further around the edge of the battle, to where he had seen another figure hiding.


    This time, he approached with both axe and spear. He swept in low, taking the Undead¡¯s leg out from under it with the axe. It fell onto its back, turning its gaze on him. His breath froze for an instant, allowing it to take an aborted swing at him.


    Clay danced back from the blow, then lunged with the spear. The point took it high in the chest, shoving it back down. A second thrust finished it, freeing him from its gaze.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    He heard more triumphant shouts as more of the things below collapsed. With a half-feral grin, he pressed forward, his heart beating in his chest. There was another corporal hiding in the bushes further on, only this time, the thing had seen him coming. Fear stabbed into him, freezing him for a moment as he watched it scramble backward, trying to bring its polearm up. Some of the levies started to turn around as well, abandoning the fight to come back and stop him. Clay heard some of the [Guards] shout that the things were running, but he shoved both that and the paralyzing fear aside as he charged in one more time.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    As he closed, he hefted his boar spear as if it was a javelin, and hurled it straight for the thing¡¯s chest. The spear hit it square in the torso, and the impact staggered it for a moment. Before it could recover, he had ducked in past the point of its polearm. He buried his axe in its shoulder, and as it staggered, he hit it again across the face. It fell, and he finished it just as the first levy came crashing through the brush toward him, a pitchfork ready to spear him.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    The approaching levy dropped like a player¡¯s marionette whose strings had been cut. Its companions went down just as quickly, and suddenly the baron¡¯s men were no longer surrounded. Still outnumbered and assaulted, but they could escape now.


    Clay half expected them to do it, returning to the safety of the open ground. To his surprise, Lord Pellsglade backed up only just enough to charge, riding his horse straight through two of the levies. The baron reached out a hand, and an arrow of lightning leapt from his fingertips. Moans rose from the opposite side of the woods; a flaming figure staggered and dropped, followed by more levies. By the time Clay had blinked the shadows from his eyes, the baron was already riding down another corporal, his sword flashing, held aloft. Clearly, the battle had turned in Pellsglade¡¯s favor.


    It suddenly occurred to Clay that he was still standing in the forest, where the baron was likely to look for more corporals. Even if he didn¡¯t ride Clay down in the dark, the baron would have plenty of questions for him¡ªquestions he wasn¡¯t sure he was ready to answer. Even as the sword flashed again, Clay turned and ran for the safety of the forest. The sounds of the battle followed him until long after he¡¯d retreated.


    He reached home a short time later. There had been a temptation to stay in the Sarlwood and continue the hunt, but the risk had been too much. Not necessarily from the Undead; he was sure that Lord Pellsglade and his men would have been combing the woods for him as much as for the monsters, and unlike the Undead, he wasn¡¯t going to be able to ambush and kill the baron or his men. Better to withdraw and return later.


    The barn was waiting for him, and he slumped against the front door, fairly exhausted. His travel through the Sarlwood had been brief, but it had been productive. Six Undead corporals killed, and the baron rescued. Not a poor result for the night, not at all.


    As he went over to the ladder for the barn loft, he heard someone clear their throat. Clay froze. Then he hung his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Sam stepped out of the shadows where he¡¯d been standing. His father was staring at him, his eyes tired. ¡°Clay, what were you doing? Why weren¡¯t you here?¡±


    He searched for an answer and then sighed. ¡°I was going out to check on some things, Dad. I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to make you worry.¡±


    ¡°Fathers worry, son. That¡¯s how it works.¡± Sam tilted his head to one side. ¡°Of course, fathers also know a bit more than you expect, sometimes. What did you need to check on with a spear and an axe?¡±


    The question was sharper this time. Clay stiffened slightly. ¡°I¡ªI just¡­¡±


    Sam held him in place with a hard stare. Then he sighed and turned his head. ¡°You went looking for trouble, didn¡¯t you? You probably could have reached the Sarlwood and come back. Maybe even reached it unseen. I taught you well enough, after all.¡±


    Clay grimaced and looked away as well. ¡°I¡­guess you did.¡±


    There was a moment of quiet. Then Sam laughed, bringing Clay¡¯s head back around. His father¡¯s laughter dwindled to a tired chuckle, and Sam shook his head. ¡°You wanted to go take a look, right? Maybe see if you could help the baron?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah, I did¡­¡± First Olivia, and now his father. Had he really been so obvious about everything? ¡°I just¡ª¡±


    Sam waved away his attempt at an explanation. ¡°I understand, son. You¡¯ve never had to deal with such things, and your entire life, you¡¯ve heard stories about monsters and adventurers. You must have kept your dreams of being out there with your friends, defeating those kinds of abominations.¡± His father leaned forward slightly. ¡°But what you¡¯re doing is dangerous. What if you had actually found one of those things before the baron did? Who would have explained what happened to your mother?¡±


    For a moment, Clay wondered what was happening. Then realization dawned. His father believed he had gone to the Sarlwood, but not that he¡¯d even managed to see a monster, let alone kill some of them. He still didn¡¯t know exactly what Clay had been up to, which meant¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Dad. I¡¯ll try to be more careful from now on.¡±


    ¡°Good. I want you to be a better example to your brothers and sisters.¡± Sam sighed. ¡°No more going off to Sarlwood trying to have an adventure all your own. A boar spear and some arrows aren¡¯t enough for fighting the Undead. You need real power, like what the baron can do.¡±


    If only his father knew. ¡°Of course, Dad.¡± He tried to look suitably humbled. ¡°I will try not to disappoint you.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± His father heaved a sigh and then headed for the door to the barn. ¡°I think Will and I will take the cart into town tomorrow. I¡¯ll need you to cover our chores while we are gone.¡±


    The implied message and punishment were clear enough, but Clay forced himself to nod. ¡°I will.¡±


    Sam reached out and took him by the shoulder. Then, suddenly, he caught him up in a hug. Clay responded in kind, careful not to squeeze too tightly. ¡°I love you, son.¡±


    ¡°I love you too, Dad.¡±


    His father left, shutting the door behind him. Clay waited a moment longer before breathing one last sigh and heading up to the barn¡¯s loft. He needed the rest, tonight even more than usual.


    Clay looked up as he heard the cart rumble along the dirt road from town. His father and Will had left for Pellsglade a few hours before, and he¡¯d spent the time since they left making sure the animals were well taken care of. The stables had required cleaning out, and he was still half covered in the smelly debris of that task when he heard the cart pull off the road.


    ¡°Clay! Clay! Guess what?¡± Will leaped off the cart and came running. ¡°The baron won a victory against the Undead! They¡¯re saying that the threat is over now, and that we don¡¯t need to worry anymore. We¡¯re safe!¡±


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s great!¡± Clay felt a stab of resentment for a moment, but he tried to remind himself that if the baron got the credit, nobody would be looking for him. Given the situation, this result was probably the best one.


    ¡°I know, right? The baron¡¯s the best! He cut those Undead apart like they were nothing.¡± Will hurried off, already finding a small stick to swish back and forth like he was wielding the baron¡¯s own sword, complete with roaring fire noises. Clay watched him go, smiling a little. Then he saw Sam coming and paused.


    ¡°Good news in town?¡±


    ¡°Very good news. Turns out we were worried for nothing. The baron took care of everything.¡± Clay didn¡¯t miss the emphasis on the last phrase; he heaved an obvious sigh, and Sam grinned at him. His father turned away to head back to his own chores, and Clay went back to his. He hoped the news meant that his parents would be fine with him returning to his own farmhouse soon. It would make things so much easier.


    It took another couple of hours¡¯ work on the farm, but he finally talked his way out of staying with his parents another night. Sam and Amelia waved goodbye, while his siblings pestered each other in the field. He waved back, and then traveled along the road leading east.


    He stuck to that path until the farm was long out of sight. Then he turned and struck south, moving along the paths that would lead him to the Sarlwood. He had no doubt that the baron had finished with most of the Undead the night before, but there had been too many hiding in that cave. If even one group had withdrawn, they might be a problem in the future. Worse, they might have come in the first place as some sort of scouts for the Dungeon near Sarlsboro.


    If that was the case, it would be best if he left none of them alive¡ªand he knew where they were hiding.


    Clay found a hollow log near the edge of the forest and stuffed part of the belongings he¡¯d carried from his family¡¯s house into it. He could come back for them once the work was finished. When he was done, he only had his spear, bow, sling, and axe. Well, he also carried the small bundle of rags that Adam had given him the day before; he¡¯d only used a handful of them the night before. He had another plan for them today.


    It was easy to pick up the trail the Undead had left behind. Despite the mess made by the baron¡¯s men as they hunted the monsters, the traces were still clear enough. He already suspected where they would lead, but he needed to be certain.


    Sure enough, he found himself back in the same clearing. Once again, the place was littered with corpses, but there were far fewer now. The baron had obviously been just as effective as Clay had expected, and just as clearly, hadn¡¯t quite tracked down all of the Undead. He guessed that there were five, maybe six, corporals left, judging by the number of levies that they had left on the ground. It was still plenty for a single person to fight, but not nearly as bad as it had been before.


    Besides, this time he had a better idea of how to prepare for them.


    Clay spent the next few minutes gathering wood. He used his axe to sharpen some of them into a series of stakes, while the others he wrapped with rags. Then he stepped forward into the clearing and began to work on the next part of his plan.


    He bent over each of the Undead levies and hammered a stake through their torso. It was grim, gruesome work, but he stayed at it until every single one of them had been pinned to the ground. Clay gathered their weapons up and set them to the side for good measure. If they were going to wake up, he wanted them to be disarmed, at least.


    With the clearing prepared, Clay turned to the cave. He prepared a small circle of stones in front of it and then piled some of the wood on top. A few minutes later, he¡¯d started up a small fire. He gathered a handful of torches together and lit them from the blaze. Then, spear in hand, he went forward into the cave.


    Just as before, there was no sign of the corporals before the bend in the cave. He approached that curve and paused, hoping to steady his breathing. Clay needed to be prepared when the fear hit him; he could not afford to freeze up at the last moment.


    Then he charged, his teeth gritted against the inevitable wave of terror he¡¯d face.


    The corporals were there, just as before. He could see their withered, eyeless features in the torchlight, and fear blasted through him as they immediately looked in his direction. His steps faltered for a moment, but he reacted on instinct, throwing the torches ahead and to one side, even as he brought his other hand back to the spear haft.


    Clay felt the fear inside him lessen slightly as the corporals turned to follow the torches. Their polearms shifted as well, moving away from where they had been pointed at his heart. It wasn¡¯t a long distraction, but it was enough. He plunged ahead, rushing inside the reach of the first corporal. The thing had just started to turn back to him when he thrust the spear up and into its eyeless face.


    There was a crack as the spearpoint punched through the eyeless skull.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    He grinned in triumph and then shoved the dead monster in the direction of its friends. As it crumpled into them, Clay pushed aside a swing from another corporal. The wooden haft of his spear met the polearm with a sharp clack, and then he pulled back enough for another thrust that caught the corporal where its heart should have been. It fell back, and a third one stepped forward, the spear on its weapon seeking his heart.


    Clay¡¯s back was to the scattered torches, however, and its aim was off. The polearm glanced off his shoulder, barely scratching him, and Clay stepped in and swung his spear in a flat arc. It took the corporal in the knees, knocking it to the stony floor. He was on it before it could recover, his spear stabbing down through the skull again.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Clay heard boots behind him, and knew it was time to run. He twisted aside to dodge another thrust, and then ran for the exit. The boots of the surviving corporals stomped after him, and their shadows danced against the backlight of the torches as they followed.


    He ran around the bend in the cave, and out past the fire still burning at the entrance. All around him, the levies were struggling to rise. At least, most of them were; some now lay permanently still, their masters slain.


    When he turned back to the cave, he found the corporals rounding the bend in the cave. They turned to the opening, their polearms ready to strike¡ªand paused, their vision clouded by the heat of the fire and the noonday sun. Clay smiled and unlimbered his bow. With the cave lit by both the fire and the torches, the corporals were an easy shot.


    His first arrow hit the corporal with the damaged gambeson, probably the same one he had stabbed in the cave. It punched the head back as if he¡¯d kicked it in its eyeless face. The feathers on the broadhead shaft brushed the top of the cave for a moment, and then the Undead collapsed.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    The remaining three corporals charged. Their boots pounded the ground. Clay judged their speed and decided against another bowshot. He only really needed to discourage them from hiding in the cave until their minions stood up; if they wanted to come out and fight in the sun, that was fine by him.


    He set aside his bow and took up his spear, backing up to give them space to leave the cave mouth. They exited the opening at a full sprint; one of them even put their feet directly into the fire as they left, scattering firewood and embers across the clearing.


    When they fully cleared the cave, however, they flinched, their polearms turning upward. Clay lunged in again, this time ducking under their weapons. He came up and made the same kind of stab, straight up through the jaw and skull of the nearest of them.


    {Wretched Corporal slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Corpsebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 10% versus Rotted Levies and Wretched Corporals.}


    More levies abruptly fell still, and as he fended off the frantic swings of the Undead corporals, Clay felt a sudden deep sense of satisfaction. He could already feel a lessening of the fear their gazes caused him, and his movements seemed that much quicker compared to theirs. Ten percent might not have seemed like much, but it certainly made a difference.


    When one of the corporals tripped over the now-still body of a levy, Clay was on it before it could recover. He knocked it down with a swing of his spear, then dodged its companion¡¯s stab and finished it while it was on the ground.


    {Wretched Corporal slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    The last corporal tried another few swings, trying to force Clay back. He thought he saw an expression of fear on its face.


    Then a levy still pinned to the ground latched onto his ankle, and Clay felt a burst of horrified surprise. The corporal launched itself forward with a triumphant moan, its features twisting in sudden cruel delight.


    The expression changed a short second later as Clay hurled his spear into it. He caught it in the left hip; he heard bone snap, and the corporal¡¯s charge became a headlong tumble. As it tumbled to the ground, Clay drew his axe and chopped down to sever the levy¡¯s hand. Then he stepped over and began striking the corporal. It went still after the second hit.


    {Wretched Corporal slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Clay fell back on his butt, gasping for breath. The clearing around him went suddenly still; none of the corpses were moving anymore. Between that fact and the lack of corporals, he felt like he could breathe freely again.


    Unfortunately, the surrounding air filled with the stench of rotting corpses. Now that he was free of the rush of combat, the sheer stink of the decaying Undead was oppressive. He sucked in a breath that was a little too deep and nearly heaved up his breakfast.


    With that pleasant end to the adventure, Clay gathered up his weapons and tools, scattered what was left of the fire to make sure he didn¡¯t burn down half the Sarlwood, and then made his way back along the path to where he had stashed his belongings. Stench or not, he would rest easy knowing the Undead at least would not be a problem. The Tanglewood would already be enough to deal with on its own.


    Clay reached the old farmhouse a while later.


    It looked like the previous few days of abandonment had not really changed the place. It was still dilapidated, but something about the freedom and independence it represented seemed¡­liberating to him. At the very least, he was going to be able to leave and fight when he needed to.


    At the same time, the fields weren¡¯t exactly looking well-cared for. His injury had made it hard to handle the chores to begin with, and his absence had only made the situation worse. Unless he wanted to trudge through sablethorn on his way to the outhouse, he was going to need to spend some time cleaning things up.


    He sighed and trudged his way up to the door. At the very least, he had a good handle on things in the Tanglewood. There wouldn¡¯t be many surprises waiting for him there, or at least no risk of discovery from the baron. True, he¡¯d have to spend a few days working on the fields, but that would just help him increase his [Stats] a little, and then he could go back to hunting spiders.


    That prospect made him grin a little before he went to sleep. He¡¯d freed the Sarlwood from Undead, for now. Hopefully, he could do the same for the Tanglewood someday. It was a dream that made his rest more pleasant, for that night at least.

 B1Ch10: War in the Tanglewood

    In the end, it took him nearly four days of hard labor to get the fields back into shape.


    It was not a pleasant task, especially compared to the relatively less demanding work on his father¡¯s farm. Clearing the thornbushes alone would have tried the patience of a better man; he almost thought he suffered more damage from them than he had from the spiders. Fortunately, Clay no longer noticed the pain in his leg anymore, although that may have been because every part of his body ached so badly that it would have been difficult to pick out one spot above another.


    At the end of the time, however, the fields were once again mostly under control. He still had plenty of stumps to pull up, and he¡¯d need to beg or borrow a plow to dig through some of the fields, but a good-sized chunk of it was now clear. Clay was confident that with just a few more hours each day, he¡¯d be able to make room for enough to live off of soon.


    He¡¯d even managed to make a little bit of time for some hunting¡ªactual hunting, not fighting spiders. Moving around the regular woods near his home was a bit odd, but it put a bit of rabbit and squirrel meat in his food, so it was better than subsisting on old beans, at the very least.


    Even better, both [Fortitude] and [Might] increased by the end of the fourth day, giving him three of his [Stats] at maximum level. He assumed that the increase could only help him when he reentered the Tanglewood, and the extra sleep would only make him more alert.


    So it was that on the morning of the fifth day of his return to the farmhouse, he took up his tools and weapons and marched into the Tanglewood, confident that he could continue hunting the monsters down. It might take some time, and there would be challenges, but soon enough, the village would be free of the plague in these woods.


    He¡¯d only been in the Tanglewood for less than a half hour when all of his assumptions came crashing down.


    When last he¡¯d left the place, the population of monsters had been¡­stable. Their numbers hadn¡¯t increased dramatically. In fact, they had been growing harder to find, some days, and they had not pushed any closer to his home despite his efforts to lure out and destroy the larger versions of the abominations. Some part of him had hoped that he would be able to just hunt them to extinction over the coming months, or at least that his efforts were keeping them in check.


    Now, though, it was as if they had gone berserk. Troll spiderlings were everywhere, practically hanging from every branch. Mantrap spiderlings hid under every nook and cranny of the woods, and some of them hadn¡¯t even managed to dig themselves a burrow yet. All of them were more than willing to spring at him, though, and only his too-sharp senses helped him to bring his weapons to bear on each threat in time.


    The only reason they didn¡¯t sweep over him in a tide of spider-flesh was the fact that they seemed as intent on hunting each other as they were him. He saw troll spiderlings carrying off mantraps into the branches, while mantrap spiderlings dragged unfortunate trolls into their burrows. The spiderlings fought amongst themselves as well; mantraps clashed their venomous fangs on the shells of their own kind, while trolls maneuvered and captured one another in their nets. Their fratricidal nature at least made it a general melee instead of the unstoppable invasion that would have doomed him.


    Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t just the spiderlings that were out actively hunting now.


    He¡¯d killed a troll spiderling and started to drag it towards a nearby tree, when he heard a squeal from a nearby mantrap spiderling. Clay had dropped the corpse, moving to hide himself, and had barely enough time to take cover behind a tree when an adult mantrap spider appeared to take the body.


    Realization hit a moment later. He wouldn¡¯t have hours to put his traps into place now. If he wanted to kill the larger versions of the spiders in this environment, he¡¯d need to work faster. It would be a risk, but it was a risk he had to take if he wanted to survive the madness around him.


    Clay spent an hour killing as many spiderlings as he could, as fast as he could. Then a second hour went by, and a third. By the time he¡¯d reached the fourth hour, his arms were aching, but there were still monsters all around him. How many of the things were there? Clay had already lost count of how many bodies he¡¯d left behind him.


    By the fifth hour, he was desperate for any sign of progress. When he killed a troll spiderling beneath a large tree, he brought out the meat hook immediately. Shoving it into the thing¡¯s head, he looped the cord back over the tree¡¯s largest branch, arranged it as well as he could, and then hid behind the trunk.


    A mantrap spider arrived a moment later, approaching in its odd, jerking manner. This time, he realized it was moving much faster, not bothering to scan the forest as deeply as it moved. Had this strange feeding frenzy affected it as well? Clay waited with a pounding heart, hoping that a troll spiderling didn¡¯t choose that moment to spring at him from the surrounding trees.


    Only heartbeats later, and the mantrap struck at the corpse, sinking its fangs into the dead spiderling¡¯s head. Clay ran forward, attempting to pull as hard and as long as he could. He heard a familiar squeal-cough behind him and felt the weight of the monster on the line.


    He made it five strides before he came up short. Moving quickly, he wrapped the cord around a nearby root and then hammered in a stake to keep it steady. Then he ran back, his spear in his hand, hoping the line would hold. The thing was scrambling and flailing wildly; the hook had ripped partway through its jaws. Clay got there before one of the spiked limbs found the cord.


    An accurate pair of spear thrusts later, and the notification appeared.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    Clay stared at the corpse, breathing hard from the exertion. Then he realized that the large corpse would draw more spiders like sour meat drew flies. He took out his axe, hacked the meat hook free of the corpse, and ran while the corpse collapsed onto the dirt.


    He made it behind a tree before three troll spiderlings and two mantrap spiderlings started a fight over the body.


    It took him another hour to clear out enough space for the next trap, and even then, he didn¡¯t dare fully set the entire snare. He killed the spiderling, set the hook, and threw the cord over a limb. There was barely enough time for him to get into position before the mantrap spider showed up, leaping along the ground, its fangs still wet from its last meal.


    Clay gritted his teeth, feeling his heart pound and his hands shake. How much longer could he keep going? How many hours had he been in the Tanglewood, anyway? He¡¯d been planning on a short four-hour stint. How had it devolved into this kind of madness?


    The mantrap struck, and he charged. He felt the hook bury itself in the thing¡¯s gullet, and his smile was vicious. It didn¡¯t matter. Clay would do it for as long as he needed to.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 15}


    It was his third adult mantrap kill of the day; three more and he¡¯d exhaust the type in terms of Soul gain.


    Clay stepped back from the corpse and glanced up at the branches. There weren¡¯t any troll spiders or spiderlings descending on him already. The light was already fading from the sky. How long had he been fighting?


    Nearly shaking from fatigue, he started to cut his hook free. He didn¡¯t want any of the smaller ones to group up on him. If the light was fading, he¡¯d be fighting in the dark soon. That didn¡¯t seem to be a very good idea, even to his combat-addled mind. The part of him that wanted to keep going, to keep slaughtering the monsters, was outmatched by the part of him that recognized how much more dangerous the enemy would be. It was time to get home.


    Clay turned to head for the edge of the Tanglewood, as the surrounding forest filled with the sound of the nearest spiderlings closing in on the corpse. He¡¯d come back again the next day. His fight here wasn¡¯t yet over. Not by a long shot.


    He was awake.


    It happened suddenly, as if someone had kicked open a door. His finger reached automatically out to the spear he¡¯d left at the side of the bedroll, bringing it up and pointing it towards the front door of the farmhouse. He took three shallow breaths before he realized it was still closed, and that only the first glow of early morning light was leaking through the doorway.


    Clay had staggered into the farmhouse late last evening. His exhaustion had made it hard to focus, but he¡¯d somehow cleaned himself off and made himself a small meal before collapsing into his bed. His sleep had been deep and dreamless, and he still didn¡¯t know exactly what had woken him. Had it been a nightmare?


    He shook his head to clear it, still unwilling to let go of his spear. A spiderling had never followed him from the Tanglewood before, but with the frenzy that had infected the monsters, he had not been sure. Perhaps even one of the larger ones might have tracked him down somehow. If it hadn¡¯t been for his fatigue, he might not have even slept.


    After another long moment, Clay managed to stand up. Every move sent pain screaming through him. The fighting the day before had been more tiring than any farmwork he¡¯d ever done. Yet he didn¡¯t see any other option. If the spiders got any closer to the village¡­


    Clay spent the rest of the morning preparing himself. He made a breakfast of bean porridge, and then a pair of meat pies that would hopefully serve as his next two meals. Then he filled his waterskin, took up his weapons, and headed for the forest. Maybe it would be better today.


    Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t, but at least the [Gift] rewarded him with a point of [Will] the instant he stepped into the Tanglewood.


    He killed four spiderlings in the first half hour. Clearly, whatever instinct was driving the things crazy had continued. This time, however, Clay tried to keep himself calm, to plan out his next move. If all he did was kill spiderlings, things would not improve. Advancing meant hunting bigger prey.


    So instead of charging in wildly, Clay focused on clearing out yet another area to use as his trapping ground. It took the better part of two hours, but he managed to set up a decent trap for the first adult mantrap spider. The thing died quickly, and he moved on shortly afterward, leaving it to be consumed by the others.


    Clay repeated the strategy in another spot an hour later, killing the second adult spider of the day. By the time he got the third trap set, he was already aching from fatigue, making him wonder if he was even going to last through the end of the day.


    Still, he set the trap, readying himself, and soon enough, the thing was hooked and gutted. The instant it went still, he got the notification he¡¯d been hoping for.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 15}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Spiderbane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 30% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, and Mature Mantrap Spiders.}


    He let himself relax a little, still breathing hard from the attack. He¡¯d finally killed the tenth adult mantrap. The bonus from it would hopefully make it just that much easier to deal with both the spiderlings and at least one of the adult versions. Unfortunately, if he wanted to gain any further Soul, he¡¯d need to start going after the adult trolls now.


    Clay recovered his hook and cord and then staggered away from the site. He could already hear the other monsters coming, and judging by the hole that seemed to be trying to eat his insides, he needed to pause long enough to eat before he started on the next phase of his plans.


    He spent the rest of the day killing spiderlings and growing more used to his newly increased abilities. Spiderlings were almost simple to track and kill now, and even the mature mantraps were easy to identify. He didn¡¯t bother killing any more of those yet, however. Instead, he spent a bit of time observing how the troll spiders moved and hunted. He¡¯d need to know exactly how they were acting during this time of frenzy if he wanted to kill them consistently once he started.


    By the time he staggered home, he¡¯d killed so many spiderlings that a part of him wondered if they would run out soon.


    The next day, he repeated the entire effort, only this time, he was hunting fresh prey.


    Clay tracked down a mantrap spiderling that had actually made itself a burrow. It was located partway between a pair of large trees that looked absolutely perfect. He moved quietly, locating the handholds on the tree opposite the burrow. When he triggered the spiderling and killed it, he moved quickly, clambering up the opposite tree and perching on one of the largest branches.


    It was only a short time later that the troll spider arrived.


    In his time observing them, Clay had noticed that the things preferred to approach their prey from behind if possible. It could have been a habit, just like the head strike was for the adult mantraps, but in either case, the thing was usually very careful to examine the ground around their target while they wrapped it. Ambushers would find it a hard target.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    As long as they were attacking from the ground, at least.


    Clay carefully drew out his harpoon, which had a double length of cord fastened to it. He looped the cord around the branch he stood on, making sure it would move freely. Clay made sure to leave enough of a length on the cord for the harpoon to reach its target and then looked at the spider. It was still focused on wrapping the corpse and examining the ground.


    He hefted the harpoon. It was lighter than the boar spear; he hoped it would fly true, and that it would have enough weight behind the impact to stick in the beast. Clay drew in one breath, and let it out slow.


    Then he hurled the harpoon as hard as he could, hitting the troll spider in its back. The weapon buried itself deep, and the ear-searing screech of the monster filled the forest.


    Clay didn¡¯t wait for it to respond. Gathering the other end of the cord in his hands, he leapt from the tree branch. The hum of the cord on the tree branch joined the troll spider¡¯s scream; bits of tree bark and splinters showered down on him as he felt the weight of the troll spider catch on the cord. His own weight still worked to pull at it, though, and he caught sight of the spider being yanked from the other tree trunk and into the air, its long limbs unable to hold it in place or catch onto anything.


    The instant his feet hit the ground, Clay lunged in the opposite direction from the spider, running as hard as he could. If he could keep the momentum going, keep the spider hurtling through the air¡ª


    He heard a mangled, crunching sound as the spider made contact with the tree. Clay didn¡¯t bother looking back; he just kept running until the cord suddenly went loose in his hands. Then he spun, bringing his spear up.


    The troll spider slammed into the ground with a chorus of snapping sounds, its scream cutting off for a moment. He could see the harpoon still buried in its body, but the state of its limbs was what caught his attention. Every leg on the spider''s body seemed to have snapped or twisted, causing it to writhe on the ground in clear agony. It could no longer fully roll off its back.


    Clay set aside the spear and brought out his bow. He put two clean shots into the monster, and then relaxed as it went still.


    {Mature Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    {Will increased by 1!}


    He looked around for a moment, taking stock of the situation. Then he ran forward. The rest of them would probably be coming, and he needed to recover the harpoon and the arrows, if he could. After all, he¡¯d need to use them again soon.


    {Mature Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    {Commoner reaches Level 4!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 19!}


    {Experience gained (Exterminator: Gain double the bonus from all Bane Achievements.)}


    {Experience gained (Determined: Fatigue lessened by 10%. Wounds heal 5% faster. Gain 10% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.)}


    Clay lowered his bow, distracted from the corpse of his second troll spider kill of the day. He¡¯d forgotten about the advancement to the next level, but he¡¯d reached it all the same. The effects were immediate; the weariness he¡¯d been feeling suddenly lessened, and the aches in his muscles faded a little as well. He supposed he was going to be grateful for [Determined] over the next few days. After all, it didn¡¯t seem like the spiders were going to get any fewer.


    As for [Exterminator]¡­


    He looked back at the corpse of the troll spider. He needed another seven to reinforce [Spiderbane], but even without the specific bonus for adult trolls, it would make it that much easier to deal with the others. In fact, he could almost sense the spiderlings out there, skittering towards him. A part of him was tempted to face them head on, but that wouldn¡¯t have accomplished his goals.


    So instead, he went forward to recover his weapons and get ready for the next trap.


    The next two days blended into a haze of slaughter.


    Each morning he rose, his hand darting for his spear or his axe. When he could breathe again, he dully went through the motions to prepare his rations and his weapons, whatever he could carry into the Tanglewood. Every time he stepped foot into the forest, the [Gift] awarded him a point of [Will]; apparently he was showing some sort of stubbornness by continuing the fight.


    Spiders died on his spearpoint, on the edge of his axe, or shot through by his bow. He took another three adult troll spiders on the first day, in addition to countless spiderlings and a pair of adult mantraps. By the second day, he¡¯d gained another point of [Might], and just as the light was fading, he finally brought down a third adult troll spider.


    {Achievement Reinforced! Spiderbane: 20% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 40% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, and Mature Troll Spiders.}


    Clay grunted in satisfaction. He wasn¡¯t sure how the additional bonuses would change his tactics, but he¡¯d already been seeing enough differences. His axe could split a mantrap spiderling in half with a single hit, and a single slingstone was often enough to smash the life from a troll spiderling. He hadn¡¯t tried facing an adult mantrap spider in the open yet, but the hooks he placed for them struck true every time, and nearly seemed to kill them. A single spear thrust was nearly always enough to finish the job. It wouldn¡¯t surprise him if the harpoon strike nearly finished the troll spiders now too.


    Exhaustion dragged at him, though. He¡¯d been running on pure adrenaline and anger for days now, days that involved spending virtually the entirety of daylight fighting. How much longer could he keep it up? The number of spiders had started to decrease, finally. They remained more numerous than they had been, but he was seeing the end of the frenzy. Just a few more days, and maybe he could stop.


    A wave of fatigue crashed over him, beyond even what [Determined] could reduce. His vision actually blurred for a moment, but he steadied himself by placing a hand against the nearest tree trunk. He couldn¡¯t stop now. Not while they were still out there. There was no one else; Clay had to see it done.


    So, one foot in front of the other, he continued forward. He had at least a few more hours of light left, and he intended to use them.


    Clay inspected the broken arrow for a moment and then tossed it back alongside the troll spider corpse. He had three left now, and he wasn¡¯t sure how long they would last.


    The war he was fighting had been rough on his equipment. His meat hook had snapped that morning, and the harpoon¡ª


    Clay sighed. He¡¯d lost the harpoon the day after he¡¯d reinforced [Spiderbane]. It had gone clean through the troll spider he¡¯d thrown it at and buried its head in the tree trunk beneath. The barbed head had been impossible to remove from the wood, so he¡¯d been forced to leave it there, pinning the corpse to the tree. Since then, he¡¯d had to use arrows, or to risk throwing his boar spear. Each time he tried the spear, he had a momentary nightmare where his best weapon either broke or got stuck. So far, however, it had either killed or crippled every troll spider he¡¯d caught.


    The adult mantraps had been a different story. Without the hook, he¡¯d been using the bow to start the ambush, and then spearing them while they staggered. Far too many of his arrows had snapped off in their armored hides, but at least he was killing them quickly. The ones that survived the arrows died on his spear or under his axe; his increased strength against them let him break through their shell easily.


    He heard skittering in the undergrowth to his left and grabbed his axe. A mantrap spiderling, by the sounds of it, and one that seemed confident of its stealth. It leapt at him immediately, fangs poised to strike.


    Clay hit it with a horizontal strike, smashing it to the side. It tumbled through old leaves and fresh ichor. The notification came a moment later.


    {Mantrap Spiderling slain!}


    He ignored it, inspecting the edge of his axe. It was growing dull already, though he had tried to spend a little time sharpening it the night before. How long before it was too dull to cut? Increased strength or not, he needed a sharp edge to kill. His fight would not go well if they reduced him to using a short club to fight with.


    One of the nearby branches swayed slightly, and Clay glanced up to see the troll spiderling slowly creeping through the trees toward him. He sighed and set a stone in his sling. A little spin built up momentum, and he stood up to throw it. It had gathered itself for the leap when the stone hit it. Ichor and limbs spattered in different directions, and another corpse joined the group on the ground with a wet thump.


    {Troll Spiderling slain!}


    While the corpse twitched, he checked his pouch for stones again. Only one left. Not great either. Maybe he could spend a few minutes searching for more down by a dry riverbed he¡¯d found.


    He started in that direction, only to pause as he caught sight of a lump of stone moving along the treeline to his left. Interesting; the mantrap spider must have been in the area to react so quickly. Most of them had grown cautious in the past day or so. Maybe the bold ones had died early.


    Clay stowed the axe and sling and readied his spear. The weapon had seen a lot of hard work in the past few hours. He hoped it was up to one more kill, at least.


    The mantrap approached quickly, each leap shifting its position. They didn¡¯t seem as quick as they had before; perhaps the bonuses were making it easier for his eyes to track the motion. Clay pretended as if he couldn¡¯t see it, though. He wanted it overconfident, wanted it eager. He tried whistling, rubbing a cloth over the spearhead.


    It jumped again, this time coming just barely within reach. Before it could move again, Clay raised the spear and smashed it down, like an improvised club. The mantrap¡¯s armored shell cracked like an egg, and the spider curled up on itself with a shocked scream. As it curled in the leaves, Clay lunged in with the spearpoint, stabbing it through the head. He wrenched it back and forth, and the thing died.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain!}


    One more monster dead, and countless more to go. He straightened up, freeing his spear with a jerk, and continued onward. He¡¯d need those slingstones if he was going to make it until nightfall.


    By the time he staggered home, the sun was already setting. He had exactly one arrow and two slingstones left, and both his spear and axe needed the attention of a whetstone. Exhaustion anchored him down, making each step seem like it was moving through mud. Hunger gnawed at him too; he hadn¡¯t had the time to hunt, so meat pies were a distant dream by now, and the hardtack he¡¯d been using was nowhere near enough to fill him. It was a struggle to make any plans at the moment, but he tried to make a note to himself to make more to eat.


    When he made it out of the Tanglewood, he smiled in relief. He¡¯d long since abandoned the fear that the monsters would follow him out. Clay had made a habit of cleaning all the ichor out of his clothes, but it almost seemed like once he¡¯d killed enough of them, they started to try to avoid him. At the very least, they¡¯d been harder to track down today. Was their frenzy finally done? How many days had it lasted? Six? Seven, now?


    He staggered further along the path that ran by the Tanglewood, hoping he¡¯d reach home before he collapsed. The night before had been a near thing¡­


    His thoughts trailed off as he caught sight of the farmhouse. It was exactly where he remembered it, of course; houses didn¡¯t move on their own, right? Only, something was off¡­


    Clay frowned. Smoke was coming from the chimney. Had he left a fire going? He could¡¯ve burned down the house, if he had. Was he really that tired?


    He staggered up to the front door of the house, his mind still fogged by fatigue. When he pushed the door open, it took a few moments for him to recognize what he was looking at. Clay stopped and stared. ¡°H-Herbert?¡±


    The [Guard] looked up at him. He was sitting in Clay¡¯s chair by the fire, poking at it with a branch. ¡°Well, it¡¯s good to see you, Clay! Welcome home.¡±


    Clay stared at him a moment longer. His mind was struggling to focus. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just checking up on you.¡± Herbert stood slowly. His expression was utterly unreadable. ¡°The baron sent me by to make sure you were all right. I guess someone thought the fields weren¡¯t being cared for. They were worried that you had been hurt somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I¡¯m fine.¡± Clay tried to force a smile. It came out crooked; even he could tell that. ¡°Just a little tired. I guess I¡¯ve been getting distracted.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll say. I mean, it looks like you haven¡¯t been clearing anything over the past week.¡± The [Guard] was watching him closely still. He noticed that Herbert¡¯s quarterstaff was propped up against the nearby wall. That detail seemed important for some reason. ¡°You know, I¡¯m being insensitive. Let¡¯s get you off your feet.¡±


    The suggestion sounded suspicious, but Clay was too tired to figure it out. He staggered towards the chair like it was the last firm piece of ground left in the world. As he half-fell into the seat, nearly tipping it over. While he did so, Herbert grabbed hold of his spear. ¡°Hey, nice spear! I think I remember seeing you with it before.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s for hunting.¡± The lie was incredibly unconvincing, even to his addled brain.


    ¡°Oh, is that what you¡¯ve been doing? Too bad it seems like you haven¡¯t had much fortune.¡± Herbert examined the spear¡¯s point carefully, as if he had noticed something interesting. ¡°You seem to have been working really hard at it, though.¡±


    Clay shrugged, unable to come up with a convenient story to tell. Herbert leaned the spear over by his own quarterstaff and then leaned back against the table.


    ¡°You know, the baron had me with him when he was clearing out those Undead the other day. Did you hear about that?¡±


    He nodded numbly. Herbert smiled, and then continued. ¡°It was a serious problem out there, in the Sarlwood. We got caught in some kind of ambush. The Undead were everywhere. Then they started going down, and the baron finished the job.¡± The [Guard] paused. ¡°After the fight, we looked around a little. Turns out there were even more Undead out there. Found a ton of them out in the woods.¡±


    Herbert smiled again. He crossed his arms across his chest. ¡°With axe and spear wounds. Like something your weapons could leave.¡±


    Clay froze, his mind too blurry to think straight. What could he say? ¡°That¡¯s¡­interesting.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Herbert leaned forward. ¡°The baron was extremely curious about it. Said something about maybe having a Rogue running around, hunting Undead on their own. I think he¡¯s had half his men down there, still searching around for them.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Clay blinked. A Rogue? It was the word for someone that had an adventuring [Class], but had somehow avoided going to the capital for training and had not sworn an oath to the King. The local nobility typically looked on Rogues with suspicion, and most Rogues were eventually pressured into swearing the loyalty oaths. Those who continued to refuse had a rather¡­mixed reputation.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure they were hoping to find them. To thank them for their help.¡± Herbert sat back again. The tone of his voice seemed a little sarcastic to even Clay¡¯s weary mind.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think they¡¯ll find him?¡± Clay tried to smile.


    ¡°I think they¡¯re looking in the wrong place.¡± Herbert¡¯s voice grew hard, and the hair on the back of Clay¡¯s neck rose. Was the [Guard] going to attack him? Could Clay resist him if he did? He was so tired. Why did he have to deal with this now, of all times?


    The [Guard] continued in that hard, unflinching voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you convinced the Rector to lie, but you¡¯re going to be honest with me. What [Class] are you, really? [Knave]? [Burglar]? [Occultist]? What level are you now? Why are you still here, instead of in the capital, with your friends?¡±


    Clay stared at him for another moment. The tension between them increased; Herbert seemed on the edge of jumping for his staff.


    Then Clay laughed. He couldn¡¯t help it; the entire situation was just too ridiculous. He laughed until he was out of breath, and even then, he kept chuckling. It took a while before he could finally scrape together enough words to answer. ¡°I¡­I¡¯m a [Commoner]. Just a [Commoner]. Like you.¡±


    Herbert¡¯s expression grew incredulous. ¡°That¡¯s a lie. I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°Believe whatever you want.¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m just a [Commoner], nothing special at all.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re really telling me you¡¯ve been out there hunting with a dull spear for a week?¡± Herbert¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°You need a better story, because I¡¯m not buying it.¡±


    Clay opened his mouth to lie and then grimaced. ¡°I was out hunting, just not¡­animals.¡±


    The [Guard] opened his mouth again to respond, and then paused. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    He weighed his options for a moment. Herbert seemed like a nice enough person, and the truth was that if the baron kept thinking there was a Rogue out in Sarlwood, someone was going to get hurt. Even if they didn¡¯t, they¡¯d eventually find the cave, and all the extra Undead bodies would only make things worse.


    Besides, he needed rest, and Herbert obviously would not give him any until this was over.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spent the past week in the Tanglewood, killing spiders.¡±


    ¡°Spiders.¡± Herbert smirked. He leaned back on the table. ¡°Did you need your spear to help you squash them?¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°Kind of.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°The big kind. Monsters. They¡¯d eat people, if they could.¡±


    Herbert raised his eyebrows. Then his expression changed, and the laughter faded. ¡°Wait a minute. You¡¯re saying¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I¡¯m saying.¡± Clay stood up and went over to his hiding spot. He dug out the sketches and the notes, handing them back to the [Guard]. ¡°There¡¯s two types of them out there, at least. Probably a full Lair out there too, I think. Haven¡¯t gotten that far in.¡±


    Herbert shifted through the notes, his expression incredulous. Clay didn¡¯t know if the man could read, but the pictures told a fairly good story on their own. ¡°So in the Sarlwood¡ª¡±


    ¡°That was me.¡± Clay half-sat, half-fell back into the chair. He scrubbed his face with both hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t faster. Did the ones on the ground make it out okay?¡±


    The [Guard] stared at him a moment longer, still disbelieving. ¡°Mark and Sarah are both fine. Recovering, now.¡± He looked back at the notes in his hands and shook his head. ¡°So what [Class] are you then? You¡¯ve been fighting these things alone?¡±


    ¡°I already told you, I¡¯m a [Commoner].¡± Clay held up a hand when Herbert started to protest. ¡°I¡¯m a [Commoner]¡­and I¡¯m level four. So what do you say about that?¡±

 B1Ch11: Pushing Forward

    It took a little while for Herbert to calm down after that. Mostly it took Clay pointing at the notes, pointing at the worn edges on his equipment, and finally insisting that he needed to rest before he answered any other questions. Eventually the [Guard] wound down, and Clay was able to tuck himself in to sleep, under the watchful eye of the baron¡¯s man.


    When he woke, it was to the smell of a freshly cooked breakfast, and the sight of an intensely impatient [Guard]. Clay groaned a bit, but he levered himself up and out of his bedroll, regardless. His head felt like he had spent the previous day pounding his head against the wall of his house, and the rest of his body felt much the same.


    As he sat up, Herbert handed him a plate with eggs and bacon on it. Clay nearly fainted from the smell; it was absolutely glorious. He dug in with a will, and the [Guard] waited with ill-concealed anticipation for him to finish.


    Eventually, the food had to end, and Clay set aside the plate with a sigh. ¡°Thanks. I needed that.¡±


    ¡°I could tell.¡± Herbert grinned slightly, and his shoulders relaxed just a little. He was the picture of a man calming himself. ¡°Now, could you explain what you were talking about last night?¡±


    Clay coughed into his hand. ¡°I¡¯m a [Commoner], and I¡¯ve been killing monsters.¡± Clay shrugged slightly. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing it since a little after the Choosing. So far, I haven¡¯t died yet.¡±


    Herbert shook his head. ¡°But that¡¯s¡­you can¡¯t¡­¡± The [Guard] grabbed his hair with both hands and pulled slightly. ¡°You can¡¯t kill monsters as a [Commoner]!¡±


    ¡°I have, though.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not possible!¡± Herbert stood up from the table, pacing around the house. Every motion spoke of frustration. ¡°A [Commoner] that tries to kill monsters is going to die. That¡¯s how it works. That¡¯s how it always works!¡±


    He stopped pacing, clenching and unclenching his hands. ¡°It¡¯s why we wait for the adventurers to arrive. They handle the monsters. The rest of us have to support them.¡±


    Clay spread his hands wide. ¡°Well, I decided not to wait. The spiders are there. The Undead were there. So I¡¯m fighting them.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just¡­ you can¡¯t¡­¡± Herbert threw his hands up and started pacing again. Clay watched and waited for him to wind down again. It took a while, but Clay had nowhere to be. He¡¯d already decided that there was no way he was going to be able to return to the Tanglewood today. There was barely anything left to hunt with, anyway.


    The [Guard]¡¯s pacing eventually slowed again, only this time, the man seemed a lot more thoughtful. He looked back at Clay. ¡°Nobody is going to believe this, are they? If I go back to the baron and tell him that his Rogue is just some [Commoner] running around, I¡¯m going to look like a lunatic.¡±


    Clay thought back to his father¡¯s assumptions, back when he¡¯d been caught in the barn. ¡°Yeah, probably.¡±


    Herbert muttered something impolite under his breath. ¡°Are you planning on taking over the baron¡¯s position? Or carrying off women for yourself? Or any of that other stuff they say Rogues do?¡±


    Incredulous, Clay gestured around at the farmhouse. ¡°Herbert, I live here. I just, you know, don¡¯t want anyone to get eaten by giant spiders. Or turned into Undead conscripts. Or whatever other nightmares are out there.¡±


    The [Guard] stared at him for a long moment. Then he came over to the table and sat on the edge of it again. ¡°How bad is it in the Tanglewood? We¡¯ve never paid it that much attention.¡±


    Clay grimaced. He looked down at his hands, noticing exactly how rough and worn they were. Even farm labor hadn¡¯t prepared him for that kind of work. ¡°I had it under control for a bit, but¡­it¡¯s like it went mad the past week. They were everywhere. Everywhere.¡±


    His voice broke a little on that last word, and he was surprised to find his hands shaking. The room seemed to blur a little as he tried to stop. Maybe it wasn¡¯t so bad, needing to pause for a moment. Another day might have been the end of him.


    Herbert was still waiting for him to continue, and Clay shook himself. It became more of a full-body shiver that went on for a few moments before he finally felt steady enough to continue.


    ¡°I think it was some kind of¡­frenzy, or maybe an attempt to expand their territory? The only thing that kept it under control was the fact that they were attacking each other as well as hunting for me. It was slowing down yesterday and the day before, but I don¡¯t know if it was done yet.¡±


    ¡°But the place is still contained.¡± Herbert¡¯s voice was steady, but the worry in it was clear. ¡°They aren¡¯t going to come out of the forest at us yet.¡±


    ¡°No, not yet. At least, I don¡¯t think so.¡± Clay shivered again. Why was he doing that? It wasn¡¯t even cold. ¡°I think they¡¯ll at least stay in the Tanglewood, even the big ones. I need to head back in there soon, though, just to be sure.¡±


    ¡°What are you planning on hunting them with? Your teeth?¡± Herbert¡¯s question seemed half-serious, but the [Guard] shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ll need supplies. And rest, by the looks of it. You can¡¯t fight everything by yourself.¡±


    ¡°Not a lot of others ready to help¡ªunless you think the baron is up for it.¡± Clay said the last part almost hopefully, but Herbert shook his head.


    ¡°Lord Pellsglade is a good man, but he isn¡¯t a member of the Guild. If I tell him you¡¯ve seen spiders in the woods, he¡¯ll send for adventurers to help, but he isn¡¯t going to go raiding deep into the Tanglewood with a [Commoner] for support.¡± Herbert shook his head, a disbelieving look on his face. ¡°No offense, of course.¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°None taken.¡± Then he sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not going to help either, are you?¡±


    ¡°Am I going to march myself into a den of giant spiders? No. I imagine the wife might not like that idea.¡± Herbert chuckled to himself. ¡°I can try to help in some other ways, though. I¡¯ll try to keep the baron from looking your way, and slip you some supplies if I can. Anything else, and you¡¯re on your own.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± He supposed that expecting a man with a family to charge into the face of monsters was at least a little unreasonable. Still, it was hard not to feel a little bitter as he smiled again. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Herbert shook his head. ¡°Just¡­take care of yourself. If the worst happens, no one¡¯s going to be able to come in after you.¡±


    Clay thought of the monsters that he¡¯d been hunting, of the way they struck and ate. ¡°If the worst happens, there won¡¯t be anything to come after, anyway.¡± He paused as another idea occurred to him. ¡°Herbert, how many people know about Sarlwood? I mean, the whole Rogue thing.¡±


    ¡°Just the baron¡¯s men, really. Lord Pellsglade has asked us to keep things quiet.¡± Herbert shrugged. ¡°[Guards] talk, however. Eventually, the rumors will get out.¡±


    Then Herbert stopped. His expression showed a dawning realization. ¡°Who else knows you were in the Sarlwood?¡±


    Clay sighed. His shoulder¡¯s slumped. ¡°My father. And one other.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Herbert¡¯s face grew sympathetic. ¡°Well, I can try to keep the rest from talking, but they¡¯ll probably find out eventually. I¡¯d get ready for what that means.¡±


    ¡°I will. Thanks, and good fortune to you.¡±


    Herbert nodded and grabbed his quarterstaff. He ducked out of the door and left Clay alone with his thoughts. He grimaced as he forced himself to get up and start his morning chores. It was clearly going to be an interesting week.


    Clay spent the rest of that day recovering from his fight. It meant a day full of chores, but there was something soothing about that process. He washed and cleaned his clothing, which by now was badly in need of attention. Then he gave his spear and axe fresh edges, and he prepared a little more food for himself. There wasn¡¯t any meat left to cook, and he made a note that he would need to go hunting¡ªactual hunting, this time¡ªto replenish his stores.


    The fields were once again in rough shape, but not quite as badly overgrown as before. Clay spent some time trimming back the weeds and such that had grown up in his absence. He spent some more time digging around one of the tree trunks he had left in the field, chopping away at the roots until he could lever it out of the hole. With his additional [Might], it was far less of a chore than it had been, but that didn¡¯t necessarily make it easy.


    His farming tools needed a bit of maintenance as well, and he set to sharpening and repairing them with the same patience he¡¯d shown for his spear and axe. It occurred to him that he could starve just as easily as he could die by spider. Perhaps he had grown a little¡­unbalanced in his efforts lately.


    Worse than that, he¡¯d left himself with virtually no way to replace his equipment. The baron¡¯s coin was only going to go so far. A level four adventurer with no arrows still wasn¡¯t going to be able to shoot anything, and if his spear broke the next time he used it, what was he going to do, use his bare hands?


    There had to be some way to maintain himself, at least until the next growing season. Maybe he could actually hunt a little bit more and sell some of the excess? A small part of him toyed with the idea of selling off monster parts, but that would give himself away pretty quickly¡ªin addition to attracting the attention of the spiders to town. Whatever coin he could get out of it, it wouldn¡¯t be worth it.


    He continued to think over the problem as he ripped up yet another bush of sablethorn, ignoring the small pricks that got through the thick gloves he wore. Maybe some of the nearby farms would also have work for him, though he doubted they would be much easier or more accommodating than his current situation. Besides, the farmers surrounding Pellsglade wouldn¡¯t have that much coin to spare.


    Would the baron have work for him? It might be another path to extra coin, but then it would make it that much more likely that he¡¯d be exposed. After all, a [Noble] could recognize someone that had additional levels, right? Clay still wasn¡¯t sure how the baron would react to that, even if he had helped the man out in Sarlwood. Better to avoid that problem for as long as possible.


    No, the best possible route was probably to get enough of the fields cleared and plowed so that he could start planting something by the end of the summer. Trying to wait for the spring planting might be wiser, but he would fare better if he started sooner. It would probably be spinach or beets, first, and then he could expand from there.


    Clay smirked to himself. At the very least, he could thank the Tanglewood for one thing; the lack of insects and wildlife might mean he had little to fear from pests and vermin. A small blessing, considering the source, but it would make it that much easier to avoid starvation¡ªif something didn¡¯t wander by and eat him first.


    Turning his attention to the fields, he started looking for the best patch for his future beet crop, and began to clear it even further to prepare the ground. There was always more to do.


    In the end, he spent well over three days in the fields, cutting back the wild until he had enough space for a decent planting field. Clay spent the entire time working on the farm, though he did eye the Tanglewood occasionally to make sure that nothing was crawling out after him. [Laborer] and [Determined] made the work easy, especially with his increased [Stats]. He made several visits to the Smallgroves, hunting in that relatively tame forest for squirrels and the like to put meat in his diet again. When rain came, he made the trek out to his father¡¯s house to borrow a handplow, which he intended to use in the coming days.


    It was on the third day after the rainstorm, however, that he was just sitting down to eat dinner and another knock sounded at his door.


    Curious, he wondered if Herbert had come back with some news. He stood up and went to the door and found Olivia waiting on his front step, half-hidden in a cloak that seemed overly large on her small frame. She peered up at him with the same blank expression that he was used to seeing in the shrine down in the village and waited for him to realize that he hadn¡¯t actually responded yet.


    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s good to see you, Novice Olivia. Did the Rector have something he needed from me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Olivia fidgeted with her cloak a little; he could hear the rustle of parchment inside the cloth. ¡°He has decided to grant me a free day. I am here of my own volition.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Clay blinked in surprise. Given what had happened before, he hadn¡¯t expected to see Olivia much anymore. She wasn¡¯t well known for leaving the shrine at all, really, and the possibility of her coming out to the farmhouse had seemed unlikely. ¡°Well, come in, I guess. Please excuse the repairs; I¡¯m still working on the place.¡±


    Olivia nodded and stepped in as he backed away. She waited quietly while he fetched the single chair for her and then sat delicately on the edge of it. ¡°You did not come to town yesterday.¡±


    ¡°No, I had plenty of other work to do here.¡± He guessed he could have come down to buy something from Adam, but the storm had been a short one. He¡¯d been back to clearing fields before the afternoon.


    ¡°You had been coming to the village whenever the rain struck, whether or not you visited the shrine.¡± She paused and fidgeted again on the chair. For some reason, she looked back at the door for a moment. ¡°I was¡­concerned about you. I believed something might have happened.¡±


    Clay frowned a little. He hadn¡¯t expected her to worry that much. ¡°No, I¡¯ve just been working. It¡¯s been¡­busy.¡±


    ¡°Yes. So I understand.¡± Olivia looked back at him. Her eyes were startlingly green in the dim light of his house. ¡°One of the baron¡¯s men, Jared, gave thanks in the shrine. He mentioned a Rogue helped the baron in the Sarlwood.¡±


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The implied question was a bit too direct to miss. Clay sighed. He really had messed everything up by heading south, hadn¡¯t he? ¡°Yeah, that was me.¡± He turned to fetch a cup from a nearby water barrel, one that he¡¯d spent an hour or two filling from the well. ¡°I¡¯m not a Rogue, though. Just someone trying to help.¡±


    She accepted the cup, but didn¡¯t drink. Her gaze was still locked onto him, like he was some text written in Old Balois that she was trying to figure out. ¡°You said you were going to kill them. All of them.¡±


    ¡°Well, all the ones I can get to, anyway.¡± He gave her a small smile and then looked around wistfully for some place to sit. Maybe a visit to Adam for some more furniture would not go awry. ¡°There weren¡¯t actually all that many, but I wiped them out after the baron was done with them.¡±


    ¡°You saved him as well.¡± Olivia watched him nod, and then she glanced away. ¡°The Lady Pellsglade was very generous with the shrine; she donated frequently. After illness took her, the baron has continued those donations in her place. Without them, I could not live here. I would be sent away.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± He really needed to find a more interesting way to respond. Clay scratched at the back of his head a moment, feeling every inch the dirt-covered [Laborer] he was. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that won¡¯t change.¡±


    ¡°As am I.¡± She looked back at him, her eyes still sharp. ¡°You¡¯ve been entering the Tanglewood. You¡¯ve been fighting monsters. As a [Commoner].¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Clay studied her, suddenly wary. She always had seemed a little uptight, but now the tension in her frame was almost painful to see. Was she planning on running off to tell the baron, now that she knew? ¡°I¡¯ve been doing my best to protect the town. To make it all safe. For everyone.¡±


    Olivia stared at him a moment longer, a space of time that seemed to stretch on for hours. Then she nodded. ¡°I am going to assist you.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°But you haven¡¯t even reached your Choosing day! There¡¯s no way I can¡ª¡±


    ¡°I will not be entering the forest yet, but I can help in other ways.¡± Olivia drew out a thick sheaf of parchment. From the top page, he could see that almost every single inch of it was covered in her delicate, well-organized writing. ¡°I have translated the entirety of the adventurer¡¯s manual for you. In addition, I have included other notes that I have found in other locations within our library. There were other stories about adventurers that I felt could be given credence, and I have catalogued the techniques and information they used to fight the monsters they encountered.¡±


    Clay stared at that parchment and then looked back at her. The intensity of her stare was almost overwhelming. ¡°I¡ªthank you. The knowledge you¡¯ve already shared has been a great help.¡±


    ¡°In return, I expect you to share what you have already learned.¡± She looked around the house, her eyes almost immediately falling on the hiding place in the wall. ¡°There. Let me see.¡±


    The demand gave him no real option to refuse, short of kicking her out. Clay grunted and stomped over to retrieve the bundle of parchment he¡¯d been scribbling on.


    When he handed it to her, though, she grimaced as if he¡¯d slapped her. ¡°Your penmanship is atrocious. Your drawing is worse.¡± She tapped one picture of an adult mantrap gingerly with one finger. Clay suspected her disgust had as much to do with his artistic talent as with the subject matter. ¡°I will rewrite these so that they are legible. Can you acquire an example of the monsters for me to examine?¡±


    The question was so absurdly ridiculous that Clay burst out laughing before he could help it. He realized his mistake quickly, however, when he saw the red flare up in her cheeks and the anger in her green eyes. ¡°Ah, I haven¡¯t tried it yet. They are pretty dangerous, unfortunately.¡±


    Her lips made a thin line. ¡°I am sure that we can address that in the future.¡± She sorted through the parchment that she had laid on the table, searching for something. ¡°What [Charms] and [Sigils] have you learned?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Olivia gave him a look that made him worry she would box his ears next. ¡°I asked what [Charms] or [Sigils] you¡¯ve learned. You have gained more than one level, have you not?¡±


    Clay stared at her, dumbfounded. ¡°I¡¯m level four, but I haven¡¯t gained anything like a [Charm] or [Sigil] or something. What are they?¡±


    She frowned, turning her attention back to the sheets in front of her. ¡°[Charms] are small incantations that provide temporary magical assistance. [Sigils] provide more permanent effects, though they are more limited in use.¡± Olivia glanced up at him. ¡°The baron is capable of using at least two [Charms] in battle.¡±


    Understanding dawned, and Clay nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah, I saw that during the fight in the Sarlwood. He was throwing bolts of lightning¡­ was that a [Charm]?¡±


    Olivia nodded. ¡°Yes, I believe so.¡± She stopped on another page. ¡°Many adventurer [Classes] gain such things as they level up, especially the more magical ones like [Mage] or [Occultist]. Even some of the others, such as [Dark Knight] or [Paladin] can learn some.¡±


    She sighed and set it aside. ¡°Those [Classes] that don¡¯t have magic often gain [Feats] or [Styles] instead. Have you gained any?¡±


    Clay shook his head again. ¡°No. What are those?¡±


    ¡°[Feats] appear to be special actions they can take on the battlefield, ones that increase their effectiveness temporarily. [Styles] are advantages they enjoy under certain conditions, or with certain equipment. [Fighters] and [Warriors] are known for them.¡± Olivia sat back in her chair with a sigh. ¡°Have you at least been getting an [Experience] for each level? Every [Class] should get one of those each time they advance.¡±


    He grunted. ¡°Two. I¡¯ve been getting two [Experiences] per level.¡±


    Olivia paused. She looked over at him, her brow furrowing. ¡°Every other [Class] has claimed one per level. It is remarkably consistent in the records I¡¯ve found.¡±


    ¡°Well, I get two.¡± Clay leaned against the wall, feeling a bit more confident now. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s what I get instead of these other things?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s lips twisted into a frown. ¡°Perhaps. Have your [Stats] been increasing as well?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The maximum goes up by one in each [Stat] so far.¡±


    ¡°Also curious. Most of other [Classes] increase by two in two [Stats], or by one in the other four at each level. Increasing by one in all six at once¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°Clearly, [Commoner] functions very differently compared to the others. Just as clearly, the magic you will have access to will be limited to [Chants].¡±


    When he gave her a nonplussed stare, she sighed and continued. ¡°[Chants] are magical spells that any [Class] can learn, but they have a higher requirement in terms of [Memory] than [Charms] or [Sigils]. They also require more time to use, but they can still be effective. I assume you¡¯ve been increasing your [Memory] this whole time?¡±


    Clay winced. ¡°Not¡­exactly.¡±


    Olivia seemed to struggle to contain herself for a moment. When she spoke next, it was clear that she remained frustrated. ¡°Your [Experiences] are often related to the actions you¡¯ve taken, and the [Stats] you¡¯ve focused on. It is bad enough that you¡¯re going to be limited to [Chants]; if you don¡¯t prepare yourself to use them, you may never be able to. At all.¡±


    He winced again, recognizing the hole he¡¯d left in his own abilities. Memorization had never been a strong point of his, but he hadn¡¯t realized what that would mean for him as he fought. Then again, he hadn¡¯t even known how magic worked; how would he even gain access to any of these [Chants] in the first place?


    As he opened his mouth to ask, Olivia separated out a smaller bunch of parchment, all covered in many lines of text. ¡°You are to spend time each day memorizing these [Chants]. They are written in Middle Aergen, so I have included pronunciation below each line. Do this until you reach your maximum for [Memory], or until you can remember them well enough to use.¡±


    Clay felt his eyes widen as she handed over the pages. The parchment was covered in line after line of text, both in an unknown script and more familiar half-syllables that told him what to actually say. ¡°H-how many of these [Chants] have you found?¡±


    ¡°Forty-three.¡± Olivia gathered his own notes up and shoved them into a pocket in her cloak. Clay tried not to feel like he had just been mugged and bullied by a girl half his size and six months younger than he was. She stood up and studied him for a moment. ¡°I will be coming to visit you when I can. If you are¡­out, I will stay here and wait for you.¡±


    He nodded slowly. ¡°Are you¡­certain? I don¡¯t know how the village would see things. I mean, I wouldn¡¯t say anything, but¡ª¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face turned slightly red and looked away. Her voice, however, remained determined. ¡°I do not have much reason to care about rumors, traveler. And I refuse to stand by when you might need my help.¡± She paused. ¡°If you care so much about the whispers, then you can come and visit me in town. It is your choice.¡±


    ¡°I see. Thank you.¡± Clay didn¡¯t particularly understand, but at the very least, she was giving him options.


    Olivia stepped towards the door. She paused for a moment, reaching back towards him. For just a moment, her cold veneer fell away. ¡°Clay, be careful. Please.¡±


    The genuine request caught him off guard, but he nodded. ¡°I will. Good fortune go with you.¡±


    ¡°And with you.¡± Olivia went out through the door. Clay stared after her, wondering what was going on. As if monsters and the baron weren¡¯t enough to worry about, he now had her to worry about.


    Then he looked back at the pages left on the table. At the very least, he¡¯d have plenty of reading material at night. He sighed and pulled over the chair so that he could get started.


    The morning after Olivia¡¯s visit, Clay made his way back to the Tanglewood.


    He did not want to commit himself to another twelve hour stretch killing spiders, but he couldn¡¯t afford to ignore the place any longer. If the monsters were continuing to expand, he needed to know, and if there was a way to stop them, he probably would not find it in a future beet field.


    All the same, he spent a good three hours working with the hand plow, turning over the soil in the strip of field he¡¯d cleared. He spent another hour hunting down a few animals to eat later, and another two tending to the rest of the chores around the farm.


    Then, after a short meal, he headed out into the Tanglewood, his axe and spear sharpened and his pouch full of slingstones. He still did not have any new arrows, but those could wait for another time. All he wanted was to see how badly things were going, not slaughter the monsters the way he¡¯d done before.


    To his surprise, the woods were no longer filled with crazed spiders, or at least no longer to the same extent. There were still occasional spiderlings hidden in the ground and the branches, but they weren¡¯t literally everywhere. The adult versions of the things were no longer so immediately present, either. Had they withdrawn, or had the numbers of the things simply run low at last?


    Curiosity drew him further into the woods, tracking the trails left by the spiders and spiderlings. Now that he¡¯d thought about it, he hadn¡¯t ever really pushed far into the Tanglewood; mostly he¡¯d been struggling to hold the ground closest to his home. If the monsters were coming from a Lair, he¡¯d need to find a way to it if he had any chance of stopping things, eventually.


    With that in mind, Clay carefully made his way east, following the trails left by the spiders. As he did, the surrounding forest seemed to shift. The Tanglewood in general was eerily quiet and void of life, but as he pushed deeper into it, the trees themselves seemed to change. They grew crooked, and the bark started to show signs of damage. Parts of the wood grew black and cancerous, as if something had eaten at them, while other sections showed the claw marks of spider legs. It did not bode well for the terrain ahead.


    The ground ahead turned uphill, and Clay cautiously crept up the incline. Despite pausing occasionally to deal with an overambitious spiderling, he saw no real signs of danger. He would have expected to see more and more spiders the closer he got to the center; had they really sent so many of their numbers out to fight him? It seemed strange.


    When he reached the top of the hill, Clay paused to take a moment to recover. He looked around the woods again, still wary about the apparent lack of enemies. Where were the mature spiders hiding?


    He peered ahead and found that the trees and undergrowth were thick enough to prevent him from seeing much of anything. Clay grunted in frustration and then looked at one of the larger trees nearby. It was a tall oak, with branches that stretched high above the others. His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he started to climb.


    A short time later, Clay was finally up above the rest of the canopy. He looked out over the Tanglewood, which spread out around him in all directions. When he looked back toward home, he thought he could see the break in the woods where his own farmhouse stood, and the living Smallgroves beyond that.


    Then he turned his attention to the east, and his breath caught in his throat.


    The trees of the Tanglewood spread out through a valley surrounded by other, lower hills. He saw no birds flying above them, or beasts moving under them.


    All he saw were the spiders.


    It was subtle at first. There were occasional trees that seemed dead, stripped of leaves despite the warmth of summer. Streamers of spiderweb hung from the bare branches, moving slightly in the breeze. Other, taller trees seemed less damaged, but they also seemed thicker, as if they were covered in strange growths. When he looked closer, he thought he could see those things moving, and he shuddered as he pictured a gathered pack of troll spiders, brooding beneath the sheltering branches.


    Deeper into the valley, however, things grew worse. Far worse. The trees grew more and more dead, their branches liberally covered in spiderwebs. The tallest trees were just as affected, and their upper branches seemed to crawl and writhe with foul shapes. Clay shuddered as he pictured the monsters that would be waiting there and then forced himself to look past them.


    At the center of the valley, surrounded by dead trees and monsters, was a single, solitary tower. The forest around it had completely died; nothing but bare ground covered in webbing remained. He thought he might be able to see buildings, ruins of some kind beneath the layers of webbing, but he couldn¡¯t be sure.


    The tower rose above the canopies of webs, clearly just as dilapidated as his own farmhouse had been. Its square roof had partially collapsed, and every window was either vacant or filled with yet more webbing. As he watched, a massive leg stretched out over one of the upper balconies, glistening in the sun. Something about the place seemed wrong in a way that he couldn¡¯t quite define.


    It was the Lair, he realized, the source of where the monsters of the Tanglewood originated. His heart clenched at the thought. How was he supposed to get close enough to destroy all of that? There had to be dozens, if not hundreds, of monsters down there. He¡¯d be fighting on their territory, not luring them out to be killed. If the manual had been right about how elder mantraps worked, they would have disguised tunnels everywhere. Many openings would be buried beneath layers of webbing that were sure to ensnare him as well. He wasn¡¯t even sure if the elder versions of the things were down there¡­


    The wind rose for a moment, and the leaves of the Tanglewood moved and shifted beneath him. Clay stopped thinking for a moment as he looked down on the valley, and his horror grew by leaps and bounds. His occasional inability to track the troll spiders became completely justified as he saw dozens of them simply lift from their trees a moment later, their spindly forms gently floating away on sheets of webbing that let them glide over the treetops. They vanished when they landed, scuttling down into the trees to either find a new perch to fly from, or a prey to strike.


    Clay glanced nervously around at his own tree. The ones that had drifted down into the Tanglewood nearest his home had probably even used this very tree to glide down at him. How could he track a monster that could fly?


    Then the wind strengthened, and his horror only grew. Down around the tower, and on the tallest trees in the middle of the dead lands, true monsters drifted. They were gigantic things, floating upward on webs that seemed to bulge and strain under their weight. Each one''s body alone seemed as big as a horse; their legs stretched quite a bit further than that. As he watched, some of them abruptly cut the cords binding them to their airborne webs, plunging to strike at something below the leaves. He thought he could hear screams as some spiders beneath met their end.


    He pulled back slightly, feeling a sudden chill. Clay had known that pushing deeper into the Tanglewood was going to be dangerous; it would have been foolish to expect anything else. Seeing the reality of what lay ahead of him was an entirely different thing, however. His tracking skill would help him find burrows and avoid minor ambushes, but how would he track a monster that struck from the sky? Concealing himself as he approached might help him ambush a mantrap or disguise a trap, but how would he do that in a place literally covered in webs? Every idea he considered led to a monster descending on him, or exploding out of the ground to take him just as easily as he had taken their lesser brethren.


    Clay shook himself. He¡¯d known the forest was dangerous when he started, and he had seen terrible dangers before. He couldn¡¯t allow himself to be shaken from his purpose now. Or did he want Pellsglade to look the same as this forgotten place? The buildings of the village would be just as hidden by that canopy of webs; a vision of the shrine and the Choosing Stone wrapped by those fibers made him shiver.


    His determination renewed, Clay turned his attention back to the closer areas to him, the ones where the webbed trees and troll spider launching points were fewer. If he couldn¡¯t expect to strike at the elders yet, then at the very least he could thin the ranks of the mature spiders. The more of them he killed, the easier the path to the Lair would be. It might even help him think of how to kill off the larger monsters as well once he grew used to the mature spiders¡¯ tricks and traps. Then, once he had killed enough of them to provide him with experience, he could forge ahead.


    Clinging to that fragile hope, Clay watched the patterns of the troll spiders, noting where they were gliding and where their starting points were. He also tried to notice where each of the dead trees was located; they had to be the center of mature mantrap burrows. He tasked himself with bringing a bit of parchment next time; a map of the valley and where those threats could be found would prove useful in the future, he was sure.


    Then, fixing at least a handful of those sites in his mind, he descended the tree and started on his way again. There was only so much daylight left, and he needed to be back home before dinner. That idle thought nearly made him laugh himself to tears as he descended the hill into the valley of monsters, hunting them in their homes.

 B1Ch12: Valley of Spiders

    It seemed like forever before he reached the first of the mantrap burrows.


    He saw the first burrow entrance well before the webbed tree came into sight. It was well concealed, hidden above a small pile of rocks in a slight rise above the rest of the ground. Clay almost smirked when he saw it.


    Then he sternly reminded himself of what the manual had said. These were not spiderlings he was dealing with. If the adult versions had better speed, armor, and strength, he would need to anticipate more cleverness in their traps as well.


    Clay went to one knee to study the ground, and almost immediately felt a burst of gratitude for his caution. Layered in front of the burrow entrance, hidden just below the mass of dead leaves and twigs, there was a web. It was spread across a good part of the ground, nearly invisible threads stitched across the dirt in some pattern his eyes refused to follow completely. He traced its source back to the entrance of the burrow, and he felt a sudden hint of realization. If he had stepped onto the web, the mantrap could have sensed him that much easier. More than that, if the web was sticky at all, it could yank his feet out from under him even as it leaped in for the kill.


    Examining the ground cautiously, he tried to make his way around the web. Coming at the thing from behind would be the best option, just as it was for the smaller ones. All he had to do was¡­


    His thoughts came to a slithering halt as he caught sight of another web. It had been spread all around another disguised burrow hole, this time centered directly above and behind the first one. If he had attacked the mantrap the same way, he would have the spiderlings, he would have been caught almost completely by surprise.


    He eyed the second hole a bit more closely. Would the spider have attacked from the hole, or would the cover have simply collapsed and pulled him into a pit? The hole looked big enough, and if he remembered right, the manual had mentioned pitfalls. Clay momentarily pictured himself falling in up to his waist, while the mantrap spider waited for him underground. It was not the most comfortable thing to imagine.


    Clay considered the problem for a few more moments. He knew he could just bypass the monster, and look for a new way to get further into the forest. The problem was, he knew these spiders could occasionally come out of their burrows and hunt on their own. If he ignored the thing, and it started to hunt him down while he was dealing with a problem further in¡­


    No, it would be better to find out a way to kill it now, rather than worry about having it at his back.


    As he thought over the problem, Clay picked out other burrows nearby. Some of them seemed to be pits; others were the usual traps, with the additional webs and size. They formed a rough circle, drawing his attention towards the center.


    Carefully maneuvering past those spots, he moved a bit further in until the tree came into view.


    Whatever the mantrap had done, it had killed the tree that had lived above its central burrow. Spiderweb was draped across the bare branches, though the blackened trunk remained standing somehow. He wondered if the spider had somehow managed to fend off decay simply by draining the life from anything that would have fed on the tree, and then shook his head.


    As he studied the tree, it occurred to him that there was a contradiction here. The mantraps were subtle in their burrows; every instinct of theirs appeared to be oriented towards ambush and surprise. Armored as they were, they preferred disguise, misdirection, and a single definitive strike rather than an upfront confrontation.


    Why would its home be so obvious then? Was it depending on enemies being so distracted by the webs that they stepped in front of another trap?


    Clay looked around, seeing all the different traps that surrounded him. It all belonged to a single mantrap, right? How could they make sure they were at the right entrance when a victim approached? Could they sense the footsteps from that far away? Were they counting on good fortune to see them to the right place at the right time?


    He frowned, still thinking it through. The spiderlings he¡¯d ambushed and killed had always been solitary, as had the adult spiders that he¡¯d trapped and slain closer to home. Yet that didn¡¯t mean they always worked on their own. In fact, he remembered some cases where the mantraps had worked together, especially to fight troll spiderlings that wanted a piece of the same kill.


    What if the adult spiders worked together regularly? Even a monster would have to rest occasionally, and when they did, they could be vulnerable to predators. Not people, probably, but adventurers and troll spiders, certainly.


    He looked over the webbed tree again, trying to see it as the mantraps would. They could count on other adults to trap prey, but if there was a central spot for them to rest, they might gather in one place. A place where they could lay out extra webs to detect possible intruders and predators that would descend on them from above. A troll spider wanting to kill a sleeping mantrap would find itself snared by the tree, to be killed at the leisure of their former prey. An alert spider could detect anything approaching on the ground and warn the others to surround and attack the victim.


    How did the spiders talk, though? If one was all the way out at the edge of the field of traps, how would it communicate with the others? He¡¯d never heard one speak, or make any noise aside from death scream-coughs. Yet they had to¡ª


    Clay saw the webs on the tree twitch slightly when there was no breeze to move it, and he went still.


    If they had drawn webs throughout the tunnels of their burrows, they could tug on one as a signal to the others. The webs around the trap holes might not even have been snares; they might just link back to the webbed tree in the center, letting the monsters in the middle know that someone was treading on their domain. One tug, and the whole mantrap nest could be alerted and moving through the burrow¡¯s tunnels, heading into position to attack.


    Had they sensed him already? Were they just waiting for him to move closer to a trap he hadn¡¯t seen? Clay looked around at the spots he had already noticed, feeling a creeping sense of dread as he recognized just how many holes there were. For all he knew, they could have already surrounded him. How long would they wait before they just attacked?


    It was then that he noticed that none of the burrows were beneath a tree. They were all in wide-open spaces, where there was some distance between the roots. He smiled and started to stalk over toward one of the trees.


    The mantraps stayed away from the rest of the trees so that a troll spider couldn¡¯t trigger their trap and then strike them from above and behind. Clay didn¡¯t think the mantraps could climb trees, either; perhaps their armor made them too heavy. That fact meant they would hate putting their traps where the troll spiders could use the terrain against them, which meant they would hate the idea of their traps being ruined by an intruder. If their camouflage failed, then a troll spider could see them from the air and attack them, especially if it was an elder.


    He glanced upward, reminding himself to be cautious of that threat, and then focused back on his plan. With his back to the tree, he might be able to convince the nest to attack him head on. With his bonuses and a fresh set of weapons, Clay thought he¡¯d be able to handle at least a few of them. Hopefully, an entire army of the things wasn¡¯t waiting for him beneath the ground¡ªbut it would be better to find out now rather than later.


    Clay waited until he was confident that there were only three trap holes in sight. If they came at him from behind, they¡¯d have to go around the tree, which gave him more time. Now was as good a time as any.


    He held his spear in one hand and then spun up his sling. A moment later, he let fly. The slingstone shot straight towards the closest trap door.


    There was a frozen moment of surprise as the stone embedded itself in the disguised covering for the door. Then the entire forest floor seemed to come alive.


    All three of the doors he could see abruptly flew open, and an adult mantrap spider flew out of each. Clay responded by lunging towards the closest one, his boar spear outstretched. The point caught the spider in the middle of its fanged maw; its cough-scream cut off with satisfying suddenness.


    Clay pivoted, drawing his axe. He caught the spider to his right with a glancing hit that claimed two of its legs. The spider spun in midair, landing in the leaves on its back. As it thrashed, he heard another heavy body landing in the dirt behind him¡ªthe third spider landing as it tried to come around the twitching body of the first. He brought the axe down on the unprotected belly of the second spider even as he freed the spear with a twist and a yank.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain!}


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain!}


    Clay abandoned his axe and spun, bringing his spear around in a sweeping motion. It caught the third spider as it jumped at him. The blow snapped half its legs and knocked it flying into a bush to the left.


    Which left a clear pass for the fourth spider to leap at him as it finished clearing the tree.


    With a frantic yell, Clay jumped backwards. His feet caught on the twitching corpse of the second spider. He fell back, bringing the point of his spear up and into the belly of the spider. It thrashed, lashing out with its spiked limbs as it fought to reach him with its fangs. The crossguard on his spear kept it from forcing its way down to him, but he could look up and see the nauseating mandibles work at the air between them.


    His muscles filling with power, he shouted as he levered the monster up and away from him, as if he was pitching a pile of hay back and over himself. It cough-squealed, a few of its limbs leaving painful scratches on his arms, and then hit on its back behind him.


    The instant he felt the weight leave his spear, Clay twisted in the dirt like a snake. Both spiders were flailing about on their backs. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, his boots scrambling underneath him as he started a sprint forward. As the spider ahead of him tried to right itself, still bleeding ichor from its belly, he brought the spear up and over his head. An overhead stab caught it in the belly again, and this time he wrenched it back and forth.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain!}


    A short distance away, the last spider had managed to flip itself right side up. The thing tried to leap at him, but with so many legs broken it barely got out of the bush. Clay yanked his spear free and put a spear thrust through one of its eyes. With a second thrust, he put the spear right through the back of its neck. There was a sickening crunch.


    {Mature Mantrap Spider slain!}


    {Insight increases by 1! Valor increases by 1!}


    Clay leaned on the spear haft for a moment, breathing hard. The scratches on his arms stung, but he could feel [Determined] already working away at the wounds. He grimaced and pulled the spear free. Four mature mantrap spiders, at the cost of a handful of minutes. Even better, he had cleared at least one nest between him and the Lair.


    All in all, it was a good start.


    Clay left the corpses of the mantraps behind. He didn¡¯t know if they would lure the elder monsters or not, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out.


    He wanted to take a pass at one of the troll spider areas, but with bleeding wounds and a limited amount of time, he decided it would be a better idea to pull back and come back on the following day. Perhaps by then he¡¯d be able to come up with a way to handle them, or to deal with the elder spiders.


    On his way back, he noticed that a corpse from a mantrap spiderling he¡¯d killed was still present. That fact gave him pause for a moment, and he examined the surrounding terrain closely. Were they leaving the bodies out now as bait for him?


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    There were no signs of spiders in the branches or traces of fresh burrows. No evidence that any of the monsters had been anywhere close to the spot. Wary, Clay skirted the area and continued forward.


    He made it another few strides before he saw another body, this time of a dead troll spiderling. Once again, it lay completely undisturbed. Clay watched it for a minute and then continued on. Something was wrong.


    By the time he¡¯d found the fourth spiderling corpse, he realized what was happening.


    He was winning.


    They had learned not to come for the bodies, at least not in this part of the forest. He had killed the ones brave enough to do it. Any spiders left were either too cautious, or had learned to be more discreet. Only the younger ones, the spiderlings, would dare make their way to this part of the Tanglewood. To his territory.


    It was hard not to whistle a jaunty tune the rest of the way back home. Even the mantrap spiderling that tried to latch onto his leg a few minutes later¡ªearning itself a smashing hit from the spear¡ªdidn¡¯t erase the smile. He was winning.


    {Memory increases by 1!}


    Clay slumped slightly, feeling a wave of relief. He¡¯d spent the past hour trying to go over the pages that Olivia had left him, and his entire mind seemed to be full of fuzz now.


    It was like the words of the [Chants] hated being remembered. Every phrase and syllable seemed to squirm and fight, trying to deny him the chance to hold onto it. Even with all the work he¡¯d put into it, he still wasn¡¯t able to remember anything from the [Chants] for more than a half hour. The single point of [Memory] he¡¯d just gained was the only benefit he¡¯d really gotten out of the whole thing.


    He sighed and put his head on the table for a moment. Even with all the work he¡¯d put in that day¡ªfrom the farmwork, to the hunt, to the attack on the spider nest¡ªhe still wasn¡¯t as tired as he should have been. Part of it was the benefits from [Determined] and [Laborer], another part was the fact that his increased [Stats] made the work far easier than it would have been otherwise. His scratches were even healing faster; it almost looked like the holes in his tunic were going to take longer to mend.


    Unfortunately, none of that really helped with the work he was doing now. The number of [Chants] were just enough to make the effort non-repetitive, and he didn¡¯t have a clear idea of what he was even trying to learn. Olivia hadn¡¯t actually translated any of the ancient text for him; she¡¯d just provided the pronunciation. What if he accidentally fired off a spell that burned down his house?


    At least his stubborn lack of progress meant he wasn¡¯t likely to have that problem.


    With a sigh, he pushed the parchment to the far side of the table, and then picked up the scrap he had been using to sketch out a rough map of the valley. He was using a bit of charcoal for the work; he¡¯d likely have to rub out what he had and correct it as things changed. The more times he went to look, the better an idea he would have of what the path to the Lair looked like.


    He studied the rough sketch he¡¯d made, tracing his fingers across where he¡¯d marked the location of the tower in the center. What had the place been, before the spiders had taken it? Could a Lair form anywhere, or were there conditions that would lead to the monsters arriving? Maybe he could ask Olivia the next time she visited.


    With another heavy sigh, he turned back to the [Chants]. He¡¯d tried at least eighteen. Just twenty-five more to go.


    Clay reached the top of what he was now calling Scout¡¯s Hill early that next afternoon.


    The valley looked much the same as it had the day before. He peered out over the area, and then did his best to sketch out the details he¡¯d missed on his map. Marks for each webbed tree and spider perch were soon scattered all over the map. They gathered in even larger groups as they grew closer to the tower, which he was careful to mark clearly.


    Even as he finished with it, something made him look up at the other hills that surrounded the valley. When he did, Clay noticed webbed trees and spider perches on them as well. How had he missed them before? Was the Lair actually in the valley, or did the corruption extend beyond this part of the Tanglewood? He guessed there was only one way to find out.


    He made for the nearest spider perch he had seen.


    Attacking the troll spiders was going to be a little more complicated than the mantrap spiders. While the mantrap nest had been tricky, he¡¯d still been able to choose when the fight started. The troll spiders had much better eyesight, and a disturbing tendency to roam; he couldn¡¯t be sure that they would stay in their tree and wait for him.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t about to give up the chance to put an end to more monsters today. His scratches were already healed, and he¡¯d spent a good part of the morning stitching his clothes. Hopefully, these monsters wouldn¡¯t leave behind any more damage than the mantraps had.


    Approaching the tree was a little risky. Unlike the webbed tree, the perch was located on a small rise, and the tree itself was much taller than the rest of the surrounding vegetation. The top of the tree was half-concealed by the leaves of its neighbors, which was both good and bad. Clay welcomed the chance to slip closer unnoticed, but it would make it harder to see if the spiders were coming for him.


    Fortunately, it appeared that they hadn¡¯t noticed him yet. He could see four of them, hanging like terrible fruit from the uppermost branches. They clung to the tree with two limbs, while their spinners and rear limbs were busy weaving the curious sheets that they apparently used to glide. There was a brief gust of wind; the spiders rocked back and forth, momentarily tense, and then resumed their work.


    Clay had held his breath, wondering if they would float away with the wind. When they stayed, he started breathing again. He ducked back behind a tree trunk, his mind filling with ideas now that he¡¯d seen the perch up close.


    Obviously, running in close so the spiders could drop right on his head wasn¡¯t a brilliant plan. The troll spiders didn¡¯t seem to be worried about an attack at all, actually; their main foes, the mantraps, probably couldn¡¯t reach them hanging up there. It was probably another reason that they didn¡¯t mind having the other trees so close and unpruned; more branches just gave the spiders more space to sneak up on their prey and pounce on them.


    Paranoia made Clay glance up. The current lack of fanged maw and spindly limbs reassured him for a bit.


    Out in the wild, he¡¯d been able to use the trees to drop on them from above, where they hadn¡¯t been expecting it. That tactic wasn¡¯t a possibility here; not when the perch towered over the surrounding area. Fortunately, he hadn¡¯t just spent the morning plowing, hunting, and eating. Nor had he wasted the chance a handful of spiderlings had given him on the way in. To that end, he set aside his boar spear and took up a small bag he¡¯d carried this far.


    Moving quietly, Clay climbed the tree he was hiding behind. He made sure not to slip as he found hand and footholds in the bark. Before long, he was standing securely on a thick tree branch, one that gave him a relatively clear view of the spiders and their perch. Once he was there, he carefully began removing the hand-whittled javelins from the bag. There were six of them, and he made a special effort to stay away from the dark liquid that stained the tips.


    Taking up three of the javelins, he tied the bag back onto his back. Then he leaned out, hefting the first javelin and trying to judge the angle and the distance.


    Then he hurled the first javelin at the closest troll spider as hard as he could.


    He missed. The javelin sped by the thing and out into the forest, vanishing over the treetops. Clay bit back a curse, grabbed the second javelin, and threw it before the spiders could respond. This one struck true, burying itself in the monster¡¯s belly as it swiveled to stare at where the first javelin had gone.


    The spider screamed, that same ear-searing noise that drilled down into his mind. Clay ignored it and lined up another javelin on a second spider. He hit it squarely, burying the projectile just behind its right forelimb. Its scream joined the first spider, and he ducked back behind the tree to fish out a fourth javelin.


    As he did, the spiders began to move. All four of them swung out from the perch, dropping into the canopy of the rest of the branches. They skittered forward, their long limbs finding easy purchase on the swaying branches of the surrounding trees. Clay chucked the last javelin, scoring a passing hit on another spider, and then dropped from the branch. He hit the dirt, staggering a little, and then grabbed his boar spear.


    He turned and backed away from the tree he¡¯d just left, hearing the three spiders he¡¯d hit scream at him from above the treetops. The branches overhead shook and rustled as they moved. Clay figured he had only a few more moments before they were on him. Hoping that his plan hadn¡¯t completely failed, he searched the treetops for the spider he hadn¡¯t hit with a javelin, and braced himself for the attack.


    A heartbeat later, he heard a spider come crashing down through the branches. One of the screams faded and became a choking warble. Clay grinned and took another step back. Maybe he just needed to give them a little more time.


    A moment later, his hopes were rewarded as the second spider came crashing through the leaves and smashed into the forest floor alongside its friend. Clay ignored the two thrashing spiders and looked up just as the untouched monster swung down through the branches towards him, its limbs already extended and ready to engulf him in a net of webbing.


    He hurled the boar spear immediately, hitting it at point blank range. The spear tore it from the treetops, catapulting it backwards and away from him. It didn¡¯t even have time to scream before death took it, and its corpse was left twitching in the branches.


    {Mature Troll Spider slain!}


    Clay¡¯s smile abruptly vanished when he realized that the last troll spider was still coming at him. It sat directly over him, its fangs glistening and its net already prepared for him. Time seemed to slow down as he watched the thing gather its back legs behind it, preparing to leap.


    Then one of its limbs missed a branch. It scrabbled to regain its hold, but another limb slipped from where it had latched on. Clay backed away slowly, trying to give his plan the time it needed to run its course. His hand dropped to the axe at his hip. He doubted he was going to get the chance to use it, but it would be better than nothing.


    The troll spider¡¯s eyes grew unfocused, and its limbs were refusing to coordinate effectively. His heart beat faster as it skittered back and forth in confusion, with more and more of its legs beginning to jerk erratically.


    Then it abruptly lurched forward and fell out of the tree. It landed with a crunch at Clay¡¯s feet, its limbs tangling and snapping as it tried to roll. Behind him, one of the other spiders gave a wet coughing noise and went still.


    {Mature Troll Spider slain!}


    Grimacing, Clay stepped forward. He dodged a little to one side as an erratic limb flailed at him and then chopped it off in a single swing. The spider tried to scream, and he buried the axe in its head twice. It fell silent just as its last companion breathed its last.


    {Mature Troll Spider slain!}


    {Mature Troll Spider slain!}


    {Insight increases by 1!}


    Clay glanced up at his boar spear, still lodged in the spider that hung from the branches. He sighed. At least he had been right about the fact that the troll spiders were vulnerable to mantrap venom. Tipping the javelins in the liquid had not been easy, but it had been worth it. Arrows would make it that much easier, but for an opening salvo, the handmade poison javelins would do rather well. Perhaps they¡¯d even work against the even larger versions.


    Another batch of monsters was dead, and another barrier cleared. Perhaps he¡¯d find a way to reach the Lair soon, at this rate.


    In the distance, he heard something scream. He paused and then climbed to recover his spear. Maybe some arrows would be a good idea.


    ¡°So? How have the [Chants] been going? Have you been able to get any of them to work?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s enthusiasm was at the edge of breaking through her impassive mask. She had welcomed him to the shrine as she always had, and then ushered him back to the library with almost indecent eagerness. Now she was staring at him in borderline impatience.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t gotten any of them to work yet.¡± He held up his hands in defense. ¡°My [Memory] is increasing though. Maybe I just need a bit higher level in that, and then they¡¯ll start working.¡±


    She frowned. ¡°I suppose.¡±


    Clay raised an eyebrow at her as she rummaged through her papers. ¡°Why is this so important to you? I appreciate the help, but¡­¡±


    The novice glanced at him and then looked back to her work. ¡°Very few people gain a [Class] other than [Commoner]. The number is startlingly low; barely more than one in fifty.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡±


    ¡°There is the possibility that I will receive a [Class] similar to [Calculator] or [Alchemist]. [Oracle] or [Mystic] are other prospects, given my nature and tendencies.¡± She paused. ¡°All the same, the overwhelming likelihood is that I will be a [Commoner] when I go through my Choosing. If that is the case, then my life will be constrained to follow the same path I always have. My course will be only what is expected. I¡¯ll have the chance to peruse the books and stories of others while I grow old and frail inside of this shrine, or another just like it.¡±


    Olivia looked up, and burning determination filled her green eyes. ¡°I want to know magic, Clay. I want to know what it can do, and I want to know how it feels to use it. If I¡¯m a [Commoner]¡­¡±


    ¡°Then the only magic you have is going to be [Chants], and only the ones that I can use.¡± He nodded slowly. Then he grinned. ¡°I get it. So I¡¯m your experiment then?¡±


    Her face turned a bit red, and she bent a little lower over the parchment. ¡°I prefer to think of you as a partner. The [Chants] would be useful to you as well, would they not?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± Clay patted her on the shoulder. ¡°Though they would probably be more useful if I knew what they were supposed to do. I¡¯m not going to end up blasting lightning across the room on accident, am I?¡±


    Her blush deepened a little. She glanced at him briefly. ¡°I apologize. I don¡¯t know exactly what each of them does, but I can tell you the ones I do know.¡±


    Clay smiled. ¡°Thanks. I would appreciate it.¡± He handed over the sheaf of parchment, which she took from him quietly.


    ¡°This one is called the Spontaneous Spark. They used it for lighting campfires. This one¡­ the Heart¡¯s Light. It provides a source of light that doesn¡¯t give off heat¡­¡±


    ¡°You want what?¡± Carla, the old fletcher in Pellsglade, stared at him in surprise. Her gnarled hands had been fiddling with an arrow, but now she ignored it to study him.


    ¡°If it helps, I want some plain old broadhead arrows too.¡± Clay smiled.


    Carla shook her head. ¡°Now I¡¯m seeing what Adam was talking about. You really are a bug under his skin, making such strange requests, you know that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be such a bother. Just looking for some help is all.¡±


    The fletcher shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t mind nearly as much as that old coin grabber.¡± She cackled and tossed the arrow aside. ¡°He¡¯s gotten way too used to knowing everything and everyone well enough to predict every last detail. It gets on the nerves, at times. Throwing him off is a gift to the rest of us, gods know.¡±


    Then she settled back. ¡°Still, you have my curiosity. Most people want arrows that have heads of some kind attached, after all. What are you planning on using them for?¡±


    ¡°Just a bit of target practice.¡± He smiled.


    ¡°That might be better if you had arrows that wouldn¡¯t break on impact.¡± She rubbed her chin a little, her eyes calculating. ¡°It can¡¯t be for hunting. You¡¯d be picking the wood fragments out of your teeth while you eat.¡±


    Clay sighed. ¡°Trust me, I¡¯m not planning on eating what I shoot with these.¡± He shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s just been some vermin around the house. They¡¯re too quick for the sling, but I don¡¯t want to waste a broadhead on it. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Ah, rat hunting. I see.¡± There was some skepticism in the fletcher¡¯s eyes, but she shrugged it away. ¡°I can give you six for a copper. Broadheads cost double that.¡±

 B1Ch13: Power and Predators

    By the time Clay reached home, he was the proud new owner of eighteen wooden arrows and twelve broadhead shafts. He figured it would be enough for what he had planned over the next few weeks; if not, he was probably going to have worse problems than simple arrows.


    He found his father waiting for him on the front step. Sam waved to him, and Clay waved back in surprise. When he got close, Sam stood up and came across the field to meet him. ¡°Nice work on the field! It still looks a little rough, but you might have enough room to not starve this winter.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comforting.¡± Clay gave him a grin, and then gestured to the partially plowed field. ¡°I was thinking beets, maybe. At least to start out with. What do you think, [Farmer]?¡±


    Sam grinned and then turned to look back at the field. ¡°Beets should do well here. You might need to plant a bit more than I would, but you¡¯ll have enough if you keep up this pace.¡±


    Clay nodded. As a [Farmer], his father had an inherent advantage when it came to convincing plants to grow. He had no doubt that more of his crop would die the first year than had ever gone bad on Sam¡¯s farm. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to get as much space for it as possible, then.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will.¡± Sam¡¯s smile faded a little. He glanced back at Clay and then looked back over the field. He folded his arms and rocked back on his heels a little. ¡°You should be able to make it just fine if you keep focused. Just work steadily on it, and everything will be fine.¡±


    There was an odd note to his words that put Clay immediately on alert. He tried to peer at his father without being too obvious about his concern. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll be sure to keep at it.¡±


    An uncomfortable silence fell as both of them looked over the field. Clay felt his own fears rise as it went on. Had his father heard about the rumors from the baron¡¯s men? Did he suspect what Clay had been doing the past few weeks? What would he say if he did? Would he be proud? Angry? Would he forbid him from continuing? Would his mother know?


    The moment passed. Sam looked back at him with a smile. ¡°Well? Will and the others helped me get a little ahead on our own place. Would you like some help out here?¡±


    The offer caught Clay almost completely off balance, not least because the chores on a farm were never completely done. His father must have been worried about things, and there was no way he was going to turn it down. Not with the way the fields were looking. He smiled. ¡°Sure! A real [Farmer] showing me how it¡¯s done? How could I say no?¡±


    Farm work consumed the rest of the day. Sam Evergreen had the kind of will to work that would have put any [Laborer] to shame. By the time everything was finished, they had plowed the field and cleared another solid section of weeds and thorns. Sam had even helped him pull a trio of stumps out of the ground.


    In the end, Sam was grinning at the fields in personal satisfaction. ¡°Not a bad job, if I say so myself.¡±


    ¡°Glad we did well.¡± Clay stretched a little, feeling something in his back pop. How did he have a higher [Might] and [Fortitude], but still felt more tired than his dad? ¡°Thanks for the help. I¡¯ll let you know when I am ready to start planting.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to it.¡± Sam looked closely at him, his expression suddenly serious. ¡°I¡¯m here to help, son. With whatever you need. All right?¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Dad.¡± He shook Sam¡¯s hand, and then his father turned away, heading along the road to his own farm. Clay watched him go for a while and then headed into the house. He still had the [Chants] to practice, and a busy day tomorrow.


    The next few days became a new pattern, one that felt both comforting and frustrating.


    Clay spent his mornings expanding the amount of fields he had plowed, and cutting down still more of the sablethorn infesting the rest of the fields. His only break from it was a quick hunting trip in the Smallgroves, which netted him the occasional bit of meat for his meals.


    Once he had finished with his midday meal, he made his way through the Tanglewood to Scout¡¯s Hill. There, he spent some time studying the movements of the monsters in the valley below. Day by day, his map of the area around the Lair grew more and more detailed. It quickly got to the point where he could picture the place easily, complete with the route that the elder troll spiders followed as they drifted around the forest.


    There was a pattern to it; the manual had claimed they patrolled the Lair, and so far, it was correct.


    What the manual had missed was the fact that the elder trolls didn¡¯t need wind to fly. He saw them leap into the sky, their sheets of webbing prepared as they flew far higher than anything that size could. Yet they still managed it, their too-long legs trailing below them as they launched themselves into the sky. Then they let their sheet catch the wind, hanging below them like a seed pod from a tree of nightmares. They seemed to be able to direct their flight as well, gliding wherever they wanted, regardless of the wind.


    Of the elder mantraps, he saw no sign. He wondered if they were simply more stationary, waiting beneath the webs that shrouded the area around the Lair. If so, he¡¯d need to get closer to deal with them, but that would be dangerous so long as the elder troll spiders were patrolling the air above.


    So, to get any closer, he needed to take down the airborne threat first.


    In the meantime, he observed the area each day, and then descended into the valley to strike at the nests and perches. He cleared them out, one at a time, and left the corpses to decorate the ground. His makeshift poisoned javelins made for a more and more effective weapon against the adult troll spiders, and the mantrap spiders supplied him with everything he needed.


    As time went on, he grew more and more used to dealing with the monsters in groups. The way they moved, the way they cooperated; it all seemed to grow clearer with each attack. At the same time, he wasn¡¯t growing at all. He received no Soul for any of those kills, and as used to killing them as he was getting, he wouldn¡¯t get any more strength than he already had.


    Each evening he made his way back home and settled in to study the [Chants] again. Truthfully, the increase in [Memory] was one of the few things that showed progress over those days.


    At least that was the case until he staggered through the pronunciation of the [Chant] of Heart¡¯s Light and saw a glow blooming from his fingertips.


    ¡°Say it again.¡±


    Clay complied, and the light appeared again. Olivia¡¯s eyes locked onto that glow as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. When Clay relaxed his focus, the light faded, but she still stared at where it had been.


    Eventually, Olivia turned her attention back to him. ¡°How strong is your [Memory]?¡±


    ¡°Sixteen.¡± Clay let his hand fall. Her brow furrowed, and he shrugged. ¡°Not all of them work. I think [Commoners] have always been performing some of them. The Rector is one, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    She nodded slowly. ¡°The Choosing. You think that is a [Chant] as well?¡±


    ¡°Once I practiced enough, I started to recognize some of the words he was muttering during the ceremony. There are probably a few others in there as well.¡± Clay pushed himself away from the wall. ¡°I¡¯ve only been able to make three of those work, though. The rest must need a higher amount of [Memory]. I¡¯ll keep working at it until they are within reach.¡±


    Olivia nodded again. ¡°Thank you. The more we know¡­¡±


    Her words faded away, and she began staring at something he couldn¡¯t see again. Clay smiled a little. He tapped the table, and her attention came back to him again. ¡°Were you able to find anything about Lairs? How they form, how we can destroy them?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, I found¡ªsome things.¡± Olivia took out a bundle of parchment, all covered in her familiar writing. She seemed to have trouble focusing on the pages, however. ¡°A Lair is normally formed by unusual circumstances. A ritual spell gone wrong, an ancient atrocity, sometimes due to magical experimentation.¡±


    Clay folded his arms. ¡°So they don¡¯t just come from nowhere.¡±


    ¡°No. In fact, the most usual place to find one is in some musty old cave used by an outlaw [Mage] or [Occultist], or a Wizard¡¯s Tower.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°A Wizard¡¯s Tower? Those are real?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. The adventurer¡¯s manual talked about them frequently.¡± She traced her finger along a line on one page. ¡°¡¯To find a Wizard is to find a seed of corruption. To find their Towers is to find a future Lair of evil.¡¯ That sort of thing.¡±


    Clay remembered the tower at the center of the valley. It had seemed so plain; surely a Wizard¡¯s Tower would be something grander than that? ¡°So if they happen by accident, how do we destroy one? Do we have to kill every single monster it spawns?¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s usually not possible.¡± Olivia shook her head. ¡°If enough monsters die, the Curse that created the Lair may simply change tactics, or spend some of its power to spawn even more. Sometimes it may even go dormant, hiding until the danger is past and then returning when it feels the land is vulnerable again.¡±


    None of those sounded like desirable situations. ¡°So, how do we kill it? Is it even possible?¡±


    ¡°It is, but it requires a particular spell.¡± She turned to a new page in her stack. ¡°¡¯And Ulron son of Ull cast the Curse back to whence it came with words of power and light.¡¯ It sounds as if there may be a specific [Chant] that is required to finish destroying a Lair.¡±


    Clay looked back at the stack of spells with sudden interest. ¡°Which one is it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Olivia met his irritated look with a neutral expression. ¡°The references that the manual and the other stories have are all vague, and all refer to higher-level adventurers. Junior members of their parties weren¡¯t expected to have access to it. The manual states that a novice adventurer ¡®ought wait on the wisdom of their elders to challenge such Curses, and only at such times determined¡¯ should they even approach one.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± That idea was unpleasant. There had to be something he could do¡ªalthough if he had to, he would settle for sending the thing to sleep for a few years, at least until Charles and Enessa came back as official adventurers to end it. At the very least, he had no intention of just letting things get worse in the meantime. He¡¯d keep them back beyond Scout¡¯s Hill, and if he could find the [Chant], then he would put a stop to things himself.


    Olivia¡¯s hand touched his arm, and he jerked in surprise. She was staring at him closely, her expression almost¡­worried. ¡°There is something else. Every Curse is said to have guardians of some kind, a ¡®great creature of fear and sin, of which all adventurers despair to face¡¯. Someone who isn¡¯t ready for it might not survive the encounter.¡±


    Clay sighed in frustration. He didn¡¯t know what that meant, but the look of the elder troll spiders already gave him plenty of despair already. ¡°I know. I¡¯ll be careful.¡±


    Her hand tightened on his arm. ¡°No, you don¡¯t. These are monsters that can kill entire parties of adventurers. They are the generals of the Curse that formed them. If you get too close¡­¡± She shuddered.


    He looked away, his face suddenly feeling warm. ¡°I¡¯m trying to be careful, Olivia. I won¡¯t go diving in without help. Okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡± She drew back a pace. Her own face seemed a bit red again, though he didn¡¯t know why. ¡°I can aid you however I can, but I cannot help you if you do not listen. Nor can I help if you are killed. Beware the guardians and beware the minions they might send after you if you get too close to the Lair.¡±


    Clay laughed. ¡°What can they do to me? After all, I have mastered magic now!¡± He extended his hand and muttered the [Chant] again. Light bloomed in his palm.


    Olivia glanced at him and then raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Amusing.¡± Despite her cool response, he thought he saw a twitch of her lips as she turned away. It might have been the beginning of a smile.


    Somehow that made every night of studying the things worth it.


    Three days after Olivia¡¯s visit, Clay made his first attempt to kill an elder spider.


    He¡¯d gained more [Memory] since that time, bringing him up to eighteen. That had given him a few more [Chants], but the majority remained out of his grasp. He didn¡¯t mind, however; his plan rested more on other methods, and on his knowledge of the monsters¡¯ habits.


    The past week of work had killed dozens of adult spiders, clearing a significant amount of them from the space around the Lair. When he set out that day, he did so with every weapon at his disposal. He carried both quivers of arrows, his bow, and his axe, sling, and spear as well. If it was possible for him to kill this thing, it would be done.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Clay paused on top of Scout¡¯s Hill for an hour, watching the elders patrol the skies. He¡¯d marked the one he wanted to hunt today already. It was the one that swept the closest to his home, and the one he¡¯d had to hide from the most as he slaughtered its lesser brethren. Killing it would be a good first step to clearing the path to the Lair itself.


    It helped that the proximity meant it was also the one he¡¯d watched the most. He¡¯d seen where it leapt into the air, where it turned along its patrol, and the ways it adapted to gusts of wind, and the times it changed course. Clay was confident that he¡¯d have a good chance at killing it.


    That confidence wavered a little as he made his way close to the thing¡¯s territory. The prospect of ducking under the shadow of the massive creature was¡­unpleasant. He¡¯d seen some of the wrapped corpses left behind in the perches of the lesser troll spiders; he had no ambition to join whatever was left behind in this monster¡¯s home.


    Clay saw a shadow sweep by overhead and paused, freezing in place beneath the leaves of a large cottonwood. The monster above him apparently failed to catch sight of him, because it continued on past without incident. He let out a quiet gasp of relief and then made his way up into the branches of the tree. If the spider stuck to the pattern, it would be a few more minutes before it came back. He¡¯d need to be ready.


    By the time he saw the thing gliding back towards him, Clay was standing comfortably in the branches of the tree. He¡¯d noticed that the elders disliked the trees with more fragile branches when they hunted; whenever they struck, they tended to dive onto trees with stronger limbs. Perhaps those were the ones that could bear their weight. Either way, it would hopefully make the thing hesitate for at least a moment.


    He watched it come, his heart beating hard against his chest. It looked gigantic; each leg seemed like it could have been a sharpened battering ram, capable of slamming straight through him. The eyes were gigantic; even this far away, he could see them glistening in the sun. Fear hammered at him as he imagined that creature falling from the sky towards him, its fangs ready to strike and its limbs outstretched¡­


    Clay set his teeth and willed his hands to stop shaking. It was a monster, just like any of the others. If he wanted his home to be safe, he needed to kill this thing; not just it, but everything like it in the Tanglewood. Everyone was counting on him.


    So when it drew close, still bobbing obscenely through the air on its sheet of spidersilk, he drew his bowstring back to his ear, sighted on one of its terrible eyes, and loosed.


    The wooden arrow flew high into the air, slashing in at the monster as it passed. Its fragile tip had been stained black with poison that he¡¯d taken from adult mantrap spiders; he didn¡¯t know if it was more potent, but he hoped it would be. It was too late to reconsider as the arrow rose, so instead, he pulled another from his quiver and nocked it. He was already drawing it to fire when the first shot hit.


    He had loosed it, sending the shaft up after the monster as it passed overhead, when he heard the scream.


    The noise was unlike anything he¡¯d ever heard before. It sounded like the end of the world, full of hatred, anger, and despair. It froze his fingers on his bow, paralyzed him even as he moved to bring out the next arrow. In that screech, he saw the end of his entire life, the fate of being killed and eaten, piece by piece, as the thing delighted in his suffering.


    Then Clay snarled and set his next arrow to the bowstring. The thing might take him, sure, but he wasn¡¯t going to sit around and wait for it. If it wanted him, it would need to work for it.


    He took aim as it swerved around in midair, its scream still echoing over the valley. Clay waited until the thing leveled out, and then sent the arrow on its way. Then he ignored the urge to see if it hit before he plunged down towards the ground, slipping down the cord he¡¯d wrapped around the branch.


    It was a close thing. Something tore through the air over his head, slapping into another branch on the tree. When he glanced up, he was startled to see a near-invisible stream of webbing, one that would have caught him in the torso. He imagined being yanked up into the air and slid down the cord a little faster.


    He hit the ground a little hard, but it was worth having his feet in the dirt. The boar spear was waiting for him; he dropped the bow and grabbed it, bracing himself with his back against the tree trunk. His heart was still beating hard, and his breath was harsh in his ears.


    The elder spider landed a moment later, its weight causing the trees to groan. Clay had a single flash of warning before a spiked leg the length of a tree trunk flashed down to try to stab him. He shifted to the side and swung his spear at it. The leg withdrew too quickly for him to hit it, and he ducked aside just in time to miss another shot of webbing that could have enveloped his head.


    Pivoting around the trunk of a tree, he dodged another pair of leg strikes. He heard that terrible scream again, and he tried not to freeze as the monster shifted. Branches snapped; leaves and twigs rained down around him as it scrambled through the canopy, trying to readjust to strike at him again.


    Clay didn¡¯t give it the opening it was looking for. He kept moving to put the trunk between him and the bulk of the monster. When it tried to use its legs to spike him, he fended it off with the spear. Enraged screams tore the air again and again as it darted back and forth, its hideous form half-concealed by the branches above.


    Was the poison working? Clay couldn¡¯t tell; all he knew was that this tactic wasn¡¯t going to work forever. So far, it had avoided testing the strength of the tree branches above him, but that wouldn¡¯t last forever. He heard the spinner spit again, and he jerked his foot out of the way; a glimmering tendril of web caught the ground where he¡¯d been standing. At some point, the thing was just going to get lucky.


    A branch snapped in half, and a spider leg crashed down to spike the ground a few paces away. Clay¡¯s heart caught in his throat; was it a chance? He lunged, bringing his spear around in a sweeping blow. It was the kind of hit that would have split an adult mantrap¡¯s armor, or could have sent an adult troll spider hurtling through the air.


    It rebounded from the elder troll spider¡¯s leg, leaving a partially collapsed section of armor. Clay had half an instant to stare at it in horror, and then the spinner spat another burst of web that he barely avoided. The leg withdrew a moment later, and he had to dance aside as another nearly impaled him through the head.


    For half a heartbeat, he debated returning to the cottonwood. He dodged away instead, heading for a smaller tree nearby. It was dead; there were no webs, but some illness had killed it some time ago. The bare branches hadn¡¯t been touched yet, but at least he could see the situation clearly, and the troll spider wouldn¡¯t find a good purchase there, either.


    Behind him, he heard a chorus of snapping branches as the troll spider tried to leap above the cottonwood. Another spinner burst sped by; this time the monster had plain missed, likely due to a clumsy landing. Clay didn¡¯t pause to congratulate himself, ducking back behind the dead tree now. The elder screamed once more, frustrated in its efforts yet again. He heard one leg stab straight into the trunk behind him; the wood cracked as it withdrew.


    He clutched his spear tighter and tried to recover his breath during the short respite. His plan wasn¡¯t looking good. The poison wasn¡¯t doing anything, and he had been hoping that his spear could break the thing¡¯s legs. Escape wasn¡¯t going to work. It could fly, and even without it, he couldn¡¯t count on a lucky branch snapping to keep it from yanking him skyward to eat.


    The trees rustled and snapped to his right, and Clay pivoted left immediately. He got a half clear view of the monster, its repulsive bulk rising over the tree branches to his side. Its eyes were focused on him. At least two of his arrows were stuck in its body, which was curling to bring the spinners in the rear to bear¡ª


    Webbing spat out again, and he jerked away just in time for it to miss his arm. A portion of the dead tree tore away a moment later, and an iron-hard limb lashed out to scrabble at the wound it left. Clay shouted and cut down at it, watching helplessly as he crushed a bit of carapace and nothing else. He ducked and hesitated before rushing to the opposite side again, and another leg speared where he would have been a moment later. It left a foot-deep divot in the ground as it withdrew.


    It screamed at him again, and he heard it readjusting on the branches behind his cover. What was it doing? He didn¡¯t think it was shifting position again, but it couldn¡¯t see him, right? The dead tree was tall enough for that, at least.


    The answer came a moment later as the elder spider jumped, suddenly soaring over the dead tree completely. Clay froze, horrified at how far it was in the air. It shot a streamer of web off to the left and pulled, tugging itself into a spin. As it came back to face him, he saw malice and satisfaction in that terrible, many-eyed gaze.


    Fear and desperation prompted him into action as the spinner came to bear again. Clay darted forward, running hard for the cover of tree branches. The web still caught him in the shoulder, but it didn¡¯t instantly go taut. He saw it bringing its body back, trying to yank him up to where it could have him.


    Instead of resisting, he ran harder forward. His forward motion put more slack in the line; when the pull came, it wasn¡¯t as much of a devastating yank. Rather than soaring skyward, Clay was pulled hard in the same direction he was already running. His sprint became a tumble, but he still crashed safely beneath the nearest trees.


    It dazed him for a moment, but instead of attacking him immediately, the spider screeched yet again. Clay felt a moment of confusion as the webbing suddenly went slack, but when he looked up, he saw that the cord had become tangled in the branches. The monster might not have been able to tug him without yanking itself off course, so it had cut him loose. There was still a chance to fight!


    Determination filled him, and he staggered back to his feet, just in time to not be speared by another stabbing limb. He took a whack at it out of spite and grimaced as his spear bounced off yet again. Clay stepped back from the follow up strike coming from the other side and then ducked closer to sidestep another leg that came at him from above.


    The last one buried itself deep enough in the ground that he struck at it again, taking a grim satisfaction from the audible crack his weapon made when it hit. Even if he lost, this thing was going to remember him.


    He braced himself as the legs withdrew again, and he heard more thrashing in the branches. Dull realization echoed through his brain. It was going to jump again and take another shot at him that way. Could he repeat the run that had saved him? Even if he could, how many much longer could he keep that trick up?


    The spider jumped, and this time, Clay focused on the thing as it drifted through the air. Yet again it pivoted, using a streamer to the side, and he grimaced as the spinner curled around to aim. His body tensed, and he waited for the wet report of it firing.


    A stream of web cracked through the air, and he threw himself to the side. It passed so close to him that he almost thought he¡¯d been hit, but he rolled free without feeling that terrible tug on his clothing. He came up in a crouch with his spear ready. His eyes were wild, but he felt a surge of triumph. The spider had missed!


    Then the stream suddenly tightened, and his eyes widened. Clay saw the spider¡¯s momentum change and its eight spear-tipped limbs come around, pointing at him.


    He knew, without question, that he wouldn¡¯t have enough time to dodge before those eight spear-tipped legs came plunging down. The thing was too fast, and it could react too quickly to any dodge he made. His tactics weren¡¯t working; even if he got out of the way, it would only delay the inevitable.


    So instead of dodging, Clay hurled his boar spear straight at the thing. It lanced up and struck the monster in the face as it descended, making it rear back in pain. He threw himself forward after the spear, dodging between the legs as they gouged the dirt and soil around him. One sharpened limb dug a deep furrow next to him as he scrambled up and under the elder spider, but he kept going. He still had his axe, but he¡¯d need more than that to survive.


    Clay heard the spider thrashing above him, turning to face him again. He had to get some distance again, put some space between him and the fangs¡­


    He looked back and up, and saw the spider¡¯s head pivot into view overhead. The monster had Clay¡¯s spear standing out from between two bulbous eyes; it screamed again, ichor running down from the wound. It made as if to strike him¡ªand then reared back.


    Understanding dawned. The spear was in the way. It couldn¡¯t bite him on the ground, which meant the only real threat was from the legs and the spinner. A glance behind him told him the spinner was pointed up at the sky; the rear two sets of legs braced against the tree, one of the front pairs was propped against the ground. Only the front two were free¡ªand the thing couldn¡¯t snap at him without pushing the spear deeper into its own skull.


    Clay bared his teeth and darted back in under the monster. It stabbed at him with a leg, and he dodged to one side. Pulling out his axe, he ran for one of the bracing legs. The leg twitched a little to one side, as if the spider tried to lift it to stab at him. He smashed his axe into it once, twice, three times. Each hit caused a resounding crack. Clay had to lunge after it as the spider pulled it back and started to pivot again, trying to get the limb away from him.


    Then the fourth hit struck near the joint, and there was a sudden snap as the limb hung loose. When it came down again, there was another snap, and the leg collapsed under itself. He dodged to one side as the spider staggered above him, struggling to reach for him as he ran for the next leg. Clay reached it just as the spider recovered, and he hacked away at it immediately, this time trying to focus on a single spot.


    This time, it broke on the second swing, and it came down hard on the remaining two for that side. Clay changed course and ran for the opposite side, following one of the legs as the spider continued to spin and screech. The spinner was free now, but it couldn¡¯t see him beneath it. He shouted in victorious fury as he closed in, his axe poised to strike.


    He hit the thing right on a joint, and the cracked carapace made the leg stiffen and twitch. Once again, it tried to pull it back, but he jumped after it and brought the axe around again. It once again crumpled as the spider shrieked and spun. Clay let it maneuver and ran for the forelimb on the monster¡¯s right side.


    It was one of the two remaining intact limbs on that side, and it was bearing nearly a quarter of the thing¡¯s weight. He ducked low as the spider made an aborted snap at his head and then dodged a stab from the left forelimb. Clay built up as much speed as he could, spotting the cracked armor from a previous hit. He smiled.


    The axe dug into the forelimb like it was a tree trunk. It folded a moment later, snapping beneath the weight of the creature it supported. He kept moving, knowing that this time there wouldn¡¯t be another limb to rescue it. This time it would stagger on its other broken legs, fail to keep itself up, and crash to the ground. If he could get out from under it¡­


    He heard the thing come down behind him, crunching into the dirt with another cut-off scream. Spinning around, he saw the spider wallowing in the dirt, trying to stand back up on the four legs that still worked. A part of him recognized it would manage it eventually. Either that, or it would force itself up on the shattered stumps of its broken legs, just to get at him.


    Clay skidded to a stop and then reversed his course. He brought his axe high and brought it down on the spider¡¯s body, hacking away at the shoulder where one of its limbs joined. The axe bit deep, and the wound sprayed ichor through the air as he yanked it out again. He continued to hack into it, even as the spider screamed and tried to lash out at him. Ichor, dirt, and shattered branches sprayed in all directions as he tore into the thing.


    The monster continued to thrash, somehow turning its face towards him. Eight eyes filled with hatred confronted him, and it snapped at him with fangs the length of his forearm. He backed up, ducking beneath the haft of his own spear, still lodged in its face.


    Then Clay grabbed that handle and yanked the boar spear free. The spider snapped at him again, and he stabbed it in one of the bulbous eyes. He attacked again and again, trying to blind and break the monster. More ichor sprayed, but now, at least, he seemed to be out of reach. It screamed in his face, and he answered it with a shout of his own, yelling as he continued his assault. A leg struck at him, and he leaned back, hacking at the shoulder attached to it with the spear, and then returning to stab the head.


    Finally, after what seemed like forever, the monster stopped screaming. He didn¡¯t stop attacking, stabbing again and again, until the thing finally went still.


    {Elder Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 60}


    Exhausted, Clay continued to stab the corpse for a few moments longer, unwilling to even trust the [Gift]. When he finally accepted that the thing was dead, he lurched backward from the hideous thing, panting in a futile attempt to catch his breath.


    Ichor and dirt covered him, and his muscles were aching from the effort the kill had cost him. Most of his attempts to prevent a direct fight had failed to do much more than anger the thing, and the only reason he was alive was because of a few fortunate accidents. How was he going to keep doing this?


    As his dulled mind battled with the question, he suddenly realized that the screams of the elder spider might have summoned others. He had no intention of trying to fight another elder spider now, when he was exhausted and vulnerable. Clay needed to leave, and he needed to leave now.


    Gritting his teeth, he moved back toward the half-ruined cottonwood tree where the fight had begun. He needed to recover his bow, and then he needed to get back across Scout¡¯s Hill. The sooner he got there, the better.


    Overhead, he heard strange calls on the wind. He froze for a moment, and then he started to run.

 B1Ch14: Staying Grounded

    His journey home was only interrupted by the need to clean himself off before he left Scout¡¯s Hill, and another rest partway down the hill when his legs nearly gave out beneath him. Clay only allowed himself a few moments to rest, however, before he continued on his way.


    He had paused for a while on Scout¡¯s Hill, watching the territory around the Lair. What he had seen had only made him more worried. The spot where he¡¯d staged his ambush had been obvious from the outset; at least three of the elder troll spiders were patrolling around it, and others were searching the area nearby. They must have arrived only after he slipped away, or else they would have spotted and ended him that much sooner.


    Clay had wondered for a moment just how long it had taken them to arrive. The fight had seemed to last forever, but how long had it been? A minute, five minutes? How soon had the reinforcements come? If he took too long next time, he might find himself outnumbered as well as outmatched. He needed a better plan.


    It was easy to feel a little more secure on the other side of Scout¡¯s Hill, but he didn¡¯t allow himself to relax. Not until he was leaving the Tanglewood, and on his way back to the farmhouse. The fight had been too close, far too close. He kept replaying it in his mind, seeing the giant legs stabbing down and hearing that awful scream, over and over again in his memories.


    When he reached his home, he was desperate to rest. The exhaustion of the fight had combined with the fatigue from the escape to nearly knock him out on his feet. Clay staggered out of the Tanglewood, and then made his way over to his house.


    There was a horse tied up outside his door.


    Clay groaned, entirely unready to explain himself or deal with another conversation. He couldn¡¯t exactly avoid the place, however, and a part of him wasn¡¯t even willing to. He¡¯d spent the last few hours killing an actual monster. Anyone who had a problem with that could just deal with it.


    Still weary and hobbling along, he made his way up to his house¡¯s front step. Clay paused on the threshold and then pushed the door open with a sigh. He examined the person who was sitting in his chair waiting and heaved a second sigh. ¡°Good to see you, Herbert.¡±


    ¡°Was it you?¡± Herbert stood and came over to him, his eyes roaming over Clay and his equipment. The [Guard] was tense, and his face was worried.


    Clay frowned at him, pushing past so that he could set down his spear. He unpacked all his gear into a pile next to his bedroll. ¡°Was what me? What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play games with me. Was. It. You?¡± Herbert grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to turn around to face the [Guard]. There was anger on Herbert¡¯s face now, and Clay winced as the man¡¯s fingers dug into his arm. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°Herbert, I really don¡¯t know what you are talking about. I haven¡¯t been home since this morning. What is going on?¡±


    The [Guard] searched his face for a moment. Then Herbert let go. ¡°A little while ago, there was a¡­ noise in the Tanglewood. A scream.¡±


    Clay felt his jaw drop. ¡°You heard it?¡±


    ¡°Of course we heard it.¡± Herbert put his hands over his face for a moment. ¡°Oh gods, it was you! I knew it!¡±


    ¡°Look, you knew what I was doing. You knew I was¡ª¡±


    Herbert dropped his hands from his face. ¡°I thought you were being quiet about it! I didn¡¯t think that you were going to be this obvious!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think anyone would notice!¡± Clay grimaced and scratched at his hair. ¡°So. You heard it.¡±


    ¡°Hard not to.¡± Herbert stepped forward and poked him in the chest. ¡°Everyone in the village heard it. Everyone in the baron¡¯s manor heard it. I¡¯d be surprised if the King in the capital didn¡¯t hear it! What did you do?¡±


    Clay rubbed at the spot where the [Guard] had poked him. It hadn¡¯t hurt as much as he¡¯d expected, but it was still irritating to be lectured. ¡°I killed a monster. What did you expect?¡±


    ¡°Well, are there more monsters? Or did you somehow manage to get all of them?¡±


    He remembered the patrolling elder spiders, and the stretches of webbed trees he hadn¡¯t even drawn close to. ¡°There¡¯s plenty more. I just killed one of the bigger ones.¡±


    ¡°Great. Just great.¡± The [Guard] stepped away from Clay and began to pace. ¡°The baron is worried now. He thinks the monsters in the Tanglewood are becoming more active. He thought the place was getting more peaceful; his last couple of patrols have barely seen anything at all. That scream, though¡­ he thinks it¡¯s a sign that there might be an invasion of some kind. That the spiders might be getting ready to move south towards the village.¡±


    Clay felt his eyebrows rise. It was the first he¡¯d heard of the baron patrolling the woods. He found it hard to picture the man stalking through the Tanglewood, but perhaps his magic gave him an advantage there? ¡°What is he going to do? Is he going to bring his men into it?¡±


    ¡°Gods, no.¡± Herbert shook his head emphatically. ¡°He¡¯s sending a message to the capital. He¡¯s demanding that they send out a party of adventurers to investigate, both here and the Dungeon near Sarlsboro. The messenger is already on the way, and the [Guards] are already patrolling the border of the woods.¡±


    ¡°What? That¡¯s great!¡± Relief flooded through him. If adventurers were coming, he wouldn¡¯t need to fight any more of the elder spiders. He wouldn¡¯t have to risk himself trying to kill those abominations anymore. The adventurers would even have access to the spell that could kill the Lair; they might be able to free the Tanglewood might for him, anyway!


    Herbert laughed. ¡°No, not great.¡± When Clay looked at him in confusion, the [Guard] laughed again. ¡°The baron has been requesting adventurers for years and the capital has never sent anyone. If he¡¯s demanding a team now, who says they will come anytime soon? So he had to sweeten the pot and make it more likely that they would respond.¡±


    A feeling of sudden concern filled him. ¡°How would he do that?¡±


    ¡°By reporting the fact that he suspects that there is a Rogue in the area. One who might be stirring up the monsters by attacking their Lairs.¡±


    Clay closed his eyes and groaned. ¡°So if they do send someone, they are probably going to want to find me more than they will want to fight the monsters. Is that what you are saying?¡±


    ¡°You got it.¡± Herbert paused in his pacing, and he gave Clay a steady look. ¡°Don¡¯t be too upset. I¡¯m not so sure they are wrong.¡±


    ¡°Oh really? I don¡¯t see anyone else here fighting the monsters!¡±


    The [Guard] spread his hands. ¡°The baron had things more or less under control. He¡¯d run through the woods every few weeks, make sure the small ones weren¡¯t getting too big. That¡¯s part of what he¡¯s here for.¡±


    Clay stepped forward. ¡°Until one of them gets past him, maybe. Or he gets called away somewhere else.¡± When the [Guard] started to respond, Clay stepped up even closer and poked him in the chest. ¡°Or what happens if the Undead in the Sarlwood had managed to kill him? Who would have kept it all under control when he¡ªand maybe you¡ªwere in the ground?¡±


    Herbert stared back at him. His jaw worked for a moment, and then he grimaced and looked away. ¡°I get it. I do. It¡¯s just¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°That scream¡­ I¡¯ve never heard anything like that.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a lot more pleasant up close.¡± Clay turned away. He finished putting down his sling and bow. The quivers joined the pile, and then the axe. Then he set his hands on the table, feeling yet another wave of exhaustion crash over him. ¡°If he hears more screams, will the baron catch on to the fact that it¡¯s me?¡±


    The [Guard] stared at him, his face stamped with a mix of shock and horror. ¡°You¡¯re going to do it again? But¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to do what has to be done.¡± Clay looked at him, still hunched over the table. ¡°Will he think it¡¯s me?¡±


    Herbert stared at him for another long minute. Then he shook his head. ¡°No. The baron put you here so that he could keep an eye on you. Maybe make Charles worried enough about you so that he comes home. He knows you¡¯re a [Commoner]. He doesn¡¯t think you¡¯re involved. If anything, he was glad I came out here to check on you.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Clay pushed himself back upright, meeting the [Guard]¡¯s eyes. ¡°Thank you for coming by, Herbert. I think I¡¯d like to rest tonight though. I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    The man¡¯s expression hardened, but he nodded, and turned away. He left, banging the door shut behind him. A moment later, the sound of hooves on the road told Clay that Herbert would not bother him¡ªat least for the rest of the night.


    Grateful for that brief respite, he staggered over to the bedroll and fell into it. The problems he was facing could wait for another day. For now, he needed to rest.


    The next day, Clay found himself on Scout¡¯s Hill, watching the monsters move and failing to come up with anything approaching a plan. Every idea he came up with seemed to end the same way in his mind; either he was impaled by a long, deadly limb, or yanked screaming into the air to be webbed and drained of life. Neither option appealed to him.


    In his frustration, he brought up his [Gift], looking for any kind of clue for what he should do.


    [Clay Evergreen]


    [Class: Commoner] {Level 4} (All Stats have a maximum of 19)


    [Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]


    [Soul: 210/400]


    [Stats] {Might: 19} {Fortitude: 18} {Insight: 17} {Memory: 19} {Valor: 18} {Will: 19}


    [Experiences]


    {Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}


    {Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}


    {Slayer: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    {Forrester: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a forested area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a forested area.}


    {Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill}


    {Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.}


    {Exterminator: Gain double the bonus from all Bane Achievements.}


    {Determined: Fatigue lessened by 10%. Wounds heal 5% faster. Gain 10% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}


    [Achievements]


    {Spiderbane: 20% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 40% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, and Mature Troll Spiders.}


    {Corpsebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 10% versus Rotted Levies and Wretched Corporals.}


    He didn¡¯t receive any inspiration from the writing displaying his [Gift], which was frustrating. How had he managed to come so far, and yet not have anything that he could use against this threat? The only relevant information was that he¡¯d need nearly two hundred Soul in order to reach the next level, a fact that guaranteed that he would need to kill at least four more elder spiders. Unfortunately, he had no idea how he was going to do that.


    Frustrated, he looked out over the valley and watched another elder spider dive on something beneath it. He could picture being on the receiving end of that dive all too easily. Another spider was idly twisting back and forth over a patch of webbed trees. Clay almost thought he could see the webs darting down to help it change direction.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    He had to think about what he was facing. How had he eventually killed the thing before?


    For one thing, he¡¯d kept it from leaping away into the sky. Once he had gotten in close, he¡¯d been able to batter away at the spider¡¯s legs and keep out of its sight. It hadn¡¯t been able to use the spinner quickly enough to catch him, and as its legs crumbled, he could attack it with impunity. Evading its attacks by staying out of sight was crucial, and grounding it was just as important.


    So he needed to stay hidden while it was at a distance, but still draw it in so that he could kill it. Not too hard of a task, right?


    Clay sat back, frustrated. Maybe he would have had more options if he hadn¡¯t spent so long memorizing the cursed [Chants]. He grunted and shook his head. It wasn¡¯t a fair thought. After all, he¡¯d assumed the poison would have been everything he¡¯d need. Even if he had ignored the [Chants] completely, he just would have ended up in exactly the same place.


    As it was, he had five [Chants] that he could use consistently. Heart¡¯s Light let him create a light wherever he needed. Firm Step allowed him to stay still on uneven ground as long as he didn¡¯t move. Spontaneous Spark could light a fire for him, but it wasn¡¯t the kind of thing that would let him kill an elder troll spider. Nor was Cycle of Return, which summoned an item he had dropped back to his hand, or Pure Touch, which could clean filth from a surface or cloth. Perhaps the more potent [Chants] were still locked behind higher levels of [Memory], but he was currently at the maximum for it at his level.


    Clay scrubbed his face with his hands for a moment. The situation was infuriating. To gain more spells, he needed to level up, but to kill the spiders to level up, he needed better options. How was he supposed to get around it? It wasn¡¯t like any of the spells he had could reach up and pull the things from the sky. To be honest, they were all next to useless in a combat situation. Firm Step was probably the worst; it was nice to be able to stay standing on a steep surface, but whenever he used it, he couldn¡¯t walk or even lift a foot. What use was good footing if you couldn¡¯t move at all¡­


    He paused for a moment, watching as one of the elder spiders dove on something out of sight beneath the trees. The spider must have spat its web at something; he saw a struggling bundle jerked into the sky and into the elder spider¡¯s grasp. Clay¡¯s eyes narrowed for a moment, thinking things over. An idea occurred to him, and he turned back towards home. It was a little crazy, but it was better than nothing.


    Clay stood on the table and hauled on the cord. The bundle of wood wrapped in the other end of the cord lifted slowly and surely. He grunted with the effort, but he kept going until it was at the level where he could settle it on the table next to him.


    Once that was done, he got down off of the table and tied the cord around himself, just under his armpits. He tugged on the cord a little, making sure it was tight. Then he drew in a breath and grabbed a small stick. Clay used it to push the bundle of wood off of the table.


    The cord immediately snapped tight as the wood plunged to earth. It yanked Clay off of his feet, where he was forced to kick in the air for a few moments until he could get a foot back on the table. He managed to shift himself over enough to get a bit of slack on the rope, which was quite a bit of relief. Then he started trying to untie the knot; the tension on the rope had pulled it tight, and the loop around his chest was just a little too constricting around him.


    ¡°This is¡­not what I would have expected from you, Clay.¡±


    The voice startled him, and when he twisted around to see who it was, he slipped off the table. He ended up suspended in midair, once again kicking his feet as he swung back and forth. Clay felt his face grow hot as he realized who had talked to him in the first place. ¡°O-Olivia! I didn¡¯t¡­think¡­Hold on, I just¡­¡±


    She seemed to be trying not to laugh. ¡°Perhaps you require some assistance?¡±


    ¡°No, no, I¡¯ve almost¡­got it¡­¡± His foot made contact with the table, but he ended up pushing himself away from it. Clay nearly cursed, but at least the rope swung him back over the table, and he landed more squarely on it the second time. ¡°See? I got it.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I see.¡± Olivia approached, still biting her lip for some reason. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure I understand what you are doing.¡±


    ¡°Just testing something out.¡± Clay felt his face burning from embarrassment still, so he turned and started yanking on the rope to haul the load of wood up again. ¡°I need to make sure of something before I hunt down the next big one. The last time it was¡­ a little too complicated.¡±


    ¡°So that was you.¡± Olivia¡¯s voice grew a little more sober. ¡°I had wondered if something went wrong. You hadn¡¯t come to the village in some time.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sorry. I guess the time just slipped away from me.¡± He scratched at his head, and then pushed the pile of wood over to the table again. Then he stepped down again, feeling the rope draw tight around his chest again. ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t too worried?¡±


    ¡°I was¡­ concerned.¡± Olivia looked away toward the Tanglewood. ¡°Next time, after something like that, I would appreciate a visit. Just to¡­ reassure me you have not met some unfortunate end.¡±


    Clay grimaced and scratched at the back of his head. ¡°Uh, yeah, sure. I¡¯ll remember that.¡± Then he looked over at the pile of wood. ¡°Though hopefully it won¡¯t be as bad the next time. Let¡¯s see if this works.¡±


    He lowered his head and reached back into his mind for the [Chant] of the Firm Step. The words came with some difficulty, but they came. It took him half a minute to say it, but when he completed it, he felt the solidity of the spell settle over him. No matter what kind of surface he was standing on, he wouldn¡¯t slip or fall.


    Keeping the spell firm in his mind, Clay turned to the pile of wood. He reached out with the stick and prodded the pile, shifting it so that it would once again tumble from the table. The cord once again snapped tight, yanking upward around his chest the same way it had before.


    Then it stopped, with the pile of wood suspended in the air. Clay grunted, feeling a bit of pain in his chest as the cord fought to lift him from his feet. The [Chant] kept him on the ground, however, as if his feet were anchored in the soil. He felt the pain slowly increase as the weight fought against the strength of the [Chant], but he refused to give in to it. It slowly increased, however, until it finally became agonizing.


    Finally, he gave in, and let the [Chant] go. The cord finally pulled him from his feet, leaving him once again suspended in midair. He sighed, as much as the cord around his chest allowed him, and kicked out for the table again.


    {Insight increases by 1!}


    ¡°Here. Allow me.¡± Olivia pushed him slightly over until his feet could find purchase. Clay glanced down at her and smiled.


    ¡°Thanks!¡± He felt a burst of enthusiasm. It had worked! Then he coughed into his hand and started in on the knot. ¡°I think that was a good test. We¡¯ll have to see how things go the next time I go after one of the big ones.¡±


    ¡°Do you need assistance again?¡± Olivia tilted her head to look up at him and then hiked up her robes to join him on the table. She brushed aside his hands and set about undoing the knot herself. It seemed to resist her for a bit while he stood there, uncertain of what to say or do. Clay gave a brief sigh of gratitude when the cord finally loosened.


    ¡°Thank you, Olivia. I mean it.¡± He rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment, and she glanced up at him in surprise. She seemed shocked, and Clay yanked his hand back. Had he overstepped? ¡°If I make it through the next fight, it¡¯ll be thanks to all the help you¡¯ve given me.¡±


    She looked away and blushed. ¡°It was¡­nothing, Clay. I only hoped to do what I could.¡±


    ¡°Well, it has meant a lot to me. Thank you again.¡± He turned and started hauling up the load of wood again. There was one more test he wanted to do, and he especially wanted to practice it until he could do it perfectly. ¡°Is there anything else I can help you with?¡±


    ¡°No. I just wanted to make sure that all was well.¡± Olivia stepped down from the table, moving carefully. ¡°You will have to let me know what the purpose of all this is once you are able to.¡±


    ¡°I will. Good fortune, Olivia!¡± He waved to her, and she gave him a shy smile. Then she turned to head towards town. Clay watched her go for a while, then turned back to make sure the pile was firmly on the table. He retied the cord around himself, trying to make sure it wouldn¡¯t be quite so tight this time. When it was ready, he picked up his bow, which he had set to one side of the table.


    He smiled as he drew and sighted on a target at the far end of the field. The spiders wouldn¡¯t know what had hit them this time.


    For the next two days, Clay fell back into the pattern of normal farm life in the morning, and attacking the adult spiders in the afternoons. He stayed well away from the areas where the elder troll spiders were patrolling. They were still agitated, straying outside of their old patterns as they searched for whatever threat had killed their fellow monster. The last thing that he wanted was to try to take them on as a group, and he wanted them to stop being so alert.


    Of course, he also wanted to keep robbing them of their lesser guards. If he could make the elder spiders patrol farther out, get them more isolated, maybe it would mean they wouldn¡¯t come to each other¡¯s aid so quickly. Besides, wiping out the occasional spider nest or perch did wonders for restoring his confidence.


    Once he¡¯d cleared out a place or two, he returned home to practice the techniques he wanted to use against his next elder spider target, going over the [Chant] of the Firm Step again and again. He was only going to get one chance to test it; if he messed it up at the wrong time, he would not make it out alive very easily. Just in case, he put more effort into practicing the other [Chants] as well. It wasn¡¯t likely that they would be useful in the fight to come, but there was always a possibility, and he didn¡¯t want to miss it.


    Then, the third day, Clay moved into the Tanglewood with a purpose. He¡¯d already picked out his target, one of the elder spiders that ranged a bit further to the north than the others, and one that seemed more willing to strike out at targets along the ground. He hoped it would make it harder for the others to come for its aid, and that he¡¯d be able to make the spiders think their threat was coming from a different direction than his home.


    Soon enough, just after midday, he stood in the middle of a fairly open clearing, just west of a thick stand of cottonwood trees. The wind was blowing a little harder than usual from the east; he wondered if the dark clouds on the horizon would mean a storm was coming in. If so, he needed to get this done quickly; even if the spiders remained airborne during a rainstorm, he wasn¡¯t enthusiastic about his chances of hitting them in foul weather.


    He tested the tension on his hunting bow, feeling the tautness of the string beneath his fingers. Clay had one of the broadhead shafts nocked; the wooden arrows had failed him last time, and he needed to be sure that whatever he hit the spider with at first was both enough to do real damage and enough to get the thing¡¯s attention immediately.


    Clay watched the eastern sky, framed by the branches of the cottonwoods, and waited. The spider had passed by, headed east a while ago; that meant it would be coming this way shortly. There wouldn¡¯t be any other spiders to speak of aside from this one; he¡¯d spent the previous day killing off a pair of troll spider perches and a mantrap nest to make sure they wouldn¡¯t be able to interfere. Now all there was to do was watch.


    There was a shape in the sky, a glimmer of spidersilk, and Clay knew it was time.


    He started the [Chant] of the Firm Step, a spell name he now believed that Olivia might have mistranslated. It was hard to blame her, given that it was in an ancient language he still couldn¡¯t understand, and as brilliant as she was, it wasn¡¯t like anyone was tutoring her in spellcraft. Perhaps Anchored Step might have fit better, but then again, who was to say that the old adventurers had even used it this way?


    While he was partway through the spell, he drew the bowstring back, tracking the path of the incoming elder troll spider. It hung beneath its gossamer sheet of spidersilk, its bulbous eyes searching for targets. The thing was moving fast, just as he¡¯d suspected it would. He¡¯d seen the monsters cover a truly nightmarish amount of ground in their patrols. It would make escape nearly impossible if he ran for it now.


    Not that he intended to.


    Clay waited for the monster to draw closer, even as he came to the end of the [Chant]. Firm Step settled over him again, a familiar and comforting stability that he could feel in his core. It sung in strange counterpoint to the tension and strain of the bowstring under his fingers, and the way his eyes needed to trace the path of his target across the sky. The contrast might have made him fumble the spell and release it, or distracted him enough to miss the shot, but the past two days had given him plenty of time to practice the situation.


    He was ready. It was time.


    Clay loosed, letting the arrow shoot high into the air in a deadly, graceful arc. He watched it go, tossing aside his bow and reaching for the boar spear, which stood upright with its butt in the dirt next to him. The arrow flew true to its target, striking the monster square on the body. Despite the distance, he saw the monster jerk and shift around, immediately searching for the prey that dared to attack it.


    He saw it stiffen as it spotted him. Clay smiled at it, wanting it to see his confidence. His defiance.


    It reacted instantly. The screech echoed over the forest. Clay winced a little as he pictured the reaction of the people in town. Hopefully, the initial scream hadn¡¯t been the one they had heard, but he couldn¡¯t be sure. He¡¯d need to check with Olivia or Herbert later.


    Then it twisted slightly, holding onto the sheet with two pairs of legs while it brought its spinner around to bear on him. The glide became a sudden dive as it came for him, ready to snatch him up and away, a new bundle of screaming meat for consumption.


    Clay braced himself, trying to settle deeper into the spell¡¯s strength. It was going to hurt; he knew that, but it would be so, so worth it¡ª


    The web almost took him by surprise, despite expecting it. It was a wet, sticky impact that hit him square in the chest, instantly bonding with both his shirt and the skin beneath it. He saw the trailer of silvery thread tracing back to the elder spider¡¯s spinner, saw it tensing to yank him skyward for death. Fear filled him a little, but he refused to let it break his concentration. There was a heartbeat of hesitation, a pause between breaths.


    Then the pain tore through him. It was as if something was trying to pull the very skin from his bones, and it was all he could do to hold his place. Firm Step was the only thing that kept him on the ground, and for one terrifying heartbeat, he thought that either the spell would fail, or it would rip his body in half.


    Yet neither happened. There was a distant snapping sound, and a startled, fearful squeak. He looked up through a haze of pain, and saw the elder spider tumbling through the air, the tattered remnants of the sheet flying free as it accidentally yanked itself from the sky.


    {Fortitude increases by 1!}


    Clay felt a burst of victory as he watched it frantically try to reorient itself. Had it leaped on its own, or had it been higher in the sky, it might have recovered. It had already been diving, however, and the sudden loss of the threads it needed to glide was too much of a shock. The spider did manage to cut the thread attached to him and even flipped itself halfway over.


    Then it hit the stand of cottonwood trees, still tumbling and disoriented. Branches snapped under its weight, and limbs cracked as they flailed through the canopy. The spider began an aborted screech, one that cut off with a gasp when its body slammed into a trunk. He saw two of its thin limbs snap off completely, cartwheeling away through the bushes and undergrowth, even as the spider itself came to a rolling stop just inside the trees.


    He released the [Chant] and staggered forward, every muscle in his body now burning. Every part of him ached from the strain of resisting the thing¡¯s pull, but he couldn¡¯t waste this chance. It had to be stunned. Maybe it was even mortally wounded already, but if it wasn¡¯t, he couldn¡¯t let it scream again to summon help. The monster had to die now.


    It was still just stirring as Clay approached it. None of its limbs looked like they were intact, but only three of them looked shattered, aside from the two that were missing. The stumps and broken legs still scrabbled at the dirt weakly, and the bulbous eyes, while dull with obvious pain, were still fixed on him with clear malice.


    He smiled at it as he drove the boar spear straight into its head.


    The notification appeared on the third stab, but even without it, he could have told that it was dead by the way it suddenly went limp. It hadn¡¯t had the time or the strength to scream again, at the very least.


    {Elder Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 60}


    Clay gave it one last stab out of spite and then veered northwest. He paused only to collect his bow, and then he was running through the forest again, hoping that none of the others were close on his heels. Despite that fear, it was hard to deny the rising feeling of triumph in his heart. Another monster was down, and in the days to come, many more would follow.


    One way or the other, the Tanglewood was going to be free.

 B1Ch15: The Swarm

    When he reached the village that afternoon, Clay was in relatively good cheer. As much as he was still aching, he felt like he was recovering well from the ordeal of downing the elder spider. Doing it another three times was not a pleasant thing to look forward to, but at the very least, it was something that seemed possible. Perhaps the fifth level would give him more tools that would make it that much easier.


    His first stop was the tavern, where he saw a handful of the baron¡¯s men were visiting. Herbert was one of them; and the nervous smile vanished from the [Guard]¡¯s face when he saw Clay walk in. The man¡¯s concern turned into half-concealed frustration as Clay smiled and held up two fingers at him. Then Clay spent a few minutes chatting with the tavern owner, paid for a meat pie he hadn¡¯t needed to make himself, and then went on his way.


    He paid a visit to Adam, who had a bag of beans for him. Adam also had a few sheets of parchment ready, surprisingly, and was more than happy to exchange them for a few coins. The shopkeeper seemed relieved that Clay didn¡¯t have anything unusual to ask from him, and he was hiding a satisfied grin as Clay ambled out the door.


    The shrine was his next stop, and he grinned as he saw Olivia smile slightly. She bowed formally. ¡°Welcome, traveler.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Novice.¡± He grinned and held up a few bits of parchment. ¡°I have something for you!¡±


    Olivia blinked. She nodded, though her cheeks turned red for some reason. ¡°I see. Come with me then.¡±


    She led the way back to the library, where the Rector was once again absent. Olivia looked at him expectantly, and Clay handed over the notes. ¡°I am just checking in. I don¡¯t know if you heard anything today in the village¡­¡±


    Olivia nodded. ¡°Just before lunch, I thought I heard another¡­noise from the Tanglewood. It was very faint, however. I do not know if anyone else would have noticed it.¡±


    ¡°That was me again.¡± Clay shrugged. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want you to worry.¡±


    There was an awkward pause, and then he held up the notes in his hand. ¡°Also, I brought you these! Some notes on the elder troll spider, and on a few of the [Chants].¡±


    Olivia¡¯s brow furrowed, and she took the notes from him. Clay tried not to be distracted by the fact that her hand brushed his as she did so. ¡°I see. Thank you.¡± She started reading and shook her head. ¡°Once again, you must practice your penmanship. These are awful.¡±


    Clay grinned. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ve just been practicing other things, I suppose.¡±


    She frowned at him. ¡°Acceptable, I suppose.¡± There was a quirk of her lips that might have suggested a smile, but then she turned her attention back to the pages. ¡°You have been fighting these¡­elder troll spiders? There was not very much information on them in the manual.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve given the details I¡¯ve discovered.¡± Clay gestured to the parchment. ¡°At the very least, the next adventurer that happens by will have better information. They won¡¯t have to find out things the hard way.¡±


    ¡°How considerate of you.¡± Olivia¡¯s lips twitched again, but then she suddenly bent low over the pages. ¡°You used Firm Step to do what?¡±


    Clay laughed and sat down at the desk. Olivia sank down next to him, her attention glued to the notes. ¡°I thought you¡¯d want to hear about that. Turns out even some of these minor [Chants] can be more useful than I expected.¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond, and he waited in a comfortable silence while her eyes ran over the page. Eventually, though, he started to stand.


    Her hand shot out and locked onto his forearm. When he looked up in surprise, Olivia was glaring at him. ¡°I¡¯m not finished yet. Wait.¡±


    Somehow, disobeying that command seemed even more foolish than charging an elder spider. Clay bit his lip and settled back to wait. Olivia went back to reading, her hand still locked onto his arm, as if to make sure he stayed put.


    He grinned. Maybe being a [Commoner] wasn¡¯t such a terrible life after all.


    It was near sunset by the time he made it back to the farmhouse. Olivia had insisted on reading through his notes, and then forcing him to recount them again and again, so that she could transcribe them. After that, she¡¯d started going through the [Chants] he could use, trying to come up with alternate ways of using them. By the time he¡¯d pried himself loose, he had a full three pages of assigned experiments to run, and he had left her there, still scribbling away as she recorded her ideas for more. He was mostly just glad she¡¯d allowed him to go home at all.


    Still, it had been a good day. He made his way up the small path, headed for the doorway. When he pushed it open, he set down his bags and the notes that Olivia had given him before he saw the note on the table. It was resting beside a wrapped piece of bread on a plate.


    Clay picked up the small scrap of parchment and recognized his mother¡¯s handwriting. Apparently she had visited, but not found him home. He made a mental note to make the journey over to his family¡¯s home when he had the chance.


    He unwrapped the bread and breathed in the warm smell of it for a moment. It brought back so many memories, and he smiled about it for a moment.


    Then his stomach growled, and Clay decided it was past time for him to find out if the taste brought back memories as well. He¡¯d missed dinner, after all, and he had plenty of work to do tomorrow.


    Late the next afternoon, Clay waved at his father as he walked up the road. He¡¯d already worked for nearly the entire morning on the fields. Then he had made a brief visit to Scout¡¯s Hill, mostly just to observe the spiders¡¯ reaction to the death of another elder spider. They were predictably agitated, but he hadn¡¯t noticed anything other than a shift in their patrols and a certain increase in hostility from the way they moved. Either way, he had no plans on attacking again that day, so he headed over to visit his parents.


    So he¡¯d gone back to his family home, by way of a brief hunting trip through the Smallgroves. He carried a handful of squirrel carcasses on his back, ready for skinning and cooking. He didn¡¯t know if his dad would consider it a good visiting present, but Clay did hope that it would give his mother evidence that he could, in fact, eat food when he wasn¡¯t actually in front of her.


    Saphy pointed him out from where she had been carrying water from the well, and Amy went running inside the house. He saw Will stick his head out from the barn and waved at him. His brother waved back and then ducked back inside. Apparently, they had been waiting for him.


    Sam met him before he¡¯d reached the house. ¡°Good to see you, son! Coming by for a visit?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess I missed Mom yesterday.¡±


    ¡°So she said! You weren¡¯t tending to the fields we plowed?¡± There was a bit of an edge to Sam¡¯s voice, and Clay winced.


    ¡°I¡¯d gone to town to buy a few things. She must have come by before I came back.¡± He lifted the squirrels he carried, as if they were a peace offering. ¡°I picked up some meat to share on my way over. Think you guys could put them to use?¡±


    ¡°I think we could probably have someone help mother do just that.¡± Sam glanced at Saphy, who tried to hide a little too late. ¡°Saphy, come take these from your brother and clean them. You seem to have way too much time on your hands anyway, this morning.¡±


    Saphy made a face, but she knew better than to talk back. She got down off of the fence and sulked her way over. Clay handed over the squirrels, and she stuck her tongue out at him. ¡°Off hunting squirrels when you should be plowing?¡±


    ¡°Hey, let me know when you want to come help pick stones out!¡± She stuck her tongue out again and ran back up the road. Sam chuckled as he watched her go.


    ¡°She¡¯s been missing you a little lately. We all have.¡± Sam eyed him a little. ¡°Though I¡¯d say the independence has done you good. You¡¯ve certainly seemed a lot stronger.¡±


    Suddenly conscious of his higher [Stats], Clay smiled carefully. ¡°Thanks, Dad. I¡¯m just trying to keep up with your example.¡±


    Sam snorted. ¡°You¡¯ve got quite a ways to go, then!¡± He glanced out over the fields with a faint air of pride about him. Then Amy came barreling out of the house with Amelia on her heels. His father nudged him a bit. ¡°Here comes trouble. Good luck.¡±


    His father peeled off and hopped the fence before Clay could respond, but he still managed to give Sam a quick glare. Then he turned as Amy sprinted at him, arms outstretched for the running hug. ¡°Well, who¡¯s this? I could have sworn I had a little sister, not a giant one!¡±


    Amy giggled as she launched herself at him. He caught her up and turned her about a bit. She laughed and screamed a little when he tickled her. Then she was off again, running back past her mother on her way to the house.


    Amelia stepped aside to let her past, and then continued on towards him. Clay saw concern on her face, and he tried not to grow worried himself. ¡°So I guess we missed each other yesterday! I hadn¡¯t made it back from town when you came and left.¡±


    She relaxed a little, her eyes going to Sam¡¯s retreating back for a moment. ¡°Oh. So that¡¯s where you were.¡± Amelia gave him a quick hug, before pulling back to inspect him. ¡°I¡¯d just heard a few things from the town the day before. Something about strange sounds from the Tanglewood. Some people said the monsters were wandering outside the forest. It made me worried.¡±


    Clay tried to keep his voice even. ¡°Well, you shouldn¡¯t believe everything you hear. The baron sent one of his men out to check on me, so he¡¯s keeping track of what¡¯s going on with me.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s nice.¡± The tone of her voice suggested that Amelia Evergreen would have preferred that the baron would have put him somewhere not at risk of a monster attack, but Clay just wanted to steer the conversation away from that entirely. If she didn¡¯t like him living near monsters, if she knew what he was actually doing¡­


    ¡°In any case, I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s heard anything from the woods in a while, and I think the baron¡¯s sent for some adventurers to come and take care of it. There¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    Amelia gave him a steady look. ¡°I see. Did the baron¡¯s man tell you that?¡± When Clay nodded, she smiled. ¡°Well, that should take care of everything, then. You just stay out of trouble, okay?¡±


    Clay rolled his eyes as they walked together back along the path. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, mom. No promises, though.¡±


    She swatted at his arm. ¡°Oh, stop it.¡± Then her expression grew a little mischievous. ¡°So who were you visiting in Pellsglade? Certainly not a particular novice at the shrine?¡±


    He felt his face grow heated. ¡°I¡­did spend some time with Olivia. We were reading some books.¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± That knowing tone was entirely too irritating. ¡°Well, you can always tell me all about it. You¡¯re staying for dinner, right?¡±


    Clay suddenly wondered if he would have made a better choice fighting spiders. ¡°Of course.¡± She smiled, and they walked back to the house together.


    The meal with his family was a rare moment of peace and tranquility, though parts of it were still somewhat uncomfortable. His mother had filled the meal with far too many hints and questions about Olivia. Even his father had gotten into things, though Will and Saphy had mostly just looked sullen. Amy and Finn were both too young to really pick up on anything; his youngest sister mostly just wanted to know when she¡¯d be able to visit his house again. It had been a relief to excuse himself at the end of the meal and head home.


    He would still think back on it, however, as he continued his real work at home.


    Over the next nine days, he fell into a regular pattern. Once again, he tried to spend his mornings on regular chores. Meals were cooked, animals were hunted or trapped, and as always, the fields needed to be plowed. He ate a midday meal, and then set out for the valley, where the spiders were still lurking. Some days, he spent mostly observing and hunting the adult spiders in their nests and perches.


    Others he spent going after much larger prey.


    The day after he visited his family, he downed another elder spider in another grove, south of the Lair. Two days later, another died after he worked his way to the east of the tower, catching another as it hunted alone. Neither of them managed to do more than crash when he used Firm Step to pull them shrieking from the sky.


    The third spider, which he ambushed three days after the second, somehow avoided crashing against the boulder he¡¯d tried to pull it into. As a result, the giant thing only broke half its legs, which forced Clay to close with it. He threw his spear into its face, and then charged with his axe as it was scrabbling at the weapon with its remaining forelimb. A half dozen chops brought it low, and he finished it before it could manage a second scream.


    It was then that he finally saw the notification that he¡¯d been hoping for.


    {Elder Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 60}


    {Commoner reaches Level 5!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 20!}


    {Experience gained (Defiant: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when facing an opponent of a higher level.)}


    {Experience gained (Smallmage: Can chant minor Chants 10% faster. Gain 20% effectiveness for minor Chants.)}


    It almost made the ache spreading through his chest worth it. He grinned at the description for [Smallmage]; he could already guess how Olivia was going to react to the possibilities for that [Experience]. At the very least, both it and [Defiant] were going to make hunting the rest of the elder spiders easy.


    All the same, however, he likely needed to check in again with the others in town. Besides, the other elders that were already starting to glide closer. His last kill had taken too long, and he hadn¡¯t figured out how he was going to face more than one creature at a time. At least not yet.


    So he went home, escaping across Scout¡¯s Hill before the enemy closed in. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he¡¯d be able to get that much closer to killing the Lair entirely. All he had to do was keep to the work, and nothing would stop him.


    The next day, Clay wondered if the gods had somehow heard his thoughts and decided to spurn him. If they had, he would have liked the chance to curse them to their face.


    He¡¯d spent the morning as usual, tending to his farm and enjoying the feeling of moving through the usual chores. After the viciousness of combat against the monsters, it was a relief to just focus on taking care of the land and preparing it to grow things.


    All the same, he felt a growing anticipation for the hunt that day. With his level increased and the new [Experiences] he¡¯d gained, he hoped it would prove even more easy to track down and destroy the elder spiders. Perhaps he¡¯d even observe the elder mantraps; eventually he¡¯d have to track them down and kill them too, after all, especially if he intended to go after the Lair itself.


    Yet when Clay took his first steps into the Tanglewood, just after cooking his midday meal, he immediately noticed that something was different. Suddenly wary, he proceeded a bit more carefully towards Scout¡¯s Hill, his eyes open for an ambush. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d finally attracted enough attention for the elder spiders to start tracking him down, but it was better to be careful than to end up eaten.


    He found something far, far different, however.


    The spiderlings were back, in numbers that almost defied the last time they had swarmed over the woods. Whatever frenzy had consumed them before had returned in full force, and Clay was suddenly bogged down in the task of killing them off in job lots. With the cumulative bonuses available to him, it was like squashing literal bugs, but the sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm him, even without the presence of the more mature forms.


    It took him an hour to give up on reaching Scout¡¯s Hill. There were simply too many spiderlings crawling all over the Tanglewood, and no matter how many corpses he left, it seemed like there were always more waiting behind the next branch or scuttling along the forest floor. Where were they all coming from? How had they managed to gather such a swarm without him noticing?


    He spent the entire afternoon killing spiderlings, as well as the occasional adult spider. They came at him both singly and in small groups, often looking for the corpses of their fellow monsters that he was leaving in his wake. By the time he turned back towards the farmhouse, he had killed dozens of them, but there seemed like there was no end to the things.


    The next day was almost exactly the same. Clay resisted the urge to leave his farm untended, spending several tense hours maintaining his equipment and keeping the fields clear. Then, after he ate, he once again went back into the Tanglewood, and again found it a scene of swarming, frenzied spiderlings. Six hours later, he retreated once again, leaving even more spiderling corpses behind for the survivors to devour. Where had they all come from?


    It happened again on the third day, and again on the fourth, and the only benefit he saw from it was an increase in [Will]. By the time he staggered home on the fifth day, having just barely made it to the foot of Scout¡¯s Hill, he felt as if the flood of monsters might never end. There had to be a reason for it, but he couldn¡¯t figure it out for the life of him. How many more of these underlings would he need to kill for him to be finished with them?


    He was so tired he got halfway to the house before he realized that Herbert¡¯s horse was once again outside. Clay groaned to himself and staggered over to the door. For a moment, he debated kicking it in, but decided against it. The [Guard] was supposedly helping him, after all.


    So instead, Clay pushed the door open and growled. ¡°You know, I¡¯m thinking of getting a lock¡ª¡±


    He paused, his weary mind registering the fact that Herbert was not alone. The [Guard] did grin at him. ¡°That might be a pretty good idea, but it might hurt my feelings. Hers too, maybe.¡±


    Olivia rose smoothly from the chair, her face carefully neutral. ¡°You had not visited in some time. I grew¡­ concerned.¡±


    Clay stared dully at her. Then he sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just been¡­ interesting lately.¡± He looked back and forth between them. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that you two knew each other.¡±


    Herbert and Olivia looked at each other. Their expressions grew amusingly guarded. The [Guard] was the first to speak. ¡°We don¡¯t, exactly. I was just riding this way and came across the young lass. I thought it would be fine if I offered her a ride.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°And I was hoping that if something was wrong, he might be able to help you. With any injuries you suffered on the farm.¡±


    Clay put a hand over his eyes. ¡°Oh, for the love of¡­ you both know already. Herbert stitched me up after I fought one of the spiders, and Olivia¡¯s been helping me learn magic. Just¡­I can¡¯t do this today.¡±


    They exchanged another look, this time one of shock and surprise. Then Herbert snorted. ¡°Well, that is not the magic I thought was happening out here.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face turned bright red. ¡°Clay, you did learn how to light things on fire, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Not today, please. I¡¯ve just spent the afternoon killing far too many monsters.¡± Clay hobbled over to the bedroll and started setting his equipment down. ¡°Herbert, the baron isn¡¯t planning on visiting the Tanglewood anytime soon, is he?¡±


    Herbert frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know. He might be; he usually tries to stop by every so often.¡±


    ¡°Keep him out of there. The spiders are in some kind of feeding frenzy again.¡± He examined the edge of his axe before he dropped it and sighed. It needed sharpening again, already. At this rate, he was going to wear the thing down to a stick in no time. ¡°If he tries a patrol right now, they¡¯ll probably eat him alive.¡±


    The [Guard]¡¯s face grew serious. ¡°It¡¯s that bad? I thought you had it under control.¡±


    ¡°I did, for a while.¡± Clay shook his head slowly. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ they have this occasional rush of numbers. One day there¡¯s only a few handfuls around, and the next it¡¯s like an army of them move in. I can¡¯t explain it.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face was composed, but she slowly sat back down, her eyes worried. ¡°Has it been this bad before? You mentioned this was happening ¡®again¡¯.¡±


    Clay looked over at her and tried not to sound so tired. ¡°Yeah, once before. Back when you caught me, Herbert. How long ago was that?¡±


    ¡°About four weeks now.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°And it started about a week before that.¡±


    ¡°So around five weeks.¡± Olivia sat back in the chair, her eyes going distant. ¡°There are some species of spider that lay hundreds, thousands of eggs at a time. In some of them, the eggs hatch in about five weeks.¡±


    There was a silence, and then Clay groaned. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that the Lair is putting these things out every five weeks?¡±


    ¡°Quite possibly, yes.¡± Olivia¡¯s eyes went back to him now. ¡°Are you going to be okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think so. It¡¯s just a lot of work, and it¡¯s keeping me from getting any further in. I haven¡¯t been able to get to any more of the big ones.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I was making good progress, too. I just don¡¯t understand why it¡¯s so much worse this time than last time.¡±


    Herbert was shaking his head. He sat down on the small pile of wood that Clay had stacked up to be fed into the fireplace. ¡°Thousands? You¡¯re telling me that thousands of monsters are getting ready to attack the town?¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± They both looked at him, and he shrugged. ¡°The things have a habit of eating each other. The big ones actually seem to really like eating the small ones, so that¡¯s probably kept the population from growing too quickly. Otherwise, they¡¯d have been in town years ago.¡±


    ¡°That may explain the increase in severity as well, Clay.¡± He looked at Olivia, and she sighed. ¡°You¡¯ve been killing enough of the older spiders that they are no longer eating as many of the spiderlings. So the new spiders are spreading out far more than they did before.¡±


    Herbert muttered something under his breath, and Clay scrubbed his hands over his face. She was right; it also explained why he hadn¡¯t seen nearly as many of the adults in the frenzy this time. The ones that were left were probably eating plenty of the spiderlings further in, past Scout¡¯s Hill. They wouldn¡¯t be showing up until later, when the available targets had decreased enough.


    ¡°Should we warn the baron?¡± They both looked at Herbert, and the [Guard] shrugged. ¡°Look, I said I would keep your secret, but I will not put the baron and the town at risk. If a wave of the things are going to come out of the forest at any moment, they need to know.¡±


    Clay thought about it for a moment, his mind going back over the war in the forest. ¡°The spiderlings are still fighting amongst each other, so I don¡¯t think we¡¯re at risk of an outbreak. At least, not yet. I¡¯m killing enough of them that they are already starting to slow down, too, so maybe it should go back to a bit more normal in a couple more days.¡±


    The [Guard] snorted. ¡°Oh really? How many thousands of spiders are you out there squashing?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m killing a few dozen a day. I haven¡¯t been keeping track, though.¡± Clay looked away from the astonished [Guard] and back at Olivia. She seemed a little surprised as well, but he didn¡¯t give her the chance to answer. ¡°Do the new monsters spawn from the Curse in the Lair itself? Or do the elder spiders lay those eggs you were talking about?¡±


    She hesitated. ¡°No. The books haven¡¯t mentioned anything about where the new monsters come from, and it might vary by the kind of Curse involved. Did you notice the elder spiders growing less active? Hiding away somewhere?¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°No, they were definitely just as active.¡±


    ¡°I doubt they were laying the eggs, then.¡± Then she paused again. ¡°Some books do mention the existence of a Guardian of sorts, something that stays close by the Curse in the middle of the Lair or the center of a Dungeon. It could be that they are the creatures that lay each clutch of new eggs.¡±


    ¡°So to stop them, I¡¯d pretty much have to be inside the Lair itself.¡±


    Herbert burst out laughing. He leaned forward, putting his face in his hands. ¡°Do you honestly think you¡¯re going to get that far? This is insane!¡±


    Clay looked at him. ¡°Well, you¡¯re welcome to join me if you want. Either way, the things need to be driven back. If not, well, they would still be coming. Not as quickly, maybe, but they¡¯d be coming all the same.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± He looked back to see Olivia watching him, her expression determined. ¡°Is there anything that we can do to help?¡±


    He thought for a moment and then shook his head. ¡°No. I think I have the weapons I need now, though that might change once I can get past this fresh batch of spiderlings. Outside of that, keep your eyes open for any sign of the [Chant] I can use to end this thing. The sooner I get a shot at destroying the Lair, the sooner it all stops.¡±


    The [Guard] watched them, his face falling into an expression that could be summarized as numb horror. ¡°You¡¯re really serious about this. You¡¯re going to try to do it all on your own? Even adventurers don¡¯t stop monster infestations all by themselves!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a [Commoner], not an adventurer.¡± Then Clay smiled. ¡°I might not be able to finish it on my own, but maybe I can clear the way for the ones who come along later. If I get the chance, though? I¡¯m not going to miss out just because I wasn¡¯t the one they were expecting to solve things.¡±


    Herbert stared at him for a little longer. Then he looked away, muttering something under his breath. Clay looked back at Olivia, and she nodded. ¡°I will keep my eyes open. Visit when you can.¡± She paused, her expression suddenly conflicted. ¡°And please, be careful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡± He forced a smile. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten pretty good at this, though. I think I¡¯ll manage.¡±


    The reactions on both of their faces said volumes, but despite their skepticism, he made a promise to himself. He¡¯d end this latest wave of monsters, and then he¡¯d push forward. No more waiting. Before the next batch of monsters spawned, he¡¯d do his best to destroy the Lair they were coming from. One way or the other, by the time the month was done, he wanted that place burned to the ground.


    He just hoped he¡¯d have the chance to make it happen before one of the things got to him.

 B1Ch16: A Minor Setback

    His fight began again the next day.


    It began similarly enough to the preceding days. He worked on the farm and put a fresh edge to his weapons. With his food prepared and his midday meal done, he went east into the Tanglewood, ready to exterminate even more of the monsters that were swarming there. Olivia and Herbert had headed home the night before, with the [Guard] giving the girl an escort back to the shrine. At the very least, he was sure she had managed to get home okay.


    The spiderlings were everywhere again, flooding in around him with stabbing limbs and dripping fangs. He lashed out at them with spear and axe, destroying them with casual skill. He suspected that both [Determined] and [Laborer] were now coming into effect when he faced them; their deaths seemed no less familiar or boring than pulling weeds or chopping away at a sablethorn bush. A part of him wanted to laugh about it, considering how, only a few months ago, this would have been a terrifying, lethal experience. Now it was just an inconvenience.


    Then, suddenly, the spiderlings vanished.


    Clay frowned, suddenly even more alert than he already was. Spiderling corpses littered the ground around and behind him. They should have been an irresistible lure for the young monsters; it had certainly drawn enough of them in before now. Why would they be hiding now?


    The answer came a moment later as a shadow crossed above him. He looked up, and recognized the unnatural, gliding motion of an elder troll spider¡ªfollowed closely by a second one.


    Horror speared through him. They weren¡¯t waiting for him anymore. The spiders were here; they¡¯d come past Scout¡¯s Hill¡ªand they¡¯d caught him in the open.


    Not good. Not good at all.


    Clay turned to run, the words of Firm Step coming to his lips immediately. He stowed the boar spear and brought out his bow, putting an arrow to the string. It wasn¡¯t worth the pause to fire yet; he only hoped that he could finish the [Chant] before one or both of them spotted him. If he did, maybe he would be able to pull one of them from the ground. If not¡­


    A screech tore through the sky above him, followed quickly by a second one. He tried to run faster, the [Chant] spilling from his lips. There was a large tree just ahead. If he could reach it, maybe he¡¯d be able to hide beneath its branches. It might force them to get to ground level to hunt him; it was still bad, but at least it was better than facing them both in the sky. Just a few more strides and he could¡ª


    The web hit him square in the left shoulder, soaking through his shirt and bonding to the skin beneath. He had barely a heartbeat of terrible realization before it yanked him up and back, the sky rending in yet another scream. This time he thought he could hear triumph in it.


    Desperation flooded him, but he forced himself to continue the [Chant]. Firm Step was almost finished, and if he could just¡­


    Branches were snapping as it dragged him through them, and as he reached the end of the spell, he kicked out with both feet. He felt that same moment of uncertainty as if he was back on that cursed table, flailing for anything that he could brace against.


    Then, just as the spell finished, his feet hit the trunk of a tree. He felt the power of the [Chant] fall over him, and his flight came to a sudden, brutal stop. He thought that something nearly cracked in his back, but he held firm, knowing that to release the spell would be his end.


    {Fortitude increases by 1! Will increases by 1!}


    Clay heard the triumphant scream cut off in a sudden squeak, as if someone had stepped on a mouse the size of a hunting dog. He drew the bowstring back to his ear and searched for a target, at least as best he could without moving his feet. It bobbed into sight a moment later, connected to his back by that thin thread. The pull had partially torn it from its glider; it was hanging from the sheet of spidersilk by a pair of limbs on its left side, while the right-side limbs flailed in an attempt to steady out again.


    He shot the thing right in one of its eyes. The arrow went in up to the fletching, and it jerked in obvious shock and pain. It was a totally natural reaction, probably unavoidable.


    It was also the worst possible response. The motion tore another leg loose from the glider, and any hope of remaining in the air vanished as the spidersilk flapped into a useless bit of thread. He felt a burst of joy as he saw the monster tumble from the sky.


    He also felt a second web impact on his chest.


    Clay had just enough time for his eyes to widen and his soul to brace before the second elder troll spider tried to pull him into the air.


    Pain tore through him, followed by an utterly terrifying snap. For an instant, he thought it had been his back, and that he¡¯d finally pushed himself a little too far. Then he realized he was moving, and he realized that the entire top half of the tree had broken loose. He was still anchored on it, and the weight of it dragged him down, preventing him from being yanked into the elder spider¡¯s tender embrace.


    He looked up at it and found that the thing had been better prepared for his trick. It still had both pairs of middle limbs attached to the glider, and even though it was wobbling, it wasn¡¯t headed for the ground yet. The cord connecting him to it suddenly went slack, and he realized it had cut him loose; maybe it was planning on trying again after he¡¯d fallen all the way back to the ground.


    Clay drew and fired in a heartbeat, sending an arrow straight for it. Then he broke the connection with the falling tree and pushed off it, leaping for the nearest of its neighbors. The spider jerked itself to the side, and then Clay was crashing through the upper branches, his left hand grabbing for any purchase he could find.


    His fingers met a branch solid enough to bear his weight a heartbeat later. He grabbed onto it long enough to swing forward onto a slightly lower branch, and then he was moving forward. It couldn¡¯t hit him as easily, not among the branches, but that meant it knew exactly where he was hiding. The others had landed to try to finish things with limb and fang. There would not be much time.


    He started the [Chant] of the Cycle of Return, his body still trembling from being yanked twice. There was no chance he¡¯d survive a third pull, and less of a chance that he¡¯d escape from two of them, even if the first was injured. It was time to change tactics.


    A shadow fell over the tree, and the elder spider was there in all its horrific glory. The spear-limbs lashed out, striking down through the foliage to find purchase and seek prey. Clay glanced upwards, continuing his [Chant] through a tight grin. He could taste blood on his teeth as he let go of his bow and reached for his spear. Then he reared back and hurled it skyward, just as the elder spider bent to snap at him.


    The spear drove up and into the thing, punching in so deep that the blade went in up to the crossguard in its shoulder. He saw it rear back, shocked and screaming, his weapon still embedded in its flesh. Clay ducked around the trunk of the tree, still muttering arcane words under his breath as he raced out along a different branch. Above, the thing scrabbled in the branches, getting ready for another leap.


    It had just started the motion when Clay finished his [Chant]. The Cycle of Return burned to life along his arm as he reached out and pulled.


    There was a terrible tearing sound, as his spear drilled itself into and through the spider¡¯s body, pulled to him by a magic Clay had never expected to use in battle. He sent a feeling of gratitude along to Olivia for suggesting the [Chant]¡¯s other possible uses, and grinned as the spear burst from its belly and ichor rained down from the wounded spider. Its leap became a tumble, and it fell in a wounded tumble towards the forest floor.


    {Insight increases by 1!}


    Clay caught his spear, covered in ichor as it was. He wavered for a moment, still aching and sore from the effort. Then he scrambled back along another branch, looking for a good place to descend.


    Below him, the spider seemed to struggle to right itself. Two of its right limbs weren¡¯t moving, save to sway listlessly as it thrashed. Another on the left side had been caught beneath it when it fell and snapped. The two ends of the wound that had impaled it were both still leaking ichor, occasionally spraying it as it tried to flip itself over.


    It had just barely managed that feat when Clay threw himself from the tree, descending with the spear in his hand. He fell on it like a thunderbolt made of iron and wood, flesh and fury. The impact met the thing just behind its head and smashed it to the ground.


    {Elder Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    The monster continued to crumple in on itself beneath him, and Clay freed his spear with a grunt. Where had the second thing fallen? Was it airborne again? If so, he didn¡¯t know if he could fight it. Another pulling contest would kill him, prepared or not, [Determined] or not. When he searched the pieces of sky that he could see through the branches, though, he saw nothing. No webs, no elder eldritch creature ready to slay him.


    He did, however, hear scrabbling and muted screeching. Gingerly moving off the dead elder spider, Clay started off in a half-jog towards the noises. Maybe if he could find it still on the ground¡­


    Clay came to a stop a few moments later. The first spider had fallen from the sky, straight into the embrace of an old oak tree. Its limbs had shattered, but worse than that, one stubborn branch had speared it straight through the body, pinning it to the oak beneath.


    It still struggled and fought, however, its remaining intact limbs clawing at the tree that held it fast. Ichor bled from it, painting the side of the tree. He saw its eyes fixate on him, and a limb lashed in his direction, but he simply stepped back and watched it thrash a little more.


    Eventually, it went limp.


    {Elder Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    He put his back to the tree, breathing in relief. He¡¯d been ambushed, but he¡¯d survived, and now two more of the elders were down. The more he could kill, the more vulnerable the Lair would be. How many more of those things could he kill?


    Even as he was tempted to relax, however, he heard shuffling sounds in the surrounding forest. The spiderlings might have fled when their superiors were about, but now the corpses were drawing fresh attention. Standing upright again, and trying to avoid thinking of how badly his muscles were strained already, he set himself. His day was not done yet.


    It was late when Clay returned home, and he was in a foul mood.


    The spiderlings had flocked to the corpses like vultures, dumb and blind with their hunger. He¡¯d ended dozens of them in only minutes and had left the two elder corpses surrounded by carpets of the younger monsters. It would make a grim feast for whatever scavengers came afterwards, but that had been a secondary concern.


    He¡¯d spent a few moments searching for his bow during a lull in the fighting, and discovered that the cursed elder monster he¡¯d killed first had come down on top of it. The bow had snapped in half, beyond his ability to fix it, robbing him of any long range tactics aside from his sling. True, the slingstones were more than enough to deal with spiderlings, but he¡¯d need a better option for the bigger abominations.


    Which meant, unfortunate as it was, he¡¯d need to take a break from hunting the next day. Clay hoped it wouldn¡¯t spell in a wave of spiders escaping the Tanglewood, but he¡¯d already noticed the flood of monsters lessening. He sighed and told himself he might make up for it in the future.


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    For now, he needed to rest, if he could manage. There was too much to do, but he still forced himself to study the pages with the [Chants] on them for a little while before he fell into bed. After all, the things had saved him today. Maybe the next one he learned would allow him to down the spiders without almost dying first.


    A man could hope.


    He caught sight of Herbert riding his horse up the trail from town, and he smiled. The [Guard] looked both relieved and annoyed to find him on the road to Pellsglade, and he turned the horse to ride alongside him.


    ¡°You again, you fool?¡±


    Clay raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded. ¡°Yeah, kind of.¡±


    Herbert grunted. ¡°What does that mean? You weren¡¯t hunting monsters again?¡±


    ¡°I was. Problem was, this time they were hunting me.¡± He told the [Guard] about his encounter with the things, and the [Guard] sat up very straight in his saddle.


    ¡°That¡­does not sound good. Is that the first time they¡¯ve pulled that trick?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Yeah. In a way, it means good things, because I¡¯ve got them worried. In others¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably an even worse idea for the baron to encounter one of those things.¡± Herbert shivered. ¡°Are you sure you are winning this war, Clay? Gods know, you¡¯re a brave one, but in things like this, you need to use your head. There¡¯s no shame in not being able to handle it alone.¡±


    Clay walked along for a stretch, thinking it over. ¡°Each fight I win, I grow stronger. I¡¯m level five now, something I don¡¯t think any [Commoner] has gotten to before. They don¡¯t have an infinite supply of those creatures either; they might spawn a thousand spiderlings, but they can¡¯t grow into elders overnight. If they keep throwing them at me, that¡¯ll just give me an opening to get to where the little ones are being created. I just have to keep fighting.¡±


    Herbert looked at him with a jaded eye. ¡°And how many of those fights have you won without taking any damage at all? Even I can tell you are limping along today. How close were they to eating you, and then spreading however they like?¡±


    The questions silenced Clay for another long stretch of road. He wasn¡¯t wrong, though Clay was still rebellious at the idea of sitting back and waiting for adventurers to appear. Even if they arrived the next day, they wouldn¡¯t have the experience that he had with the Tanglewood. They might have developed their talents fighting an entirely different kind of foe, and they were just as mortal as he was. Who said it wouldn¡¯t be them that ended up feeding the spiders?


    He looked up, and Herbert was still staring at him, his brow furrowed. Clay looked back ahead at the road. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, Herb, but fighting is the only thing I can do now. Giving up might save me, but would it save the baron? Or the rest of the village? Those things are coming for us sooner or later. Might as well go for them first.¡±


    Herbert rode along in silence for a few more moments. Then he snorted. ¡°Herb, huh? Who told you to call me that?¡±


    Clay rolled his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re talking about a wave of monsters, and you¡¯re worried about that?¡±


    ¡°A man has to have priorities, son.¡± The [Guard] snorted again. Clay could see him shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. ¡°I can stall the baron a little longer. I think he¡¯s not excited about going into the Tanglewood, anyway. He seems to have some idea of what those screams are coming from, and he has no intention of facing them without a good number of adventurers riding with him. The man might be a bit pompous, but he has a good head on his shoulders¡ªunlike some I know.¡±


    He chuckled at the implication. ¡°Fair enough.¡± Clay looked up at him again. ¡°He sent you to check on me again?¡±


    ¡°This morning? Hardly.¡± Herbert gave him a knowing look. ¡°A certain other young lass cornered me and sent me on my way. It was either that, or she¡¯d have come herself.¡±


    Clay felt his face turn red. ¡°I¡­ see.¡± He tried to focus on the road. ¡°Well, you can tell her I¡¯m on my way.¡±


    ¡°I will. Hopefully, the walk will mean you won¡¯t be limping along like you have a hangover by the time you get there.¡± Herbert urged his horse forward, bringing the animal up to a trot. He yelled back over his shoulder. ¡°Good fortune to you, you bold idiot!¡±


    ¡°And to you, Herb!¡± Clay chuckled again as Herbert made a rude gesture, and then sighed. He tried to straighten up, feeling another spike of pain run through him. Why hadn¡¯t he been able to find any [Chants] that healed things, anyway?


    It took him another half hour of walking to reach town, and by then he¡¯d only winced a little with each step. By the time he reached Pellsglade, he was beginning to regret not catching a ride with Herbert. The horse might have left him sore, but at least it would have gotten him into town faster.


    As he limped into sight of the shrine, he caught sight of a familiar figure in a novice¡¯s robe waiting for him. He tried not to grin too much as Olivia hurried towards him. ¡°I¡¯m all right. I was just coming to see you.¡±


    Olivia seemed unconvinced as she stopped short of him. He almost thought that she was holding herself back a little as she looked him over. ¡°I¡­heard the screams. What happened? I thought you were just fighting the spiderlings.¡±


    ¡°The elder spiders had other plans.¡± Clay shifted a little on his feet. A burst of pain made him grimace. ¡°I handled it, but they got some hits in first.¡±


    She nodded, her face settling into a determined look. ¡°I have some poultices in the shrine, which may help. Come with me.¡±


    Clay blinked and took a step back. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Olivia. I mean it. I just need a little more time to¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to spend that time in pain.¡± She stepped forward and took hold of his arm. ¡°Now come with me. You can tell me about how it happened, and we can think of what we should do next.¡±


    He tried protesting, but she didn¡¯t seem to be listening very well. Instead, the novice towed him along toward the shrine. Clay tried not to notice a handful of village women who caught sight of him being pulled along, and the way they whispered among themselves. Some of them seemed to be giggling.


    Clay sighed and gave up. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t be too bad of a problem in the future. He wasn¡¯t looking forward to his next conversation with his mother, though.


    ¡°It is fortunate that we talked about the [Chants], then. Apparently, you have caused enough trouble for them that they see you as a real threat.¡±


    Clay grinned a little, and then winced as Olivia spread the poultice on another spot on his back. She¡¯d insisted on him taking off his shirt so she could apply it, and her eyes had widened slightly at the mass of bruises that covered his chest and back. Fortunately, it seemed like the Rector was once again avoiding the library, or else Clay was reasonably sure that he would have had some questions about what his Novice was doing with some random farmer with his shirt off.


    Not that anyone would have suspected them of anything untoward now. The poultice burned a little as it went on, but then it quickly faded to more of a mild tingle. It did not, however, stop smelling faintly like spoiled milk. He sighed. Hopefully, he didn¡¯t drift too close to anyone from town after this visit, or else they would report back to his mother that he wasn¡¯t bathing.


    He pulled his weary mind back from those thoughts. ¡°Yeah, without those [Chants] I¡¯d have been dead for certain. Even with them, it was a close thing.¡±


    Olivia was quiet for a moment, her hands withdrawing. Then she spread the poultice on another spot, making him grunt. ¡°Are you certain that you can keep up this fight? I¡¯ve heard that the baron has received a response from the guild of adventurers. They are sending a team to investigate. It should only be a handful of weeks.¡±


    Clay sighed again, his mind turning it over. ¡°I can¡¯t risk stopping. What if they come right when the next frenzy starts? Or what if they run into the next elder spider hunting party? The ones they send might not be expecting that level of aggression. They could be wiped out before they even realize what¡¯s happening.¡±


    ¡°If the next hunting party catches you unprepared, you could die. Where would they be then?¡± She kneaded the poultice into his back a bit more roughly than he thought was necessary. ¡°If you are dead when they come, they would be in just as much danger, if not more. If you still live, you can at least warn them.¡±


    He paused, realizing he¡¯d never even asked himself if he would need to hide from the adventurers when they arrived. Clay had just automatically assumed that he¡¯d need to hide his actions from them. If he did reveal himself, would they accept his help? Would they attempt to arrest him? Or would they work with him to end the threat? What if they were only coming to hunt down the supposed Rogue, and not to help with the monsters at all?


    Olivia broke the silence before he could come to a decision. ¡°Are you planning on working with them? I thought you would appreciate the help.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good question. I suppose it depends on why they are here. If they are just here to kill the Lair, then I¡¯ll get them to it as quickly as I can. If they are here to track down whoever has been messing with the monsters¡­¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Olivia worked her hands into a knot of pained muscle on his left shoulder, forcing a grunt from him. ¡°You don¡¯t know them. It would be hard to anticipate their reaction.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She sighed behind him. Then she stepped around him, her green eyes locking onto his own. ¡°Allow me to help you, then. If they arrive and I decide they are trustworthy, and you show signs of hiding from them just to satisfy your own pride, I will go to them. I will not let you fight alone, and as I cannot join you yet, I will make sure the ones who can are by your side.¡±


    The steel in her voice took him aback. ¡°Olivia, they might try to put me under arrest and drag me back to the capital. What if the only ¡®help¡¯ they give me is putting me in a cage?¡±


    ¡°I have every confidence that you will never allow yourself to be contained for long. I have just as much confidence that you would rather risk your life than take a chance on getting help on uncomfortable terms.¡± She paused, brushing her hands through the container of poultice on her desk. ¡°You are a strong man, but a stubborn one. I won¡¯t allow you to be killed by your own ambitions. Or do you intend for me to stay silent and then feel the guilt of the choice over your grave?¡±


    Her question brought him up short. ¡°I¡¯m just doing what I think needs to be done.¡±


    ¡°As will I. Do you deny me the same choice?¡± She held his eyes for a moment. When he looked away, she nodded, and started to spread the poultice over a particularly ugly bruise on his sternum. ¡°All the same, if you will not wait, then we should at least plan for success. Have you been able to access any further [Chants]? You said you increased your level again.¡±


    Clay felt a little bit of relief at the change of topic. There really wasn¡¯t anything he could do to stop her from telling the adventurers, so he supposed he would need to depend on them either being entirely trustworthy or extremely shifty. Either way, it was back to business. ¡°Not yet. I¡¯ve been trying to study when I get home, but I haven¡¯t made much progress.¡±


    ¡°You should make it a priority. Containing the swarm is important, but if they are hunting you, you¡¯ll need more than small magic at your disposal.¡± She rubbed her thumb a little harder into the bruise, making him grit his teeth. ¡°Your [Memory] should be able to reach what a newly called [Oracle] or [Mage] can gain, and there are several [Chants] that the manual recommends for them when they run short of [Charms] to use. Spells such as the Canticle of Ice should be within your reach now.¡±


    He nodded. The concept of having actual combat magic at his beck and call seemed unreal, but he had to admit, it would make the next ambush much easier¡ªwhether or not it was the elder spiders attacking him, or him attacking them. ¡°I¡¯ll put more effort into it from now on.¡±


    Then he paused, feeling slightly uncomfortable. ¡°And Olivia? Thanks. For everything.¡±


    Curiously, a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. Her touch on his chest went from firm and businesslike to soft, almost affectionate. Just for a moment. ¡°You are welcome.¡±


    Then she pulled back, avoiding his eyes. She wiped her hands off on a cloth. ¡°You should be ready now. Go ahead and dress yourself. Did you need anything else?¡±


    He felt a blush rise in his own cheeks, but he grabbed his shirt. The smell did not improve as he slid it over his head, but the soreness lessened slightly as the ointment burned. ¡°No. I just¡­wanted you to know what was happening.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate your concern.¡± When he managed to get the shirt over his head, he saw her standing with her hands folded, her posture upright and proper as any Rector could hope to be. Only the red in her cheeks betrayed her at all. ¡°Please be careful, traveler. May good fortune go with you.¡±


    Clay gave her a crooked grin. ¡°And with you, Olivia.¡± Her blush deepened a little more, and she nodded. He gathered his things and started for the exit to the shrine. His heart felt curiously light, but that was fine by him. He needed some good news, after all.


    He made it to the edge of town¡ªtrying not to notice the way some of the villagers were smiling at him knowingly or whispering as he passed¡ªbefore he noticed a familiar-looking figure on a horse trotting towards him. ¡°Twice in one day, Herb? I thought you were finished with me.¡±


    ¡°Not quite. I just needed to go make sure of some things.¡± The [Guard] pulled up his horse and swung it around to face the same direction as him. ¡°Want a ride back? You are looking like you¡¯ve loosened up a bit.¡±


    ¡°A bit.¡± Clay gave him a grateful look. ¡°I¡¯ll take you up on that, thanks.¡± Herbert waited while he clambered on the horse behind him, and then urged the horse into a trot. Soon, the fields and forest were passing by on either side of them. Even the occasional bump and jolt was worth it. Maybe there would be enough time to study the [Chants] before he got to the farm work for the day.


    ¡°So you mentioned that one of those things landed on your bow?¡± The question surprised Clay out of his own thoughts.


    ¡°Yeah. Broke it clean in half.¡± He grimaced. His ambushes were going to be complicated without that thing. The sling was nice for the younger spiders, but he doubted he was going to be knocking elder spiders from the sky with it.


    ¡°Well, I figure that getting a new one might stretch your coin a little too far, so I took a look around the baron¡¯s armory. Just in case there were some things that could be a fit. Check the saddlebags on the right.¡±


    Clay frowned in surprise and then looked over the side. He saw a bow strapped alongside the horse, one that seemed far thicker than his hunting bow had been. It even had a smooth leather carrying case, something that would make it easy to carry and stow as needed. ¡°Is that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just an old warbow that the baron had lying around.¡± Herbert shrugged. ¡°I mentioned that someone I knew had lost their bow, and the armorer gave it to me. Seems like it won¡¯t be missed. Same with the knife on the other side.¡±


    Frowning, Clay checked and found a long, heavy knife in a sheath there. It looked like someone had taken a butcher¡¯s cleaver and whittled it down to something more easily carried. When he drew it slightly, the edge glimmered with lethality. ¡°What is this thing?¡±


    ¡°Just a bush knife. Nothing that anyone would use for serious fights, but it could be handy if you needed to chop through some things. Better than a woodaxe, certainly.¡± Herbert¡¯s elaborately casual comment made Clay grin. He sheathed the knife again and straightened back up.


    ¡°Well thank you, Herb. I¡¯ll make sure to put them to good use.¡±


    Herbert snorted. ¡°Maybe you should put the local river to use first, farmboy. You smell like a cow farted, and you took the smell for an inspiration.¡±


    Clay couldn¡¯t help chuckling to himself, and tried not to grunt as the [Guard] urged the horse to go a little faster. It had been a good day, after all.

 B1Ch17: Magic and Mantraps

    {Elder Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Spiderbane: 25% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 50% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, Mature Troll Spiders, and Elder Troll Spiders.}


    Clay straightened up from the elder spider corpse, a feeling of satisfaction spreading through him. It was his third kill in three days; the prospect of getting hunted and ambushed had helped him decide it would be better to attack the elder creatures while they were still on alert than wait for them to come find him. He¡¯d been tempted to even wait for the reinforcements to come after each kill, but he¡¯d decided that was overambitious.


    At the very least, the spiders had shifted their patrols to account for him. They no longer flew in the air unless they were responding to the death-screams of their friends. Instead, they were crawling through the treetops, obviously having decided that the skies were dangerous for them now. It was a wise decision, but it just meant that he¡¯d been able to wait in the top of a tree for one of them to come crawling by, and then use his spear and Cycle of Return to wound them brutally before they knew what was happening.


    The spiderling frenzy had calmed down by the time he returned to the forest, which meant he had been able to get all the way back to the valley without being bogged down in too many corpses. He¡¯d pushed as far as he could each day, not wanting the elder spiders to come past Scout¡¯s Hill anymore. Better for the killing to happen on their territory than his.


    Now that he¡¯d finished killing his tenth elder troll spider, however, there was only one other place he could go to continue to improve. He turned to stare through the forest, where he could see just the barest hint of the groves of webbed trees he assumed marked the territory of the elder mantrap spiders.


    It would be best to begin with them another day, after he¡¯d scouted around the area a little. He didn¡¯t want to be too hasty, after all, and he could already hear the scuttling in the trees that signaled the elder troll spiders were coming for him.


    So, leaving the corpse behind, he made his way back to Scout¡¯s Hill. There was other, less bloody work waiting for him at home.


    He¡¯d been so preoccupied that Clay almost missed the signs that summer was nearing its close.


    The heat had already started to fade from the afternoons, and the sunlight was retreating from the mornings and evenings. By the time he made it back to the farmhouse, the sun was already setting behind the trees, casting a warm red light over the clouds in the sky. He grimaced as he realized that the change in seasons would mean that he would have that much less time to fight the monsters each day, unless he wanted to hunt at night. Something told him it would not be a good idea to fight the spiders by starlight.


    Of course, the time was also going to be running short for his small farm as well. He had plenty of space cleared so far, at least to grow enough to feed himself, but he would need to start planting soon if he wanted a decent crop to come in before the snows came. Ignoring that was not a good idea; if hunger didn¡¯t get him, then his father certainly would.


    Clay was still chuckling over that thought as he stepped out of the Tanglewood. He eyed his farmhouse in the fading light, somewhat relieved that it didn¡¯t look like anyone was waiting to surprise him. As he looked it over, however, it occurred to him he was still living in a building that leaked like a sieve when it rained. It was probably something he¡¯d need to fix before the real autumn storms came.


    With a put-upon sigh, Clay went to set aside his weapons and take up his hammer and nails. He was sure that he had enough shingles in place; they just needed to be better aligned. Clambering up on the roof was easy enough; he¡¯d been climbing enough trees lately that a simple farmhouse was child¡¯s play. Maybe a couple of hours¡¯ work would give him a house that wasn¡¯t going to half-collapse at the first gust of snow. He¡¯d have to see.


    The elder mantraps were going to be¡­complicated to approach.


    After two days of scouting, slipping between the elder troll spider patrols to reach the edges of the webbed area, he¡¯d concluded that the elder mantraps had somehow gotten far better at disguising their tunnels, or they had some other trick for ambushing their prey. He had not been able to identify a single trapdoor in any of the areas, even when he carefully peered at the ground beneath the webbing. There were webs there, hidden beneath the more obvious ones; he assumed they functioned like the ones outside of the mantrap nests, alerting the spiders inside to intruders and possibly yanking them off their feet. Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t see where the spider was intending on coming from this time.


    He assumed the more obvious webs worked the same way too, allowing the elder mantraps to communicate with each other. Spread much farther, they would prevent an enemy from hiding in the tree branches within their territory and popping out to assault them. It was a smart way to prevent ambushes from above.


    Of course, Clay wasn¡¯t planning on going into their territory, so hopefully that would ruin their plans.


    He settled into the branches of the tree outside the webbed area, testing the strength of his new bow. It was far heavier and stronger than his last one, a fact that he hoped to use to his advantage now. Clay glanced up and around, trying to make sure that there was no sign of an elder troll spider nearby, and then began to whisper the [Chant] of the Spontaneous Spark.


    It had been another of Olivia¡¯s ideas, one that he hoped would give him the edge here. The spell was supposedly used to light campfires, but it could start a stubborn little blaze near him no matter what. When he neared the end of the [Chant], Clay drew the wooden arrow back on his bowstring, and focused on the tip.


    Fire guttered to life at the tip of the arrow, beginning to consume the projectile, starting at the tip. He smiled and loosed. The flame didn¡¯t flicker or fade one bit as it sped into the webbing draped over the forest ahead.


    The arrow thudded into one thick trunk, and he focused on the power of the [Chant], trying to make the flame flare a little. There was a bit of resistance, given the distance, but a moment later the webbing caught, and fire spread throughout the thicket, eating away at the dead wood. Dry branches and drifting webs burned easily, and soon enough, flames and smoke were rising from the nearest trees as well.


    It wouldn¡¯t kill the thing living beneath them, but it would rile it. Clay turned and began tossing a handful of stones out. They thumped into the ground in quick succession, hopefully sounding like a retreating set of footsteps. The elder mantrap could probably sense vibrations far better than a normal spider; at this distance, it would hopefully not be able to tell the stones apart.


    His smile faded as he heard a rumbling, scraping sound. He turned back to the fire, in time to see a¡­shifting¡­in the ground. Leaves stirred and branches shifted, all in a straight path for the stones. Was the thing invisible? How was he supposed to kill it if it was?


    Clay shook the question off and picked up the next item. It was one of the old boots he¡¯d picked up from Adam during his most recent visit to town. The merchant had been driven to the edge of exasperation, but he¡¯d handed over four pairs of shoes, too old and worn to do anyone any good, in exchange for a bit of coin. He¡¯d carried two of them into the Tanglewood with him, and he lifted one and tossed it, just past the foot of the tree, where the next fleeing step would have landed.


    Whatever was disturbing the ground accelerated, almost unnoticeable as it closed in. Clay¡¯s frown grew, and he carefully tossed the next shoe. If the thing really was invisible, it would see it and come straight for him. If it wasn¡¯t, then how¡­


    His questions were answered in the next moment, when a massive spider erupted from beneath the ground, right where the shoe had landed. Its fanged maw engulfed the boot immediately, and spiked legs slashed inwards, impaling the air where its prey would have been.


    Then it froze, a horse-sized monster of armored carapace and deadly venom, obviously baffled by the lack of fresh meat in its maw.


    Without thinking, Clay drew the next arrow in his quiver as far as he could. Then he shot the monster in the neck, just where he usually aimed for the younger mantraps.


    The broadhead shaft sank deep into the thing, and it made a noise of outrage and pain. Then, before he could draw the next arrow, it vanished, dirt and stone flying up as it burrowed down again.


    Clay drew the arrow back anyway, trying to watch for the disturbance. It wouldn¡¯t run, not with its home burning and prey in the area. Could it sense him in the tree? Had it managed to see him?


    He heard the ground break behind him, and something heavy struck the tree. The branches shook, and he nearly lost his balance and fell. Wobbling, he regained his balance and turned just in time to see the dirt settling in place again, the monster once again underground.


    Thinking quickly, he released the tension on the bowstring, grabbing another slingstone again instead. He threw it as hard as he could at a nearby patch of soil, where a person falling from the tree might have hit. Then he drew the arrow again, ready to fire.


    The spider struck an instant later, fangs clashing in the air. He shot it straight in the head, hitting the monster in the middle of its venomous maw. As it thrashed and hissed, Clay put another arrow into it, this time smashing into it under one of the shoulder joints for a forelimb. It tried to draw back into the tunnel again, but this time it was moving too slowly, letting Clay put a third arrow directly into its eye.


    It gave a keening howl, one that was trailing off as Clay finally abandoned the tree, his spear in his hand. He ran forward, desperate to reach the thing before it could pull back underground. As he drew close, it turned on him, its remaining eyes filled with rage and pain and hate.


    He ignored the glare and drove the spearpoint straight into it. The impact knocked the spider up and away from its hole. Its limbs thrashed at him, but he kept the thing at a distance, hoping that the crossguard would hold against the weight. It screamed and thrashed harder, fighting to get closer.


    Then Clay wrenched the spear from side to side, feeling things crunch inside the monster. It shuddered, spasmed, and then went still.


    {Elder Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 60}


    He freed the spear with a yank and stepped back from the corpse. It slumped to the side, still bleeding ichor. The broken carapace flickered in the fire''s glow that was continuing to spread a short distance away.


    Clay reached over to recover his arrows, but before he could, he heard those scraping sounds again. This time they came from multiple directions, converging on him. Apparently, the troll spiders weren¡¯t the only ones to aid each other. He needed to go.


    He took off running, hoping that he would gain enough distance to evade them. If not, it was going to be a long day before he reached home. Behind him, the fire continued to burn, sending more and more smoke up into the sky.


    The mantraps chased him nearly as far as Scout¡¯s Hill, only relenting as clouds gathered overhead. By the time he had descended the hill, rain was already falling. He struggled back home through the mud, fending off the occasional attack from a desperate spiderling, and idly hoping that his attempts to fix the house had been successful.


    When he made it home, it quickly became clear that he¡¯d only managed to partially fix the situation. There were only four leaks this time, which was a sad but marked improvement. Clay wearily set aside the weapons he carried and began plugging the remaining holes, or placing the pots beneath them when he couldn¡¯t get to the hole itself. Spontaneous Spark lit the fire for him, and a candle as well; it made him chuckle to think that the same magic that had helped him kill a monster could light his simple home with a similar amount of effort.


    He¡¯d killed the elder mantrap, but he¡¯d also lost four of his arrows. That wasn¡¯t a rate that he could keep up for long, not if he wanted to kill another nine. It was even worse if he wanted to pick off as many as he could before getting past them and into the Lair.


    With a sigh, he fell into his chair and stared at the pages full of [Chants]. He¡¯d been trying to make his way through them for days now, but they all just seemed to blur together.


    Then, with a grim sort of determination, he set himself to the task of memorizing them. A simple [Chant] had given him the chance to burn the elder mantraps out of their holes. Perhaps magic would provide the means to kill them as well.


    The rain continued to fall on the roof overhead, and he continued to work to the sound of drips falling from above.


    It was late in the afternoon the next day when he pushed himself back from the table in frustration.


    The rain had continued through the night, and into the morning, keeping him bound within his farmhouse. There were a few chores he could tend to, and he¡¯d already done them. Aside from that, he¡¯d already set aside the foolish idea of trying to go kill an elder spider in the rain. He was fairly certain the raindrops wouldn¡¯t distract the things, and the mud and rain would complicate everything else for him. Patience was needed, galling as it was.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Besides, he was going to figure out these [Chants] if it was the last thing he could do.


    Still determined, he leaned forward again and ran his eyes over the latest batch of [Chants]. He¡¯d found four of them that Olivia had marked as beginner level [Chants] ones mentioned in the manual as being useful for new magic users. The Canticle of Ice was meant to throw spikes of ice; the Ballad of Air hurled a target backward. The Flame-Tongued Song burned a nearby enemy, and the Drums of Earth shook the ground. Any of them would be welcome to use against an enemy like the elder mantraps. None of them made enough sense to stay locked in his mind.


    He sighed and lowered his head to the table for a moment. For some reason, the final point of [Memory] remained elusive for him. What was he doing wrong?


    Clay went back to the syllables, running a finger over the ones for the Canticle of Ice. He made it about partway through before he changed his mind. The Flame-Tongued Song would let him light the webs ablaze without an arrow, so perhaps that was the better option?


    He switched and started running through the syllables for that [Chant], his finger tracing the lines. Clay made it most of the way through the [Chant] before everything seemed to slip away from him. It was like the two [Chants] were blurring together in his mind; in fact, he could have sworn that he had just read the same syllables in the one before it¡­


    Clay¡¯s thoughts trailed off for a moment. He stared at the pages blankly, and then he placed the pages side by side. With one finger, he traced the syllables of the start of the Canticle. The other started at the end of the Song and worked backward.


    They were the same. The Canticle and the Song were the same syllables, just reversed. That couldn¡¯t be right, could it?


    Yet as he progressed, the two [Chants] lined up exactly, with each mind-twisting syllable in the same, yet opposite position. He stared at the pages for a moment, and then sat back, his mind spinning.


    Clay went and found the page with the [Chant] for Firm Step. He stood in the center of the room and read it, feeling the familiar spell work its way into his soul. A moment later, the magic settled over him, and he welcomed the feeling of solidity and permanence in it.


    He let the spell go, and the feeling left. Then, slowly and deliberately, he started to read the [Chant] in reverse. It was hard; habit and instinct had drilled the pattern of Firm Step deep into him. Reciting it backwards was as frustrating as doing the same for the alphabet; it flew in the face of the natural order of things.


    Yet when he finished the last syllable, Clay felt his eyes widen as magic settled over him again. This time, the spell seemed to buoy him up, like he was floating in a lake. He wobbled a little, his balance thrown off.


    Then he looked down. His feet weren¡¯t touching the floor.


    Clay nearly lost hold of the spell; the shock of seeing himself suspended in midair was something he hadn¡¯t been expecting. He stayed steady, but when he tried to take a step forward, he nearly slid, as if he was walking on ice. Moving carefully, he skated forward, eventually running up against the wall of the farmhouse.


    He pushed himself back and slid for a while, thinking. Mostly, he was picturing the elder mantraps, listening for footsteps underground. Footsteps he no longer needed to have.


    Clay smiled.


    He released the spell and then turned to look at the candle on the table. A moment¡¯s search found him the [Chant] of the Spontaneous Spark. Another few moments of careful, reversed reading, and the candle snuffed itself, as thoroughly as if he¡¯d pinched it between his fingers or dowsed it in water.


    {Insight increases by 1! Memory increases by 1!}


    He grinned as the notification appeared. Finally, things were locking into place. Maybe those [Chants] would as well.


    The rain continued to fall outside, but in here, it was starting to look rather bright.


    Over the next three days, three different elder mantraps died.


    The [Chants] he used made the work far easier. Drums of Earth, when focused correctly, made an excellent replacement for rocks and shoes. Ballad of Air could yank the mantrap spider out of its hole and flip it on its back long enough for him to put the boar spear into its belly. If it survived that, Floating Step¡ªwhich was the name he gave the reversal of Firm Step¡ªallowed him to move around the area undetected, while Cycle of Return brought his spear back to his hand. The ease of it all nearly made him angry; where had these tricks been when he was being yanked into the sky by monsters?


    It was enough of a change that when the elder troll spiders closed in on him after his kill on the third day; he started to run for Scout¡¯s Hill¡­and stopped. Clay turned back and examined the area. He was far enough away that the elder mantraps would not arrive any time soon; he¡¯d discovered that they often spent more time extinguishing the fires he¡¯d set before trying to hunt him down.


    Maybe it was time to give the troll spiders a little bit more attention again.


    Clay coasted a bit further away from the dead mantrap, skating along on Floating Step. Then he settled in and began the [Chant] for the Canticle of Ice. He hadn¡¯t had the chance to use it against the burrowing mantraps, but an elder troll spider seemed like it would be an ideal target.


    He kept his attention on the sky, waiting for the first spider. The Canticle took more time than the simpler [Chants], since it didn¡¯t have the bonus from [Smallmage], but the rest of the bonuses would give it plenty of punch.


    It didn¡¯t take long before the spiders made their appearance. The first one appeared over the crown of a nearby tree. He saw it crawl in low through the branches, and then stand tall as it spotted him. Clay grinned; he felt the power build in him as he finished the [Chant]. There was a single frozen moment as it stared at him, and then it moved.


    The [Chant] finished first. A sudden burst of shining power rushed through him; it gathered into a fistful of icicles that launched themselves at the spider. The monster had just enough time to rear back slightly before the jagged shards of ice crashed into it. Limbs shattered and ice gouged through spiderflesh. It folded backward and collapsed out of sight.


    He didn¡¯t take time to gloat. Instead, he began a new [Chant] and turned to face the rustling branches that were coming from another direction. When the second troll spider appeared over the edge of the tree canopy, he hurled his boar spear up and into it. The weapon struck it in the body, but failed to do nearly enough damage. It shrilled a warcry at him and then moved forward.


    It had only started forward, its spear-limbs aching out to strike, when he finished the second, shorter [Chant]. The reversed version of the Cycle of Return¡ªone he called the Pursuing Leap.


    One moment, he was staring up at the spider. The next, the [Chant] had hurled him through the air, pulling him towards the spear he¡¯d thrown. He pivoted in midair, aiming to hit the thing feet first. The spider reared back in surprise, but it couldn¡¯t move fast enough. Clay hit it hard, his hands closing around the spear haft, and hung on as it began to buck and fight.


    He pulled out the bush knife Herbert had given him. With one hand still on the spear, he hacked at the thing¡¯s belly and legs, hitting it again and again as the spider fought to toss him away. It reared back, exposing its neck, and he slashed at it there instead. Two hits had nearly severed the head completely, and the spider actually slumped forward, the strength going out of its legs.


    Clay jumped away, landing with a skid on the dirt. The spider crashed down next to him, and he yanked his spear free to stab it again.


    {Elder Troll Spider slain!}


    {Valor increases by 1!}


    He nodded in satisfaction and then took a step towards where the other spider had collapsed. It took just a few moments to find it, broken-legged and bleeding ichor. A pair of spear thrusts finished the job.


    Then he headed for home, satisfied that no monster would be hunting him again any time soon.


    Early the next day, he found himself regretting that assumption.


    He¡¯d made his way through the Tanglewood west of Scout¡¯s Hill, the same as he had done for several days. The area had grown less and less dangerous recently, with the number of spiderlings falling drastically throughout the past week, which meant that he could traverse the forest at a much faster pace. Clay had set out early in an attempt to reach the valley quickly, the better to take his next target down. Just one more elder mantrap, and he¡¯d be able to reach level six, which would hopefully bring its own benefits.


    The weather was colder than it had been. A breeze with the edge of autumn blew by, rustling the branches and leaves, bringing with it the smell of rain. Maybe the clouds weren¡¯t quite done yet. He¡¯d have to be fast, in case the rain started later. That reason was part of why he¡¯d gone hunting first instead of tending to the farm in the morning.


    Then, partway up Scout¡¯s Hill, he stopped.


    Something was wrong. He looked around the hill, his eyes searching for signs of adult spiders attempting to set an ambush. They¡¯d mostly disappeared from this side of Scout¡¯s Hill, and in fact they were even growing rare in the valley, but he couldn¡¯t discount that. He saw nothing in the branches, either; elder troll spiders would have been traveling that way, since they had stopped trusting in their ability to snatch him into the sky. Then what¡­


    His thoughts trailed off as he noticed a patch of dirt in front of him. He had passed this way the day before, and he could still see traces of his own bootprints in the dirt. They led up the hill, on their way up past the crest of the hill.


    At least they did until they were interrupted by a sudden blank patch of soil.


    Clay stared at it, seeing how it had been disturbed. His footprints were gone, but something had torn up the ground, and then smoothed it out somehow. He drew in a breath and then let it out, his eyes searching the surrounding forest again. There was another patch a short distance away, this one only partially covered by leaves; one errant leaf was partially buried in the soft ground, standing up like a small flag.


    So. Elder mantrap spiders, waiting in ambush. They¡¯d likely already felt him walking towards them. The question was how much longer they would wait before launching their attack, and how he could prepare for them in the meantime.


    He considered using Floating Step, but that wasn¡¯t going to help against two of them; as soon as he came back to the ground, they¡¯d both be on top of him. Climbing a tree wouldn¡¯t work either, as the elders seemed to be able to sense him even through the tree bark at close range. They¡¯d be more than capable of knocking over the tree and then launching themselves at him while he struggled upright.


    Clay set himself, thinking for a moment. Then he began the [Chant] for Drums of Earth. He listened for the crackling, scraping sound of the mantraps¡¯ tunneling. His magic wouldn¡¯t help if the things popped out right below him to take their meal.


    When the [Chant] activated, he focused on making footsteps trailing away from him. Moving carefully, he drew out his bow and nocked an arrow, watching the ground where the footsteps were going. It wasn¡¯t the cleanest opening, but it was one that might help him survive the next few moments.


    He drew the arrow back as the footsteps neared the farther patch of bare ground. The heavier draw of the new bow meant he had to work a bit harder than he had for the old hunting bow, but he wanted every bit of power behind the next shot. It was likely he¡¯d only get one, after all.


    A heartbeat later, the mantrap struck. It burst from the ground in a shower of soil, and Clay loosed in the same moment. He was drawing the second arrow back a heartbeat later, already switching [Chants] to the Flame-Tongued Song. The words felt clumsy, almost slow on his tongue, but it was the best option he had.


    The first arrow hit the mantrap flat on its armored back. It stuck deep despite the thing¡¯s hide, and the spider squeal-coughed in surprise. When it spun to face him, he loosed the second arrow, aiming low, and tossed the bow to the side. He hoped it would stay out of the way while he brought out the boar spear, holding it with both hands as the second spider tunneled straight for him.


    He heard the first spider squeal-cough again, and spared a glance to see the second arrow had hit it in the shoulder. The spider vanished into its own tunnel a moment later, and then he turned back to face the nearer threat. It was nearly on him already, and he ran in the opposite direction, fighting to gain a bit of distance.


    As he ran, he fished out a stone from his pouch. When the spider was nearly to him, he took one last long stride and then jumped skyward, hurling the stone at the ground just in front of him. The spider shot past him and burst out of the ground where the stone was.


    Clay grinned in triumph as he fell on it from above, spear angled for the sweet spot where its armored head met the body. That gap widened slightly as the elder spider tried to duck a little, perhaps trying to dig back beneath the soil. He struck it hard, plunging the spear in up to the crossguards. His feet slid a little across its back as he landed on it, wrenching the spear back and forth as hard as he could.


    The spider beneath him went mad, abruptly trying to roll to throw him off. He made an awkward half jump to escape the flailing limbs, coming up after a roll to see it thrashing in front of him. Clay set himself and thrust his spear in again, this time catching it in the side and crunching through armor a second time. When he ripped the weapon free, he heard the first spider coming and turned to face it.


    The thing was burrowing fast, not bothering with subtlety. Soil and rocks were being thrown up in a bow wave as it ripped through the earth, and he felt a sudden burst of uncertainty. If it caught him too quickly¡­he looked around and found a small rock just behind him. Clay made it to the rock in a couple of strides, leaving the other, hopefully dying spider to bleed ichor and tear at the ground with its death throes.


    He set himself on the rock again, knowing that the thing would probably come out of the ground early rather than trying to swallow the rock with him from below. The wave of dirt that marked its approach came toward him fast, and his mouth went dry as he tried to predict its attack. If he didn¡¯t get the timing right¡­


    Clay forced that thought from his mind and tried to focus on his footing and the [Chant]. Both would be crucial. He waited until it had almost reached him, and then he lunged forward.


    The bleeding, enraged spider exploded out of the ground to meet him. It was mid-scream when his spear caught it in the face, a somehow more terrifying repeat of the way he¡¯d fought the mantrap spiderlings so long ago. He felt the spear buck in his hand as the impact struck; the spider¡¯s venomous fangs slashed and stretched towards him, but he held fast, trying to keep the thing away.


    Fortunately, the crossguards didn¡¯t break, but the spider wasn¡¯t done yet. It reached out with its bladed limbs, trying to grasp and slash at him. Clay grunted and shoved the spear forward again, forcing the spider back from him. It took every ounce of strength he had to push it back, and the spider tried to rear up and bring all of its weight to bear on him.


    Clay held fast, grunting again as the mass of the thing pressed down on him. One limb grazed his arm, and he felt blood drip down. He ignored it, pushing the spear a little further forward and seeing the spider rise a little more.


    Then his [Chant] reached the end, and he opened his mouth wide with a feeling of victory. Flame welled up inside him and burst from his mouth like the spouting breath of a dragon. It washed over the spider¡¯s belly, crisping the softer tissue there in a handful of moments. The monster screamed again, but Clay remained focused. He tried to aim for the bottom of the monster, keeping the flame from blackening the shaft of his own spear.


    The flame eventually ran short, leaving the elder mantrap blackened and seared. He heaved it to the side and yanked his spear free; to his surprise, the thing simply curled up and twitched as it rolled on its back.


    {Might increases by 1!}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Paragon: All skills gain 10% effectiveness around fellow heroes.}


    He blinked in surprise and then shook away the notifications. Where was the other one? The notification for either one¡¯s death hadn¡¯t shown up, so the battle wasn¡¯t over. Not yet.


    Clay turned to where he¡¯d left it and found the space empty. He felt a chill, and then he heard the ground breaking behind him.


    He didn¡¯t bother turning. Instead, he leaped straight forward, past where the burnt spider was still fighting to move. The forest seemed to blur around him, and when he hit the ground, he spun around with the spear, moving in a brutal swing.


    The wounded spider, still trailing ichor, had managed a far weaker jump than he¡¯d feared, and it was still struggling to chase after him when the spear caught it in the head. This time, its already wounded neck wasn¡¯t up to the task of handling the blow. There was a sickening crunch, and its entire head wrenched to the side. It collapsed, its rear limbs still in the tunnel, and the notification arrived a moment later.


    {Elder Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 60}


    {Commoner reaches Level 6!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 21!}


    {Experience gained (Valiant: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing multiple opponents.)}


    {Experience gained (Warsinger: Gain Lyricist Skill. Can complete all Chants 20% faster.)}


    Clay relaxed for a moment, feeling a burst of triumph sweep through him. He¡¯d made it to another level. Then he turned to the last mantrap spider, which was still moving despite the horrific burns that covered it. Two stabs later, and a new notification appeared.


    {Elder Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}


    He nodded to himself. Only four more to go, and he¡¯d be about as ready as he¡¯d ever be for the Lair.


    Clay shivered a little as another gust of wind passed through the trees. It carried the scent of oncoming rain, and he regretfully abandoned the plan of attacking the valley again. Better to rest and recover, maybe even do a few last-minute repairs to the farmhouse before the leaks ruined everything again.


    At the very least, he¡¯d be able to enjoy a little peace and quiet.

 B1Ch18: Old Friends and New Problems

    Clay had just finished patching the last hole in the roof when a knock sounded at his door.


    He frowned at it for a moment and then hopped down from the chair. The farmhouse was down to three leaks this time, and most of them were patchable at least. No more hoping the bowls wouldn¡¯t overflow while he was out working or hunting. At least, that¡¯s what he hoped for in the future.


    When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Olivia waiting on the other side. She was wearing a heavy cloak, but it was nearly soaked through; her novice robes underneath looked a little splattered by mud as well.


    He blinked at her a moment and then smiled. ¡°Welcome, traveler. What brings you here today?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s lips fought a smile at his use of her formal greeting. ¡°You hadn¡¯t visited in a while, so I decided to visit you. Or at least see if you had gotten yourself killed.¡±


    Clay backed away and gestured for her to come in. He took her cloak and hung it near the fire, and Olivia sighed with gratitude as she sat on the chair. When he glanced back at her, he winced. The mud was worse than he¡¯d thought, and guilt flogged him a little. ¡°Sorry I made you come all this way. I just hadn¡¯t thought I was worrying you, at least, not since the last time we talked.¡±


    ¡°The last time we talked, you were covered in bruises and the spiders had laid a trap to try and kill you.¡± She arched an eyebrow at him, sitting very straight in her chair. ¡°Screams or no screams, I would be¡­interested to hear how you are doing.¡±


    Wincing at her tone, Clay ran a hand back through his hair. ¡°Yeah, I understand. I¡¯ll try to be better in the future. I¡¯ve just been trying to finish what I can before the next swarm.¡±


    Olivia nodded. ¡°And you have something close to two weeks left. I understand too.¡± Then, shockingly, she smiled a little. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make me less worried, but I understand. I hope I¡¯m not interrupting?¡±


    ¡°No! Not at all.¡± He stood up and grinned. ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve got a lot to tell you about.¡±


    ¡°I have news to share as well.¡± She paused. ¡°Perhaps you should go first. Have you managed to get those [Chants] to work?¡±


    His smile grew wider. ¡°Oh yeah. I definitely did.¡±


    Clay explained everything he¡¯d learned and done with the [Chants] since the last time he¡¯d seen her. Olivia listened with intense eyes, and when he finished, she drew in a quiet breath. ¡°I see. I had not anticipated this¡­reversibility¡­to be part of the [Chants]. The ability to discover in this way suggests a few interesting aspects in how they can be combined and used¡­¡±


    She trailed off for a moment and then shook her head. ¡°More importantly, it seems the more combat oriented [Chants] require [Memory] to be above twenty. That will be¡­challenging for me to achieve.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°What do you¡­oh. You mean if you are a [Commoner] too?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Olivia looked down at her hands. ¡°I am not as well supplied with [Might] and [Fortitude] as you are. Killing one of these spiders may be very challenging for me, and without more advanced [Chants]¡­¡±


    Then her jaw clenched, and she looked up. ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll just have to help me. At least until I level enough.¡±


    Clay grinned again. ¡°Yeah, I guess I will.¡± Then he leaned back on his bedroll and stretched. ¡°For now, though, the [Chants] you¡¯ve already given me are doing half of the work for me now. I think I might even be able to clear a path to the Lair itself next week.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll be glad for my news.¡± He looked up, and Olivia smiled. She took a piece of parchment from one of her pockets. ¡°I located another new [Chant]. This one is apparently less common among most adventurers, but it was indicated as being rather valuable for suppressing a Lair and its Curse. It is called the Orison of Soul. Do you think you can use it?¡±


    He took the parchment and ran his eyes over the syllables. They didn¡¯t seem to have nearly as many syllables as the Ballad of Air or the Flame-Tongued Song. ¡°I think¡­ I should be able to handle it. Do you know what it does?¡±


    ¡°The text implied it was used to find the truth of things, especially ¡®that which lieth unknown in the hearts of men¡¯. More details were lost.¡± She shrugged. ¡°The book had taken damage in a fire of some kind.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± He debated the risk of using it, but it didn¡¯t sound as if it was dangerous. ¡°I¡¯ll give it a try, then. Do you mind?¡±


    Olivia shook her head, and he started to read through the incantation. The words of the [Chant] twisted through his mind, as usual, but he forged on ahead, regardless. It couldn¡¯t be worse than what he¡¯d already done, and he¡¯d been able to use those [Chants] in the middle of combat.


    It took him three tries, but then the power of the [Chant] sunk deep in him, and he felt the world brighten for a moment. He looked up and paused as the [Gift] displayed its ethereal text over his sight, hovering over Olivia¡¯s shoulder.


    [Olivia Newfeld Shrinekept]


    [Class: Youth] {Level 0} (All Stats have a maximum of 12)


    [Subclass: None]


    [Stats] {Might: 8} {Fortitude: 9} {Insight: 12} {Memory: 12} {Valor: 9} {Will: 12}


    [Monsters Slain: 0]


    He blinked. The text remained displayed, right next to where she was sitting.


    Olivia frowned at him. ¡°What is it? Did you succeed?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He frowned. ¡°I think¡­ it is displaying your [Gift]. Your last name is Shrinekept?¡±


    She blinked. ¡°I received the name when I was taken in by the Rector. My true last name is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Newfeld?¡±


    Olivia stopped and nodded. ¡°I see. This must be a tool that an adventurer could use to assess a monster or an enemy for weaknesses. Can you see my [Stats]?¡± When Clay nodded, she continued in an even voice. ¡°Having that kind of information would be rather valuable as well when adventurers meet. They could tell who was bluffing and who was not.¡±


    Clay felt a sudden chill. ¡°Which means if one of the adventurers that is coming has this [Chant], they might be able to see that I¡¯m a [Commoner] with levels. They could find me out.¡±


    ¡°From what the text says, it is considered hostile to use the Orison immediately against an ally. They may not even know it, depending on how widespread the [Chant] is.¡± She smiled. ¡°You forget, most adventurers depend on [Charms] or [Sigils] for their magic. [Chants] are considered inferior in many ways.¡±


    He relaxed a little. ¡°Well, at least we have that to help us.¡± Then he gave her a look. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t tell them immediately, I guess.¡±


    She leaned back in the chair and folded her arms. ¡°My hope is that you will feel ready to reveal your accomplishments on your own. I suppose we will see next week.¡±


    Clay sat bolt upright. ¡°Next week? What do you mean?¡±


    Olivia frowned, and then her eyebrows rose. ¡°That¡¯s right. You haven¡¯t been in town, and I suppose Herbert has been busy patrolling. The adventurer team should be here within a few days. Apparently, they sent a rider ahead of them so that the baron would know when to expect them. I believe they should be here in three days, five at the most.¡±


    A feeling of dread settled over him like a heavy blanket. ¡°Great. Just¡­great.¡± He tried not to notice the impatient look that she gave him and turned away for a moment in thought.


    Three days. He had three days before everything got far more complicated.


    It rained for another two days, a fact that nearly drove him insane from the delay. Several times Clay was tempted to go out in the weather anyway, just to do his best to clear out the remaining sentries around the Lair. He needed four more kills to reach ten elder mantraps, and he doubted he was going to have a chance once a band of adventurers were patrolling the woods.


    During that time, he spent hours trying to pick weeds out of his fields and patch holes in his roof. The second day, he even traveled down to the village and bought a second chair for himself. It was more of an excuse to check and make sure that the adventurers hadn¡¯t arrived yet, but apparently they hadn¡¯t underestimated the time it would take to reach Pellsglade. He only hoped the rain would delay them as much as it was him.


    On the day the rain finally cleared, he immediately went out hunting. He abandoned his more cautious approach from before; he killed two mantraps on the same day, ambushing them on opposite sides of the field. Their wet webs did not light easily, but he still burned them out of their fortresses to kill them.


    Clay did the same thing on the next day, desperate to finish things. He killed the first mantrap early enough in the morning that the light of sunrise was still filtering across the sky. The second mantrap died before his midday meal, and a welcome notification appeared for him.


    {Achievement Reinforced! Spiderbane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 60% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, Mature Troll Spiders, Elder Troll Spiders, and Elder Mantrap Spiders.}


    He then made for home, leaving an agitated mass of spiders to crawl through the valley searching for him. Ridiculous as it was, he half expected to meet a party of adventurers going the other way as he walked up Scout¡¯s Hill, their arms and armor shining with magic and power. When that didn¡¯t happen, he breathed a sigh of deep relief.


    Then there was a knock at his door that night. He opened it to find Herbert waiting.


    The [Guard] looked at him with a serious expression. ¡°They¡¯re here.¡±


    Herbert sat in his chair by the fire and drank the cup Clay had set out for him. He set it down and waited for Clay to sit as well. It was almost physically difficult to do; every part of him wanted to get up and run down to the village to see what he was dealing with.


    Of course, that would be the worst possible thing to do. So instead, he sat and locked eyes with Herbert. ¡°So. How bad is it?¡±


    Herbert snorted. ¡°You are the only person who isn¡¯t going to be happy they are here, you know that, right? Everyone else has been scared spitless by those screams, and they are looking forward to seeing the spiders taken care of by professionals.¡±


    ¡°Everyone else doesn¡¯t know that a flood of spiderlings is going to happen in less than two weeks. Everyone else doesn¡¯t have to worry about getting accused as a Rogue.¡±


    ¡°And who¡¯s to blame for that, lad?¡± Herbert held up a hand as Clay started to respond. ¡°Don¡¯t. Never you mind, that¡¯s water under the bridge now. Best to focus on the matter at hand.¡±


    Clay leaned forward, his arms folded on the table in front of him. ¡°And that is?¡±


    ¡°They sent seven adventurers.¡± Herbert paused. ¡°Most of them, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know them?¡± Clay blinked, and then his jaw dropped. ¡°No. You¡¯re kidding.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± Herbert shook his head. ¡°Charles, Enessa, Maribel, the twins, all of them.¡±


    Clay leaned back slowly in his chair. He hadn¡¯t expected anything like this.


    The [Guard] continued in a casual voice. ¡°I¡¯d bet the only reason they aren¡¯t up here yet is because the baron bundled the lot of them off to his manor for the night. If I were you, I¡¯d be looking for visitors tomorrow, though, and early at that.¡±


    Still numb, Clay nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah. Sure.¡± How would they have changed? Would they see the changes in him? Then the rest of the information caught up with him. ¡°Wait. Who are the other two?¡±


    ¡°One of them is some pompous [Noble] that¡¯s along for the ride. The second son of some duke near the capital, from what I hear. Already disappointed with the village in general, and complaining about being sent here.¡± Herbert shrugged, and then his tone grew more serious. ¡°The other one is an older adventurer. Gave the impression he was riding herd on the new additions to the Guild.¡±


    Then he paused. ¡°At the same time, he had some papers to talk with the baron about. Very privately. It looked like it had some royal seals on it. Almost like an arrest warrant of some kind.¡±


    Clay clenched his teeth. ¡°So the others are here for the monsters, but he¡¯s here to find me.¡±


    ¡°Looks that way, yeah.¡± Herbert sighed and shook his head. ¡°I tried to warn you, right? So, what are you going to do?¡±


    He clenched his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll stay out of their way. No other choice, really. I trust Charles and the rest, but if their leader is after me¡­¡±


    ¡°Best to lie low.¡± Herbert nodded. ¡°A wise choice. Just wait it out. They might not be here long. Might not even see much of them at all.¡±


    The [Guard] stood and stretched. ¡°In any case, if they do catch you, keep my name out of it, would you? I don¡¯t do well in tight spaces.¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll try. Thanks Herb.¡±


    ¡°No problem at all.¡± Herbert headed for the door and then paused. ¡°I told the girl at the shrine, too. She said she was going to watch and wait. Any idea what that meant?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Clay waved it away, and Herbert sighed. Then he was gone, headed back to his horse and the baron¡¯s manor.


    Clay listened to him go and thought over the situation. He¡¯d been so close to killing the Lair, or at least the things spawning monsters from it. Now he might have put his friends in danger, or risk being discovered. Was there some way to do both? Could he stay hidden and still make sure they were safe?


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The question continued to eat away at him long into the night.


    ¡°Hey, lazybones! Get up!¡±


    The voice was accompanied by the kind of knock that seemed about ready to rattle the door off its hinges. Clay grunted in surprise and did one final check of the farmhouse. He¡¯d already hidden his notes away in their secret spot and tucked his weapons into the rafters. Unless the Guild representative was up for searching his ramshackle farmhouse, he hoped he had everything tucked away.


    Then he went over to the door and opened it, giving the people outside a broad grin. ¡°Enessa! Charles! You¡¯re back!¡±


    Enessa looked¡­different. Her hair was still short, but her face had a few scars on it, and someone had broken her nose at some point. She was wearing some kind of padded armor, but even with it on, he could tell that her arms and legs were thicker than they¡¯d ever been. Before the Choosing he¡¯d won wrestling matches against her. Now he wasn¡¯t quite so sure.


    Behind her was Charles, who was wearing a surcoat and armor, and had a full helm tucked under his arm. He had a broadsword strapped to his hip, a shield on his back, and he seemed to stand taller than he had before. Maribel was next to him, smiling in a hooded robe that carried arcane markings on it. Even Ned and George were there, one with dark armor befitting his [Dark Knight] status and a battleaxe to match, and the other with a surcoat, chestplate, and massive lance.


    They all seemed to glow with excitement and strength. He grinned and spread his arms. ¡°Welcome back, heroes! What brings you to this corner of the world again?¡±


    Charles was the one who spoke. ¡°We heard that there¡¯s been trouble here, so the guild decided it could send us. We know the territory, after all.¡±


    Clay stepped forward and gave Enessa a hug. She squeezed back¡ªmuch harder than she used to!¡ªand he returned the embrace in kind.


    Then he felt her tense slightly in surprise, and he blinked. He felt¡­stronger than usual, even though there weren¡¯t any spiders in sight. Was this [Paragon]? Hiding things might be a bit harder than he thought.


    Trying not to let it show, he stepped back and let go, and then reached out to grab Charles¡¯ hand. Clay could feel his friend squeezing carefully; it was typical of the baron¡¯s son to be so considerate. He tried to follow that example and shake his hand with no sign of anything unusual. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re all here! We had some people getting nervous.¡±


    Charles¡¯ eyes flickered with concern. ¡°Have you noticed anything? You live right near the place.¡±


    Clay felt his smile grow a bit fixed. ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t seen anything come out of the woods, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡± Technically, a true statement, and hopefully his friends would leave it at that.


    ¡°Were you going to introduce us to your friend, Sir Charles?¡±


    The voice was smooth, measured, and calm. Clay looked back behind his friends and saw another two men standing there. One wore armor that literally shone in the sunlight. He¡¯d disdained a helmet, and was watching the rest of them with barely concealed scorn. The other had been the source of the voice, and the moment Clay saw him, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.


    He was wearing an armored surcoat over a cloak with a hood. There were runes of some kind running along the edges of the fabric, and Clay could have sworn he saw some of them glow in the sunlight. Everything about the way he moved and stood shouted power and experience. At the same time, he was utterly relaxed, stepping forward and lowering his hood. The stranger smiled.


    ¡°My name is Leonard Stillweather, and I am a member of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. This is Lord Nathaniel Frensfeld, a [Noble] who has joined us on this journey.¡±


    The [Noble] sniffed slightly and looked away. He was clearly unwilling to associate himself with Clay¡¯s small hovel, and despite the sorry state of the place, Clay felt his face harden at the insult. Leonard glanced back at the younger man and then returned his gaze to Clay.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be patrolling the edges of the forest today, so please, if you see anything¡ªor anyone¡ªpassing by the area, please let us know. It is important that we are here to help you, and that you know you are going to be safe.¡±


    Clay attempted to look suitably grateful. ¡°Thank you, Sir Leonard. I welcome you and my old friends to my humble farm.¡±


    He saw Charles shift uncomfortably; he likely had noticed the exclusion of his [Noble] companion. Lord Frensfeld merely folded his arms and gave Clay a withering stare. It was difficult to not give him one in return, though Clay did feel a flicker of satisfaction as the [Noble]¡¯s gaze grew uneasy.


    When he looked back at Leonard, the man seemed curious. The man made a brief gesture, and his hands glowed for a moment. Enessa and Charles both shifted in surprise, but before they could say anything, Leonard spoke up again. ¡°Do not worry, goodman, I¡¯m just casting a protection [Charm] over you. There should be no more danger than usual, but it pays to be careful.¡±


    Clay blinked. He was relatively certain that it was not a protection [Charm], but he had no real idea about what it could be. Something to track him, perhaps? Or maybe a quick check of his [Gift]? If so, why hadn¡¯t he mentioned his [Stats] or levels? ¡°Thank you, Sir Leonard. I feel much safer with you here.¡±


    Sir Leonard raised an eyebrow. He appeared¡­less than convinced, but he merely nodded. ¡°I am glad to hear it. For now, you¡¯ll have to excuse us. Perhaps there will be time to catch up with your friends later.¡±


    The suggestion had all the force of an order, even delivered in that same calm voice, and the adventurers from Pellsglade all stiffened slightly. Maribel and the twins both waved goodbye as they followed Leonard and Frensfeld back towards the Tanglewood.


    Charles, however, paused long enough to shake Clay¡¯s hand again. He smiled, just a bit uneasy. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to them. He¡¯s a good man, despite the exterior. Sir Leonard is a good leader, as well.¡±


    Clay blinked. He thought Frensfeld was a good man? Clearly, his friend¡¯s good nature was taking a bit too much for granted. Either that, or there was something he¡¯d missed about the snooty fop. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­give him a chance.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Charles looked around at the half-cleared fields, the neglected furrows, and a bit of worry entered his open and honest face. Then he shook himself and turned back to him. ¡°I¡¯ll be back later. To talk.¡±


    Clay nodded, and Charles hurried after the others. Enessa watched him go for a bit and laughed. ¡°Well, I suppose I need to go after them. You sure you¡¯re okay out here? It looks like things haven¡¯t been going very well.¡±


    She nodded at the fields, as if to make sure he couldn¡¯t mistake her meaning. He winced at the implied criticism. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been trying to get started here. I just keep¡­getting distracted.¡±


    ¡°So I hear. Something about a cute girl at the shrine?¡± She nudged him harder than he was used to. He frowned at her.


    ¡°Olivia is just a friend, Enessa. Just like you.¡±


    ¡°Oh my! You would impugn the honor of a fair maiden like myself?¡± Enessa made as if to faint, and then laughed. ¡°Well, I¡¯m gonna be back to hear all about what¡¯s been distracting you. Try to clean things up a little before I get back, okay?¡±


    ¡°No promises. Good fortune for all of you!¡±


    She laughed again and jogged after the others. It seemed to take her next to no time to catch up. He stood at the door, still waving after them. Clay waited until he saw them turn along the edge of the Tanglewood. When he was sure that they weren¡¯t going to enter it yet, he breathed a sigh of relief. He¡¯d follow them later if they started to do something risky.


    For now, though, they¡¯d expect him to be at home, working away at the farm, and both Enessa and Charles had a point. Things needed to be cleaned up a little, and he had the time now.


    It would be a good way to pass the time, at least.


    He was still working away on the farm when he heard someone holler at him from the path. When he looked over, he saw his mother and father walking up, with Sam pushing the handcart. Clay straightened up from the thornbush he¡¯d been chopping away at and waved back before walking over to meet them.


    ¡°Good to see you! What brings you out this way?¡±


    Amelia was smiling as she answered. ¡°We just thought we¡¯d come out to help get you ready for planting. Do you mind the help?¡±


    ¡°Not at all!¡± Clay forced a grin, trying not to wonder what had brought them out to the farmhouse now. He obviously couldn¡¯t sneak off into the Tanglewood today, but the feeling of being watched and monitored wasn¡¯t going to help.


    Sam grinned at him as well. ¡°Will is helping the others get ready for our harvest, so I thought I¡¯d give them a day to rest before we start. Figured that it would be good to come and get you started while they did.¡±


    Clay nodded, feeling a little like there were jaws sliding shut around him. It was going to be a long day.


    They worked on the fields for the next eight hours. His father was methodical, showing him how and where to plant each seed. With two people working, it went quickly, even faster than Clay had expected. Most of it was done before midday, but his parents didn¡¯t leave after the meal at lunch. Instead, they started in on the repairs for the house, where Amelia showed him how and where his patches to the roof had failed. She said nothing about the bundle of weapons hidden away in the rafters, but perhaps she just thought they were unused tools.


    By the time the afternoon had come and gone, he half collapsed alongside his parents. He sat on his bedroll, surrendering his precious chairs to them. As they all looked out over the newly seeded fields, Clay felt a surprising amount of satisfaction with the work he¡¯d done. It was different, compared to the triumph he¡¯d felt as he fought the monsters, but it was no less of a good thing.


    He pondered about that for a while. When he had confronted the Trickster, during his Choosing, the goddess had implied that he had failed to do what was important the first time. Had this been what she had meant? Was he ignoring her advice by not focusing on simpler things? The monsters might have waited until the real adventurers came. Maybe a farmer¡¯s life was what he was meant to do after all.


    Then he remembered the first few times he¡¯d gone hunting in the Tanglewood. He remembered the desperation of those first few fights, and the nightmares he¡¯d had of them coming at him and his family through the fields. Clay thought about the night he¡¯d saved the baron and his men, and shook his head. The farm could wait until the village was safe. It would be the satisfaction he sought once it was all done.


    As he was musing to himself, Sam cleared his throat. ¡°You know, these seeds are going to need plenty of watering and weeding over the next few days. You don¡¯t seem to have a lot of vermin, somehow, but the fields still need a lot of careful watching.¡±


    Clay winced. His lack of attention had been noticed once again, apparently. ¡°I know, Dad. I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    His mom spoke up next, her voice rather more casual than usual. ¡°It might be easier, now, with those adventurers here. They can handle things, and you can focus on where you are needed. Where it¡¯s safe.¡±


    He frowned for a moment, and then turned back to his parents. They were both looking at him far too intently, and realization dawned. ¡°You know. You both know.¡±


    Sam glanced at Amelia and then nodded. ¡°You move a bit¡­differently now, son. The plow seemed lighter for you than it did for me, and you react to things quicker. I kept noticing the differences when we worked together, and frankly, no son of mine would let his fields take this long to get ready. Not unless he was otherwise occupied.¡±


    His father paused and shifted uncomfortably on his chair. ¡°At first I thought I was just getting old, that maybe it was me slowing down. Your mother thought maybe you were just spending all of your time mooning over that girl in town. But then I heard people talking about the night you went to the Sarlwood. About the night someone helped the baron¡­¡±


    Clay heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. Then he laid his head back against the wall. Of course they had figured it out. It had only been a matter of time. Why did it have to be now, though?


    Then he frowned and opened his eyes. ¡°Wait. How long have you known?¡±


    Amelia exchanged a look with Sam. ¡°We suspected a while, but once those screams started happening¡­ we started watching your farm. Just to be careful, to be sure. We saw you go into the Tanglewood, with that spear and the rest.¡± She glanced up at the rafters, and a look between pride and resentment crossed her features. Then she looked back at him, all her fears in her eyes. ¡°We knew what you were doing. You always wanted to be a hero, to save people.¡±


    Sam laughed, and he saw the same mixture of pride and fear in his father. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ve got nobody to blame but myself. When your neighbor¡¯s field is on fire, you help put it out before it spreads to yours. If they¡¯ve got rats or worms or worse, you help stop it, before they show up in your crops.¡±


    Then his father paused and looked at him again. There was respect there, but worry too. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to do it anymore, son. The professionals are here. They can hunt the monsters, with their armor and their magic. You don¡¯t have to do it. You can be safe now, with them here.¡±


    There were suddenly tears in his eyes, and he wasn¡¯t entirely sure why. All the exhaustion and secrecy of the past few months crashed over him in a wave. His parents¡¯ love was a balm for it, but it still felt like he was barely holding on. Clay forced a laugh. ¡°Well, maybe that¡¯s true. They just seem so¡­unprepared for it, and I¡¯m pretty sure the older one is just here looking for me.¡±


    His parents exchanged another look. Amelia spoke first. ¡°Nobody¡¯s going to turn you in, Clay. You¡¯re our son, and as far as we¡¯re concerned, you¡¯ve been brave and doing the right thing. The baron owes you his life, whatever the King might say about it. Nobody has to know.¡±


    Sam nodded in agreement, and Clay felt another wave of relief. A tension he hadn¡¯t known was there faded from his back, and he laughed again, softly. ¡°I was so worried about you finding out. I thought you would call me a fool for trying, or worse.¡±


    His father snorted. ¡°I won¡¯t say it wasn¡¯t stupid, boy, but you should know better than that. You¡¯re our son, right or wrong, and we¡¯ll do right by you. And we know you¡¯ll do right by us.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°I will. Even if we don¡¯t agree on what that means.¡±


    Sam raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak up, Amelia broke in again. ¡°Does anyone else know? About¡­what you¡¯ve been doing?¡±


    ¡°Hebert, one of the baron¡¯s men, figured it out. He won¡¯t tell anyone, I think.¡± Clay fidgeted with his fingers, too. ¡°And Olivia. The girl at the shrine. She¡¯s been helping me a lot.¡±


    There was a moment of surprise and silence. Then Sam burst out laughing. Amelia looked a little less than happy. She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I should be disappointed or impressed. I¡¯d hope the girl would be a better influence on you. Maybe I should have a talk with her, to help settle her down, too.¡±


    Clay gave her a look. ¡°She was a good influence! I wouldn¡¯t have learned any magic without her.¡±


    Both his parents looked surprised. Sam was the first to recover. ¡°Magic? The girl knows spells of some kind?¡±


    ¡°Well, she found a few. [Chants] they¡¯re called. Look, watch.¡± He stood up and came over to them. All of their hands were covered in dirt and grime from the work they¡¯d done, and he took one of their hands in his own.


    He hadn¡¯t used the [Chant] for the Pure Touch very often in battle, though he¡¯d found it useful to keep himself free of ichor and blood. Now he spoke the words with a different target in mind. Moments later, the dirt and grime fell away from all three of them, leaving his parents staring in wonder.


    Then his mother looked around his house, and her lips quirked. ¡°And yet still such a mess¡­¡±


    Clay threw up his hands in false exasperation. ¡°I¡¯ve been just a little busy here, Mom. I¡¯ll get around to organizing things a bit better, I promise.¡±


    Sam, however, seemed quiet. He was looking down at his callused hands, now meticulously cleaned. When he looked up, his expression was¡­thoughtful. Almost cautious. ¡°Son, you are a [Commoner], aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He paused, surprised at the question. ¡°Yeah, absolutely. You were at the Choosing, you heard the Rector.¡±


    ¡°So, could I learn that spell?¡±


    Clay nodded, unsure what his father was saying. ¡°Yeah, you could. There¡¯s a few low level [Chants] that would work at the maximum [Memory] for a level one [Commoner], but to use some of the more powerful ones you¡¯d have to level up a bit.¡±


    His parents looked at each other again, and this time it wasn¡¯t a quick glance. Instead, it was a wordless communication that was beyond anything that he could understand, something built by simple understanding grown over half a lifetime together. When Sam turned back, his expression had grown a bit more worried. ¡°Son, have you¡­leveled? How far have you gone?¡±


    Taken aback by the question, Clay was still searching for a way to answer when he caught sight of someone coming up along the road. He frowned, thinking he recognized the person. ¡°Mom, Dad, it¡¯s Charles.¡±


    They sat up straighter, giving each other another quick look, but Clay was already standing and heading for the door. Why would Charles be here alone? He couldn¡¯t picture Enessa letting come without joining in, and the way he was moving looked familiar. Like he was moving in spite of exhaustion.


    Clay sped up, jogging over to his friend. Charles¡¯ armor was dirty, now, but there wasn¡¯t any blood. That fact alone kept Clay from fearing the worst. The look on Charles¡¯ face, however, was far too solemn. ¡°Charles, what¡¯s going on? Why isn¡¯t Enessa with you?¡±


    Charles paused and then shook his head. ¡°She¡¯s a bit tired right now, and Sir Leonard has told her she needs to stay close. She and George went into the Tanglewood, just to look around, and they¡­ran into something.¡±


    He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. ¡°Are they okay? Is anyone hurt?¡±


    The [Paladin] nodded. ¡°They are both¡­fine. George was bit and ensnared a little, but Enessa got it off him and carried him back to us. If Maribel hadn¡¯t gotten a healing [Charm]¡­¡± He cracked a smile. ¡°I guess it¡¯s a good thing she¡¯s a [White Mage]. Both of them are a little shaken up, but they should both be fine by the time we all go in tomorrow.¡±


    Clay felt adrenaline pumping inside him, and he slowly clenched his hands. He turned and looked back at his father and mother, who were watching him from the doorway. ¡°So they¡¯re safe, then.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I just wanted to let you know.¡± Charles smiled; he seemed exhausted as well. ¡°I¡¯d like to stay longer, but Sir Leonard doesn¡¯t want any of us alone right now. We¡¯ll talk tomorrow, all right? I think we were planning on starting our expedition from here.¡±


    ¡°That sounds great. Let me know if there is anything that I can do to help.¡± He said the words loud enough that his parents had to hear them easily. Charles didn¡¯t seem awake enough to notice; he just nodded his head and shook his hand. Then the [Paladin] started off down the road to town, still weary but undaunted.


    Clay watched him go for a while longer. Then he turned back to the farmhouse.


    His parents were both watching him, their expressions nearly unreadable. He walked up to them and spoke softly. ¡°One of them almost killed George Furrows today. Enessa was with him; if she hadn¡¯t been, or if it had gone for her first¡­¡±


    Clay stopped, unable to voice the thought fully. He looked away for a long moment, his mind racing through all the options.


    Danger was a part of being an adventurer. His friends were going to need to face things just as terrible and hostile as anything he¡¯d ever seen for the whole rest of their lives. They¡¯d need to face it¡­but at the same time, he wasn¡¯t always going to be there, waiting to hear if one of them was dead. He wasn¡¯t always going to be there¡ªand he was here now. Clay could help them, now.


    He looked back and saw his parents watching him. There was acceptance on their faces as well as fear, and he stepped close to hug them. A wry smile tugged at his lips. ¡°If your neighbor¡¯s field is on fire¡­¡±


    Sam Evergreen squeezed him back. When Clay stepped back, his father¡¯s voice was rough. ¡°Go put it out, son. And you come back to us.¡±


    ¡°I will, Dad.¡± Clay nodded to him, and then gave his mother another, quieter hug. She breathed in deep, like she was trying to memorize every bit of him. Then she stood back, straightened her back, and nodded.


    He gave her his own nod and then stepped past them. It took a little bit of a jump to reach the bundle hidden away in the rafters, but he did it almost without thinking. There wasn¡¯t much daylight left, and he had plenty of work to do.

 B1Ch19: Keeping Up Appearances

    It took him only an hour to find the signs of the fight. From there, it was only a handful of minutes to track the spiderling down.


    The thing was only a troll spiderling, with a couple of legs broken. Enessa had apparently gotten a few good hits in, and he felt a burst of pride over it. He probably hadn¡¯t done nearly as well, his first time getting ambushed.


    He obliterated the thing with a single slingstone. Then he went on to hunt every single spider within the nearby area, clearing them out of their holes, their trees, everywhere. Clay left a trail of corpses that would have been impressive even during a frenzy.


    Then, as the light faded, he made his way back to the farmhouse, only partially satisfied. There would be more spiderlings, and worse, the next day. He couldn¡¯t let his friends face them, not alone and unprepared.


    It was going to be a busy week.


    The next morning, Clay was up early. He¡¯d said his goodbyes to his worried parents, who seemed reassured by his lack of gaping wounds, and then settled in for the night. As usual, he¡¯d woken early in the morning, and then gone about his hurried chores. By the time the sun was rising, he¡¯d already cleaned his farm house, run through the small, planted section of the fields searching for weeds, and collected a handful of dead rabbits from snares he¡¯d set the day before. By the time the adventurers knocked on his door, he had already cleaned them and prepared some food for the rest of the day.


    He opened it and confronted the same group of adventurers that had come before. They seemed far less happy and carefree this time. Enessa looked solemn, for once, and George still seemed pale. The only ones with the same attitude were Lord Frensfeld, whose lack of interest was even more pronounced, and Sir Leonard, whose preternatural calm was exactly the same.


    ¡°Welcome, everyone.¡± He gave them a serious look. ¡°George, Enessa, are you all right?¡±


    The [Dragoon] gave him a thin smile. ¡°Yeah, thanks for asking.¡±


    Enessa simply nodded, but her expression was still painfully haunted. Clay felt another flare of anger, but he tried to focus on being concerned. ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±


    Leonard shook his head. ¡°No. I¡¯m afraid this is definitely a job for us. As long as we are more careful.¡± The deliberate emphasis on the words made George and Enessa wince, but the man continued without looking back at them. ¡°The only thing that we may ask of you is to store a few of our supplies and provide us a place to rest later on.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. Anything you need.¡± Clay nodded, retreating into the farmhouse. Enessa handed over a bundle, which he hid away inside the house. He tucked it away in a good spot, and then brought out a handful of simple buns, something they could eat on their way through the Tanglewood. ¡°Here. I can have more for you here tonight.¡±


    ¡°I do not know if we will be there that long, but thank you.¡± Leonard smiled and bowed. The others followed suit, even the [Noble]. Clay returned the gesture, holding it until long after the adventurers straightened. Charles stepped over to shake his hand as the others walked towards the Tanglewood. Enessa paused long enough for him to give her a hug, which she returned without much enthusiasm. Then his friends went along behind Leonard, walking as if they were going to their deaths.


    He waited a few minutes, long enough for them to be well gone. Then he retrieved his gear and started after them. Whether or not they knew it, they were all going to be just fine today.


    Their friend was going to make sure.


    At the very least, they were moving carefully.


    Perhaps it was the presence of Sir Leonard, or maybe it was the painful reminder of their own mortality the day before, but the adventurers were being nearly as cautious as he had been when he first entered the Tanglewood. It had made it easy to catch up to them, at least. Less easy to hide from them, however, as they moved through the woods, peering at every tree and leaf.


    If only they were paying as much attention to their feet.


    Clay watched as the group slowly approached a mantrap spiderling¡¯s burrow hidden under a mat of dead underbrush. He¡¯d spotted it from so far away that it seemed like it was glowing. It was almost painful to watch Charles scanning the forest and somehow miss it. How had Leonard not seen it? The man was an experienced adventurer. They were supposed to be able to detect threats easily!


    He nearly groaned as they kept getting closer to the burrow. It was already too late to kill the thing himself. They¡¯d see him creeping through the forest too easily. Leonard might have been willing to dismiss a farmer living on the edge of the Lair¡¯s territory, but one that he caught inside the Tanglewood, armed and hunting, was going to be¡­ notable.


    After a few moments of gritted teeth, Clay worked his way around the group, getting as close to the burrow as possible. Then he started a [Chant].


    The Drums of Earth had a maximum range, beyond which it would be nearly useless. Fortunately, he¡¯d had plenty of practice using it against elder mantraps. Fooling a spiderling was as simple as falling out of a tree. He felt the spell settle over him and reached out to the earth in front of the spiderling burrow.


    A moment later, the spiderling launched itself out of the burrow, chasing a foot that wasn¡¯t there. It froze a moment later, its armored body going rigid as it realized it had been deceived.


    Fortunately, it was too late for the thing to hide again. George immediately shouted and pointed at it, and the others scrambled to get into position to confront the monster. To his surprise, Lord Frensfeld stood alongside Charles, forming a small shield wall, with George and Ned on the flanks. Enessa guarded the rear, while Leonard and Maribel occupied the center. It was a solid formation, one that presented a barrier of shields and weapons to the enemy while the magic users brought their powers to bear.


    Confronted with that threat, the mantrap spiderling squealed in rage. It skittered back towards the hole, paused, and then ran east, towards Scout¡¯s Hill.


    It made it two leaping strides before Charles called out something Clay didn¡¯t understand, and a burst of flame exploded out of the soil. It knocked the mantrap spiderling over on its back, and Ned sprinted forward, axe raised.


    When it came down, Clay relaxed. It was a smooth response to a real threat, something that they¡¯d obviously practiced. Nobody had been put at risk, nobody had been exposed, and the team was already in position to deal with the next threat.


    Unfortunately, they had also only been able to respond that way once the threat was out in the open. If he¡¯d left them to figure it out, at least one of them would be down¡ªand he didn¡¯t have the same confidence that Maribel¡¯s magic could save them. Not from a mantrap spider¡¯s venom, at least.


    He watched as they clustered around the monster, with George poking at it with his lance. Enessa and Charles ignored the body and went over to where it had appeared from. Clay slowly ducked back behind a tree, trusting in his ears to help him.


    ¡°¡­it came from here. See?¡± He heard Charles tap something with his sword, making a hollow sound. Clay smiled; they¡¯d found the burrow. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly camouflaged. Look at how the leaves are stuck on there. We could have stepped on it without seeing anything.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a fun idea.¡± Enessa¡¯s voice was low, and she sounded angrier than he¡¯d expected. ¡°What do you want to bet that it is a lot more poisonous than the other one? That burrow¡¯s not big enough to drag one of us in, but if all it needs is one bite¡­¡±


    Charles grunted. ¡°You have a point. This isn¡¯t the same kind as what attacked you and George?¡±


    ¡°No. The other one had longer legs and was hanging from a tree.¡± She spat on the ground; an especially ugly sound coming from her. ¡°That makes two different kinds, right? From what they said at the Academy, that means we¡¯re looking at two Guardians inside the Lair at least, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Two at least, maybe close to three. It can¡¯t be more than that, though. If it were¡­¡±


    Their voices faded as they rejoined the others, and Clay slowly let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding. He waited a few more moments, and then slowly peeked out again. They gathered around Leonard, all listening to the older man as he told them something. Then they spread out again, moving through the forest. He noted they were now examining the ground as well, something that gave him an immense feeling of satisfaction.


    While they searched, Clay slipped away. There was plenty more to do.


    They didn¡¯t run into a troll spiderling until nearly an hour later.


    It wouldn¡¯t have normally taken that long, but Clay had been thorough the evening before. There hadn¡¯t been any telltale corpses, a fact that he put down to the remaining spiderlings in the area. He hadn¡¯t seen any adults making their way through the forest, at least.


    This time, things went a little better. All he had to do was use Ballad of Air to set the thing swaying gently away from the branches it was hiding under¡ªsomething that could have happened normally, with the right breeze¡ªand Enessa spotted it immediately. George responded with almost frantic speed, hurling the lance at it with one terrified shout.


    The weapon pinned the thing to the tree immediately, where it twitched and died. Clay tried not to snort in amusement as he drew back from his hiding spot. Hopefully, George would calm down for the next one; losing your weapon permanently mid-fight was not the best idea. Of course Clay had done it too, and without teammates to back him up, so he guessed he wasn¡¯t one to criticize.


    Once again, the adventurers gathered around the spider, but this time, they were a bit too far away for him to overhear anything. He shrugged aside his curiosity and looked to where he guessed they would go next. At this rate, maybe they could handle these things even without his thumb on the scales.


    One could only hope.


    Right around noon, Sir Leonard apparently decided it was time to turn back. By that point, they were picking out the various troll spider hideouts and mantrap burrows on their own. He only had to help them with the trickiest ones, but for the most part, they were starting to feel more comfortable with the Tanglewood. A good sign for the future.


    As they turned toward home, he skirted around them again, looking for the chance to get ahead of their path. At least they weren¡¯t turning straight back along their previous route; he didn¡¯t know if the corpses were attracting adult spiders currently, but he didn¡¯t think they were ready for that kind of challenge yet.


    They were being just as careful about going out as well, which boded well. He reluctantly left them behind, doing his best to go along with the course he guessed they would take. There was a temptation to kill everything he found, but instead he left more clues on the less obvious ones. If they stayed together and kept their heads, they¡¯d probably be fine.


    He arrived at the farmhouse well in advance, giving him plenty of time to stow his gear in the rafters and double check the rest of his house. Clay had just finished getting ready when he heard a knock at the door. Already? They had to have rushed getting out; not the best choice. Plastering his polite smile on his face, he stepped over to open it. ¡°Welcome, adven¡ªOlivia?¡±


    She grinned up at him, surprising him all over again. ¡°Sur¡­prised?¡±


    Clay backed away to give her space to come in. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Why are you breathing hard?¡±


    Olivia staggered over to a chair and collapsed into it, still gasping hard. ¡°Need¡­to¡­gain¡­[Fortitude].¡± She gulped a deep breath. ¡°Ran here.¡±


    ¡°All the way from the shrine?¡± He looked at her, feeling baffled. She was wearing a modified version of her robes, he noticed. They were more of a tabard that extended down over pale breeches. Her hair had gone a bit wild as well, and there was sweat sliding down her face. ¡°That seems like a long way.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Not¡­all the¡­way.¡± She grimaced, obviously trying to breathe normally. Her efforts weren¡¯t exactly succeeding. ¡°Just¡­enough.¡±


    ¡°Well, take it easy. You can¡¯t gain everything in a day.¡± He patted her carefully on the shoulder. ¡°You don¡¯t want to pass out on the way here.¡±


    Clay took a cup of water from the barrel and handed it over to her. She accepted it gratefully, and soon enough, she¡¯d recovered. He debated offering to use Pure Touch for her, but he didn¡¯t know if that would be something she would take offense at. ¡°So, what brings you all the way out here?¡±


    Olivia fixed him with a green-eyed stare. ¡°Have you seen them?¡±


    He didn¡¯t have to ask what she meant. ¡°Yeah, I have.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°If it were just Charles and the others, I¡¯d be fine. Leonard and Lord Frensfeld, though¡­¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± She smiled a little when he raised his eyebrows. ¡°Sir Leonard was asking quite a few questions of the Rector. He was curious about your Choosing, actually. At least he was before they came to visit you.¡±


    Clay grimaced. ¡°I think he used a [Charm] to check on me. Why didn¡¯t it show him?¡±


    Olivia leaned back, toying with her cup for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s possible the [Charm] is more limited than the Orison. For example, what if it only showed him your [Class] and not your level?¡±


    He thought about it for a moment and then chuckled. ¡°That¡­could be it, actually. It would explain why he hasn¡¯t dragged me back to the capital yet, at least.¡±


    She studied him for a moment. ¡°You believe he would not stay to finish the Lair?¡±


    ¡°I think if the Guild cared about the Lair, they wouldn¡¯t have sent a bunch of novices to deal with it.¡± He shook his head. ¡°One of them almost got George the other day, and this morning I had to¡­tag along a little to make sure it didn¡¯t happen again.¡±


    ¡°Dangerous.¡± She looked down at her cup, as if reading things in the water. ¡°I agree. It does seem that Sir Leonard¡¯s priority is the Rogue. If that is the case, he might abandon the mission against the Lair as soon as he has you secured. Given that we only have a few more days before the next frenzy, it would be a disaster.¡±


    He pictured Enessa and the others trying to handle the spiders without Leonard¡¯s leadership¡ªor worse, the village being hit by a flood of spiders when all of the heroes pulled back. ¡°So, no telling them yet?¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡± She nodded. ¡°We need to find what we can expect first. If they can kill the Lair, then we need them to do that first. Then we can go from there.¡±


    Clay nodded, and then paused as he heard conversation outside. He glanced at Olivia and then stood to go to the door. When the knock came, he opened it immediately. ¡°Hey! Everyone okay?¡±


    Enessa beamed at him, her good humor obviously restored. ¡°Yeah! We did pretty well out there.¡± She stepped into the house and paused, looking around at its humble furnishings. Then her eyes fell on Olivia and she paused, uncertain. ¡°Oh! Are we¡­interrupting anything?¡±


    Clay felt his face flush. ¡°No! Of course not.¡±


    She gave him a skeptical look, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips. ¡°Okay. Come on in, everyone!¡±


    Charles followed her through the door, and then Maribel and the twins joined them. Clay shook their hands as they came in, clapping Charles on the shoulder. They all looked jubilant; even George looked far better than he had been.


    Then Sir Leonard and Lord Frensfeld came in, looking around the now crowded space. The older adventurer seemed amused by the farmhouse, as if more entertained by the new adventurers¡¯ enthusiasm than paying attention to the surroundings. Frensfeld merely eyed Olivia with surprise, and then a hint of disdain that made Clay¡¯s fists clench, before simply standing quietly to the side and waiting for the conversation to die down.


    Clay ignored him, instead turning to see Charles introducing himself to Olivia. She accepted his hand gracefully. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Sir Charles. Clay has told me so much about you.¡±


    ¡°All good things, I hope.¡± Charles gave her a warm smile. ¡°I hope he hasn¡¯t been troubling you too much.¡±


    ¡°He has been a¡­good friend, actually. It has been refreshing to get to know him.¡±


    Enessa smirked a little, glancing at him in a way that he thought was far too knowing. ¡°Oh really? When we were still here, he was always the one dragging us into some crazy plan or another. I¡¯m surprised he hasn¡¯t tried the same with you.¡±


    Olivia glanced at Clay and then bit her lip for a moment. ¡°I find that¡­difficult to imagine. He¡¯s been so calm lately.¡±


    Charles covered a cough with one hand that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Enessa rolled her eyes and adopted the stance that Clay recognized as her story-telling posture. ¡°That seems like he¡¯s turned over a new leaf then! Cause let me tell you, back when we lived on the other side of the Smallgroves, he was constantly dragging us into the woods for some reason or another. Why, one time he said his father wanted us to find a lost pig, so¡ª¡±


    Abruptly alarmed at the direction the conversation was going, Clay stepped forward to try to interrupt, but George tapped him on the arm before he could. ¡°Hey, these are our supplies, right? Just want to make sure I¡¯m digging into the right packs.¡±


    ¡°What? Oh, yeah, those are yours.¡± George grinned and rummaged through them. Clay noted the dark circles still there under his eyes and grew worried. ¡°Are you still doing all right? Charles told me about it yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m healing up just fine. I¡¯m only a little tired.¡± George touched a spot on his left arm, one where there were two punctures in his surcoat. ¡°That monster absolutely got the drop on me. I hadn¡¯t been careful enough, and if Enessa hadn¡¯t been there¡­¡± He shuddered.


    ¡°She was there for you, though, and you¡¯re still standing. That¡¯s what counts.¡± Clay knelt down and shook him by the shoulder a bit. ¡°Anything you live through, you can learn from.¡±


    ¡°Wise words, Goodman Evergreen.¡± Clay looked up to see Sir Leonard watching him, his eyes curiously sharp. ¡°The cadets did well today, and I was encouraged by how Sir George recovered from his injuries. Syr Maribel¡¯s skill was a fortunate help, but we should not stress her abilities too far, should we?¡±


    George gave an uncomfortable laugh. ¡°You are right, Sir Leonard. I will keep that in mind, going forward.¡±


    ¡°Good. I would hate to see such a promising future cut short.¡± Leonard nodded slowly, giving Clay another searching look.


    ¡°Well, I say you still owe her a gift or something, cousin.¡± Ned swaggered over and thumped his ¡®twin¡¯ on the shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s the least you can do after scaring the daylight out of us the other day.¡±


    ¡°Always free with other people¡¯s money, aren¡¯t you, Ned?¡± George tossed a packet of hard rations to Ned, who caught it with a grin. ¡°I said I¡¯d make it up to her, and I will. Just keep out of it, if you¡¯re capable.¡±


    Ned¡¯s eyes were just as full of mischief as they ever had been. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m capable all right. Maybe not willing.¡±


    ¡°It was nothing, Sir George. Just doing what I could.¡± Maribel smiled gently at them. She¡¯d been watching Enessa, Olivia, and Charles talk with a vaguely dissatisfied air, but she seemed less unhappy now. ¡°We all must fill the part the gods planned for us, after all.¡±


    She glanced at Clay as she said it and then turned away. He blinked in surprise. Maribel hadn¡¯t always been so cool towards him before; perhaps as a [Commoner] he was beneath her notice now. It was hard not to wince at the implication, so he covered it with a shrug and a grin. ¡°I suppose so! In that case, is there anything else I can help you with?¡±


    Lord Frensfeld stepped up alongside Maribel, resting his hand on her shoulder briefly. Then he turned to speak, his voice calm and measured. ¡°No. I believe that we can take our leave of you, at least until tomorrow. Am I correct, Sir Leonard?¡±


    The veteran adventurer raised a single eyebrow, but nodded slowly. ¡°Yes. We shouldn¡¯t take up too much of the goodman¡¯s time. Let us head back to the baron¡¯s manor, and then we can return tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°¡­and then his dad had to fish us all out of the creek!¡± Enessa finished up her story with a triumphant laugh; even Charles grinned widely. Olivia, for her part, stayed as sober as ever, but Clay noticed her biting her lip and struggling not to chuckle as well. He gave her a stern look, and she blossomed into a full smile at him, a rare blessing. Then he rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance at his friend.


    ¡°Are you finished making me look bad, Syr Enessa?¡±


    ¡°Only for today, Clay, only for today.¡± She gave him a gentle shove on her way towards the exit. Charles joined her, shaking his hand; George and Ned had already shouldered the supply packs and gone. Maribel and Leonard had vanished with them.


    Curiously, Lord Frensfeld had stayed behind, despite carrying one of the packs himself. He looked at Olivia, his face curiously blank. ¡°Novice Shrinekept, do you require an escort back to town?¡±


    Olivia rose and gave him a formal bow. ¡°No, my lord. Thank you for your concern.¡±


    The [Noble] hesitated for a moment and then bowed in return. He looked at Clay and then spoke in a strained voice. ¡°My thanks to you, goodman. Good fortune to you both.¡±


    He left, his back stiff and his stride seeming angry. Clay watched him go for a moment, wondering again what Charles saw in him.


    ¡°Your friends still care very much for you.¡± Olivia smiled gently as Clay looked back at her. ¡°I am glad you were able to protect them.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad for it. It¡¯s just too bad they probably think I¡¯m the world¡¯s laziest farmer.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Truthfully, you aren¡¯t exactly focused on it, are you?¡± He winced a little at the statement, and she shook her head. ¡°They will know someday, of that I¡¯m sure. Remember, what you are matters more than what they see. You are every bit as much a hero as they are.¡±


    Despite himself, Clay felt his cheeks warm. ¡°Thank you, Olivia.¡± Then he sighed and stretched. ¡°I suppose I should get some actual farm work in, though, before the day is over. My parents might have helped me out yesterday, but they have their harvest to get in now.¡±


    ¡°I see. I wondered how you had managed all of it.¡± She glanced around. ¡°How are they?¡±


    ¡°Mostly they are well.¡± He grimaced. ¡°They did¡­find out, though. You might want to brace yourself for a visit from my mother.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Oh.¡± Olivia looked suddenly flustered, and she wiped her hands on her tabard. ¡°That should¡­be fine. I will try not to disappoint.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it. They just want to make sure I¡¯m not being foolish.¡± He remembered the story she¡¯d just heard. ¡°Or at least, not more foolish than they are used to.¡±


    Olivia giggled, something that took him completely off guard. She grinned openly. ¡°I suppose I will do my best to reassure her then, though I am not quite certain of it myself.¡±


    ¡°Your confidence is overwhelming.¡± Clay rolled his eyes and then picked up a spade from his stack of tools. ¡°I have a bit of weeding to take care of, but thank you for coming.¡±


    He started for the door, but stopped when she tugged on his sleeve. She was bright red now, for some reason. ¡°Would you mind if I¡­ helped a bit? I could still use the training. It might help my [Fortitude] or [Might] a little.¡±


    Clay raised both eyebrows, and then nodded. ¡°Sure! I¡¯d be happy to have the help.¡±


    She smiled again, this time a smaller, shier thing. He led the way out to the fields and began her education in all things farming.


    The work with Olivia in the fields went fairly well, even with him having to tell her which of the plants was a weed and which were not. Fortunately, missing the morning had not apparently invited a massive invasion of pests, either, so the work was not too bad.


    Olivia seemed fascinated by it all, even when it came time to cut back some more of the thornbushes and other overgrown weeds along the edges of the field. She even helped a little, though she tired quickly swinging the sickle. It was hard not to laugh as she wielded it in awkward, halting swipes at the grass.


    Eventually, though, she grew tired enough that she needed to start for home. He offered Pure Touch tentatively, and she accepted without hesitation. Then he sent her on her way without much further fanfare, with aching muscles and a satisfied smile on her lips.


    With those tasks done, Clay went out to check his snares again, finding another rabbit that he cleaned and cooked. His dinner prepared, he retrieved the weapons from the rafters and headed out into the Tanglewood again. The adventurers had done well, but there was far more work to be done if he wanted to stop the next swarm.


    It took him remarkably little time to reach Scout¡¯s Hill. Once there, he ate a bit of hard rations while he watched the spiders down below, memorizing their patrols. They were still not flying as they had before, which showed the elder troll spiders were still wary, but they wouldn¡¯t be enough to stop him, even with that measure of caution. He took particular care to study the webbed trees between him and the Lair. He¡¯d done enough to weaken their numbers and strengthen himself. Now it was time to start invading.


    {Elder Mantrap Spider slain!}


    Clay looked down at the twitching elder spider corpse, backlit by the spreading fire in the distance. They¡¯d gotten that much easier to kill, now that he had [Spiderbane] applying fully to them. He no longer felt the bonus from [Defiant] when he faced them, which was curious. Had he actually gotten to be at their same level now?


    He studied the dead monster for a moment longer and then broke off to wait for the reinforcements to come. The more of them he killed, the less would be between him and the Lair, and he only had a little over a week to finish things. There wasn¡¯t any time to waste.


    There was a rustle in the trees, and he grinned as he got into place to deal with the elder troll spider. Then he paused. Instead of beginning the Canticle of Ice, Clay hid himself as best he could and began the Orison of Soul instead. He hadn¡¯t really put it to use yet, at least not against his real enemies. Part of him wondered what it would tell him.


    As the monster approached, he focused his concentration on it. The things had not grown any prettier during his brief absence, even if he seemed to be able to tell exactly where he could hit it to do the most damage. Those too-large eyes practically glowed as weak points as did each of its joints.


    Then he finished the [Chant], and he blinked as his [Gift] displayed new text for him to read.


    [Elder Troll Spider]


    [Rank: 6, Type: Spider, Status: Vassal of Tanglewood Lair]


    [Type Kills: 12, Deaths Caused: 14]


    [Instincts: Hunter Killer, Cannibal, Stalker]


    He blinked, studying the words. The name was familiar. Did the monster¡¯s rank mean the same thing as a [Class] level? If so, that would explain why he no longer had [Defiant] activating. The Type Kills was interesting; he guessed he had killed at least twelve of the things.


    Then the meaning of Deaths Caused struck him, and his eyes narrowed. Did it include animals? Other monsters? Somehow, he doubted it. His blood ran cold as he realized how murderous this thing really was, and he released the Orison¡¯s power to start the Canticle instead.


    The thing never even saw the ice that took it.


    A few minutes later, Clay was watching through a small thicket of dead bushes as an elder mantrap spider spat wet filaments of web across the burning trees nearby. The flames hissed and went out as the thing advanced. Clearly, it didn¡¯t want his fire to burn all the way to the Lair, which was a pity. A wildfire would certainly have helped clear the way much faster.


    He finished the Orison as he watched it, comfortably hidden from its eyes as it worked.


    [Elder Mantrap Spider]


    [Rank: 6, Type: Spider, Status: Vassal of Tanglewood Lair]


    [Type Kills: 11, Deaths Caused: 8]


    [Instincts: Defender, Cannibal, Lifedrinker]


    Clay glanced around at the dead trees and grimaced as he realized what [Lifedrinker] probably meant. Given enough time, perhaps these things would spread that poison to the entire valley. This one wouldn¡¯t, though.


    Releasing the Orison, he began the Ballad of Air. As the elder mantrap scooted forward a little to spray down another blaze, he finished the [Chant] and grabbed it. It squealed in surprise as he rolled it up and forward, its bladed limbs frantically slashing at the wind that carried it. The spider was tangled in the burning webs before it could free itself and by the time it staggered, burnt and blinded, from the blaze, he was already waiting at the edge of the territory. It had time to give off a pained cough before he called on the Flame-Tongued Song to set it alight and finish it.


    When he left the area behind, the fire had only grown. Another eight souls avenged, and the path to the Lair was growing ever clearer.

 B1Ch20: Oops

    The next day, Clay had a hard time waking up.


    Going out on two separate hunts had a lot to do with the fatigue he felt, but another part had been the lack of quality sleep the night before. Being able to see the number of kills the monsters had caused did not do wonders for his view of the future. Each of those deaths had been a person, just like him, with dreams and a future. If he didn¡¯t stop them in time, how many more were going to see their fortunes cut short?


    All the same, he had work to do. He went about preparing the day, hunting with sore muscles and doing a quick initial check for weeds. To his sudden panic, he almost forgot to hide his weapons away again, only remembering when he heard a distant conversation approaching. Luckily, the adventurers appeared to be in no hurry, and he was just swinging down from the rafters when he heard them knock at the door.


    Clay landed on the floorboards, trying not to make too much noise, and then brushed himself off before he swung open the door. ¡°Welcome! Going out for another day of hunting?¡±


    Enessa grinned. ¡°Yep! We¡¯re going to try and push a bit further in today. See if we can get closer to the center.¡±


    He raised his eyebrows. ¡°That won¡¯t be dangerous?¡±


    Charles shrugged. ¡°Possibly, but Sir Leonard was saying that there weren¡¯t as many monsters as he¡¯d been expecting. They might be hiding further in, so we¡¯ll need to go in after them.¡±


    Clay shivered a little theatrically. ¡°Well, be careful. It sounds a little like trying to bait a bear in his own cave.¡±


    Sir Leonard smiled cooly. ¡°An accurate image, but do not worry. We have trained for this type of situation, and I believe the cadets will do well.¡±


    Enessa and Charles handed over the packs of supplies, and Clay stowed them away as he had before. When he turned back, Leonard had already waved for the others to go ahead. The older adventurer turned back to look at him, his eyes calculating.


    ¡°A moment of your time, Goodman Evergreen?¡±


    Clay nodded, trying to keep the smile on his face from becoming fixed. ¡°Sure, though you can call me Clay. Goodman Evergreen sounds like what people would call my father.¡±


    Leonard nodded his head, his eyes not leaving Clay¡¯s face. ¡°Have you seen anyone else entering the woods? The Tanglewoods, I mean. Any strangers or people from town?¡±


    He frowned, careful to word things correctly. Olivia hadn¡¯t run across any magic that could tell truth from lies, but he didn¡¯t want to risk it. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen anyone but your party going into the Tanglewood, Sir Leonard. Truth be told, I don¡¯t know of anyone crazy enough to do it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Leonard¡¯s eyes grew sharper. ¡°Strange things have been happening in the forest, starting well before we got here. I suspect that a [Commoner] living on the edge of that forest might see someone¡­causing those things as a protector. A friend.¡±


    Leonard smiled. ¡°I mean no harm to anyone who is committed to containing the monsters of the Tanglewood, you understand, but it is important for us to know what is happening here. If there is another person in the Tanglewood, we could work together to bring the situation to a close. It would be safer, both for such a person, and for your friends among the cadets. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Clay watched the man, thinking over his response. Obviously, the man didn¡¯t suspect him anymore, but he did think that Clay might help the Rogue Leonard had actually been sent to hunt. Were the punishments for helping a Rogue as bad as actually being the Rogue? He didn¡¯t really want to find out.


    ¡°Well, I hear what you are saying, Sir Leonard, and I¡¯d agree. It¡¯s a shame that I haven¡¯t seen anyone like that around here.¡± Then he shrugged and leaned against the doorway. ¡°If I do, I¡¯ll be sure to let you know, though. So you can all work together to put a stop to those spiders.¡±


    The instant he said the word, he knew it was a mistake. Clay Evergreen wasn¡¯t supposed to know what kind of monsters were in the Tanglewood. They were supposed to be a mysterious threat, not something the average [Commoner] would know anything about.


    Sir Leonard didn¡¯t respond, however. He just narrowed his eyes and frowned. Then he sighed and turned away. ¡°Very well. If you do happen to see someone, please let me know. The importance of working together cannot be overstated. Good fortune to you and your farm, Goodman¡ªah, no, Clay Evergreen.¡±


    ¡°And to you as well, Sir Leonard.¡± Clay watched the veteran adventurer rejoin the others. He waited a little longer this time, wanting to make sure that they were all well inside the forest. Then he went for his gear. He couldn¡¯t let them get too far ahead.


    The group was moving well today, and they were being diligent about checking their surroundings. So far, he¡¯d only had to nudge a couple of troll spiderlings and decoy one mantrap spiderling out of its hole; the rest they had found and killed on their own. He¡¯d been surprised that none of them had announced a level, however, at least until he realized that because they were sharing the kills. They weren¡¯t going to level that quickly at all.


    Curiosity and a lack of threat eventually made him try out the Orison on them, peeking from behind trees, brush, and stones. What he found confirmed some of his thoughts and immediately lowered his opinions of the Guild.


    All of his friends were no higher than level three, and none of them seemed to have killed a monster before entering the Tanglewood. Apparently, the Guild had chosen to help them level in relatively safer ways, such as fighting tournaments for Enessa, or simple quests for Charles. It had given them valuable strength¡ªall of them were at or near their maximum in the [Stats] their [Class] demanded¡ªbut they obviously lacked experience. Why had the Guild sent them out here like this?


    There were two exceptions. Lord Frensfeld was level four, something the [Noble] mostly owed to his grand array of titles. At the same time, however, he had several more monster kills than Clay had seen him get here, and the way he defended his allies won him a small measure of grudging respect in Clay¡¯s eyes. He wondered if Frensfeld might have been the leader of the party, if Sir Leonard hadn¡¯t come along.


    Leonard was the other exception. His [Class] was [Outrider], and he was all the way at level seven. He had an impressive number of monster kills under his belt, enough that he had obviously earned the experience that he now used to direct the team. The few times Clay saw him wield the daggers he carried, he had put them to lethal effect.


    Yet it was just as clear that his attention was not on the mission to stop the spiders. Clay was not the only one who noticed, either, as he later found out.


    As he hid nearby, concealed behind a tree trunk, he caught voices talking, not loud enough to carry to the rest of the group, who were taking a slight break a short distance away.


    ¡°I would have your reason for this, Sir. Now.¡±


    Clay blinked. The [Noble] had not acted kindly to him, but he¡¯d at least been civil. This time, his voice was near-acid, and his respect for the man begrudgingly increased yet again.


    Leonard¡¯s response didn¡¯t seem worried about Frensfeld¡¯s tone, however. If anything, Clay would have called it dismissive. ¡°The Guild¡¯s priorities in this matter are clear, Lord Frensfeld. Finding this Rogue is an important task.¡±


    ¡°Does he even exist, Sir? You¡¯ve spent an onerous amount of time harassing the friends and family of a lazy, unmotivated farmer. You¡¯ve spoken with the local Rector, with the merchants in the village, and the baron Pellsglade himself. None of them can provide so much as a description of the supposed Rogue. The monsters, however, are here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, they are¡ªbut not enough of them.¡± Leonard¡¯s voice grew colder. ¡°This close, we should already be running into more spiderlings, and adult versions of the things as well. Yet we see none of them. Why?¡±


    When Frensfeld didn¡¯t answer, Leonard continued in an even voice. ¡°The villagers reported hearing screams. None of the spiderlings we¡¯ve seen could make that noise. We¡¯ve seen columns of smoke as well, from over this cursed hill. Do you believe these beasts are causing them?¡± There was another pause, and Clay resisted the urge to shrink back further into his hiding spot. ¡°They are here, Lord Frensfeld, and they must be made to serve the Kingdom, not themselves. Ignoring that could cause an even greater disaster than the Lair. If you cannot be convinced of that, then perhaps you should not be here.¡±


    There was another silence, one where Clay tried to understand the logic of Leonard¡¯s words. He¡¯d said it with a tone of absolute conviction, but how could a simple Rogue be a bigger threat than an actual tide of monsters?


    He shook his head, trying to focus more on the matter at hand. Whether or not Leonard was right, it was clear that the man would not stand idly by and let Clay continue his campaign against the Lair. Of course, Clay had no intention of backing down, either. If it came to a fight, would he be able to take the man down? It seemed like it would be¡­risky. The [Outrider] had far superior [Might] and [Insight], and while Clay had the edge in the other [Stats], it wasn¡¯t like he had enough of an advantage to really help. Though [Paragon] and [Defiant] might narrow the gap, it wasn¡¯t likely to be enough. Most of his abilities related to killing monsters. If Leonard were a big spider, it might have worked out well. As it was, it would be better to avoid things escalating that way.


    Clay heard Enessa shout, and then the sound of another troll spiderling being smashed. He grimaced a little and then slipped away. Whatever the issue with Leonard, it could wait until the Lair was done¡ªand that obviously would not happen today. Better to focus on the task at hand.


    When Clay returned home, well ahead of the group of adventurers, he found Olivia already waiting for him. The girl was still wearing that same odd tabard and breeches combination, something she had informed him that the Rectors wore when traveling. She grinned as he came up, already having cleansed himself of the signs of his journey. ¡°Are they nearly here?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I need to hide these and get ready.¡± He eyed her. ¡°You aren¡¯t nearly as tired today. Did your [Fortitude] go up after all?¡±


    ¡°It did!¡± She grinned and swiped a bit of sweat off her forehead. ¡°It made the rest of my chores in the shrine surprisingly less tiring.¡±


    Clay smiled and moved past her to stick his weapons in the rafters again. ¡°Congratulations! You might end up even better prepared than I was for my Choosing.¡±


    Olivia nodded, throwing a few daring punches in the air. She might have been able to bruise fruit with one of them. ¡°Perhaps. I still need to work on [Might] and [Valor].¡±


    ¡°Well, nine months is plenty of time.¡± He finished stowing his gear and then wiped his hands. ¡°Should we eat something?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Let¡¯s start on the fields first. That way, they don¡¯t ask what you¡¯ve been up to all day with me indoors. In case you are still worried about what the village might say?¡±


    Clay started to ask what she meant and then caught her meaning. He blushed. ¡°I¡­yeah, let¡¯s get started then.¡±


    The party returned about a half hour later, still mostly unwounded, and their morale was still high. They found him and Olivia picking their way through the fields, reducing the weeds and spreading a little water around. She¡¯d needed a little guidance, but he¡¯d helped her keep from stepping on the plants.


    He saw Charles wave to him and waved back. Ned said something to his cousin, and Enessa slugged him in the arm hard enough for the [Dark Knight] to complain. Maribel and Enessa then seemed to be scolding the poor man, even while George was nearly doubled over laughing.


    Leonard simply gave him a respectful nod as he approached. Lord Frensfeld ignored him, as usual.


    ¡°Let me go get your supplies. How did things go today?¡±


    ¡°We made adequate progress. Hopefully, we will be able to see the Lair soon.¡± Leonard¡¯s calm voice carried a threat that Clay hadn¡¯t recognized before, but he pretended to not notice it.


    ¡°That¡¯s good news! I hope you¡¯re able to get there tomorrow.¡± Privately, he hoped they would slow down a little. He didn¡¯t know how well Leonard would fare, but he doubted any of his friends were ready to take on an elder spider, let alone multiple of them.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Yes. Hopefully tomorrow we will be within sight of our goal.¡±


    Clay smiled and nodded and internally promised himself that this man would never find even a single trace of him going forward. Not if he could help it.


    The adventurers joined him and Olivia for a brief lunch before they headed back to town, during which Olivia managed to wheedle what seemed like every possible story about the Academy and the Guild that she could. By the end of the meal, she could have listed every [Feat], [Style], [Charm] and [Sigil] the adventurers had¡ªexcept for the silent Leonard, of course. Even Frensfeld opened up a little at her gentle prodding.


    When they left, she joined him in hacking away at the edges of the field again, occasionally taking her turn with the sickle. She waited until they were fully gone before she spoke. ¡°None of them have any idea how to seal a Lair. Have you noticed?¡±


    Clay blinked and looked down the road at their retreating backs. ¡°I did not, but now that you mentioned it¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have expected the [Mage], Syr Maribel, to know the [Chant], but¡­¡± Olivia shook her head, swiping at the hair sticking to her face with one hand. ¡°She doesn¡¯t know any [Chants]. They¡¯ve been making her memorize speeches, histories, and arcane rituals, but no [Chants]. Aside from her [Charms], she¡¯s nearly defenseless.¡±


    He¡¯d wondered why Maribel hadn¡¯t used any [Chants] at all in the forest. Now he knew why. In fact, none of them had used [Chants]. Had the Academy simply stopped teaching them, somehow? Or was it something that they saved only for the higher levels?


    Then the real implications of what she¡¯d been saying caught up to him. ¡°So wait. The only one who could know it would be Sir Leonard. And he¡­¡±


    ¡°Is an [Outrider].¡± Olivia started hacking away at a bit of brush. Her swings seemed more out of spite than anything. ¡°A level seven, if I remember correctly, which means his maximum [Memory] is barely above a [Commoner]¡¯s. Even if they reach the Lair, they can¡¯t kill it.¡±


    Clay grunted, standing back and staring at the weeds without really seeing them. ¡°And you haven¡¯t happened to run across the [Chant] we need, have you?¡± She shook her head, still hacking away, and he nodded slowly. ¡°Then if we can¡¯t kill it, we can at least force it to go dormant. That would give us time to search for a real solution.¡±


    ¡°To do that, you¡¯ll have to kill its Guardians. We don¡¯t even know how many of those there will be.¡± Olivia gave one final swing and decapitated some sproutwillow. The seeds blew everywhere, and Clay winced at the thought of having to pick them all out of his field the next day. She stood there, chest heaving as she glared at the remaining weeds.


    He gently reached out and took the sickle from her. ¡°They were talking while they were moving through the forest. I think there might just be two Guardians. That should be something I can handle.¡±


    ¡°Guardians are not a thing you ¡®handle¡¯, Clay. There¡¯re stories about heroes fighting them. Dying while fighting them, even if they had an easy time of the other monsters.¡± She shivered slightly, despite the sweat on her face. ¡°They won¡¯t be alone, either. The rest of the monsters will come to help them. None of the spiders will ignore you trying to kill their Guardians.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe Leonard and the others will be useful to distract them.¡± He slashed at the weeds, cutting them back with relative ease. This section didn¡¯t have nearly as much sablethorn as the other parts, which meant he could just hack away at ease. ¡°Don¡¯t give up hope now, Olivia. We¡¯re close, and even if we go through another wave of spiderlings, we¡¯ll have enough time to try again later.¡±


    She seemed doubtful, but she still nodded slowly. Clay turned away and tried to focus on clearing the brush. Clearly, he¡¯d need to keep taking down the elder spiders around the Lair. Fighting whatever kind of monster the Guardians were was probably going to be hard enough. Adding in a pack of elder spiders on top of that would¡­not be ideal.


    All the better that he intended killing most of them before he tried, then.


    ¡°Get around it!¡±


    ¡°Trying¡­to¡­¡±


    ¡°Sir George, face it head on. Sir Charles, make sure it cannot get to the [Dragoon]. Syr Maribel, heal Syr Enessa.¡±


    Clay watched, tense, as the group faced off with their first adult mantrap.


    The thing had run into them on their fourth day, as they had reached the foot of Scout¡¯s Hill. It had been drawn out of hiding looking for a troll spiderling corpse to eat, and the party had actually been resting right next to one. He¡¯d been tempted to kill it, but it would have sent Leonard a clear sign a Rogue was close, so he¡¯d contented himself by nearly flipping it over with Ballad of Air to make sure it couldn¡¯t sneak up on them.


    So far, they were not doing too badly. Enessa had taken a slash to one arm, but she¡¯d broken the thing¡¯s left two forelimbs in exchange. Ned and Lord Frensfeld were cutting off its escape, and George was keeping it busy by poking that lance at its face. Clay was fairly sure that Leonard could have finished the thing himself already, but the [Outrider] was obviously letting his juniors get the experience of killing it on their own. His calm, unworried orders seemed effective at keeping them from panicking, at least.


    It snapped at Charles, whose shield was between it and George. The [Paladin] responded by cutting it across the face; Clay saw one of its fangs go flying. The thing screeched, and jumped back, giving Ned the opening to put his broad battleaxe right into its back. His weapon glowed as runes etched into it came to life, and the thing screeched again as the axe seemed to melt its way through the carapace. Then, when the thing tried to turn on Ned, George thrust his lance straight through its skull.


    The monster went limp, and the adventurers yelled in triumph. Even Enessa, whose wound was rapidly closing under Maribel¡¯s [Charm], seemed to be grinning.


    ¡°Well done! Your first rank three monster is slain! Now watch your surroundings. There may be more on the¡­¡±


    Clay sighed, his good feelings spoiled by Leonard¡¯s voice. It wasn¡¯t that the man was unpleasant, but he was starting to see more and more past the calm demeanor. Nothing in Pellsglade mattered to Sir Leonard aside from hunting down the Rogue. He suspected that if the [Outrider] had to sacrifice some of his cadets to find his target, he might actually do it. Hearing him praise the team just felt like a false, sour note at the end of a well-sung song.


    He paused for a moment, frowning over the metaphor. It wasn¡¯t normal for him to like music, but ever since he¡¯d gained [Warsinger], he¡¯d started to think in terms of rhythm and harmony more. Was it a side effect of the [Experience], or was it something natural that happened when you spent half your time working with [Chants]? Maybe he¡¯d ask Olivia once he got home.


    Clay tried not to think about the fact that he was absolutely sure she was going to be there by the time he arrived.


    Instead, he turned his attention back to the party. They gathered around the spider, listening to Leonard. He sighed. It was going to take forever for them to level at this rate. He didn¡¯t think any of them had even mentioned getting [Spiderbane] yet. It wasn¡¯t like there were a ton of adult spiders left in the Tanglewood either; he¡¯d been pretty dedicated to wiping out most of them. The only way that they were going to find more was by fortunate accident, or if they accidentally tripped over the thing hunting something else.


    Or maybe someone else¡­


    Clay smiled. He was fairly sure that he¡¯d seen traces of an adult troll spider a little while ago. Maybe a little encouragement and some non-obvious wounds would set things up nicely for them. Feeling better, he set off through the Tanglewood to find the monster, trying not to whistle as he went.


    The party was tired that day, with some of them complaining of exhaustion as they passed by his house. He tried to look innocent as they described running into five different adult spiders¡ªthree mantraps, and two trolls¡ªbut Olivia was already giving him looks before they left. When they were partway down the road, she shook the sickle at him. ¡°Really? What happened to being worried they would die?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve gone from that to worrying we¡¯ll die of old age before they get past Scout¡¯s Hill.¡± Clay moved back a little as she shook it at him again. ¡°Look, I wounded them a little, and stayed close to make sure they were okay. It turned out fine, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    Olivia glared at him a bit longer and then sighed. ¡°I suppose so. Still, I cannot fully agree with convincing them they have mastered this place. Not with you weakening their opponents.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s like what I did with the spiderlings. Gave them hints and clues so that they could get used to how it all works. Soon they¡¯ll be ready to take on the adults on their own terms.¡±


    She turned and started hacking away at another thornbush. He noticed she was getting better at it. ¡°And when they do well there, you¡¯ll move them up to fighting elder spiders?¡±


    ¡°If there are any left, maybe.¡± Clay shook his head. He¡¯d been making extra trips out to the valley each day to make sure those monsters weren¡¯t coming back. So far, he¡¯d killed sixteen or so of each; by his last count, that meant there were less than ten left total between both mantraps and trolls. Hopefully, more wouldn¡¯t be waiting inside the Lair, but he had no way of knowing that.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t stretch yourself too far, Clay.¡± She smiled. ¡°I think we¡¯d all like you to live through this. Especially in the next couple of weeks.¡±


    Clay looked across a stretch of blackened forest.


    He¡¯d set this spot of the webbed trees on fire nearly two days ago; the blaze had long since been put out by the surviving elder mantraps, though the remnants of the webs they had used had long since dissolved. None of them were around now, however. Clay had set another pair of fires on the opposite side of the Lair, and the remaining elders had gathered in that spot to put them out. They were running short of help, now; his attacks had been enough to kill almost all of them, to the point that there were actual signs of weeds popping up in the burnt spaces where mantraps were no longer present.


    Several of those small weeds were here, speckled amidst the ash and soot. He took it as a sign that nothing would pop out of the ground at him. The skies were clear as well. Dark grey clouds were looming overhead, and the elder troll spiders had learned to fear flight, anyway.


    He glanced at those clouds, trying to judge the weather. It was already afternoon; the adventurers had long since gone home after their midday meal, and Olivia had sent him off to the Tanglewood early so that she could ¡®get some more [Might] training¡¯ in. Clay had needed to hide his chuckles; her version of training was just the daily chores he¡¯d had since he had reached [Youth] all that time ago. All the same, he was proud of her. She had her goals and was working towards them.


    It reminded Clay of himself all those weeks ago.


    Clay shook off the thoughts and focused on the ground in front of him. There was no sign of a trap here, and he had already resolved to get a look at the defenses inside the Lair itself. He didn¡¯t think he was quite ready to fight the Guardians yet, but he wanted to get a look before he ran out of time. Just like before, he¡¯d scout the place, and then retreat to safety with what he¡¯d learned.


    Feeling uncomfortably exposed, he took his first step onto the burnt ground. Ash crunched beneath his foot, seeming unnaturally loud. Clay winced, and then kept going, keeping a wary eye on the skies and listening for the scrapes of burrowing mantraps. Nothing reached his senses, so he kept moving, crossing the bare space as quickly as he could. His paranoia was burning every step of the way, but he pushed himself forward. The work had to get done. There wasn¡¯t much time now before the monsters unleashed the next swarm.


    Before long, he reached the edge of the burnt space, where the webbed trees gave way to the ruins he¡¯d half glimpsed beneath the webbing. Up close, he could see them far more clearly. They were half-collapsed and decayed beneath the layers of spidersilk, but he thought he could make out the shapes of houses and barns. There had been a small community of people living here, not just an isolated hermit. He wondered, briefly, what had happened to them all. Had they just been the first victims of the spiders when the Curse had taken hold?


    His first question, of course, was how he was supposed to get further in without alerting whatever monster had woven the webs. They didn¡¯t look the same as the ones the mantraps had built to alert themselves, but he had no doubt that they could serve a similar purpose. There had to be a way past them, however. Otherwise, how did the spiderlings leave the area where they spawned without being caught and killed?


    Clay thought about it for a minute, taking shelter beneath the crumbling ash of a burnt tree. Then he caught sight of a small hole through the webs located in the space between a pair of walls. Webbing covered the gap at chest height, but if he stayed low¡­


    A moment later, his common sense was screaming at him about how stupid he was while he slipped carefully between the webs, trying his hardest not to breathe too loudly in case that would trigger the drifting strands.


    Once he got through that crumbling alley, however, the webs grew less pervasive. He found himself in a small cobblestone intersection, where webs stretched from the remnants of destroyed roofs to connect to long-rotted carts or a well he knew better than to trust. Tufts of wild grass sprang up from between the stones, though it looked¡­unnatural somehow, as if the dark blades had formed from the corruption of the place instead of in spite of it.


    Keeping his eyes sharp, Clay moved forward again, watching for signs of other, more subtle webs running across the stones. A gust of wind moved through the square, and he jerked backwards as a strand of gossamer spidersilk nearly brushed his teeth. Unnerved, but determined, he continued on.


    The hollow, darkened windows of long-empty houses watched him as he drew closer to the tower, his breath coming faster as it loomed over him. He knew the Guardians had to be there, in the center of it all. A pulsing beat of evil seemed to match time with his own pounding heart, drawing him closer to where the Curse had to be hiding.


    He reached the central courtyard of the ruins a short while later, and he grunted in displeasure at what he found. Webs surrounded the entire base of the tower. They covered everything, making a complex tent of traps that extended from midway up the tower to the streets below. The only gaps in the webs that he could see were just open enough that he could imagine a spiderling scrambling through them. There was no chance that he could crawl through them. Clay had a brief mental image of him being wrapped in webbing and screaming as a wave of spiders came at him.


    Clay shivered and took a step back from the spot. Perhaps he¡¯d seen enough of the place for the day; if he turned back now, he might still catch Olivia at the farm and spend some time with her. He could think over what he¡¯d already seen, and how he could bypass the traps of the place without throwing himself into them now. There was still a little more than a week until the swarm started, after all, and there were still a handful of elder spiders he could exterminate first.


    Then the air seemed to grow still. Something pulled his gaze up along the tower, to where one of the smashed windows gaped like a wound partway up the structure. There was a¡­figure of some kind, crouching in the darkness that surrounded the towers. It was utterly still, but he thought he could make out the bulbous shape of the head, and the bent angle of a leg. A giant eye gleamed wetly, and he felt a sudden burst of fear.


    He resisted the urge to run. Not yet. Instead, he whispered the Orison, keeping his gaze fixed on the thing. It seemed to take forever for it to complete, and yet when it did, his blood seemed to freeze.


    [Guardian Broodmother Spider (Mantrap)]


    [Rank: 10, Type: Spider, Status: Lord of Tanglewood Lair]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 56]


    [Instincts: Guardian, Creator, Commander, Eternal]


    Rank ten. Rank ten and he was level six. And there were two of those inside.


    So. He¡¯d wanted to know how bad it would be. Now he knew. Clay suddenly felt that now was an incredibly good time to go.


    He began to turn. His boot caught on an ancient stone. It popped loose and skittered across cobblestones that hadn¡¯t felt the tread of human feet for generations.


    The sound was louder than any shout Clay had ever heard.


    Dread pooled inside him, and slowly, he turned his head back to the tower. His heart seemed to freeze as two large, hairy arms silently extended from the window. Still in shadow, eight eyes larger than his head glimmered in the darkness. They were fixed on him. It had seen him.


    Terror froze him for a moment¡ªand then it was buried under a burning flood of anger and rebellion. It wasn¡¯t the first monster he¡¯d seen, and hideous as this nightmare was, it would not be the last.


    So instead of remaining paralyzed in place, and instead of fleeing immediately, Clay faced the Guardian, made a rude gesture that Amelia Evergreen would never have approved of, and ran back the way he¡¯d come. He was already beginning the [Chant] for the Ballad of Air as he ran; he wouldn¡¯t have time to squeeze his way out, not now.


    {Valor increases by 1!}


    Behind him, a chittering howl began, seeming to run right through his bones as he fled, hoping against hope that he¡¯d make it back home without dragging that thing along at his heels.

 B1Ch21: For Pellsglade

    An hour later, Clay was willing to admit to himself that he might have made a mistake.


    Fortunately or unfortunately, the Guardian had not pursued him. He¡¯d been able to run from the ruins without having that mad thing scrambling in his wake. It meant he would be able to evade it, for now, but it would also mean he couldn¡¯t lure it out the way he had the other spiders when he was first confronting them. When it came time to fight the Guardians, it would be on their territory, on their terms. He didn¡¯t have a lot of hope that he¡¯d be able to find any real advantages there.


    Also, unfortunately, even though the Guardian did not pursue, it did not mean that he was free. As he¡¯d left the ruins behind, they¡¯d come alive with other movement. By the time he reentered the forest, his boots still marked by the ashes of the woods he¡¯d burned to make the path, an entire army of spiders and spiderlings had emerged to chase him.


    What followed had been a game of cat and mouse as he hid from the spiders, running when he could, remaining concealed when he could not. They skittered along in his wake, the trolls coming through the trees and the mantraps carpeting the ground. He used every trick he could to stay out of their sight. Floating Step prevented him from leaving footprints as he ran; Soul Shadow, the reversal of Heart¡¯s Light cloaked him in shadows to keep him from the trolls¡¯ eyes. Drums of Earth sent them chasing invisible footsteps, and Ballad of Air taunted them to pounce on false prey. Clay led them on a merry chase, hoping they would tire of hunting him.


    It seemed like he would have no such good fortune. They were determined to track him down and end him; the glances he managed when they drew close told him that there was an ethereal light dancing in their eyes. Had the Guardian somehow taken control of them? Based on what he had seen, they should have been feeding on one another by now. Yet they didn¡¯t even take a single swipe as they mixed with one another. That fact alone was terrifying.


    Finally, he managed to send them off on a false trail. They went screaming and squealing along that path, and he drew his first breath of relief since he¡¯d seen that thing in the tower. All he had to do now was get back across Scout¡¯s Hill without attracting any attention. Once there, he could put together a plan to kill the hunters, and then figure out a way to burn his way into the Lair. The thing had surprised him, but now he had the advantage of knowing how it would respond to an intrusion. It couldn¡¯t have many of those hunters left. If he killed these and then did it a few more times¡­


    His thoughts trailed off as he neared the top of Scout¡¯s Hill. Something was off. He looked back towards the valley and felt a sudden bloom of hatred and desperation as he realized that the hunting spiders were making their way towards the hill as well. Clearly, he must have given away something when he made for home. Perhaps he would have a better time picking them off individually when he was farther away from the Guardian controlling them. Maybe they¡¯d even start fighting each other when that control failed.


    Then he turned and started down the hill, his mind whirling with plans. It had been some time since he had set a trap. Maybe he could spend a while getting into a good position, position some poisoned stakes, maybe even camp out near some of the spiderlings that weren¡¯t under the Guardian¡¯s control.


    He made it a short distance down the slope when he heard the voices.


    It was impossible not to recognize them. Leonard and his friends were here, now? Why? They¡¯d headed for home hours ago. Clay gritted his teeth as he realized he wouldn¡¯t be able to fight the hunters after all. He¡¯d need to convince the adventurers to leave, get them out of the Tanglewood and then maybe he could¡­


    ¡°Calm yourself, Novice. We¡¯ll be able to return home just as soon as we find your friend. We don¡¯t want Goodman Evergreen to be wandering around here, after all.¡±


    The sound of Sir Leonard¡¯s voice brought a sudden rush of anger and outrage that he hadn¡¯t expected. Clay gave up all pretense of hiding. He strode through the forest, close to shaking with rage. His grip on the boar spear was so tight that a calm, detached part of him wondered if the haft would snap.


    He saw them coming through the forest a few moments later. The entire group of adventurers were there, along with one addition. Olivia, in her Novice robes and a worried expression. Clay couldn¡¯t see the expressions on most of them behind their helmets, but Maribel seemed torn between uncertainty and an odd happiness at Olivia¡¯s discomfort. Enessa was quietly enraged, though, and Lord Frensfeld was just as surprisingly unhappy.


    Leonard saw him first, the [Outrider]¡¯s skills picking him out from the surrounding forest. His eyes went straight to Clay¡¯s spear, and then to his face. He smiled. ¡°Goodman Evergreen. It¡¯s good to see you. Can you explain for me¡ª¡±


    Clay didn¡¯t even bother stopping. He brought the butt of his spear up and around with a speed that had to have surprised even Leonard. It took the [Outrider] right in the nose; Clay pulled the strength from the hit at the last moment, but he still heard Leonard¡¯s nose break. The adventurer went over backwards, landing flat on his back.


    Maribel reacted first. ¡°Clay, what are you doing? He¡¯s an¡ª¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s an idiot who dragged a young girl into a monster den to act as bait, and I would have expected better than that from the rest of you, whatever he said.¡± He stared around at them, seeing shoulders slump. Maribel looked no less shocked, but Enessa glanced at Olivia and winced.


    Lord Frensfeld was the only one that didn¡¯t back down. The [Noble] stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. ¡°We would not have put her in any danger. We would not use her to lure spiders.¡±


    ¡°No. You were going to use her to lure me.¡± He looked at Olivia, who nodded slowly. ¡°Get your people into formation. We can¡¯t get clear of the Tanglewood in time, and they¡¯ll be here soon.¡±


    ¡°It was you.¡± Leonard scrambled back to his feet, his face covered in blood and outrage. ¡°How are you hiding your [Class]? What are you? A [Knave]? A [Burglar] or [Occultist]? What have you been¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a [Commoner]. I always have been.¡± He looked at Lord Frensfeld. ¡°There are fifty or sixty spiders coming over that hill in five minutes. If you want to live much longer than that, get, into, position!¡±


    There was a single moment of shock, and then Charles stepped forward. ¡°Lord Frensfeld and I will stand at the front. Ned, George, take the sides. Maribel, you¡¯ll be in the middle with the Novice. Enessa, cover our rear.¡± The [Paladin] notably did not mention Sir Leonard, who was left staring as the others formed up without him. Even Lord Frensfeld didn¡¯t hesitate for long. He only glanced at the [Outrider] and then turned away.


    Leonard turned back to Clay, his disbelief now shading into rage. ¡°Your lies will not help you. We will take you back to the capital and¡ª¡±


    Clay leaned in close. ¡°You should be grateful that I am not staking you out here to slow them down. Now get ready to fight¡ªfor real, this time. It¡¯s the least I can expect from you.¡±


    The contempt in his voice made the adventurer flush with anger again, but Clay heard the telltale scrape of mantraps beneath the ground, the rustle of trolls in the branches. They were here early.


    Enessa called out to him, her voice tinged with worry. ¡°Clay, get back here with us! You can help me defend the rear.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t. I need to distract the big ones.¡± He grinned, his expression just short of a snarl. ¡°Besides, you know me. Can¡¯t resist the urge to show off.¡±


    Charles spoke up next, his fear just as obvious. ¡°This is serious. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Just keep her safe, Charles. I trust you.¡± Clay glanced back once, seeing them standing in their arms and armor in the middle of the Tanglewood. They seemed like something out of the stories, their armor shining and their stances ready. Leonard was the only outlier, standing out to the side with anger in his eyes and his hands getting close to his knives.


    Then Clay looked back again, and he started the first [Chant].


    He¡¯d decided that the elder troll spiders were probably the biggest threat at first. They could pull his friends out of formation and snare them. Their screams also had a bad effect on the unprepared. The elder mantraps were dangerous, but hopefully they would aim for the nearest target¡ªfor him.


    So as the first spiderlings came out of the forest towards him, Clay focused on the Canticle of Ice, and waited for the first ugly giant to rear out of the branches above him.


    He heard a muffled oath as the monsters swarmed forward; he thought it was Ned, but he wouldn¡¯t have blamed any of them. There were dozens of them, moving in a chittering mass. Their bulbous eyes glowed with more than malicious intent.


    Clay smiled. They seemed to move in slow motion. Time to remind them why they should fear the woods west of their home.


    The first mantrap spiderling launched itself at him from the side. He didn¡¯t even bother to swing the spear. Instead, he swatted it with the back of his hand, like an annoying fly. Its armored shell shattered, and the thing was sent flying back into the trees. A troll spiderling swept in for his legs; he stomped the life from it before it could reach him.


    Six more spiderlings died in the space of three breaths, smashed, crushed, and sliced as he stepped forward into the swarm. It was the hardest thing he could do, but he needed to keep the bigger monsters away from the others. The further he could get, the better.


    ¡°What is he¡ª¡±


    ¡°Pay attention, on the left¡ª¡±


    An adult mantrap leaped from the left. He smashed it away with the spear. It didn¡¯t die immediately, but he was fine. Crippled was fine, as long as it was down. A troll spider spat web at him. Clay stepped back slightly, and the web hit the ground. Then he stomped down on it before it could pull back, and the thing was torn from the tree, where a swing broke its back. Another thrust gutted a second adult mantrap. His elbow crushed a spiderling as he turned, caught two webs on his spear haft, and pulled a pair of adult troll spiders to the ground.


    His [Chant] built to the crescendo just as a familiar, horrifying scream rose above the chaos. Clay looked up as a massive, slender leg came down, nearly crushing a scuttling mantrap spiderling. He shouted the last syllables, feeling the magic flow through him and out in a single searing rush.


    Three singing spears of ice formed in front of him, and then launched at stunning speed into the elder spider above him. They took the elder spider in the face and body, bursting through it with such power that even Clay was momentarily surprised. Ichor rained down as the scream cut off, and the leg went limp. It started to tremble and fall, crashing through the branches ahead.


    Without pausing, Clay began the Flame-Tongued Song. He couldn¡¯t afford to fight the small ones, not with the arrival of the worse threats. He cracked open the head of an adult troll with a single swing and then pinned the second one down with a thrust. Another adult mantrap sprang at him from the other side, and he drew his bush knife to cut a forelimb from it, and finished it with a chop that severed the head. He booted a troll spiderling away and stomped a mantrap spiderling to paste.


    ¡°Magic? What kind of¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ªI can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    The panic in George¡¯s voice made Clay turn. He ripped the spear free and spun, even as he felt the ground suddenly start to give way beneath him. A burst of fear ran through him as well, and he leapt, coming around as he did.


    An adult troll spider was in the process of leaping at George. The others were occupied; he had one chance. Clay hurled the spear, even as the elder mantrap erupted from the ground beneath him. Then he brought the bush knife down in a brutal slash that caught the elder spider in the face.


    The blade drove down through the thing¡¯s facial armor, cracking the rough exterior apart. He saw the malign light in its eyes flicker as he wrenched the weapon free. It came for him again, fangs snapping, and he chopped down again twice more, severing legs. Ichor sprayed, and he kicked the spider over onto its back.


    More spiders came in at him, their eyes still aglow. Swing after swing cleared the space around him, even as the elders kept flooding in overhead and below. Clay backed against a nearby tree trunk, still frantically trying to keep the fangs and nets from catching him. He heard shrieks above and felt trembles below.


    Then he finished the second [Chant] and he sprayed fire across half the forest in front of him. Spiders turned into burning bundles of monstrous flesh. Screams cut off and smoke filled the air.


    ¡°By the gods above!¡±


    As the [Chant] finished, he began the Cycle of Return. The words for it flowed faster than the others, as [Smallmage] took effect. It still wasn¡¯t instant, however, so he would need to make do with his bush knife for the time being.


    Clay jumped and kicked off the tree behind him. He flew over smoldering, thrashing corpses, feeling the webs shoot past as he went. In response, he hurled the bush knife up at the nearest elder spider.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He grabbed for the shortbow, pulling it from his holder with an arrow ready to nock. Clay hit and rolled, coming up into a crouch as the elder mantraps smashed into the tree he¡¯d left. The trunk splintered and then crashed down in the opposite direction. Above him, there was an outraged screech as the bush knife hit, and one of the elder troll spiders reeled back, leaking ichor.


    Clay put his first arrow into the other troll spider, which was stooping in to strike at him. He backed away and drew the second arrow and put it into the same shoulder as the first. It staggered too, bumping into the other one. The elder mantraps vanished again, withdrawing into the ground. Time was running out as he backpedaled, putting a third arrow into the spider¡¯s middle forelimb, and then a fourth in the same spot.


    He felt the ground shake and knew he was out of time. With the same motion, he stowed the shortbow again and leapt.


    The [Chant] finished, and he felt the spell call the boar spear back to his hand. There was some resistance as it pulled free of the spider he¡¯d impaled with it. He didn¡¯t wait for it to arrive before starting the reversed Cycle of Return. When the first mantrap exploded from the ground beneath him, he punched the butt of the spear down and into its face. It hit the thing right in the middle of its eight hateful little eyes, with all the force of a battering ram.


    He heard the thing¡¯s skull crack, and he was sent flying up and back. As it writhed on the ground in agony, Clay hit the dirt and rolled. There was a flash of pain as he hit a rock, but he just grunted and kept moving. The second one was already crackling towards him under the ground. There was no time.


    Clay came up with his spear ready. An adult troll spider jumped at him and he stabbed it, tossing it back over his shoulder like he was pitching hay. Then he swung it down and forward, smashing another adult mantrap as it tried its luck. He waited until the elder mantrap was nearly on him, and then he threw himself to the side.


    It nearly caught him as it sprang from the earth. The fangs clashed just shy of his boot, and for just a heartbeat, he thought he had escaped clean.


    Then one of the slashing limbs came down on his leg, and a burning line of pain cut across his thigh. Blood sprayed, and he came down awkwardly, nearly falling as he tried to keep his balance. The mantrap, obviously tasting blood, whirled and reared back, its bladed forelimbs ready to catch and rend. He saw victory in its eyes.


    Then he finished Pursuing Leap, and the spell yanked him skyward, hurtling towards the bush knife buried in the elder troll spider above. Fighting the pain, he twisted to extend the boar spear ahead of himself. The elder spider had just enough time to begin an alerted screech before he hit, burying the spear so deep that the crossguards didn¡¯t stop it.


    He felt the troll spider stagger with the impact, and he ripped the bush knife free. As he started Floating Step, Clay wrenched the spear back and forth, feeling the creature stagger and weaken. Ichor poured from the wound. Then he sheathed the bush knife and grimly held on, trying to buy enough time to finish the [Chant].


    Below him was a scene from a nightmare. The burning corpses and putrid smoke filled the forest, and he could barely see the circle of his friends still fighting just beyond it. They were bloodied and surrounded, but they were still fighting hard, cutting down spiders as they leapt and snapped at them. Olivia was still in the center, her terrified expression somehow clear despite the distance.


    Then he saw the elder mantraps tunneling towards them, and he knew that time had run out.


    He braced both of his feet against the belly of the elder troll spider. Still wrenching it back and forth, he heaved back on the spear with all his strength. The pain in his thigh nearly made him give out, but he forced himself to ignore it and pull harder. Above him, the troll spider¡¯s scream grew thin and warbled, and suddenly the strength in its limbs seemed to give out.


    The spear came free with a sickening sound, and he was suddenly dropping back towards the ground. Clay sped through the remainder of the [Chant] through gritted teeth, knowing that he had no chance to survive without it.


    He had cut it close; the power of the spell settled over him just as he reached the dirt. His feet very nearly touched soil despite the [Chant] lifting him. The speed of the fall, combined with the angle of the hill, had him suddenly skidding down the slope towards his friends. Behind him, the second elder troll spider continued to collapse, nearly knocking over its companion as it crashed through the treetops.


    The trees blurred around him as he sped towards Charles and Lord Frensfeld. He held the spell, trying to ignore the way his left leg was shaking. His friends were in danger, Olivia was in danger. Collapse could wait until later.


    His eyes caught sight of the soil stirring, churning as the spider beneath it dug towards the [Noble]. He pushed to alter his trajectory and then leveled his spear at the dirt. Clay thought he saw alarm in [Noble]¡¯s face as Lord Frensfeld saw him coming; the adventurer leaped back, dragging Charles with him. It was the perfect move, though he doubted the man knew why.


    Clay released the spell just as the first elder mantrap broke through the ground, fangs seeking Frensfeld¡¯s legs. He hit the monster before it had completely left the ground, his entire body braced to keep the spearpoint on target despite the speed he was traveling.


    The impact still robbed him of his weapon again. He fell, his slide becoming a tumble as he left the spear behind. Clay heard Charles shout, and he rammed into the two adventurers hard. Neither of them fell, but it didn¡¯t do his ribs any good.


    He felt hands under his armpits, and he struggled upright again, his bush knife in his hand. His stunned mind struggled to focus, but he still started the [Chant] for the Ballad of Air. If he could down the last elder troll spider, then maybe that would be everything the hunters had left. Clay couldn¡¯t tell how many of the smaller ones were left, but surely there couldn¡¯t be that many still alive.


    Charles was to his right, Frensfeld to his left. They were shouting something, but the ringing in his head denied him the chance to understand them. Then he saw the dirt being plowed up in front of him and dully realized that he¡¯d lost track of at least one elder mantrap. He froze, still dazed. The Ballad wouldn¡¯t help against a mantrap, and his spear was still out of reach, buried in the other elder mantrap¡¯s body. His leg wound meant he couldn¡¯t jump anymore. It would burst from the ground and have him before he could hack at it.


    It was over.


    Then the sounds seemed to return to his ears in a rush, just as a shadow passed over him.


    ¡°For Pellsglade!¡±


    Enessa slammed down in front of him, her armored gauntlets hitting the ground so hard he saw the ground ripple. She stopped the tunneling mantrap short; it staggered free of the soil, its head bleeding, and Clay brought the knife down on it before it could recover. His weapon caught its fractured armor and drove deep, the blade snapping off before it cut all the way through. He continued to mumble his [Chant] as the thing began to thrash in its death throes.


    An adult mantrap tried to leap on Enessa, but a shining arrow of light caught it mid-jump and hurled it aside; had that been Maribel? Another came from the side, but George caught it on his lance to drive it away. An adult troll nearly had her with a web spray, but Lord Frensfeld caught it on his chestplate, and yanked the thing off balance by sheer stubborn solidity. It died a moment later as Ned cut it down.


    All around him, the adventurers were charging, the fools shouting warcries as if that would cover their desperation. To his numb shock, the spiders were falling back now, the light beginning to fade from their many, many eyes. Had they finally broken the hunters? Would the rest of them run?


    Yet he knew it wasn¡¯t over. The final elder troll spider was standing high again, its wounded limbs regaining purchase on the ground, braced by the other wholly untouched legs. It stared down at him, its gaze filled with hate, and its scream seemed to make the entire forest shake. The troll spider¡¯s body started to curl over, its spinner prepared to snatch either him or one of his friends to kill them.


    It was at that point that he finally finished the Ballad, and he reached out with the power the spell granted him. Clay swept both of his hands forward, grasping the two forelimbs on the left and the two rear limbs on the right. With a final burst of power, he jerked his hands apart, willing the air to yank all four limbs in opposite directions¡ªforcing the giant monster to balance at least half its weight on two limbs that had no chance of supporting it. He knew it wouldn¡¯t last for long, but it didn¡¯t need to; it just had to last enough.


    The spider shrieked, a sound that made it through the fog in his mind again. Its wounded legs snapped, spraying ichor, and its stumble became a headlong fall into the flaming ground below it. He heard alarmed shouts from his friends as it came down, but he ignored them as they fell back, wanting to see it finally be done.


    Dirt and smoke sprayed into the air as the troll spider hit. It flooded past him, forcing him to throw up his hands in defense. The world around him was reduced to a haze of brown, black, and grey. Clay breathed in the foul air and coughed. Pain shot through him, and he coughed again. He fell to his knees, his body finally starting to give out. Despite the pain, despite the taste of blood in his mouth, he smiled. Olivia and the others would be fine now. They¡¯d be safe.


    With that final thought, Clay the [Commoner] slumped forward and hit the ground, allowing himself to fall into the darkness beyond. He could rest now. The job was done. For a while, at least.


    Clay woke and immediately frowned.


    In the stories, when a hero woke up after a dramatic fight, he was surrounded by soft things and light. It would be a beautiful day and grateful people would be waiting nearby. Above all, it was supposed to be quiet. The hero wasn¡¯t usually laying on what felt like a sharp rock and some twigs, while a sour, burnt smell filled the air. There was light, at least, but it was too bright and hurt his eyes.


    There also were far too many people shouting and running around everywhere. Even Maribel, leaning over him, looked mad enough to chew through leather. She looked at him, her eyes widened, and she yelled. ¡°He¡¯s up!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s move!¡± Someone yanked him off the ground, which was rather rude. It was uncomfortable, true, but at least he was resting. To his surprise, it was Lord Frensfeld who was half-carrying him. Charles was standing nearby, looking around the Tanglewood with a dazed, determined expression on his face. The [Noble] drew his attention again. ¡°Sir Evergreen, we need to go. You need to walk.¡±


    ¡°O-Olivia?¡± His tongue felt like it was too thick to move. She was still here, right? If she had vanished somewhere, it would have been so unfair.


    ¡°I am here, Clay. Just keep moving.¡± He looked at her, with her face covered in soot and desperate worry.


    Clay tried to smile. ¡°Did you get more [Valor]?¡±


    Surprise replaced her concern, and Olivia actually smiled. In front of people. ¡°Yes, I did.¡± Then she looked around. ¡°But for now, we need to go. Please focus.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± He started lurching down the hill with the [Noble]¡¯s support. Something about that was funny, but he was too tired to figure out what. Another thought managed to force its way through the fog behind his eyes. ¡°M-my spear?¡±


    ¡°We have it, Clay.¡± George was walking beside him, two spears over his shoulders. Well, one spear and a lance. He kept pivoting to look around the woods, like he was worried about something. ¡°Anyone see anything?¡±


    ¡°Nothing here. Just a small battlefield.¡± Ned¡¯s voice turned ironic. ¡°At least this time I¡¯m not the one causing trouble.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll catch up, Ned.¡± Charles glanced at him. ¡°Clay, are there any more out there?¡±


    Clay managed a painful chuckle. ¡°Always more, but not like that. I got too close to the Lair. Guardian spotted me, sent them. Couldn¡¯t get¡ª¡±


    He broke off as a cough worked its way out of his lungs. Lord Frensfeld steadied him as he fought to stay upright. ¡°Steady, Sir Evergreen. You can tell us more later.¡±


    ¡°You better.¡± Enessa¡¯s voice was rough. There was anger there, but something else, too. Stale fear? ¡°If you don¡¯t explain exactly what¡¯s been going on here, I¡¯m going to make you wish those things killed you. Do you hear me, Clay?¡±


    ¡°I hear you.¡± It seemed like a wonderful thing, honestly. ¡°I hear all of you.¡±


    By the time they made it to the edge of the forest, Clay had recovered enough that he could try to check his [Gift].


    The number of notifications for spider deaths was impressive, but he¡¯d also managed to gain both a [Fortitude] and [Will] out of the conflict. Not as nice as gaining actual Soul from all those kills, but it was better than nothing at all.


    Of course, all that might have cost him was his freedom. A small price to pay, next to the safety of his friends.


    Clay kept telling himself that as they limped down the road, headed for Pellsglade. None of them had suggested stopping at the farmhouse, for good reason. While he was fairly sure there wouldn¡¯t be another hunting party, it wasn¡¯t a certainty, and they were in no shape to fight. Not yet.


    Besides, Leonard had run, apparently disappearing sometime during the fighting. A part of Clay wondered if the spiders had done him a favor and dragged the [Outrider] off, but he immediately felt guilty for the thought. Whatever else he was, the man was human. He deserved better than to end in some monster¡¯s gullet.


    His opinion shifted a little when he looked up the road and saw the [Outrider] riding up to them, surrounded by the baron¡¯s men. The baron himself was there as well, along with the Rector and a slightly worried looking Herbert among the crowd.


    Ned grumbled something under his breath, only to be hushed by Charles. Lord Frensfeld seemed ready to spit on the road, and the rest of the adventurers didn¡¯t seem any happier. Clay felt a feeling of dread settle in his gut as the [Guards] fanned out on the road in front of them. Leonard looked smug as he reined in his horse and stared at him.


    ¡°Sir Leonard, it appears that you have good fortune today.¡± The smirk on Leonard¡¯s face grew wider as Lord Pellsglade spoke. ¡°My son and his companions are still alive, as are the [Commoners] you put under unnecessary risk. I won¡¯t be required to execute you.¡±


    Leonard¡¯s smirk vanished, and Clay felt his own surprise bloom alongside the [Outrider]¡¯s. ¡°Lord Pellsglade, what do you¡ª¡±


    The baron¡¯s expression was more severe than anything Clay had ever seen before. "By your own account, you abandoned your comrades in order to ¡®find help¡¯, an action that could have led to their deaths. You also brought Novice Shrinekept into an area you knew was risky and abandoned her as well. Did you expect me to thank you, Leonard?¡±


    Astonishment had turned to outrage on Leonard¡¯s face now. Omitting the ¡®sir¡¯ seemed to be the final straw. ¡°Lord Pellsglade, with all due respect, this is Guild business. I do not expect you to recognize the official concerns of the Guild, but I do require your assistance in taking that man¡ª¡± He pointed a finger at Clay, as if he was casting a javelin. ¡°Into custody, for his violations of the Guild¡¯s laws and the fact that he endangered this entire area.¡±


    Lord Pellsglade raised his eyebrow. ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a Rogue who has somehow hidden his [Class]. His actions were what put your son and the others at risk, and I have been charged with bringing him back to the capital to face justice before the Guild¡¯s Council.¡±


    ¡°Is that your mission, Leonard? I somehow believed that you had been assigned a different responsibility¡ªto contain and purge the Lair in the Tanglewood. It was entrusted to you as part of your oath to the King, whose authority I wield here. Am I mistaken?¡±


    The cold in Lord Pellsglade¡¯s voice brought Leonard up short. Outrage drained from the adventurer¡¯s face, quickly replaced by a sudden uncertainty. ¡°Y-you are not, Lord Pellsglade¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid that I find you in breach of that responsibility. As such, you are no longer welcome in my realm, and I will be sending a message to the Council explaining why.¡± Lord Pellsglade glanced briefly at Clay, before returning his attention to the [Outrider]. ¡°Surrender your horse; it appears there are others who might need it more. Some of my men will accompany you to the borders of my land to ensure that there are no further misunderstandings. You are dismissed.¡±


    The [Outrider] swayed slightly in his saddle, as if stunned. He looked around, as if realizing how many [Guards] faced him, and when he glanced at the rest of the adventurers, he found even less sympathy there. Lord Frensfeld made a dismissive gesture, and Enessa started to chuckle openly.


    Then he clenched his teeth and shook his head. He dismounted and strode over to Clay. Lasting anger was stamped on his features. ¡°This is not over. The Council will find you, and you will be stopped.¡± The adventurer glanced around at the others. ¡°I would have hoped for more loyalty from you, even as ignorant as you are. Your betrayal will be remembered.¡±


    Frensfeld merely smiled. Charles, however, stepped forward, his hand on his sword hilt. ¡°So will yours. Be gone.¡±


    Leonard bared his teeth at him, and then strode off down the road, a handful of dismounted [Guards] falling into place around him. None of them looked happy, but Clay didn¡¯t think the adventurer would cause any more trouble. At least, not on his own. Even a level seven would have trouble facing six armed men at once. Right?


    ¡°Goodman Evergreen?¡± Clay jumped slightly and then turned back to the baron. Lord Pellsglade was looking at him intently. ¡°If you would accompany me to my manor, I would appreciate an explanation about what has happened here.¡±


    Clay did his best to bow, unstable as he was. ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± It looked like the time for hiding was over. Oh well, it had been good while it lasted.

 B1Ch22: Preparations

    An hour later, they had reached the baron¡¯s manor.


    It wasn¡¯t quite a palace; Pellsglade was a small village, after all, and the baron¡¯s family had never been the pompous sort. At the same time, the contrast between his broken-down farmhouse and the four-story stone manor house was humbling in many ways. The gardens around the house were well cared for, and he saw some of the baron¡¯s personal servants moving among the trees of the nearby orchard.


    The baron led the way to the small stable, where grooms hurried to take care of the horses. He gestured for them to follow him inside the manor itself, and Clay just went along with the rest of the adventurers. Herbert gave him a brief clasp on the shoulder and then turned to help the rest of the baron¡¯s men to settle things. Only the Rector accompanied them, speaking quietly to Olivia as they filed into a large sitting room.


    Charles spoke softly with his father as well, at least before his father pulled him into a rough embrace. Clay looked away for a moment, remembering his own father. Were they worried? The fight in the Tanglewood hadn¡¯t been very subtle this time.


    When the baron pulled away, he gestured for them to sit in the chairs. ¡°Now, I¡¯d like to hear your account, Goodman Evergreen. Sir Leonard¡¯s story was¡­untrustworthy in several details, especially the claim that you tried to kill my son.¡±


    Clay blinked. ¡°My lord, I would never¡ª¡±


    The baron held up a hand. ¡°Goodman Evergreen¡ªClay¡ªI never really believed that accusation. You have always been a good friend to Charles, and I don¡¯t expect a handful of months to have changed that.¡±


    Rector Semmons spoke up before Clay could continue. ¡°All the same, my lord, something has changed. My Novice stated that Goodman Evergreen helped save them from the monsters, but the idea of a mere [Commoner] doing so is¡­ difficult to believe.¡±


    ¡°A good point, Rector.¡± Lord Pellsglade looked back at Clay and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sir Leonard mentioned something about hiding your [Class]. Is that the case?¡±


    ¡°No, my lord. I am a [Commoner].¡± Clay glanced at Olivia. She nodded, encouragingly. ¡°I am a level six [Commoner], my lord.¡±


    There was a brief silence. The Rector cleared his throat. ¡°I have always understood that [Commoners] can¡¯t gain levels, Goodman Evergreen.¡±


    Clay gave him a small smile. ¡°Any [Class] can gain levels if they kill enough monsters, Rector. Any [Class].¡±


    Realization dawned on the baron¡¯s face. ¡°I¡­see.¡± A smile flickered on his face. ¡°I had wondered about the reports on your farm¡¯s progress. I suppose now I see what you¡¯ve actually been doing. But still, level six?¡±


    Frensfeld broke in, his voice even. ¡°I believe it, Lord Pellsglade. The things Sir Clay did¡­¡± The [Noble] shook his head. ¡°I actually expected him to be far higher level than that. He saved all of us.¡±


    Hearing the [Noble] give him a title was a viscerally shocking moment. He was still recovering his equilibrium when the Rector broke in again. ¡°You must have had to kill quite a few monsters to gain such a level by that method alone. How did you manage such a task?¡±


    ¡°Knowing Clay, by doing something unwise. Repeatedly.¡± Charles was grinning now, his expression a mixture of frustration and genuine amusement. He and Enessa exchanged a look, and Clay felt himself settle on more familiar ground.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong, Charles. Not wrong at all.¡± Then he shook his head. ¡°Still, Sir Leonard was not entirely wrong. I made a mistake today, and it put you all at risk. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Ned burst out laughing. ¡°I¡¯d say soaring across the sky and burning down half the forest to save us makes up for it. How in the world does a [Commoner] manage any of that, anyway?¡±


    Clay gave him a half-hearted grin. ¡°Part of it are the [Chants] I learned. If you get the chance and have a high enough [Memory], I¡¯d recommend using them.¡± Then he looked back at the baron. ¡°The other part is that the more monsters you kill, you can get an [Achievement] for it that makes killing more of them easier. The one for the spiders is called [Spiderbane].¡±


    The baron¡¯s expression grew calculating. ¡°And the one for the Undead?¡±


    He hesitated, recognizing the real question. ¡°[Corpsebane], my lord.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Lord Pellsglade nodded slowly. ¡°I owe you more than just my son¡¯s life, then.¡±


    As the others looked back and forth between him and the baron, Clay lowered his eyes. ¡°I was just doing what I could to help, my lord.¡± He raised his eyes, and saw the baron staring at him, his gaze intent. ¡°That¡¯s what I was doing this whole time. For all of it.¡±


    The baron studied him for what seemed like forever. Then he nodded. ¡°Then tell me about all of it, Sir Clay. Leave nothing out, and we¡¯ll see where we can go from there.¡±


    It took the better part of the rest of the day to explain everything. He told it all the best that he could. At some point, servants came and offered some kind of fruit juice to drink; Clay was glad for it, if only to wet his throat. As he talked, he tried not to notice the reactions of his friends. Enessa seemed torn between admiration and rage at the risks he¡¯d taken. Charles was more resigned and amused, though there were times when he thought the [Paladin] was exasperated enough to slap him upside the head. The others were mostly quiet, Lord Frensfeld most of all; the [Noble] seemed transfixed by the story, as if memorizing every word.


    By the time he finally reached the end of the story, with the chaos of the battle still fresh in his mind. Clay found himself shivering. ¡°It was too close, my lord. If things had gone much differently¡­¡± Then he shook his head. ¡°I await your judgment, my lord.¡±


    The baron sat back in his chair, his eyes calculating. ¡°So we have how many more days before the next swarm? Six days?¡±


    Olivia spoke up from where she sat; she¡¯d occasionally broken in to give her account of things as he¡¯d talked. ¡°Something close to it, my lord. It is hard to be exact.¡±


    Charles stroked his chin for a moment. ¡°It sounds as if you¡¯ve already culled quite a few of the larger monsters. The next swarm would be¡­difficult to contain without them preying on the newly hatched.¡±


    Frensfeld nodded. ¡°I agree, Sir Charles. It may lead to an expansion of their territory beyond the Tanglewood, if we are not careful.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not all bad, though.¡± George shrugged as the others looked at him. ¡°I¡¯d rather fight a bunch of the little ones than one of those bigger things. If we have to, we could cut down a lot of spiderlings, maybe get that [Spiderbane] [Achievement] for everyone.¡±


    Maribel shook her head. ¡°We can only be in so many places at once, though. Unless we want to split up.¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m not letting any of you out of my sight until this is done.¡± Enessa folded her arms and glared at Clay. ¡°Especially Mr. Almost-Get-Eaten-Five-Times, here. I¡¯ll break legs if I have to.¡±


    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be necessary, Syr Enessa.¡± Charles seemed to be fighting off laughter. ¡°Then if we want to avoid the monsters expanding, we may need to be more proactive. How many of the larger creatures are left in the Lair?¡±


    Clay frowned, thinking back over what he¡¯d seen. ¡°Maybe five of each kind of elder spider, fifteen of each kind of adults. I¡­don¡¯t know how many spiderlings there are. It seems like there are always more.¡±


    ¡°So ten rank sixes, thirty rank threes, and a barrel load of rank ones.¡± Ned looked from him to Charles. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of going for the Lair?¡±


    ¡°One of the strategies for dealing with new Lairs is to kill the Guardians and force it to rebuild. Without them, there won¡¯t be a swarm.¡± The [Paladin] grinned. ¡°Not a strategy to undertake alone, maybe, but a valid plan nonetheless. If we work together, it should be possible.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± Frensfeld glanced at the Rector and Olivia. ¡°Especially if we devote some time to learning the [Chants] that Sir Clay has utilized to such an effective extent. I don¡¯t know how effective they¡¯ll be for some of us, as many require secondary [Stats] to be effective, but given his success, it would be foolish to ignore them.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I definitely agree.¡± Ned gave Clay a hard-edged smile. ¡°I¡¯m gonna need some time with your notes, buddy. If you don¡¯t mind, of course.¡±


    Clay felt a spark of hope growing in him. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll just have to get them from my house.¡±


    Then he paused, remembering the terrible form of the Guardian. ¡°Still, the rank tens inside the Lair¡­¡±


    ¡°They should be a lot easier to deal with if they¡¯re by themselves, right?¡± George sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of taking them on, but if we could kill all their little friends first, it would be seven versus two. That should change the odds a lot.¡±


    ¡°Eight, Sir George.¡± Lord Pellsglade smiled as the adventurers all looked at him. ¡°I hope you would not resent my participation in this task. After all, this is my domain, and it sounds as if you could use every warrior you can find.¡±


    The offer seemed to catch the rest of the group completely flat-footed. Charles, however, chuckled slightly. ¡°Coming along to make sure your son doesn¡¯t shame you, father?¡±


    ¡°I raised you better than to do such a thing.¡± Lord Pellsglade shifted his shoulders slightly, looking remarkably like a petulant child for a moment. ¡°You cannot possibly blame me for wanting to guarantee your success and safety.¡±


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    Then he sighed and grinned. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve always hated fighting those things. If we can put a stop to them for a decade or two, then I consider it well worth the work.¡±


    ¡°We would be honored to have your assistance, Lord Pellsglade.¡± Frensfeld glanced around at the others, as if giving them the opportunity to object. No one did. ¡°I propose we take a day to rest and prepare, and then set about isolating these Guardians from their allies. Once done, we can assault the Lair and end this threat directly.¡±


    The others murmured their assent, and Clay felt a smile growing across his face as he realized that there was still hope after all. Alone, he had been on a course for almost certain failure. With an entire team of adventurers, however¡­


    A servant entered and whispered something to the baron. He listened solemnly for a moment and then cleared his throat. ¡°Sir Evergreen, I believe your parents have arrived looking for you.¡± He smiled slightly. ¡°Speaking as the father of an aspiring hero, they may require some reassurance.¡±


    Clay stood without remembering the choice to do so. ¡°Ah, thank you, my lord. If you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯ll¡­¡±


    The baron gestured for him to go, and he was out the door before anyone said another word. There were times when the world of monsters and adventurers could wait, after all.


    The next two days were an¡­interesting experience, to say the least.


    One day, he¡¯d been going about his business in the Tanglewood in secret, with only his own resources available to help him do the job. The next, he suddenly had an entire team of allies and the baron¡¯s finances at his disposal¡ªand in an even greater difference, it seemed like every person in and around Pellsglade knew what he¡¯d been doing.


    It was horrible.


    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t our local hero!¡± Adam grinned widely, as if something had suddenly gone right in the world. ¡°What would you happen to be interested in? Armor? A new weapon? Perhaps some personal heraldry?¡±


    Clay regarded him with a mix of horror and resignation. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I would need anything like that, actually.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, I thought not.¡± Adam¡¯s grin grew wider, and he gestured for Clay to follow him. ¡°Too many people think of adventurers and picture heroes clad in fine armor and wearing silk capes, of all things. Not many appreciate some of the more¡­needful details of the work, shall we say?¡±


    The merchant led the way to a table that had been cleared of other items, save for a single long box. Adam opened the lock on the thing and flung it open, standing back with a broad smile. ¡°Now, here is something that you¡¯ll really find fascinating, I¡¯m sure. Take a look.¡±


    Clay nodded and then stepped around the table so that he could see what the merchant had prepared. His earlier skepticism melted away as he saw what lay inside.


    The first item was a grapnel attached to some cord. It looked vaguely similar to a set of meathooks forged together, complete with a spiked tip of some kind. As he picked it up, Adam nodded. ¡°The cord can easily bear your weight, and probably much more. You can rely on it not to break.¡±


    His satisfied tone was a little grating, but Clay ignored it and turned to the next items, a pair of weapons that seemed like a cross between a javelin and a harpoon. He hefted one of them, testing the weight, and Adam grinned. ¡°You¡¯ll note the hook on the end. Useful for attaching a cord or chain if needed. The barbs are incredibly sturdy, which should mean that they can take your weight as well, if necessary. It also has a metal wire stretched through the core, which means lightning that strikes the end can be conducted easily through the tip. Useful, in many cases.¡±


    Clay blinked, picturing the baron sending a bolt of lightning through the thing. He nodded appreciatively, and then turned to the next pair of items.


    They were a pair of knives, obviously crafted in two very different patterns. One was a plain thing, with a simple cutting edge on one side and serrated edge on the other. As Clay examined it, Adam pointed at the hilt. ¡°It is meant to act as a useful tool in the wild. Cutting undergrowth, sawing through branches, even using the handle as a makeshift hammer. It should serve you well.¡±


    The second knife was very different. It was nearly as long as his forearm, with a broad blade that narrowed to a curved point at the tip. One side had a sharp edge all the way to the tip, while the other was only sharp for about a third of its length. He noticed the weight as soon as he picked it up; his other knife, the one that Herbert had crudely fashioned for him, had been about as heavy, but it had been missing the deliberate lethality and crossguard of this weapon.


    ¡°Ah, a personal request from the smithy. I had it made for you as soon as I heard.¡± Adam¡¯s tone was nearly gloating now, and he gestured to the knife with all the pride of a new parent. ¡°You should be able to use it for both forward and back cuts, as well as stabs. The weight will make your blows heavy, and the guard will protect your hands. Ideally, it will penetrate even the toughest of monster hides. It is special, I think. You could say the design came to me in a dream.¡±


    Clay blinked. He looked over at the shopkeeper, wondering what the man had meant. Adam simply grinned at him, not providing any further explanation. ¡°Thank you, Adam. These are exactly what I was hoping for.¡±


    A look of absolute satisfaction and contentment crossed Adam¡¯s face. He nodded in a slow, happy way. ¡°I am glad to hear it, Sir Clay. Very glad indeed.¡±


    Vaguely unhappy at being unable to surprise the man one last time, Clay reached for his coins. ¡°How much will it set me back?¡±


    Adam raised a hand. ¡°Do not trouble yourself, good sir, my wares are provided at the request of the baron. He¡¯ll handle the details for you.¡±


    Still a little off balance, Clay extended his hand. ¡°Well, thank you, still. You¡¯ve been very helpful.¡±


    It didn¡¯t seem possible, but Adam¡¯s grin grew a little wider. ¡°That is higher praise to me than you know, Sir Clay. Good fortune to you.¡±


    Clay made his way back to the baron¡¯s manor, carrying the supplies and tools that Adam had given him. He tried not to notice the way the villagers whispered as he walked past. The third time he rushed past a gaggle of giggling girls, he was tempted to start running, but he assumed it wasn¡¯t going to help anything in the end. After all, he was a [Commoner] that had been fighting monsters. People were going to talk.


    It didn¡¯t help that Charles and Enessa met him on the edge of the village, still wearing their adventuring equipment. The [Paladin] and [Fighter] made for an impressive sight, and both of them seemed ready to laugh when he mentioned the whispers. Charles simply smiled and shrugged off the complaints. ¡°You¡¯ll get used to them, Clay. They are part of the burden, after all.¡±


    Clay glared at him. ¡°What, killing the monsters isn¡¯t enough?¡±


    Enessa nudged him, nearly making him drop the bundles in his arms. ¡°Well, what did you expect? I mean, they¡¯ve been pitying you all this time for not being part of the ¡®generation of heroes¡¯ and then you go ahead and prove yourself to be one of us the whole time?¡± She laughed. ¡°You¡¯ll be lucky to get out of town before someone tries to marry off their daughter to you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you even start with that.¡± Clay felt his face burning. His mother had already mentioned, in a far-too-offhand way, how many of their neighbors had started to ask after him and his farm. Maybe it was the prospect of having a new farm on the edge of a territory that didn¡¯t have monsters to trouble it, but he suspected that others might have wanted their family to have a tie to someone who was close to the baron. Either way, he wanted none of it. ¡°I have enough problems already.¡±


    ¡°Well, at least we are going to solve some of them tomorrow.¡± Charles¡¯ expression grew a bit more solemn, and Enessa nodded seriously. They¡¯d both been training and repairing their own equipment, as had all the rest. Clay allowed himself a grim smile. The next day, their campaign against the Lair was going to begin. Finally, the Tanglewood was going to be free.


    It was later that night that a servant announced Clay had a visitor.


    He looked up from where he had been checking and rechecking his gear. The last thing he needed was for the spear to snap, or his bow to lose its tension now. They were bound for the Tanglewood early the next morning, so he couldn¡¯t afford to take them for granted.


    Wondering if his parents had come, Clay went out of the temporary quarters the baron had lent him¡ªapparently his new status as an ¡®adventurer¡¯ of sorts had granted him a lodging with the others, at least until the Lair was dealt with¡ªand out to the hall, where he found Olivia waiting for him.


    He had seen little of her since the baron had brought him back; the Rector had bundled her off to the shrine almost as quickly as was physically possible. Clay had tried to visit her, but the Rector had informed him she was busy with important work, and that she was not to be disturbed¡ªeven by an apparent local hero. Something told him the Rector was not entirely pleased with the whole situation, but even an adventurer couldn¡¯t challenge a Rector on their home ground, so he had gone back to the manor disappointed.


    Now, though, she was standing in the entry room waiting for him, and he smiled to see that she was still wearing what he now thought of as her traveling clothes. She also had a rather determined look on her face, and, as always, a collection of parchment in her hands.


    ¡°Olivia, it¡¯s good to see you! I tried to come by¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, the Rector informed me.¡± She grimaced. ¡°I was occupied by one of the several activities he¡¯s assigned me as penance for ¡®assisting in the corruption of a member of the community,¡¯ as he calls it. Apparently he is concerned that I intend to continue teaching [Chants] and providing information on monsters to whoever happens to ask, which is a threat to the stability of the town.¡±


    Clay winced. ¡°Well, imagine if a [Child] or [Youth] decided to go monster hunting. That¡¯s not a great idea.¡±


    ¡°I doubt the Rector was worried about me teaching a [Child], Clay. He¡¯s just angry that I was spending my time doing more than cleaning his shrine.¡± Olivia grimaced again, looking away. ¡°If he had his way, he¡¯d have me polishing those floors forever.¡±


    He frowned. ¡°Are you sure? He let you talk to me all those times, and he was fine with you coming out to visit me at my farm, right?¡±


    Olivia paused, her eyes going a little distant, and her lips twisted. ¡°Yes¡­yes that¡¯s true. Then why¡­¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Never mind. I can figure out that riddle later. For now, I have something for you.¡± Olivia held out the parchment. ¡°Here¡¯s a summary of everything we collected on Lairs, [Chants], and Curses. Everything your friends haven¡¯t already carried off, of course. I tried to summarize everything I could for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I appreciate it.¡± His list of [Chants] had more or less been confiscated by Frensfeld, Maribel, Ned, and Lord Pellsglade. They¡¯d spent the time since memorizing every single one of the [Chants] that he¡¯d been able to make work. Their superior [Memory] made the effort rather easy for them, something that would have made him jealous if they hadn¡¯t run into other issues. For most of them, the [Chants] also appeared to rely on other [Stats] for their strength, a fact that he hadn¡¯t recognized due to how his own [Class] worked. Still, they seemed enthusiastic about gaining another tool to use in the coming battle, and he was all too happy to share what he had learned.


    All the same, it was good to have his own copy of things again. He noticed that she had taken care to write in her own version of shorthand, something that would make it hard for others to read, but wouldn¡¯t be hard for him. After all, he¡¯d seen it often enough.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be working on a summary of everything we learned about these enemies, but that won¡¯t be done until you¡¯re already gone. You¡¯re leaving tomorrow morning?¡± She seemed¡­hesitant about the question. He tried to seem confident.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He shrugged. ¡°We should have enough time before the swarm to do our best to stop the Guardians. We¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Olivia nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sure you will. Yes.¡± She paused, a long, awkward moment where Clay wasn¡¯t entirely certain what he was supposed to say. He looked away, thinking of all the times when Olivia had been there for him. All the times she had found the answers he¡¯d needed, or had given him the chance to gain the edge he needed. He never would have reached this point without her. How was he supposed to thank her?


    He turned back to at least try and she kissed him on the cheek.


    Clay froze, full of surprise and confusion and¡­


    Before his brain had sorted itself out again, Olivia was stepping back, her face red. She straightened her robes slightly, avoiding his eyes. ¡°You had better come back alive, Clay Evergreen. You owe me your help, especially if I¡¯m a [Commoner]. So take care of yourself, understand?¡±


    He nodded, his mind still whirling with shock and conflicting feelings. ¡°I-I¡¯ll come back. I promise.¡±


    Olivia drew in a deep breath, once again straightening her robes. She squared her shoulders and nodded. ¡°Good.¡± When she turned away, the blush on her face seemed bright enough to light fires from. She still seemed determined, though, as if she was the one who¡¯d made some kind of oath.


    He shook his head, still a little uncertain it had even happened. Apparently, it wasn¡¯t just the spiders that could surprise him. All the same, he set aside the bundle of feelings; the end of the Lair would begin tomorrow, and his friends would need him focused. Not distracted by whatever¡­that had been.


    If only he could convince himself that was a possibility.

 B1Ch23: Fly vs Spider

    The campaign began the next day, at first light. With Lord Pellsglade at the lead, Clay and the others headed north into the Tanglewood. They rode horses until they reached the forest, at which point they turned over the reins to some of the baron¡¯s retainers. From then on, they proceeded on foot, making their way towards Scout¡¯s Hill.


    Once there, they established a small camp. Clay looked out over the valley, his eyes searching for signs of the monsters below.


    They were surprisingly scarce. He thought only one or two of the elder troll spiders were crawling through the trees, and only a handful of spots remained unburnt within the ring of webbed trees. Outside of that, even the signs of troll perches or mantrap nests seemed to be few and far between.


    Charles stepped up alongside him, staring out at the valley. ¡°Are they hiding? I don¡¯t see that many.¡±


    ¡°There may not be that many left. There were more of them, though.¡± Clay¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he turned his attention back to the Lair. "Maybe the Guardians pulled the others back.¡±


    ¡°If so, it will make it that much easier to take down the ones outside.¡± Charles gave him a reassuring grin. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s get some food.¡±


    Clay turned back toward the campfire. There was going to be plenty of work to do soon enough.


    The elder troll spider lurched as the ice spear hit it dead center. It staggered, the strength leaving its limbs as it struggled to right itself.


    It failed. Clay watched it collapse with a sigh and glanced back at Maribel. ¡°Well done.¡±


    She grinned. ¡°Thanks!¡±


    The [Mage] had taken to the Canticle of Ice like a fish to water. She now wielded it with an inherent joy and satisfaction that was a little intimidating. Both of the elder troll spiders patrolling the perimeter of the Lair had fallen to her abilities, and her grin each time had told him how much she enjoyed doing more than just healing her allies.


    He was starting to sympathize with her. There was no real benefit to having him kill the spiders anymore; he wouldn¡¯t gain any Soul from doing so, so Lord Pellsglade had asked him to stay in reserve as the rest of the heroes had dealt with the remaining guards. Both of the elder mantraps had already died to Enessa and George, and Ned, Charles, Frensfeld, and Lord Pellsglade had handled the various troll spider perches and mantrap spider nests without really needing any help. Apparently, they had devoted a considerable amount of study to the notes he¡¯d made, and they¡¯d put the lessons to devastating effect.


    The only problem was that Clay now felt somewhat useless. He¡¯d been reduced to sitting and watching, giving the occasional bit of advice or acting as an easy distraction for the occasional enemy. It was frustrating, but he could see the sense in the decision. Besides, there hadn¡¯t been that many spiders to kill in the first place. At this point, only the occasional spiderlings were still around.


    With those enemies removed, the only thing left to do was remove the enemies hiding inside the Lair itself.


    Lord Pellsglade stepped up beside him, his grin surprising to see. The baron seemed incredibly enthusiastic about seeing the spiders cleansed, but then again, he¡¯d been fighting them for far longer than Clay had. He nodded to Maribel and then turned back to Clay. ¡°Sir Clay, we still have plenty of daylight remaining. Do you think we could probe the Lair, or should we try tomorrow?¡±


    Clay blinked, taken aback. He glanced around at the party, trying to judge their fatigue. ¡°If we are ready, we can always give it a try. The remaining elder spiders may be hiding within, however, and I don¡¯t think that they will give up if they are sent after us.¡±


    ¡°Will they come out if they see an entire party?¡± Lord Frensfeld frowned, looking towards the ruins. ¡°I would think that they would wait until we tried to enter the place first. Then they would have an advantage.¡±


    Ned spoke up from the far side of the clearing. He looked mildly bored; letting Maribel deal with the elder troll spiders had not been the most interesting choice for him. ¡°What if we didn¡¯t send more than one of us in to chase? They sent the hunters after Clay the last time. Maybe he could lead them out again this time?¡±


    There was a moment of silence, and then the others turned to Clay. He burst out laughing. ¡°Well, it wouldn¡¯t be the first time I played bait. Remember that bull we found, Enessa?¡±


    The [Fighter] grinned. ¡°Yeah. You sure you¡¯re okay with this?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. Just make sure you are ready.¡± He looked towards the Lair and shivered a little. ¡°I¡¯ve already had enough of these things chasing me down.¡±


    George clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°You can count on us, Clay. One more big fight, and then we can hit the Guardians.¡±


    The others began to disperse, getting into position for the incoming enemies, and Clay started towards the ruins. Perhaps he would not be left sitting on his hands after all.


    The ruins had not improved with the passage of time.


    Clay made his way carefully across the cobblestones of the dead hamlet, careful to look around and examine the empty buildings. Now that he knew there were spiders hiding within, it was somehow much harder to continue deeper into the place. Each step seemed like it was plunging him deeper into the jaws of a trap that was very ready to close.


    Webs were still everywhere, lacing the alleys and thoroughfares. He was careful to keep from touching any of them. Clay kept moving towards the center of the town, his every sense shouting that he was surrounded by danger. At one point a cloud crossed in front of the sun, and he waited, tense, until it passed. Occasional gusts of wind stirred the webs, blowing swirls of debris that brushed against the spidersilk.


    He paused, watching the leaves and sticks float past. They hadn¡¯t stuck to the webbing; did that mean it would have been safe for him to touch it too? Somehow, he doubted it. Nothing about these monsters was harmless, and they wouldn¡¯t have spent so much time creating a maze of silken fibers just for the look of the thing. There had to be some malign intent behind it.


    It took him nearly an hour to make his way to the center of the ruins. Most of it was due to his cautious approach, but he also wanted to make sure that his friends had enough time to settle into their ambush. He¡¯d seen them digging some pits and planting sharpened stakes inside. They weren¡¯t the kind of pitfall that would kill an elder spider, but it would slow the younger monsters down. Every edge would help; none of them wanted the fight to be anywhere near as close as it had been the last time they encountered the hunters.


    Finally, the tower came into view. He saw the curtains of webs extending from halfway up the tower to the edges of the courtyard that surrounded it. The webs seemed just as impenetrable as they had the first time he¡¯d seen them, and Clay didn¡¯t feel like he wanted to test it now any more than he¡¯d wanted to the first time. Best to just tempt the Guardians to send out their hunters, and return to help his allies kill them. Once the rest of the spiders were dead and the Guardians could only have mere spiderlings to call on, they could burn their way into the Lair and finish things.


    Clay crept as close as he dared to the tower, still avoiding the webbing that threatened to brush against him with every breath of wind and every hesitant step. Then, as he paused in the shelter of a long-empty stall, he drew in a slow breath and stepped out into the open.


    His heart hammered in his chest as he stared up at the tower. He couldn¡¯t see any sign of the great eyes that had peered at him the last time he¡¯d been here, but he knew the Guardians had to be watching. They would see him, the chase would begin, and he and his friends would be one step closer to destroying the Lair.


    For a long moment, nothing happened at all. Clay watched and listened, waiting for the scraping and screeching that would be the first sign that the hunters were coming. When something finally happened, he¡¯d need to be ready to flee.


    Then he saw them.


    The Guardians did not remain within the tower this time. The first one emerged in utter silence, the black, hairy legs quietly unfurling from a hole three quarters of the way up the tower without a sound. His heart seemed to freeze for a breath as Clay saw it leave the tower.


    It was a nightmare beyond anything that he¡¯d seen before, completely different from both the troll spiders and their mantrap cousins. The black-haired legs were thick and muscular, far from a troll spider¡¯s spindly limbs. Its body was just as hairy, and it seemed like it was the size of a small hut. Those large, almost hypnotic eyes only glanced at him slightly as it worked its way down the side of the tower.


    Clay stepped back, his eyes going wide as a second Guardian made its appearance around the back of the tower, crawling along the ancient stone and wood. Why were they coming out after him? Why not send the hunters after him, like they had the first time? Had they simply run out of minions to send? That couldn¡¯t be true; he knew they had more elder spiders somewhere. But then¡­


    Suddenly, he heard a scream rise over the ruins. It was the screech of an elder troll spider, something he had been waiting to hear. The sound was far more distant, however, and it was soon joined by the crackle of magic and the clash of battle. His head snapped around, staring at where his friends were waiting in ambush, just in time to see a bolt of lightning flash out.


    The hunters were already there! How? How had the spiders¡­


    His gaze went back to the Guardians. The monsters had moved slightly, and now both of them were staring down at him with those too-bright eyes. Realization dawned. They had known, somehow, where the adventurers were lying in wait, and had sent their minions to ambush them once they knew he was coming. That was why they were coming after him personally. Killing him would weaken the rest of the team, and without him, his friends were far more likely to be wounded or killed. In one move, they could cripple the heroes threatening the Lair, giving themselves enough time to spawn their newest children and strike back.


    Clay took a step back, and both spiders moved in response, gathering their limbs together as if to leap. If he ran¡­no, the Guardians would not let him get away, not now. If he tried, they would run him down before he reached the end of the ruins. At best, he¡¯d be bringing the Guardians into a fight that was already tilted heavily in favor of the spiders. At worst, he¡¯d die before he ever had the chance to see his friends again.


    He looked up at those monsters and realized that he had just one choice now. If the Guardians died, their control over the others would fracture. The hunters would stop coordinating, would start to act on their own. It would give his friends an edge they could use to survive. A small one, but a better chance than they¡¯d have facing a united horde.


    All he had to do was take down two separate rank ten Guardians by himself.


    Clay grinned and brought up his spear. ¡°Well, you arranged this whole thing. Here I am. Let¡¯s start.¡±


    For a single frozen moment, the Guardians appeared to study him, as if waiting for their companion to begin. Then they both burst into motion, and the battle began.


    The one higher on the tower leapt at him, its legs sending it soaring through the air. Clay saw the other pull in on itself slightly, bringing its forelimbs together. He didn¡¯t have time to see what it was doing, however; he jumped forward and hurled his spear straight up at the monster, hoping it couldn¡¯t somehow redirect its fall in midair.


    The spear hit the Guardian in the head, and Clay grinned as he sprinted forward. He started the Cycle of Return, hoping to finish the [Chant] as the thing overshot him. Surely it wouldn¡¯t expect him to run forward when it was pouncing on him¡ª


    A sudden discordant chorus rose over the ruins, a sound that drilled straight down into him. His teeth hurt, and the [Chant] fractured almost immediately. The pain in his skull would have driven him to his knees, but he was mid-sprint, so instead it turned his triumphant charge into a tumbling roll down the street. Overhead, he was just aware enough of the first monster flying past him and landing on the cobblestones.


    Desperate to escape the noise, Clay dashed for the nearest alleyway. Somehow, the prospect of the webs was less terrible than the chance that he¡¯d have to suffer that hellish noise for another second. He saw the first monster scrambling around with a speed that only increased his panic. Its haired forelimbs were already striking out for him when he jumped, clawing through the air towards safety.


    He reached it just before the clawed forelimbs passed through the space where he¡¯d been. Clay hit the ground and rolled, tearing through a handful of webs. The threads resisted like they were made of wire instead of spidersilk, but they broke all the same under his weight and failed to stick to him. When he came up on his feet, the noise faded, and he gasped in relief.


    Then a shadow fell across the street he had just left, and he looked back to see the face of the Guardian staring in at him. His spear was still lodged in its skull, but the point hadn¡¯t gone deep enough. The thing¡¯s fangs unfurled into forearm-length blades and it hissed at him in sheer malice. It brought its forelimbs up like the other one had, and Clay had a flash of realization again as he realized where the terrible howling chaos had come from.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Clay didn¡¯t give it time to start. He looked at the other end of the alley, pictured the second spider jumping on him as he left its shelter, and flung himself sideways, through the half-rotten side door of the web shrouded building to his left. Wood splintered and web fibers snapped as a second screaming wave of sound tore down the alley. His vision blurred slightly as he caught the edge of it, but he still managed to roll through the discarded debris left inside the building and come up with his brain intact.


    He heard claws on cobblestones outside, and looked towards the webbed doorway and caught sight of a hairy limb disappearing. The building had been some kind of tavern before doom had claimed it; decayed wooden tables were half collapsed in a large common room, and dust gathered in every corner. A stairway led up to the second floor, made of crumbling wooden boards. There was a surprising lack of webs inside, but given the size of the Guardians, it didn¡¯t surprise him that much.


    His fingers went for his shortbow as he turned towards the stairs. Something the size of the Guardian couldn¡¯t come in the building after him, but it could direct that sound into the common room and burn his brain out from his ears. He scrambled up the stairs as a shadow fell across the doorway; one of the boards broke beneath his feet, but he was moving too fast for it to stop him.


    Clay reached the second floor just as the howl-scream filled the room below. Again, he only caught the edge of it, but it still made him stagger. He sniffed and felt the beginnings of a nosebleed.


    Forcing himself to keep moving, he turned towards the front of the building again, running for the window he saw at the end of the second floor. The webs were there still, but he¡¯d have a space to shoot through. Something landed on the roof above as he ran, but he ignored the way the shingles and rafters creaked as he reached for a broadhead arrow.


    When he reached the window, he drew and fired in one smooth movement. There was only one possible target¡ªthe Guardian still crouched in the street outside, rubbing its forelimbs together in a way that created the ghastly sound below. The arrow sunk into its back among the stiff bristles that covered its back. Clay gritted his teeth against the enraged hiss that followed and drew a second arrow. He probably didn¡¯t have much time before the second one¡ª


    His thoughts cut off as the Guardian¡¯s back seemed to ripple and flex in a way that set off every alarm bell possible in his mind. He ducked just as a torrent of those bladed bristles burst off the thing¡¯s back, spreading through the air like a volley of crossbow bolts. Hairs slammed into the window and the ceiling behind him, burying deep into stone and wood alike. Dust rose from the impacts, and he coughed as he rose to fire the second arrow.


    He saw it sink deep in a part of the spider¡¯s now-bare back; the bristles were already regrowing, somehow, and he grunted in irritation. Then he coughed again, and his eyes widened as he realized that the hairs around him were still shedding something. Black motes filled the air, and he dimly realized that the ¡®dust¡¯ had been some kind of poison they were spreading.


    Clay stumbled back from the window, still coughing, and heard something splintering above him. Through eyes that were growing gummy with tears and mucus, he saw a section of the roof cave in and a thick forelimb stab through. He had a half-second to jump back, and then a second forelimb tore through to strike where he had been standing.


    He caught a flash of the second spider shifting position on the rest of the roof, and then more limbs came crashing through. Clay brought his bow up and tried firing an arrow at it, but it seemed like the broadhead just made the next pair of forelimbs strike that much harder.


    Frustration boiled within him. He needed to do more damage, and fast.


    As more limbs crashed through and the roof trembled, he stowed his bow and drew out one of the harpoons that Adam had sold him. The next time the spider¡¯s backside appeared in one of the holes, he hurled the harpoon with all his strength. It sank into the spider¡¯s belly, right near the abbreviated spinnerets. He growled in satisfaction as it hissed in rage and started the [Chant] for the Pursuing Leap. His voice was gravelly, but the syllables still came out, and if he could get up and under the thing, maybe he could do some real damage.


    A limb slammed into the floor right beside him, and Clay dodged through the doorway of an ancient guest room of some kind. Collapsed beds and broken furniture were strewn across the floor. Clay, still chanting and coughing, ran for the crumbling remains of a chest of drawers, hoping that what was left would bear his weight. He scrambled up it, drawing the knife Adam had given him. Once he balanced on top of it, he pulled out the grapnel with his other hand, starting to swing it back and forth. There had to be some way to get up there¡ª


    The entire ceiling of the room caved in as both of the spider¡¯s forelimbs crashed through it. Clay winced as light suddenly poured through the dust, and then jerked back in horror as the limbs hit the floor and kept going, crashing partway into the floor below. More of the roof collapsed, and Clay found himself staring at the second Guardian almost directly in the face.


    He reacted on instinct as much as training. Clay swung the grapnel at it, hitting the thing in the shoulder as it jerked itself back through the hole. There was barely enough time to get his knife hand partially back on the rope before he suddenly crashed through what was left of the ceiling and roof, pulled back into the open sky like a fish on a line.


    Fortunately, he wanted to be in the air, but it didn¡¯t make the process hurt any less. Clay held on grimly, coughing as he swung back below the spider. He started to pull himself up and under it, but the spider jumped back, hissing wildly, and he found himself dragged along the rough tiles of the remaining roof. More aches and pains tore through him as he scraped across splinters and shingles, but he still kept his grip on the cord, and continued the [Chant].


    The tension on the rope slacked for a moment, and Clay pulled himself up to his knees. He had just enough time to bring his knife up when the Guardian sprang forward and bit him on the left shoulder.


    Clay screamed as both broad fangs slammed into him. It was like being stabbed with a pair of swords, and out of sheer reflex, he drove his knife up and into the monster¡¯s chin. He felt the fangs jerk up and out of him, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. His grip on the cord loosened slightly, though he kept a firm hold on the knife.


    Then he finished the [Chant] in a single desperate gasp, and held on for dear life as the spell settled over him. He had just enough time to brace himself before Pursuing Leap took hold and dragged him up and back along the spider¡¯s belly towards the harpoon at its rear.


    Ichor sprayed and the spider¡¯s enraged hiss became something high and agonized as he dragged the thick knife through its underside. Clay had stabbed his knife nearly three quarters of the way into the thing, and he could feel thick muscle carved aside as the spell pulled him. His own shoulder was sheer pain, and it was all he could do to hold his grip until he reached the harpoon.


    The instant he came to a stop, Clay ripped his knife free and began the [Chant] for Firm Step. He yanked hard on the cord, wrapping part of it through the notch on the harpoon.


    Then, before the spider could recover, Clay ran for the edge of the roof and threw himself off.


    He fell partway down the wall before he jerked to a stop. It was easy to picture the grapnel¡¯s hooks digging even deeper into the spider, and the awkwardness of the pull trying to fold it like parchment. Above him, he heard the Guardian still giving off that high-pitched whine-buzz of pain, and he gritted his teeth. His boots kicked in the open air until he rocked back against the wall. A couple of frantic heartbeats followed as he tried to reorient himself so that he had his feet on the wall; above him, he could almost feel the thing gathering for another leap, one that would probably send him flying and end in him being smashed to a pulp at the end.


    This time, however, its wound made it delay too long. He finished Firm Step and felt the spell anchor him to the wall. He braced himself, pulling as hard as he could, putting every ounce of muscle and weight into the effort.


    Above, the cord jerked, and Clay felt like he was almost yanked flat against the wall. His arms burned, as if they¡¯d almost been pulled loose, and he felt something snap free. It momentarily relieved the pressure, only for it to jerk at him a second time. He gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to ignore the pain of the rope slipping through his grasp.


    There was a colossal crash at the front of the building, and Clay finally couldn¡¯t hold the rope any further. He let go of it, and then released Firm Step as well. More crashes rumbled through the building as he dropped the rest of the way to the street behind. Clay landed on a pile of boxes covered in webbing, and another dual lance of agony went through his left shoulder.


    He rolled out of the wreckage and got back to his feet. Something was wrong with his side; there was a pain that went through him with each breath. His left hand felt weak, too; he doubted the bow was going to be an option anymore. All the same, he started the reversed [Chant] of Pure Touch; Olivia had thought it would be good for clearing poisons. She¡¯d called it Clean Heart.


    The thought of her sent an ache through him, but Clay forced himself to focus on moving. One of the Guardians was badly wounded if the thrashing at the front of the building was any clue, but the other was still moving. He needed to finish the first one if he could, and then come up with a plan to deal with the other.


    Clay ducked into the alleyway again, forcing himself into a hobbled run. He still tried to avoid stepping on the webs; they had to be there for some reason. Something in the front of the dead tavern groaned and collapsed out into the street. It gave him a bit of an extra push to move forward. His grip on the knife tightened as he moved. A hairy limb flailed, and dust rose ahead.


    He finished the [Chant] as he reached the mouth of the alley and felt the dull pain in his shoulder suddenly lessen. His breath came easier too, and his vision cleared a little. Clay felt a burst of gratitude and then emerged into the cloud of dust. It nearly set him coughing again, but he held his breath and tried to see what was happening.


    The Guardian he¡¯d virtually gutted was thrashing in the rubble of the tavern. Its weight had come down hard on the front of the building, and it obviously hadn¡¯t been able to adjust its landing enough to compensate. It lay on its back amid the shattered stone and broken beams, rolling frantically in an attempt to regain its feet. Ichor was still spraying from its belly where he¡¯d carved into it, and there was a gigantic hole where it looked like his harpoon had ripped itself free, taking a chunk of the thing with it. There was no sign of its companion.


    Clay began the [Chant] for Pursuing Leap again and ran for the rear of the monster. It was still trying to right itself when he stabbed down into it again, forcing the blade as deep as he could. With a whine of rage that made his head hurt, it finally flipped over, nearly tearing his knife from his grip. He forced his grip back around it as it tried to spin towards him, swinging him around like a ragdoll.


    Then the spell activated again, and it dragged him back along the thing¡¯s belly towards the grapnel. He reached it a heartbeat later, half covered in ichor and blood. With a yank, he ripped the knife free, and then grabbed the rope for the grapnel. A second hard yank brought the crippled thing¡¯s head down, and he chopped and stabbed at it again and again and again.


    {Guardian Broodmother Spider slain! Soul increases by 100}


    Clay stepped back from the mangled remains of the spider¡¯s head, watching as the rest of it twitched and collapsed. One dead. One more to go. Where was it?


    A creak from the half-collapsed tavern answered him. The cloud from the tavern¡¯s collapse was settling, and he could see the massive shadow of the Guardian¡¯s figure through the dust. It was crouching on the top of what remained of the building. It had obviously gone around to find him, but had taken the wrong route. Now it was staring down at him with clear hatred, and Clay smiled when he saw his spear still sticking out of its face.


    Then he started the Cycle of Return, and yanked his grapnel free of the corpse. It didn¡¯t take much to start it spinning, sending the dead Guardian¡¯s ichor flying in all directions. He ignored a bit of it that hit him in the face; it didn¡¯t stop him from stepping forward.


    The Guardian leapt at him, and Clay darted to the side. He threw the grapnel at its face, but the monster was ready. It batted the device away from its face with one forelimb, sending it clattering onto a nearby roof. The other struck down at where Clay probably would have been if he had sprinted directly forward. Stone crunched beneath the blow, and Clay congratulated himself for out-thinking the thing.


    Then it came down behind him, and he pivoted. He half-expected it to spin to face him, but instead it simply bowed low, like it was preparing to shoulder charge something. His eyes widened as he saw the bristles along its shoulder stiffen and ripple, and braced himself for impact even as he tried to dodge back towards the opposite side of the street.


    A shower of bristles tore past him, and he nearly lost the [Chant] as pain ripped through his left thigh. He glanced down and saw three of the bristles buried in him like throwing knives. The urge to cough or scream rose in him, but he tried to keep moving. There had to be enough of an angle¡­


    He finished the [Chant] a moment later, and he targeted the spear. It yanked to the side with enough force that he heard something crack and then pulled free of the thing¡¯s face. Clay heard its agonized whine like it was sweet music and sheathed his knife as his spear returned to him. The weight of its haft felt solid and comforting as it landed in his hands, and he switched to the Pursuing Leap [Chant] again.


    The Guardian was staggering now; its head lolled a little to the side, as if some muscle or tendon had been torn by the spear¡¯s departure. It still moved with deadly speed, its limbs skittering over rubble and the corpse of its friend as it tried to orient to face him. He kept limping back and forth, changing direction in a pattern that made it harder; the unfocused look in its eyes nearly made him laugh if it wouldn¡¯t have made him breathe in more of those dark spores.


    When he was nearly done with the [Chant], he stopped and readied himself. He¡¯d likely only have one chance.


    Across the street, the spider¡¯s reaction was immediate. It brought both forelimbs up, ready to rub them together and create the horrendous sound that would break the [Chant]. It was too late, though; the spell settled over Clay a moment later, and he was sent skyward as Pursuing Leap dragged him towards the grapnel, still lying on the roof.


    The edge of the sonic assault caught him, though, and the ringing, ear-burning blast nearly broke his focus. As it was, Clay gritted his teeth as he continued to shoot up and over the monster. He could already see the hairs on its back rippling; a moment longer and he¡¯d be pin cushioned by the spray of bristles.


    So he let go of Pursuing Leap, and his trajectory curved back towards the earth as the spell vanished. He started Cycle of Return instead, bracing himself as he plunged downwards. Another salvo of bristles tore past; one brushed his cheek, and a second buried itself in the meat of his right arm. Despite the agony, he kept his grip on the spear, and drove it in hard as he landed on the monster¡¯s back, right where the pale skin of the thing remained hairless and vulnerable.


    The spear went in up to the crossguards, and Clay felt the spider go stiff in shock. He twisted it a little, digging the point deeper in, and then let go to draw the knife.


    He managed two brutal stabs before the spider bucked him off. Clay tumbled through the air for a moment, landing with a thud beside the thrashing monster. It pivoted towards him, but before it could bring the fangs to bear, he rolled in and under the Guardian, still saying the [Chant]. Limbs cracked cobblestones around him, and he could taste blood in his mouth, but he kept moving until he¡¯d come to his knees beneath the thing.


    The move bought him a mere handful of seconds of confusion. It likely wouldn¡¯t have worked if the monster had been any less dazed; the loss of its companion, the wounds it had taken, and the sheer impossibility of the situation had robbed it of the obvious instinct of just crushing him flat. By the time the thought might have occurred to it, though, it was too late.


    Clay completed the [Chant]. He reached up with the spell, grabbing hold of his spear, and pulled.


    There was a noise like a butcher sawing through meat, and the monster above him shuddered. Its whine stuttered, and then choked off as the spear tore free of its belly in a shower of ichor. Clay stepped to the side and grabbed it and then lunged towards where the head was wavering back and forth. He landed, and then turned to brace the butt of the spear against the cobblestones, pointing it up at the monster¡¯s head.


    It was just in time; the spider¡¯s limbs lost their strength, and it dropped right onto the point. Clay grunted as more ichor splattered him, but above him the Guardian gave a single, spasmodic twitch.


    Then it was still.


    {Guardian Broodmother Spider slain! Soul increases by 100}


    A wave of relief swept through him, followed by a horrible, wracking cough. Clay wrenched his spear out and shoved the collapsing corpse to the side. It landed a bit awkwardly, and a repulsive shoulder brushed him, nearly knocking him from his feet. He stumbled a bit and then sat in the rubble.


    He was still, for a moment, lying back against the broken stone. Then he lurched forward and yanked the bristles free of his leg and arm, whispering Clean Heart as he did. There was still something left to do.

 B1Ch24: Finishing the Job

    By the time he¡¯d gotten himself bandaged and purged of poisons, the noise of battle had died down in the woods beyond the ruins. If his friends had lived or died, he wouldn¡¯t be able to help them now. Not by fighting, at least; he doubted a spiderling would have all that much trouble with him in his condition.


    Battered and bleeding, Clay turned towards the Lair itself. The Guardians were dead; that meant the Curse inside would prepare to go dormant. If Olivia¡¯s research was right, he¡¯d only have a short time to try to destroy it completely. He might not know the [Chant], but perhaps there was some other way. Clay couldn¡¯t waste the chance.


    He limped towards the webbed tower, trying to ignore the agony seeping through his body. Clean Heart had hopefully cleared out any poisons lingering, but it didn¡¯t heal the wounds, and he couldn¡¯t be sure that it had been completely effective.


    Clay made his way through the webs, using the survival knife that Adam had sold him to carve his way through the wire-like threads when they blocked the path. More and more, he suspected the webs had just been a kind of fence, meant to hem people in and prevent them from progressing too quickly. Then again, maybe there had been a deeper purpose that had vanished with the death of the Guardians. He could live without knowing.


    It took a few minutes to push his way past the curtains of web to reach the doorway. Once, it had been covered by an elaborately carved wooden double door. Both sides had collapsed inwards, as if yanked from their hinges by something inside.


    Clay paused at that entrance. Something about the darkness within was as threatening as the Guardians had been. Then he gritted his teeth and continued forward, using his spear as a crutch now as the pain worsened.


    He felt a brief burst of terror as he looked up at the inside of the tower. Layers of webbing covered it in an obscene tapestry that covered every inch of the walls. Any wooden floors that had existed were now gone, allowing him to stare up into yet more layers of it stretched across the gaps. There were glistening batches of eggs within all the webs, already straining with the maturing occupants. Clay felt a bone-deep revulsion and nearly started the Flame-Tongued Song. Only a reminder of his true purpose kept him from trying to burn everything inside the tower to ash.


    That reminder, however, redirected his attention to the center, where a bright light was shining. It almost reminded him of the glow from the Heart Light [Chant], but there was something¡­wrong about it. A stretch of web that had broken free drifted near it, and Clay¡¯s eyes widened as the web seemed to twist slightly as it passed by. When it landed on the ground, the spidersilk was blackened and torn.


    As Clay stepped closer, he noticed that none of the webs came anywhere near the center of the tower. Most didn¡¯t even get near the floor, as if the spiders had been afraid of setting foot on it. Dust covered every square inch, and beneath that dust¡­


    There were bones. Skeletons, human ones, that had somehow remained untouched by the thousands of monsters that had existed here for countless years.


    Clay circled around the chamber, seeing more and more skeletons lying around that strange light. As he did, he noticed one skeleton that was nearly at the foot of the light. This one had remained propped up in a kneeling position, its arms outstretched toward the light as if preparing to embrace it.


    The image made him shudder slightly, and he looked away from it. There were desks and bookshelves scattered around the room, though most of the volumes were nothing but ruined leather and rotted parchment now.


    One place was an exception. It was some kind of stone altar, located just behind the kneeling figure. There was a book there, one that somehow seemed untouched by time. It glowed slightly, and he took a step towards it. His aches and pains faded as he approached it.


    The writing was surprisingly legible, despite the dust he had to brush away from it. He read it with a growing sense of horror.


    The fools of the Guild! They will understand my power. The strength of my Soul will amaze and astound them. The members of my Coven gather now; they provide all the power an [Occultist] could ask for. Now all that remains is to perform the Ritual, so that I may call down the greater Power promised me. The [Chant] is prepared, and my mind is ready. They claim only a [Paragon] may challenge the gods in this way, but I have surpassed such superstitions long ago. Let them curse me if they dare!


    Clay looked back at the Curse, still hovering over the fallen skeletons. The thing hadn¡¯t just happened; it had been called here.


    Not just by a random person, either. An adventurer had done it.


    The realization shook him for a moment, and he leaned heavily against the altar. Suddenly, Leonard¡¯s worries about a Rogue made far more sense. If an adventurer could summon a Curse into being, that would mean that any of them could cause monsters to break through anywhere. Anywhere. If anything, the capital was in the most danger; the most powerful adventurers always gathered there, after all.


    He shook his head. The [Occultist] had obviously thought themselves ready for the spell, but the skeletons scattered about told a different story. Especially the kneeling one. Something had gone wrong, and the Curse had killed them all. So how did he stop it?


    Clay turned the pages of the book, feeling as if the parchment were staining his fingers just by touching it. There were more rantings on the other pages, interspersed with promises of revenge on other adventurers, likely long dead. He kept searching until his eyes fell on a page unlike the others.


    The page was covered in writing, obviously written with much difficulty. He recognized it; the characters were the same ones he had seen in Olivia¡¯s handwriting, the language of the [Chants]. Beneath the unfamiliar letters, the unknown writer had scrawled something in the same pronunciation-based shorthand that Olivia had used. Syllables sprang into his mind easily, and he shook his head as the words tried to implant themselves in his mind. There was no part of this book that he wanted to remember if he could help it.


    Then he looked back at the light. The [Occultist] had mentioned a [Chant]. He looked back at the page, his fingers tracing the writing. If a [Chant] opened the door for a Curse¡­


    It took some work to tear the book away from the altar; age and damp had nearly cemented the thing in place. Once he succeeded, he limped towards the light, his eyes tracing the characters. He started at the bottom and began to memorize them in reverse.


    Unlike the first time, the words seemed to struggle against his attempts. He took that as a good sign and bore down stubbornly. The way his eyes kept trying to slide in the opposite direction wasn¡¯t helping, but Clay hadn¡¯t come this far to fail. Not when everyone was depending on him.


    He didn¡¯t know how long it took him, but he finally reached the end of the [Chant]. Then he started again, feeling the words settle more deeply into him. By the third time, he felt more confident about the order and the pattern.


    When he looked up, something had shifted in the room. The light had withdrawn slightly, somehow wrapping itself in wisps of power that trailed from it. Clay gritted his teeth. It was trying to retreat, to go dormant. He would not let it.


    Holding the book up before him, Clay began to read the [Chant] aloud. The words echoed in the space, muffled slightly by the layers of webbing that swathed the tower. By the time he¡¯d finished the first line, the Curse flared, as if fighting back against the syllables that filled the air. A low growl seemed to pierce through him, and a wave of malice washed over him.


    The [Chant] fell to pieces, and Clay was left shaking his head in a daze. Did the tower seem darker now? He tried to clear his head and started again.


    This time, he made it past that first surge of ethereal hatred and continued. The Curse began to pulse with each syllable, the wisps of power lashing out like whips. One of them cracked across the kneeling skeleton, and the bones crumbled to dust. Clay ignored it, and kept going, fighting to keep the writhing pattern of the [Chant] stable.


    He made it two-thirds of the way through before he nearly collapsed, the [Chant] beginning to falter on his tongue. How had the air grown so heavy? What was he doing? Someone else could finish this. He was a [Commoner]. Just a [Commoner]. Why should he try to be anything different?


    A moment of despair flooded over him, nearly stilling his tongue.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Then he looked up and saw his friends standing at the entrance. They were battered and bloodied, but they were all alive. The light of the Curse made them pale, as if they were washed out versions of themselves. All of them were staring at him; some of their mouths were moving, but he couldn¡¯t hear them. Enessa and Charles were both trying to step further in, but the others held them back.


    At the sight of them trying to reach him, Clay turned back to the page. Stubborn determination filled him, and he fell back into the [Chant]. He was going to finish this, or die trying. His friends deserved the chance to have this be done. His family deserved to be safe, as did the village. As did Olivia.


    He forced the syllables from the page into the air and saw the Curse pulse against them. Energy lashed the platform, pulverizing the ground and turning the scattered bones to dust. Clay felt the finish of the [Chant] approaching, the magic building within him like a fountain of power. With trembling limbs, he struggled to his feet, shouting the last line of arcane words like a warcry.


    As the last searing syllable of the [Chant] filled the air, he felt the world freeze. The power of the Curse welled up in front of him, filling the tower with darkness as the light gathered around it. Clay grit his teeth against that feeling of wrongness, his every muscle straining against it.


    Then the darkness suddenly snapped back and away, as if it had never existed. The Curse furled in on itself, as if gathering the strands of its power around itself for one last pulse¡ªbut instead, the strands simply fell into the center of it, the light growing fainter and fainter until it sputtered and vanished from view. No trace of it remained.


    Clay fell forward, dropping the book on the ground to catch himself on one hand. He took one shuddering breath after another as his entire body felt like it was on fire. Shadows gathered at the edges of his eyes, but he kept breathing and they retreated. Eventually he managed to read the words in front of him, in the ethereal text of the [Gift].


    {Curse of Tanglewood destroyed! Soul increases by 1000 for all nearby heroes}


    {Commoner reaches Level 7!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 22!}


    {Experience gained (Mentor: Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading lower level heroes. Allied heroes gain 20% bonus to all skills.)}


    {Experience gained (Unseen: Gain 20% to all attempts to hide. Gain 10% to all damage and skills while hiding.)}


    {Commoner reaches Level 8!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 23!}


    {Experience gained (Banisher: Gain permanent access to the Chant of Garden¡¯s Peace. Gain 10% speed and effectiveness for all Chants.)}


    {Experience gained (Seeker: Gain Ethereal Sense skill. Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.)}


    {Experience Slayer has gained power from destroying a Curse! Experience is now Slayer II: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    Stunned, Clay looked from that text to where his friends were still staring at him. They looked just as shocked as he felt, if not more.


    Then he grinned. ¡°Well, how about that?¡±


    It was late afternoon when the riders arrived.


    There were five of them, and they looked like they¡¯d arrived right out of a storybook. Any one piece of their armor or weapons would have been worth five times what someone would have paid for his farm. Clay imagined that such mundane details were beneath their notice, but in many ways, that just made them more blind. By remaining so focused on power, they¡¯d lost track of the little things that could so easily trip them up.


    He set aside the hammer he¡¯d been using to drive posts into the ground. It was a little more¡­effective than it was normally, but that wasn¡¯t exactly something to complain about. It only caused problems when he hit the pole a little too hard and cracked it, but he was getting better lately, and the broken ones occasionally made good firewood.


    Then he sat on one section of fence he¡¯d already finished and waited for them to finish coming down the road. While he waited, he recited a few syllables to himself, and whispered a few more in response to what he¡¯d heard. By the time they reached his farm, he was smiling at them, even though the one leading the group was a person he knew a little too well. ¡°Sir Leonard! I see you¡¯ve come back. With¡­well, I won¡¯t call them your friends, out of a courtesy to them, but¡ª¡±


    Leonard¡¯s expression was one of barely suppressed rage. ¡°Clay Evergreen, you are charged with resisting the authority of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild and defying the will of the Council. As a Rogue, you have no right to continue your actions, no matter your [Class] or your intentions. You are to accompany us back to the capital, where you will be tried and sentenced for your crimes.¡±


    Clay grinned. ¡°Is that so? Speaking of crimes, weren¡¯t you specifically banned from Pellsglade? Something about being an unwelcome coward who nearly got a group of fellow adventurers and the baron¡¯s son killed.¡±


    One of the others, a woman in shining armor, spoke up evenly. ¡°His status is irrelevant. Whether or not you resist, the baron will not know of our presence until long after we leave. You would do well to come peacefully.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the baron already knows.¡± He let the surprise settle in on them before he continued. ¡°Used the [Chant] of Distant Whispers. Useful little thing, if you have the [Stats] for it.¡±


    Then he folded his arms and gave them a more direct stare. ¡°Not as helpful as the Garden¡¯s Peace, but still nice to have. Under the right circumstances.¡±


    A silence suddenly followed, one where much of the certainty drained from the riders¡¯ posture. Leonard¡¯s face showed open fear, but one of the others, a man with a long lance and a full helm, spoke next. ¡°If you know that name, then you know why you are wanted by the Guild. We cannot permit your reckless behavior to cause worse¡­problems.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°I have no intention of causing any problems. In fact, I solved at least one of them for you, just east of here.¡± He pointed into the Tanglewood. ¡°Leonard there can¡¯t really show you the way, since he never bothered to get close, but if you ride over the hill, you¡¯ll see where it used to be.¡±


    The woman spoke again. ¡°Where what used to be?¡±


    ¡°The Lair.¡± Clay grinned at their expressions. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s destroyed. All of it. The Curse, the books, everything. We burned it all to the ground. The only things left are a few more spiderlings hiding here and there, but I imagine they won¡¯t trouble you much.¡±


    A stocky man in dark armor with a warhammer on his back snorted. ¡°No, I¡¯ll bet not.¡± He looked around at his companions. ¡°Do we believe him? Or do we finish this here?¡±


    Clay rolled his eyes. ¡°I might be a bit tougher to deal with than you expect. Besides, the baron was out with the others hunting the last of the spiderlings down, which means he¡¯s not that far away from here. He¡¯ll probably be riding after us with the others soon, so unless you¡¯re going to add ¡®killing a baron¡¯ to your problems, maybe you should rethink your approach here.¡±


    A robed woman at the back of the party had been murmuring something under her breath. When she stopped, she gasped in shock. Clay turned a grin on her. ¡°The Orison told you something surprising, Syr?¡±


    The helmed man glanced back at her. ¡°Syr Elisa?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a [Commoner]. Level eight.¡± Her voice faltered a little, and when she continued, she seemed mildly dazed. ¡°He¡¯s killed hundreds of monsters, and¡­he¡¯s not lying about the Curse. He was there when it fell.¡±


    Leonard broke in with an exasperated snarl. ¡°You must be joking! There is no way a [Commoner] could ever manage to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one whose life he saved, Sir Leonard. And the Orison never lies.¡± She looked back at Clay, who shrugged. ¡°It may be blocked or interrupted, but it is always accurate.¡±


    Another silence fell. Clay watched them shifting on their horses and knew he¡¯d probably pushed as far as he could with these people. They still likely outranked him by quite a bit; even if they were all Leonard¡¯s level, he was just one man. [Defiant] and [Valiant] would not stretch things that far. So, unless he wanted to be dragged down the road by his heels, it was time to offer them a way out.


    ¡°You know, I understand your concerns. It¡¯s not like I can deny the risks involved. That¡¯s why I burnt the book with the [Chant] in it you know. Too risky to keep around.¡±


    He had, too. As soon as the entire tower had been burning merrily, he¡¯d thrown the book into the deepest part of the inferno and watched the pages crisp and blacken. Then he¡¯d added a little fire of his own on top of it, making sure it was ash before the whole building had come down.


    ¡°At the same time, it¡¯s not like I can forget the other one. The [Gift] literally burnt it into me. I can tell you I won¡¯t ever, you know, turn it around, but it¡¯s probably hard to trust someone you don¡¯t know at all.¡±


    The armored woman nodded slowly. ¡°A tidy summary of the problem, Sir Clay.¡± Leonard¡¯s head snapped around, but she ignored his astonished look. ¡°Do you have a solution?¡±


    Clay stretched. ¡°How about instead of arresting me and getting into a fight about it, you decide you are just here to congratulate the village on their victory? You missed the feast, but I¡¯m sure the rest of the village will still buy you a few drinks.¡± If there was any alcohol left to drink, of course. Given how everyone had been swimming in it the past three days, he actually kind of doubted it. ¡°You can talk to people, check things out, and negotiate the fine the little weasel¡¯s going to pay for trespassing.¡±


    ¡°By all the gods, I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence, Sir Leonard.¡± The helmed man nodded slowly. ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°Then you say you¡¯re going to escort me back to the capital to join the Guild. I attend the Academy, learn a few things that might have been left off the normal lectures, and march back out with your seal of approval. No more Rogue, and you can get to know me in the process.¡± He smiled. ¡°Most importantly, I get to say my goodbyes to family and friends, and nobody has to kill each other when we could be fighting monsters instead. How does it sound?¡±


    The stout man chuckled. ¡°And if you turn out as we fear, young hero?¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m sure you can arrange for something in the capital.¡± Clay grinned. ¡°You¡¯ll need to be pretty good, though. After what I¡¯ve survived¡­well, let¡¯s just say I¡¯m not worried about it.¡±


    Throwing his head back, the stout man laughed. ¡°Sir Alfred, I say we take him up on it. If only because I¡¯m going to love seeing how this turns out.¡±


    Alfred, the helmed man, nodded. ¡°I agree, though my concern is for the realm. Killing or capturing him seems like it would bring instability. Syr Elisa? Syr Verity?¡±


    Elisa nodded. ¡°He¡¯s right. Better to deal with things out of prying eyes¡­ one way or another.¡±


    Verity shifted her shoulders in her armor. ¡°I am uncomfortable with the idea of a simple peasant making demands of us.¡± Then she paused. ¡°Then again, he is not quite so simple, is he? I agree.¡±


    No one asked Leonard, a fact that left him muttering darkly. Clay just ignored him and gestured to the farmhouse. It didn¡¯t look any more impressive, but it was all he had. For now. ¡°If you want to rest yourselves, the baron and the others should be along shortly. Until then, I have a bit of work to take care of.¡±


    Then he hopped down and went back to driving the fence posts. If he was going to be gone for long, it would need to be done before he turned things over to Olivia and his family. He trusted them to take care of the place, but he didn¡¯t want to leave them too much to worry about.


    After all, that wasn¡¯t what a hero did, was it?

 B2Ch1: A New Start

    ¡°The Council of the Crownsguard Charter of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild will now come to order.¡± A middle-aged man wearing a dark tunic and a bright blue cape looked around at the other Councilors in attendance. There were six of them, wearing tunics or robes emblazoned with their personal heraldry. They sat at a long table that curved around the edge of the room like a crescent, their heavy, engraved chairs looking almost like thrones. Their expressions ranged from bored to impatient, and none of them were paying much attention to the people standing at the center of the curve. ¡°The accused will step forward.¡±


    Clay Evergreen, his heart beating hard in his chest, stepped forward into the space in the middle of the table¡¯s crescent. He tried to keep his head up and to meet the eyes of the men and women around him.


    The spokesperson at the middle of the curve didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Clay Evergreen, of the village of Pellsglade, you stand accused of being a Rogue Adventurer, of refusing to swear the Adventurer¡¯s Oath to the realm of King John the Ninth of Crownsguard, and of poaching monsters within the same King¡¯s realm. How do you plead?¡±


    He blinked at the list of charges. The Council, for all of their obvious power, seemed a little ignorant of the facts, and Clay glanced back at the adventurers who had brought him here. Sir Alfred and the others seemed uninterested in speaking; most of them were just as professional and neutral as they had been for the entire journey to the capital. Clay had tried to befriend one or two of them, but the continued hostility of Sir Leonard, and the intentional distance the rest of them had kept, had prevented him from accomplishing much. To these adventurers, Clay had been someone they had to escort, not someone to know. Now he supposed he knew why.


    Clay turned his attention back to the Council, who were now watching him with calculating eyes. It reminded him of a cat watching a very, very foolish mouse. ¡°I plead innocence, Sir.¡±


    The members of the Council stirred slightly, mostly in apparent irritation. At their center, the spokesperson frowned deeply, with a resentful glance at the adventurers who had brought him. ¡°And your defense?¡±


    He drew in a breath to steady himself. ¡°For the first two charges, I am not an adventurer, so I cannot be considered a Rogue, and am not required to swear the Adventurer¡¯s Oath. As for the third, I was unaware that monsters were something that could be poached on unclaimed land, and have been forgiven any trespass by the baron of Pellsglade.¡±


    Silence abruptly fell across the room. It was broken by the amused snort of Sir Carlson, one of the adventurers behind him, and Clay had to keep himself from turning around to glare at the stout, heavily armored man. Things were already going to be hard enough here without someone laughing at the situation.


    The noise seemed to trigger a sudden rush of murmurs around the members of the Council. Clay kept his gaze on the spokesperson, however, who was now studying him with an even deeper frown. ¡°You claim you are not an adventurer?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°That is correct.¡±


    ¡°May I ask what [Class] the gods have granted you?¡±


    He drew in another calming breath. ¡°I am a [Commoner], Sir.¡±


    There was another silence. The spokesperson looked at the group that had escorted him into the room. ¡°Syr Eliza?¡±


    ¡°He speaks the truth, Sir Evan. The Orison confirmed it. He is a [Commoner], at level eight.¡±


    This time, the silence took on a more contemplative air. The members of the Council around him were no longer distracted or impatient. Clay glanced around and found them all staring at him intently, their eyes sharp and focused. He was starting to feel like he had stumbled into a nest of elder mantrap spiders. Of course, the spiders might have been safer.


    One of the other Councilors, a woman with short red hair and the symbol of a sun on her tunic, raised her hand. ¡°Master Archivist, is this possible? I have never heard of a [Commoner] being capable of gaining levels before.¡±


    Another of the Council, an old man wearing simple grey robes, nodded. His white beard and bright blue eyes gave him an intelligent air. ¡°It is in fact possible, Syr Marissa. In fact, there have been multiple times where a [Commoner] in exceptional circumstances has managed to gain levels beyond their initial one. I know of at least three in the past two hundred years.¡± The Archivist looked back at Clay, his gaze making Clay feel like he was being weighed and measured like a pig for the market. ¡°None of them ever survived beyond the third level, however. The nature of their [Class] simply makes it exceedingly unlikely for them to succeed in battle for long.¡±


    ¡°Obviously, we have found the exception to the rule.¡± The Councilor wore a dark robe and was studying Clay over steepled fingers. ¡°Are we certain of how he has gained these levels? I can think of¡­ one possibility that suggests foul play.¡±


    Clay started to bristle, but Sir Alfred spoke up from behind him. ¡°We have sworn testimony from multiple adventurers in Pellsglade that contradicts that idea, Sir Richard.¡±


    Sir Evan raised an eyebrow. ¡°These would be the rebellious cadets that interfered with the original apprehension of this individual?¡±


    Alfred nodded. ¡°Yes, Guildmaster. We also have corroborating testimony and an endorsement from Baron Pellsglade, who claimed that Sir Clay was instrumental in their efforts to protect the people of his fief.¡±


    Another murmur ran through the room. Sir Leonard, looking sour and angry, remained silent. Given that he¡¯d probably reported Clay¡¯s friends as rebels, having a baron contradict his information would not look good. He¡¯d put Olivia and Pellsglade in danger, though, so it was hard for Clay to feel bad about it. In fact, it took some effort not to grin.


    ¡°Ah. I see.¡± The Guildmaster spent another moment studying Leonard, to the [Outrider]¡¯s obvious discomfort, before returning his gaze to Clay. ¡°So. It appears you come to us both highly commended and relatively blameless, if these testimonies are to be believed. How interesting.¡±


    Syr Marissa raised her hand again. ¡°Given that he is, in fact, a [Commoner], I see no reason to hold him to laws that were meant to govern adventurers. I move to set aside the charges in their entirety.¡±


    Clay felt himself relax in relief. It would have been a rather hard thing to accept if he had come all the way from Pellsglade just to get thrown into jail. Before he could open his mouth to thank them, however, Sir Richard spoke up again. ¡°In principle, I agree. However, Sir Clay has obviously considered himself to be of the same standard as an adventurer. To my knowledge, he was pursuing his efforts against the Lair in secret, rather than doing so openly. Am I correct?¡±


    The question was directed at Clay, rather than the others. He hesitated, and then nodded. ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±


    Another Councilor snorted. Her long blond hair swayed as she shook her head. ¡°Well, at least we know he is honest, Richard. I can think of several reasons why he¡¯d want to keep his work secret, however, aside from the fact that our first reaction was to haul him all the way back here. Where, I might add, he is being asked to stand trial for actions that have won a baron¡¯s praise.¡±


    ¡°Those same actions forced us to divert a team of capable adventurers from their duties, Syr Alia.¡± Richard¡¯s dark eyes still bored into Clay. ¡°Their efforts elsewhere might have saved lives, rather than being forced to deal with his¡­ impertinence.¡±


    ¡°A fair point.¡± Alia looked at Clay, a small frown on her lips. ¡°Sir Clay, had we not sent for you, would you have come and presented yourself here at the Academy?¡±


    He tried to meet her eyes without glaring. ¡°It was my understanding that a [Commoner] would not be welcome here.¡±


    She tilted her head to the side. ¡°I see. And what would your plans have been if we had left you to yourself?¡±


    Clay blinked. ¡°I would have finished the work on my farm, Syr Alia.¡± He paused as a handful of the Councilors chuckled, and he felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. ¡°Once I had that taken care of, I would have started hunting the monsters in Sarlsboro. With the Tanglewood Lair destroyed, that was the last source of monsters left near Pellsglade.¡±


    The Guildmaster sat back in his seat. ¡°The Lair in the Tanglewood is gone? I did not believe that we had authorized you to resolve that matter, Sir Alfred.¡±


    There was another pause before Alfred responded. ¡°We did not, Sir Evan. Sir Clay was the one who destroyed the Lair.¡±


    Another silence descended, and Clay caught sight of several Councilors suddenly leaning back in their seats in surprise. Their study took on a much sharper intensity. He shifted uneasily on his feet.


    It was another moment before the Guildmaster found his voice. ¡°You¡¯re saying a [Commoner] destroyed a Lair? While he was still only level eight?¡±


    Clay winced slightly. ¡°I was only level six, Sir Evan.¡±


    A burst of scoffs and groans ran around the room. Syr Alia looked around at the other Councilors in disbelief. ¡°Master Archivist, is that even possible?¡±


    The old man had locked his stare onto Clay. ¡°I believe so, actually. Given what was recorded about the [Class]¡­ it may have even been possible at level five.¡± He paused as another round of disbelief washed through the room. ¡°Sir Clay, I am assuming you already have the [Paragon] [Achievement]?¡±


    Clay nodded, and the Archivist nodded and smiled. ¡°You likely aren¡¯t aware, but most adventurers do not reach that [Achievement] until level thirteen, at the earliest¡ªand without that [Achievement], attempting to destroy a Lair would have been impossible. I¡¯m still rather impressed that you survived the experience. How many Guardians were present?¡±


    ¡°Two, Sir¡­¡± He belatedly realized that no one had called the man by name.


    Fortunately, the Archivist smiled. ¡°Bartholomew, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay nodded. A name like that explained why everyone was using ¡®Archivist¡¯ at least. ¡°There were two, Sir Bartholomew.¡±


    ¡°Excellent!¡± Bartholomew clapped his hands and grinned like a schoolboy. ¡°An impressive achievement indeed. You¡¯ll make for quite the entry in our histories, young hero.¡±


    Syr Marissa spoke up, her expression curiously surly. ¡°I¡¯m sure the cadets who were present helped with the situation.¡±


    Clay started to correct her and then paused. While he tried to decide how to respond, Sir Alfred spoke up again. ¡°According to their testimonies, the cadets were otherwise occupied, Syr Marissa. Sir Clay killed the Guardians and destroyed the Lair on his own.¡±


    Sir Richard snorted. ¡°And we presume to judge him as a simple [Commoner]? He¡¯s more of an adventurer than half the would-be heroes here already.¡±


    Alia gave the cloaked man a sidelong look. ¡°Recognizing his achievements through punishment would be an¡­ interesting choice, Sir Richard.¡±


    The man waved away the comment. ¡°Of course, of course. I don¡¯t have any interest in punishing him for not coming to the Academy right at the start. Not when, as he said, we wouldn¡¯t exactly have made him welcome in the first place.¡± Richard leaned forward, his eyes intent on Clay again. ¡°What I am arguing is that we should recognize him for what he is now. That means he takes the Oath and joins the Guild, just like any other initiate, or he¡¯s considered a Rogue from now on.¡±


    Marissa nodded, the darkness in her expression fading. ¡°A realistic solution, Sir Richard. I approve.¡±


    Alia and some of the others nodded as well, and the Guildmaster glanced around at the rest. ¡°All in favor of setting aside the first two charges, contingent on his future membership in our Guild?¡± Hands were raised, and Evan nodded. ¡°So be it. Sir Clay, you will join the Guild and swear the Oath. Do you have any questions?¡±


    Clay paused. ¡°As a member of the Guild, what would be expected of me? When would I be able to return home?¡±


    The Councilors exchanged looks. Some of them looked surprised, but Richard didn¡¯t seem to have been taken off guard. He spoke in an even voice. ¡°You would be required to undergo training here, and once we have decided that you are ready, you will be sent out on missions to drive back monsters. As for your return home¡­ we will see when we can accommodate that wish in the future. Do you have any other questions?¡±


    It was hard not to grimace. When he¡¯d come to the Academy, Clay had hoped it would be a quick visit before he returned home. Instead, it sounded like he was going to be stuck in the Guild for a while¡­ but the alternative would probably have him in jail instead.


    Clay shook his head, and then another man raised his hand. This Councilor was covered in scars; his thick arms showed dozens of them, and several crisscrossed his face as well. ¡°What of the last charge? Poaching monsters remains an offense for [Commoners] and adventurers alike, does it not?¡±


    The others looked to the Archivist, who reluctantly nodded. ¡°That statute was not restricted to adventurers, no.¡±


    ¡°Then I see no reason to excuse the boy from his punishment there.¡± The Councilor grinned, showing bright white teeth. ¡°Might serve to keep him humble, after all.¡±


    ¡°And humility is your goal, Sir Mark?¡± Syr Alia¡¯s voice had taken on a mocking tone.


    Syr Marissa interjected before the other Councilor could. ¡°There is nothing wrong with enforcing the law, Syr Alia. Even adventurers are responsible to the King¡¯s law. I agree with Sir Mark.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it, Syr Marissa.¡± Sir Mark met Clay¡¯s eyes and grinned. He seemed remarkably pleased with himself.


    Clay couldn¡¯t quite hold his tongue this time. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you were so fond of spiders, Sir. If you wanted, I could always put them back for you.¡±


    It was the wrong thing to say, and Clay regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. He grimaced, half expecting the Councilors to decide against their previous course and order him imprisoned.


    To his surprise, Sir Mark simply grinned a little wider. ¡°So you have some fire in you after all, Sir Clay. Good. You¡¯ll need that in the days ahead.¡±


    There were murmurs among the others, and Sir Evan looked around another time. ¡°All in favor of upholding the third charge against Sir Clay?¡± Hands went up again, and Clay groaned inwardly. Five of them, including Marissa, Mark, Richard, and Evan himself. The Guildmaster nodded to himself and glanced at the Archivist. ¡°Sir Bartholomew? What is the listed punishment for his offense?¡±


    The Archivist leaned back, his eyes going vague for a moment. Then he smiled. ¡°The adventurer or person responsible is to be sent on a mission to destroy a Lair. No more than three times, no less than once.¡±


    Clay blinked, and a round of chuckles ran through the Council. Sir Evan shook his head and looked at Clay. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve already served your sentence, Sir Clay. Does this satisfy you, Sir Mark?¡±


    The scarred Councilor grunted as he thought it over. ¡°I suppose. Though perhaps if things go south, we can send him out to knock out a few more. What do you say to that, boy?¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    He looked back at Sir Mark with a mixture of relief and annoyance. If all he had to do was fight more monsters, he couldn¡¯t see why that would be a problem. It was what he wanted to do, anyway. ¡°I would be happy to help out wherever I can, Sir Mark.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to it, Sir.¡± Mark looked back at the Guildmaster and gestured. ¡°He¡¯s all yours, Evan. Try not to get him killed before he¡¯s useful.¡±


    The Guildmaster nodded wearily, and then looked back at Clay. ¡°In that case, we can consider this meeting at an end. Sir Alfred, escort our new member to the Hall of Oaths, and then show him where he can stay among the other initiates. After that, we have more work for you.¡±


    Then he paused. ¡°Sir Leonard, please stay. We have more questions for you about your work in Pellsglade.¡±


    Sir Leonard went slightly pale. He gave Clay a glare of sheer hatred. Alfred simply bowed and then gestured for Clay to follow him. Clay nodded, bowed slightly to the Council, and then followed the adventurer out of the room.


    They stepped out into a cold fall day.


    It was already well into autumn now. A brilliant blue sky, with hardly a cloud, stretched above the capital city of Crownsguard. It could have been a wonderful summer day, but the chill in the air and the handful of nearby trees, with their leaves already turned from green to red, yellow, and orange, told a different story.


    Clay still didn¡¯t know what to think of Crownsguard. He¡¯d lived his whole life in Pellsglade, growing up in the farms around a village at the very edge of the King¡¯s realm. Most of the people lived on those farms, with only a relatively small number living in the cluster of buildings near the baron¡¯s manor.


    Crownsguard was an entirely different place. When they had crested the hill the day before, Clay had been thunderstruck by the sight of the place. It looked like someone had been growing buildings and had just dropped a whole sack full of seeds in one place. The King¡¯s city had grown up around a bend in the river, with a high wall enclosing it on both sides of the water. Bridges spanned the flowing water, which was deeper and faster flowing than any river he¡¯d ever seen before.


    People were simply everywhere in Crownsguard, crowded together in a claustrophobic herd that bustled and chattered through the streets. Clay found it was impossible to feel comfortable in the place. He was constantly trying to look in all directions, in case one of the people around him was trying to get his attention. The continual murmur and crowd made it feel like there was some kind of festival going on that he hadn¡¯t heard about.


    Not that he was entirely wrong about that front. Entertainers and bards were common sights in Crownsguard. They plied their trade at every square and fountain in the city to varied receptions. Some of the storytellers were practically showered with coin, while others seemed to be desperate to catch the attention of any passerby they could find. Clay found himself shelling out coin for songs that would have been booed at any festival that he¡¯d ever attended. He just couldn¡¯t manage to walk by those hungry faces and defeated expressions.


    The adventurers hadn¡¯t been impressed. He was fairly certain that some of them had traded a few jokes at his expense, something about his poor taste in music. Clay had tried to ignore them; he wasn¡¯t exactly here for their opinion, anyway.


    Now, though, he followed Alfred as the adventurer led him through halls of the Royal Academy. The home of the Guild of Adventurers.


    It was a place that Clay had always dreamed about seeing. His adventures had always started here, in his mind. Back before the Choosing, he¡¯d always believed he would receive an adventurer¡¯s [Class] and then come to this place to learn and grow, before they turned him loose on the monsters of the world.


    The Academy had defied his expectations in its own way. He¡¯d pictured a castle from the stories, a fortress against the darkness of the world. That image had fit the King¡¯s palace, a keep that stood over the western part of the city. It was still visible over the buildings of Crownsguard, standing on a hill where it seemed to stand guard over the rest. Clay had been mildly surprised when they hadn¡¯t headed towards it, or towards the grand spires and pale marble of the Grand Rectory, also on the western side of the river.


    Instead, he¡¯d been led to the eastern side of the river, where a very different building had been waiting. It was wide where the other grand buildings were tall, barely any higher than the baron¡¯s manor back in Pellsglade. At the same time, it sprawled over a huge amount of land, the building encircling several courtyards. In several places, it looked as if the architects had built down instead of up, carving their way through the clay of the riverside to build basements and vaults.


    As Clay followed Alfred along the side of one such courtyard, he could see a gigantic skylight that had been built overhead. Beneath it were several groups of adventurers who were sparring. Practice weapons flashed and stabbed, while others were employing spells against strawmen. Experienced adventurers were guiding the newer groups, talking them through maneuvers and spellcraft. There weren¡¯t as many there as Clay had expected. Were these all the people the Kingdom had to defend themselves against the horrors of the world?


    Alfred led him along the courtyard, before turning to follow a perpendicular walkway that divided two of the courtyards. There was a woman watching the various groups of trainees, her green eyes sharp and intelligent as she marked every move. She wore a simple tunic and trousers, and there was a long, thin sword buckled at her waist.


    The adventurer stopped in front of the woman and bowed deeply. ¡°Syr Katherine, I have another new initiate for you.¡±


    Katherine turned and looked at Clay with faint surprise. ¡°A new initiate? That is¡­ surprising. Most of the other initiates we received from the Choosing this year have already become cadets. It is¡­ unusual to have another start this late in the season. You may have trouble gaining the levels you need to be ready for combat.¡±


    Clay snorted softly, and Alfred gave him a sharp look. The adventurer turned back to Syr Katherine. ¡°His circumstances are unusual, but he will be more than capable for at least basic tasks.¡±


    She frowned. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    Alfred nodded, and she turned to Clay directly. ¡°What is your [Class] initiate?¡±


    He braced himself. ¡°I¡¯m a [Commoner].¡±


    Katherine continued to stare at him for a moment. He sensed a bit of surprise, but rather than giving into it, she simply continued to study him. She glanced at Alfred¡ªa single scathing inspection, obviously searching for any signs of a joke¡ªand then turned back to Clay. Then she nodded slowly. ¡°I¡­ see. You are indeed unique. What level are you?¡±


    Clay breathed out a slow sigh. ¡°Eight.¡±


    Her eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at Alfred for confirmation. When he nodded, she raised a single eyebrow. ¡°Very different indeed. I assume you¡¯ve come to take the Oath, at the very least?¡±


    Alfred remained silent, so Clay answered her. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m supposed to become a full member of the Guild.¡±


    Katherine nodded. ¡°Good. Follow me.¡± She looked over at Alfred. ¡°I can take it from here.¡±


    The adventurer nodded and turned to leave. Clay looked back at him for a moment and then turned back to Katherine.


    She was still watching him, as if waiting for him to pay attention. ¡°What is your name?¡±


    ¡°Clay Evergreen. I¡¯m from Pellsglade.¡± He didn¡¯t know precisely why he¡¯d included that fact, but it felt important.


    Katherine tilted her head. ¡°Far to the east, then. Practically a borderland. Likely the reason why you remained undetected for so long.¡±


    Before he could respond, she turned. ¡°Come along. We have much to do before you can really get started.¡±


    ¡°Welcome to the Vault of Oaths.¡± Syr Katherine gestured to either side, taking in the ancient stone shelves on either side of them. ¡°You are here to take your first steps as an adventurer. That first step is to make a commitment that you will carry for the rest of your life.¡±


    Clay looked around them, quietly impressed. The shelves that extended along the walls were set deep enough to hold dozens and dozens of glowing stones. They lit the space well enough that there was no need for torches; the entire chamber was lit by the multicolored, soft glow of hundreds of the things. Under each one was a scrap of parchment with a name written on it.


    They weren¡¯t uniform. Here and there were spaces where there were no stones. No parchment decorated the shelves below those spaces, either. He wondered why they were missing.


    Katherine cleared her throat, and Clay focused back on her. She stood beside a small altar that had been carved from the stone. There was another rock on the altar, one that matched the stones on the shelves. The only difference was the fact that it wasn¡¯t glowing.


    She gestured to it. ¡°Today you are going to take the Adventurer¡¯s Oath, something that every adventurer in the Guild is required to take. Some of the details can change from Kingdom to Kingdom, but the important parts of the Oath will always remain the same.¡±


    ¡°If you wish to be a hero, one that serves the people of this land, you must make this same commitment. Otherwise, every member of this Guild will be sworn to seek you out and destroy you. Am I understood, Sir Clay Evergreen, of Pellsglade?¡±


    Clay nodded, and she nodded in response. ¡°Then come here. Place your hands on the Oathstone. I will recite the magic, and you will read the Oath.¡±


    He stepped forward and placed his hands on the stone. It was cool and smooth to the touch. Clay looked down at it for a moment, and then up at Katherine, wondering what would come next. She had her eyes closed and her head tilted back, as if remembering something.


    Before he could ask, Syr Katherine began to speak in a familiar, arcane tongue. Clay couldn¡¯t understand it, not fully; he¡¯d only ever been able to memorize bits and pieces of the language, enough to work the [Chants] he had needed during his work, but all of them paled in comparison to the spell Syr Katherine was weaving now. The only one that came close was Garden¡¯s Peace, the [Chant] that had destroyed the Lair, and that [Chant] had nearly taken everything Clay had just to finish it.


    Katherine didn¡¯t appear to have any trouble with her own spell, however, and Clay soon felt the magic settling over him like a blanket. It crackled along his skin and made the hairs on his neck stand up straight. He watched her, wary of any sort of trap.


    Then she opened her eyes, and he saw them blazing with emerald fire. When she spoke, he heard a dozen different tones and accents in the echoes between her words. ¡°Hero, repeat after me. I, Clay Evergreen, foreswear any right to war. I swear to uphold the authority of King John the Ninth of Crownsguard, and obey his servants within his territory. I swear to destroy monsters, to break Lairs, and ruin Dungeons, always acting in the defense of our world. I swear to follow these words so long as life remains to me. So witness my oath, before the gods.¡±


    Clay recited the words, recognizing them for what he¡¯d known all his life. Adventurers were sworn to stand aside in battles between kingdoms; war was terrible enough without adventurers turning their swords on one another. To be an adventurer was to set aside such things to fight the monsters that would ruin all kingdoms everywhere.


    Similarly, adventurers had to respect the authority of the royals and nobility whose lands they walked. No king or queen would allow the Guild to work where that oath was not made, and Clay found it hard to resent it. After all, Baron Pellsglade had been able to defend Clay precisely because Sir Leonard had made the same oath.


    The final part made sense only because of what Clay had learned in the Tanglewood. Adventurers could create Lairs as well as destroy them, though only apparently at higher levels. It appeared the Oath was meant to guard against that threat as well.


    He recited the words quietly, and as he did, light began to filter out from the stone between his fingers. Warmth grew within the rock as well, a pleasant glow that banished some of the chill from his fingertips. When he was done, it glowed with a deep green hue.


    Syr Katherine closed her eyes. When she reopened them, the fire was gone, and the crackle of magic faded from his skin. ¡°Your Oath is sworn, Sir Clay. If you should ever break it, for any reason, then the glow will fade from the stone. They are inspected every day, without fail. We will know your betrayal and come for you.¡±


    Clay felt his eyes widen and he nodded. He watched as she took out a scrap of parchment and wrote his name on it. Then she set his stone on the shelf and placed his name below it.


    ¡°What happens if I die? Will the stone fade as well?¡±


    The question burst out of him before he could stop it. Syr Katherine paused; without seeming to realize it, her fingers brushed one of the empty spaces. There was no dust there.


    ¡°If a member of the Guild falls, the stone will crack. It will shatter, and its light will fade as well.¡± Katherine looked at him, her gaze calm and cold. Her eyes seemed like pale green glass. ¡°In that case, I can only promise you we will seek vengeance for you. If it can be done.¡±


    Katherine took Clay to his quarters in the Academy. She¡¯d said that they would have some tests for him the following day to determine his rank in the Guild. He wasn¡¯t sure what kind of tests he¡¯d be facing, but he imagined that if Charles and the others had been able to pass them at level one, he¡¯d do just as well at level eight.


    As he settled into the narrow bunk, tucked into the closet-sized room Katherine had given him, he wondered what his friends were doing. Charles, Enessa, and the rest of their team of cadets had stayed in Pellsglade, apparently committed to helping Baron Pellsglade to trim back the monsters coming from the Dungeon in Sarlsboro. Clay had suspected that the Undead were less of a problem than the baron was making them out to be; the baron loved his son, and had been more than pleased for the excuse to keep Charles close, at least until the last few spiders were cleared from the Tanglewood, and no more Undead were wandering up from the south.


    His thoughts continued to drift. His mother and father had been happy enough that Clay was no longer hunting monsters on his own. Sam had been unspeakably proud of his son¡¯s accomplishments; Amelia had been less happy, but she had extracted a promise from him to return as soon as he was able. His brothers and sisters had been just as happy to see him off, as soon as he¡¯d promised them a souvenir from Crownsguard, of course.


    The last person who came through his mind was the hardest to think of. Olivia had been an important part of his war against the Tanglewood Lair; she¡¯d been the one to teach him the [Chants] that had helped him survive and had stood by him throughout his efforts to learn and adapt. Without her, he¡¯d probably have wound up yet another victim of the monsters in the Tanglewood, dead without fanfare or commentary.


    She¡¯d also kissed him on the cheek, and he was still trying to figure out how he felt about that.


    It had been almost two weeks since he¡¯d seen her, and Clay felt no closer to figuring out his response to her. Obviously she liked him, and he wasn¡¯t¡­ unfond of her. Was that enough? Had she even meant anything by the gesture, or had she just wanted to thank him for saving her life? She hadn¡¯t done it again; when he¡¯d said his goodbyes, the Rector had been standing right nearby, and Novice Olivia had been as formal as she had always been.


    At the same time, she¡¯d extracted another promise from him. Once she reached her own Choosing day, only a handful of months away, she wanted him to come back and see her. If she was a [Commoner], she wanted to know all the same magic that he¡¯d learned. Otherwise, he had a sneaking suspicion that Olivia was planning on hunting him down wherever he¡¯d gone.


    Did that make him happy, or worried? Or both? What did any of that mean?


    After a while of tossing and turning, with those same questions tumbling through his brain again and again, Clay finally found sleep. The sounds of Crownsguard and the Academy faded away, and he gently slipped away into his dreams.


    ¡°OH COME NOW. IT¡¯S TURNED OUT WELL SO FAR, HASN¡¯T IT?¡±


    Clay felt his eyes snap open¡ªan odd feeling, since he was supposed to be asleep.


    He found himself in a place that he¡¯d never thought to see again. All around him was an ethereal brilliance that defied description. His feet didn¡¯t rest on anything in particular, but he was standing, not floating. Had it been the same way during his Choosing? Why was he dreaming of that time?


    ¡°He remains unchanged and unhappy. Your gamble has failed.¡±


    ¡°NOT YET, I HAVEN¡¯T! HE¡¯S STILL ALIVE ISN¡¯T HE?¡±


    Clay looked around, baffled. The first time he¡¯d been here, there had been statues waiting, seven of them. They¡¯d taken the forms of the seven deities, the ones that would judge and uphold the people of the world. The Trickster, the most baffling of all of them, had given him his [Class] as a [Commoner]; she was, in no small part, responsible for half the mess he now found himself in.


    He heard the same voice now, just as loud, powerful, and overbearing as before. Yet there had been another voice, one burning, analytical, brilliant. Yet he didn¡¯t see any of them. Where¡­


    His thoughts trailed off as he looked down and to the right. There were two of them there, facing one another. He recognized the Trickster immediately; her crude robes of hides and wild, untamed mane of hair marked her as his would-be patron with stunning clarity. Her golden eyes were filled with the same mirth and challenge, and she smiled.


    The being she faced was familiar, too. It was shaped like another woman, this time wearing a strange tunic and robes. A curious kind of crossbow was strapped across her back, and even though she was facing away, Clay could see the edges of a wide pair of glass plates that had been in front of her eyes. She was shaking her head, as if dismayed by the Trickster in front of her.


    ¡°He lives, yes, but at what cost? We agreed to give him a second chance, and you¡¯ve allowed him to throw himself back into danger? I would not have agreed to recovering his soul if I had known you had this planned.¡±


    The voice differed from the Trickster¡¯s, but it curled and looped around his mind in the same overwhelming way. Clay felt his knees start to buckle and forced himself to stay standing. It was just a dream, wasn¡¯t it? Why would he be overwhelmed by his own imaginations?


    Below him, the Trickster smiled and spread her arms. ¡°OH COME NOW, YOU¡¯RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SAGE! YOU HAD TO SUSPECT I HAD SOMETHING PLANNED. BESIDES, AREN¡¯T YOU THE ONE WHO BELIEVED WE NEEDED SOMETHING NEW?¡±


    The Sage¡ªit had to be her, the one known as the Unrivaled Thought¡ªbowed her head. She looked like she was rubbing at her nose, adjusting those strange contraptions on her face. As she did, the Trickster looked up¡ªand straight at Clay. She winked.


    It suddenly seemed a lot less likely that it was a dream.


    Her knowing smirk had mostly vanished when the Sage looked back up at the Trickster, and Clay tried to hold himself as still as he could. He really didn¡¯t want to get caught here. The Trickster had already thrown his life into chaos; the last thing he needed was a second goddess joining in on the fun.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t responsible for our worries¡ªand your role as Trickster does not excuse toying with him.¡±


    ¡°I DIDN¡¯T TOY WITH HIM AT ALL. BESIDES, I EVEN GAVE HIM THE [CLASS] YOU WANTED FOR HIM!¡±


    ¡°After speaking directly with him. After implying that he was supposed to do more than what you knew we had planned.¡±


    ¡°I CAN¡¯T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERY CHOICE A MORTAL MAKES. YOU KNOW THAT.¡±


    The Sage pinched at her nose again. ¡°Regardless, I will not aid you any further in this¡­ experiment. He may be pursuing this course on his own, and he may have experienced some small amount of success, but I will not aid you in advocating for more.¡±


    The Trickster laughed. It was a sound that seemed to echo straight through Clay¡¯s heart and soul. She twisted around to throw an arm around the Sage¡¯s shoulders, gold contrasted sharply against the granite. ¡°DON¡¯T BE LIKE THAT. THE EXPERIMENT¡¯S NOT EVEN CLOSE TO OVER. I MEAN, IF HE WORKS HARD ENOUGH, MAYBE HE¡¯LL EVEN REDEEM YOUR WAYWARD PROJECT.¡±


    With obvious frustration, the Sage shrugged off the Trickster¡¯s arm. She half turned to face the other goddess, a movement that had to bring Clay into her peripheral vision. He tried to stop breathing, if he was even doing that here. ¡°Perhaps. Either way, I will not be telling him anything more, and you are to avoid any contact with him. The others all agree. Do you understand?¡±


    Clay saw the Trickster tilt her head slightly to the side, a crooked grin on her face. ¡°SO I SHOULDN¡¯T, FOR EXAMPLE, LET HIM LISTEN IN ON ANY CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN US?¡±


    The Sage started to nod, adjusting the frames again. ¡°Yes, that would be¡­ frowned¡­ on¡­¡±


    He saw the Trickster¡¯s grin widen and felt his heart start to pound. With agonizing slowness, the Sage¡¯s head slowly turned to look up at him, her eyes still hidden behind those glowing plates of glass. The Trickster looked his way and laughed.


    ¡°A---, you can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°GOODBYE CLAY! AND GOOD HUNTING!¡±

 B2Ch2: Initiation

    Clay¡¯s eyes snapped open for what seemed like the second time.


    This time, he was looking at something a bit more mundane. The wooden ceiling of his cramped room in the Academy was unremarkable, but the sight of it helped him at least try to calm his breathing. It had to have been a dream, right?


    As he calmed down, Clay felt his own sense of reality steady a little. The chill of another autumn morning crept through the shutters of the window; he could tell that the warming glow of sunrise was still sneaking across the sky. He levered himself out of the reasonably comfortable bed and put his feet on the stone floor.


    He sat there for a moment, just focusing on his breathing and trying to refocus on what lay ahead for the rest of the day. Katherine had told him that there would be a series of trials in order to determine his rank. She hadn¡¯t been specific about what those trials would include, but she had told him he would need to be ready when she arrived.


    So he shook off the lingering feelings of that strange dream and started to get ready for the day. Porters had brought the gear from the horse the baron had lent him and left it in the room. His boar spear was leaning against the wall, and the belt that held the knives that Adam had made for him as well. His shortbow and quiver were there as well, along with the few other odds and ends that he¡¯d relied on against the spiders. He didn¡¯t know what kind of trial he was going to be facing, but he wanted to be as ready as he could be.


    Once he was armed and ready, Clay went to the door and opened it.


    He found a young man waiting for him. The kid looked young enough that he had to have just barely graduated to [Youth]. Clay nodded to him uneasily. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    The [Youth] nodded back. ¡°Good morning, Sir. If you¡¯ll follow me, your breakfast is already prepared.¡±


    Clay blinked. He hadn¡¯t even considered what he¡¯d eat; a part of him had just expected to track down a fireplace somewhere so he could cook up some of his travel rations. ¡°Uh, yeah. Thank you.¡±


    His escort smiled. ¡°It is no worry, Sir. This way.¡±


    He followed the [Youth]¡ªwho said his name was Michael¡ªto a large room with numerous circular tables. There weren¡¯t many other people there, but it was clear it was expected to hold dozens of people at once. The [Youth] showed him to a table, and then left to collect the food. Clay had volunteered to go instead, but the boy shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m your page, Sir. I can handle things for you.¡±


    So Clay was left sitting alone and awkward in the mostly empty room, at a table by himself. To pass the time, he looked around and studied the handful of other people in the room. A trio of adventurers were eating and talking in low voices two tables away. They also had their armor and weapons with them, and it was clear that they¡¯d either just arrived from a mission, or they were about to head out on one.


    Three tables away, a pair of richly dressed adventurers were eating in haughty silence. Clay marked them down in his head as probable [Nobles]. He¡¯d known some pretty well adjusted members of the nobility, but that didn¡¯t mean he had no concept of other, less charitable members of the Kingdom¡¯s leaders. Neither of them looked at him, so Clay simply turned his own attention away.


    The only other occupants were a couple of disconsolate-looking adventurers who were attempting to bury their woes in a serving of scrambled eggs and warm porridge. One of them was wearing a brown cloak with brightly dyed stripes. He seemed to shrink down in his seat when he saw Clay looking in his direction, and Clay felt a burst of guilt for apparently bothering the kid. They didn¡¯t look any older than he was, actually.


    If the man in the cloak was shy, however, his companion at the table was not. He was dressed in rough clothes, the kind that Clay would have expected to find on a beggar or a street urchin. The man was heavily muscled too, with a collection of scars that pointed to a history of street fights. Clay met his eyes, and the stranger simply glared back at him with an automatic kind of defiance that surprised him. When he¡¯d dreamed of the Academy, he¡¯d never thought to find such hostility so quickly. Maybe he was a friend of Sir Leonard?


    Either way, Clay was grateful when the page came back, carrying a plate of warm bread and some beans. He thanked Michael again, and the page described the way he¡¯d need to go to reach the trial area before retreating back to the kitchens.


    Left more or less to his own thoughts, Clay began to eat. He was in the middle of washing down a mouthful of beans with a drink of water when he heard footsteps behind him. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t the new mystery initiate!¡±


    Clay managed not to choke and turned to look behind him. He found a woman dressed in a tunic and pants, standing in front of a man wearing something suspiciously like a Rector¡¯s robe. The woman had been the one who spoke; her blue eyes twinkled a bit as she studied him, and her auburn hair had been drawn back into a ponytail.


    ¡°The name¡¯s Anne. Nice to meet you.¡± She stuck out a hand.


    Clay stood up and shook it. ¡°I¡¯m Clay. Clay Evergreen.¡± Then he looked at the other man, who raised an eyebrow at him. He didn¡¯t extend his hand.


    ¡°My name is Xavien.¡±


    ¡°Good to meet both of you.¡± Clay tried not to feel off balance. Xavien was obviously a bit standoffish, but Anne seemed friendly enough.


    Anne grinned and plopped herself down at the table next to him. Xavien paused for a moment, and then settled in next to her with a sigh. She didn¡¯t seem to notice his reluctance. ¡°So I heard you were some kind of Rogue that they pardoned. How did they get you? Did you try to fight?¡±


    Clay frowned as he reclaimed his own seat. ¡°I wasn¡¯t a Rogue. At least, not exactly.¡±


    Xavien raised an eyebrow. ¡°An interesting way to put it.¡±


    ¡°Life¡¯s complicated.¡± Clay tried to shrug nonchalantly. He wasn¡¯t sure he succeeded. Apparently, someone had already been spreading rumors about him. Had Sir Leonard gone and blabbed everything about what had happened in the Tanglewood? If most of the Academy assumed he was some kind of former Rogue he was probably going to face even more of an uphill battle. ¡°They¡¯ve asked me to be part of the Guild, though, and I agreed. I¡¯m facing the first trial today, in fact.¡±


    Anne laughed. ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t stress out about it. The first trial is a piece of cake, honestly.¡±


    Clay raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really? Nobody has told me anything about it.¡±


    Xavien shrugged. ¡°It is not a secret, Clay Evergreen. Trials for advancement within the guild are normally combat tests.¡±


    He raised his eyebrows. ¡°Combat tests? Like duels?¡± Back in Pellsglade he had heard about things like that in stories, but he hadn¡¯t expected them to be true. Charles and the others hadn¡¯t mentioned them either.


    Anne laughed a second time, slapping the table a little. ¡°Yeah, but don¡¯t worry, nobody is going to get hurt today. You¡¯ll be using practice weapons, and any [Charms] or [Sigils] will get toned down by some special gear. Not that you¡¯ll have to worry about that.¡±


    Clay blinked. He wondered for a moment if the same protections would work against [Chants]. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because in the first test, you¡¯ll be fighting a bunch of [Commoners]. You probably won¡¯t even break a sweat.¡± She shook her head, an expression of pity on her face. ¡°Poor guys are going to get called over from the King¡¯s guard just to get thumped on. Their commander usually sends the ones who have been screwing up the most, too, so you really don¡¯t have any reason to be nervous.¡±


    Despite himself, Clay felt a little bit of annoyance at the flippant way she talked about the [Commoners]. She was probably right that he didn¡¯t need to worry, but he¡¯d seen the baron¡¯s [Guards] fight the Undead in the Sarlwood. He doubted Herb would stand up to an adventurer all that well, but he wouldn¡¯t deserve to get mocked or talked about that way.


    Before he could open his mouth to say so, another voice broke in. ¡°She bothering you, new guy?¡±


    He turned and found himself face to face with the hostile man from earlier. Up close, he seemed far more intimidating; he towered over Clay, though his expression was far less surly now. The other man, still in his robe, was cowering in his friend¡¯s shadow, as if trying to avoid notice. ¡°No. Syr Anne was just telling me about the first trial.¡±


    The man¡¯s face cleared a little more. ¡°Oh. The [Commoner] Bash.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Not sure why they make everyone do that. It really doesn¡¯t do anyone any good.¡±


    Clay buckled down on his initial reaction to the name of the trial. Instead, he forced a smile. ¡°I¡¯m not sure either. I have to do it to get into the Guild, right?¡±


    Anne broke back into the conversation. ¡°Yep! Everyone has to pass that first trial to get in. That makes you an initiate, like us.¡±


    He frowned slightly, remembering back to what his friends had mentioned to him back in Pellsglade. ¡°What¡¯s after initiate? Cadet?¡±


    ¡°Two for two, newcomer.¡± Anne nodded enthusiastically. ¡°For that one, you have to fight against other initiates. It¡¯d be worth it to be able to go out on missions, though. Initiates just get stuck here training.¡±


    Clay grimaced. As much as he would appreciate training, he wouldn¡¯t be gaining any Soul by sitting around in the Academy. The only way he could level up further would be if he found monsters to fight¡ªand besides, the last thing he wanted to do was get stuck in this place when he could have been home, or hunting down Lairs. ¡°What rank do you need to have to be able to adventure on your own?¡±


    ¡°Without a party?¡± Xavien exchanged a look with the others. His expression was puzzled. ¡°Journeyman, at least. Probably peer, most likely.¡±


    Anne broke in smoothly. ¡°Not that you¡¯d want to do that, of course. Adventuring on your own is an easy death sentence. Always better to stick together with someone else.¡±


    Thinking back to his time in the Tanglewood, Clay gave her an easy smile. ¡°I suppose so.¡± He caught sight of Michael again. The page was hovering on the edge of the room, as if trying to talk himself into interrupting. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I think they are ready for me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll help myself to this then!¡± Anne snatched the rest of the bread and dug in. She paused in her gorging to glance up at him. ¡°Do your best!¡±


    Clay gave the odd woman a half-hearted wave. He couldn¡¯t help noticing that the hostile man¡¯s eyes followed him out of the room. So did the two [Nobles]¡¯, actually; for some reason, he was no longer beneath their notice. He tried to ignore them and followed Michael as the page led through the corridors.


    Syr Katherine was waiting for them, standing beside a half-dozen men in plain armor. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the weapons he carried. ¡°Good morning, Sir Clay. You will not be using those today. We have a practice spear and knife for you to use instead.¡±


    Clay nodded. He was looking at the soldiers in front of him, all of whom looked fairly miserable at the prospect of facing him. ¡°So I just have to fight a few of them to pass?¡±


    Katherine nodded. ¡°You must defeat at least three out of five. You can pick any five to fight that you want.¡±


    He glanced at her and then looked back at the [Commoners]. They were holding their practice weapons with the kind of dejection that people back home had expressed when it was time to clear out an old cesspool. Clay wondered how many times soldiers from the King¡¯s men had been beaten by adventurers over the years, and how he would have felt in their place.


    The courtyard was mostly empty, but he could see other members of the Guild filtering in to watch. Clearly, some of them were hoping to scope out the new competition; if they had to fight each other to move up a rank, knowing a few of his tricks would only help them. Some of them might have just wanted to see the former Rogue in action; Leonard¡¯s lies would have drummed up interest on that angle alone.


    Seeing all of them, and the miserable expressions on the faces of the soldiers, gave Clay a twisted feeling in his guts. There was something to this trial that seemed off to him. An adventurer wasn¡¯t supposed to be fighting other people; they were meant to fight monsters. What was the point of fighting a bunch of level one [Commoners] on his first real day in the Guild? Why bother with this at all, especially when he¡¯d already fought monsters? A part of him was tempted to try to bypass the test completely, and see how far he could push things. He doubted that Syr Katherine would go along with the idea, but it might have been worth a shot.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Then he smiled as a different plan came to him. The Trickster was the one arranging things, wasn¡¯t she? It was about time for him to start living up to her reputation.


    Clay walked over to the weapon rack where the practice equipment was stored. He set aside his own weapons and picked up their blunt, simple facsimiles. Then he turned back to the waiting soldiers. ¡°I¡¯ll take all of them.¡±


    Katherine blinked. She glanced at the soldiers, and then back at Clay. ¡°You wish to fight all six soldiers? You¡¯d have to win four times out of six¡ª¡±


    ¡°I meant I want to fight all six of them at once.¡± Clay took an experimental couple of swings and thrusts with the practice spear. It was a lot lighter than his boar spear; he¡¯d have to be careful of that. The shortsword meant to stand in for his knife wasn¡¯t as heavy as the real thing, either. ¡°Seems like it would be more fun that way.¡±


    The soldiers exchanged a look amongst each other, and stood up a little straighter. Syr Katherine glanced at them and cleared her throat. ¡°Sir Clay, I know you are at a higher level than most initiates, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, six opponents are a lot. They¡¯re not giant spiders, though, so I think I¡¯ll mange.¡± He put the practice knife into the sheath at his side and set the butt of the practice spear in the dirt. ¡°By the way, are [Chants] safe to use? I heard that other magic was reduced in strength, but I didn¡¯t know if it worked for all magic or just [Charms] and [Sigils].¡±


    Now clearly off balance, Katherine shook her head. ¡°The protection [Chant] only lessens the effect of magic that isn¡¯t produced by another [Chant].¡±


    ¡°Well, that sounds useful! I¡¯ll have to see if I can learn it later.¡± Unfortunately, it would mean his best [Chants] would be too lethal to use, but he was still confident. He had both [Paragon] and [Valiant] giving him bonuses, after all. Clay turned back to the soldiers. ¡°You guys are trained to fight together, right? That was how Baron Pellsglade¡¯s [Guards] fought when they helped him against the Undead back home. Did you learn the same way here?¡±


    The soldiers exchanged another look. Then the most grizzled of the six stepped forward. ¡°That¡¯s right, Sir Clay. We try to fight in formation when we can.¡±


    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s give everyone a good show, then.¡± Clay gave them a smile, and a couple of them smiled back. At least one of them grimaced and muttered something under her breath, but at least she looked more angry than miserable. They all followed him out into the middle of the courtyard, falling into a loose formation as they moved.


    Clay turned to face them, and for a moment he regretted deciding to face all six enemies at once. The soldiers spread out in front of him, each with a spear and shield. They were moving in pairs, edging around to try to surround him from all sides. He imagined they were thinking to hedge him in and attack from behind, like he was some kind of dangerous wild animal they had cornered.


    The problem with that idea, of course, was the fact that he simply outmatched them on a purely physical level. Given the bonuses from his [Experiences] and his natural [Stats], Clay was out of their league. Fighting them was going to be similar to a well-exercised [Youth] fighting [Children]. All he had to do was spot an opening.


    He watched as they moved, mentally comparing how they stepped to the undead levies and sergeants that he¡¯d fought in the Sarlwood. These soldiers obviously didn¡¯t project the same kind of fear through their gaze, but they did have shields and moved a bit easier. They were moving too slowly; if he¡¯d had access to his most powerful [Chants], half of them would have been speared by ice or lit on fire by now. Then again, he wasn¡¯t exactly forcing their hand.


    It was time to change that fact.


    Clay waited for them to separate just a little more, allowing them to put a bit more distance between the pairs. He heard a few of the adventurers muttering to each other on the edges of the courtyard. Syr Katherine was watching with an evaluating look. It took a bit of an effort to block out all of those distractions and to focus on the way the soldiers moved. One of the pairs, the one on the left, was a bit more hesitant and worried than the others; the two [Guards] were both younger, and one of them looked like she hadn¡¯t slept well. They¡¯d probably move slower than their friends.


    So he waited for them to take another few hesitant steps out to the side, and then charged the soldiers on the right, sprinting at full speed.


    He heard the soldiers yelp and shout in surprise, but Clay knew that the sudden change would only give him a handful of moments. The soldiers ahead of him were already crouching down behind their shields, as if bracing for impact. They held their spears out in an attempt to impale him as he came in.


    Clay swept their spears aside with his own. It was easy. His [Might] was half again higher than theirs, and they only had one hand on the weapon compared to his two. As they staggered a bit, their spears nearly knocked out of their grip, he let go of his own spear and drew the short sword he wore in place of his knife. He also began his first [Chant] in far too long, the Cycle of Return.


    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Syr Katherine flinch and take a half step forward. He ignored her and kicked the shield of the soldier in front of him, knocking them back and down from the hit. The other one tried to smash him with their spear, but he caught the haft with his offhand and yanked, pulling the man off balance. Before they could bring the shield up, Clay twisted and sent them staggering past him. Then he gave them a smack on the back with the flat of his short sword, knocking them into the path of the next two, who were charging in with their spears leveled.


    While they shouted and cursed, Clay darted forward and caught the first [Guard] still rising. Another smack on the helmet knocked him down, and Clay sprinted past him to freedom.


    When he turned back around, the remaining four [Guards] had lined up together, and were advancing as one. He saw them step past his fallen spear and forced himself not to grin. A couple of steps to the right put him in a better position as they continued forward, their shields locked and their spears ready to stab. They seemed a little confused when he sheathed his sword and spread his arms.


    Then his [Chant] completed, and he heard a few surprised mutters as his practice spear abruptly jerked into motion, flying sideways towards him at an impressive clip. It caught three of the soldiers at around knee height, and they went down. The fourth soldier actually took a step back in surprise as the spear completed its journey and landed in Clay¡¯s hand.


    They hadn¡¯t quite recovered before Clay charged, again sprinting across the courtyard. He ignored the one still standing and instead caught two of the downed [Guards] while they were still sprawled in the dirt. A tap on each of their helmets ended them; the third one managed to get his shield up just in time, and a desperate lunge from his partner made Clay dance back to avoid her spearpoint.


    He circled as the two remaining soldiers faced him, their nervousness clear. Clay gave them a grin, which seemed to frustrate them a bit.


    Their expressions didn¡¯t get any better when he threw his sword at them.


    It was a pathetic throw, one that clattered to the ground well before it reached the pair. They still shouted and darted forward, with one of them stomping down on the practice blade. Clay felt his smile grow. The move wouldn¡¯t have stopped him from recalling it, but at least it would keep him from using it to trip them.


    Not that he was planning on repeating such an obvious move.


    He started a new [Chant]¡ªor rather, the same [Chant], just reversed. Back in Pellsglade he¡¯d called it Pursuing Leap; he idly wondered if the Academy had an actual name for it. As he circled, he caught sight of Syr Katherine staring at him with a blank expression, still tense. Clay refocused on the soldiers again, who were watching him warily as he spoke the [Chant] into the air.


    As he reached the end of the spell, Clay launched himself forward. He took three strong strides and jumped almost straight up into the air. Below him, he heard the soldiers shout in alarm, shifting their feet.


    Then the [Chant] activated, and suddenly Clay was hurtling towards the sword beneath the pair, at a speed that no normal [Commoner] could have expected. Clay slammed into the pair of shields feet first, and the soldiers went down immediately. He struck twice, quick darts of the spear that hit shoulder and helmet, and then jumped back.


    Around him, the courtyard had gone silent. He looked back to Syr Katherine, who was looking at him with an inscrutable expression. Clay bowed to her, and then turned back to the soldiers, who were now starting to pick themselves up off the ground. The first of them looked a bit surprised, and then resentful, when he offered her a hand. ¡°Easy to¡­ beat on¡­ [Commoners], huh? Does that give you adventurers a thrill?¡±


    The venom in her voice almost made Clay laugh, but he could sympathize. It would never feel good for someone to waltz in and beat on them every so often. So instead, he simply nodded his head. ¡°It must feel like that, huh? One thing, though. I¡¯m a [Commoner] too.¡±


    Her face went abruptly blank. Then she laughed. ¡°Oh really? What¡¯s next? You can fly?¡±


    This time he did laugh, even while he helped pull her partner to his feet. ¡°Kind of? Here, watch.¡±


    The [Chant] for Floating Step didn¡¯t take long, and the way the soldiers¡¯ eyes widened when he suddenly started hovering above the courtyard floor was more than worth it. Clay skated around for a bit, helping another of the soldiers to their feet, and then let the [Chant] die.


    When his feet were firmly on the ground again, Clay gave her a smile. ¡°You might actually be able to learn that one yourself, you know. How high is your [Memory]?¡±


    The soldier gave him a disbelieving look. ¡°Uh, ten. Never been much for reading.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you can get it up to sixteen at some point, there¡¯s plenty of stuff you could learn.¡± Clay looked around and saw the entire cluster of [Guards] looking at him with clear skepticism. He laughed again. ¡°Yeah, I know. I didn¡¯t think it was possible either. Still, what¡¯s the harm?¡±


    ¡°Sir Clay.¡± Syr Katherine¡¯s cool voice carried clearly over the courtyard, and he looked over to see the adventurer staring at him. ¡°If I could have a moment of your time?¡±


    The sarcasm in her voice was clear, and Clay winced. He still took a moment to shake the soldiers¡¯ hands and thank them and then hurried over to where she was waiting. Her impatience was practically palpable, but he caught sight of the soldiers leaving the courtyard with baffled smiles on their faces. It made the delay well worth it.


    Katherine took a moment to breathe before she spoke. ¡°Needless to say, you¡¯ve passed the initiate¡¯s trial. Your use of [Chants] during the trial was irresponsible, however. Use of such spells is restricted to those who have more experience with them.¡±


    He gave her a crooked grin, trying to restrain his immediate flare of resentment and anger. ¡°Does killing a Guardian or two with them count as experience, Syr Katherine?¡±


    She blinked. Then she started to recite a [Chant] that he instantly recognized. It was the Orison of Soul, the [Chant] used to check another hero¡¯s [Gift], revealing their level and some of their abilities. Olivia had found it for him in the library of Pellsglade¡¯s Shrine.


    Olivia had also told him that using the Orison without permission was considered rude.


    Without any hesitation, Clay started his own [Chant]. It wasn¡¯t an offensive spell; it was just the reversed form of the Orison. He called it the Shroud of the Soul, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what it would do. If anything, he guessed it was going to hide his [Gift]. He¡¯d never actually used the Shroud before; he¡¯d been happy to allow Syr Eliza to see his [Class] back in Pellsglade, and none of the other adventurers that he¡¯d met had tried it since then.


    Syr Katherine¡¯s eyes widened slightly as she recognized what he was doing. Her own pronunciation of the words didn¡¯t change, but she did seem to speed up slightly. Clay fought a grin and kept his own pace. Between [Warsinger] and [Banisher], he was relatively confident in his ability to block her in time.


    He was congratulating himself as the effects of the [Chant] settled over him, just before Syr Katherine completed the Orison.


    Clay had about two seconds to celebrate before the adventurer completed her own [Chant], and the force of her magic slammed into him with all the force of a battering ram.


    The sheer mental impact of her power nearly took his breath away, and the Shroud came close to buckling under the pressure of her Orison. He saw Katherine¡¯s eyes go abruptly wide and saw her take a half-step forward. Anger flared in her expression as well, but Clay simply met her gaze and grit his teeth. If he lost the fight, that was fine. She wasn¡¯t going to get what she wanted without effort, though.


    Katherine¡¯s eyes flickered a little as he bore down in his efforts to resist her. She stepped back and crossed her arms, the pressure smashing down into him not diminishing at all. ¡°Surprising. Do you have something to hide, Initiate?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­polite¡­to ask¡­Syr.¡±


    The words, ground out between gritted teeth, seemed to knock her off balance. The pressure bearing down on him abruptly vanished, and Clay felt himself abruptly sag in relief. He wasn¡¯t sure that he¡¯d have been able to keep up the effort for much longer. As it was, if she tried it again, she was getting through no matter what he tried.


    {Will increased by 1!}


    ¡°So be it.¡± He looked up to see her studying him coolly, as if they hadn¡¯t just engaged in a magical arm-wrestling contest. ¡°May I use the Orison to assess you, Initiate?¡±


    Clay considered the question. It wasn¡¯t like he actually had anything to hide, after all. Still, he was tired of being patient. ¡°Turnabout is fair play. Can I use it on you as well?¡±


    Her lips quirked in what might have been an amused smile. It was gone in a heartbeat. ¡°I see nothing wrong with it.¡±


    Without waiting, she started the Orison again, and Clay followed suit. His head ached a little as he spoke the words of the [Chant]; previous experience told him he¡¯d have a headache if he kept this up for much longer. Luckily, the pain in his skull hadn¡¯t built to unmanageable levels before he completed the [Chant].


    [Katherine Demills]


    [Class: Calculator] {Level 16} Insight and Memory have a maximum of 40. Other Stats have a maximum of 21.)


    [Subclass: Analyst (Gain 20% bonus against familiar opponents.)]


    [Stats] {Might: 20} {Fortitude: 20} {Insight: 40} {Memory: 40} {Valor: 21} {Will: 21}


    [Monsters Slain: 739]


    His eyes widened for a moment as he considered her [Stats]. No wonder she¡¯d been able to more or less crush him in their contest! Even with all his bonuses, she had a massive advantage over him. He was lucky that she¡¯d decided that humbling him wasn¡¯t worth the effort at the moment.


    Katherine seemed to take a while studying the information the Orison had given her. Clay wondered, suddenly, if her greater ability meant that the [Chant] would offer her more information about his [Gift] and his history. She eventually shook her head. ¡°It appears I underestimated the amount of experience you have, Sir Clay. I apologize.¡±


    He nodded, trying not to feel off balance at the change in her attitude. Then she continued in an even voice. ¡°We will have to give you additional training in how to use the [Chants] you¡¯ve already discovered. A part of that training will be the use of oppositional [Chants]. Were you aware of what happens when someone else¡¯s magic breaks through your own?¡±


    Clay felt a bit of a chill run through him. He remembered the power straining against his own. ¡°No. I¡¯ve never had to deal with it before.¡±


    ¡°You will find out, then.¡± Katherine nodded. ¡°Once you are a cadet, I will also give you certain books you will need to research within our library. That should allow you to begin uncovering new [Chants] as you train.¡±


    He nodded again, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. Olivia had been careful to emphasize how important finding more [Chants] would be. Given how much his current magic had already helped him, it could only make him better at fighting the monsters he really wanted to fight.


    ¡°Thank you, Syr Katherine.¡± Then he paused, a thought occurring to him. ¡°When can I take the next trial?¡±


    Katherine raised an eyebrow, a rare smile crossing her face. ¡°Are you so eager to advance in the Guild, Sir Clay?¡±


    Clay shrugged and smiled. After all, the quicker he rose, the sooner he could head back home. The [Calculator] sighed. ¡°We can organize a test for you within the next week. I don¡¯t believe it would be wise to allow you to face it now, though I do admit you could do fairly well.¡±


    He grimaced. A full week at the lowest rank in the Guild? ¡°Are you sure, Syr? I am sure that I could pass the trial now.¡±


    ¡°You would need to be.¡± Katherine¡¯s voice grew grim. ¡°If you fail the trial, you will not be allowed to retake it for another three months. Many of our current initiates are here because they made an¡­ error in judgment when attempting their own trial. Are you so confident that you don¡¯t want to at least find out more about what is required?¡±


    Clay blinked. He pictured remaining in the Academy until mid-winter as an initiate. ¡°Waiting one week seems wise, Syr Katherine.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you agree, Initiate.¡± Katherine glanced to the side, where some of the onlookers were still watching. ¡°Please go visit Armsmaster Orn. He will speak with you about your equipment and arrange your physical training. Once you have spoken with him, you have an appointment with Master Taylor to discuss your other training. Be sure to bring the notes that your escorts mentioned you carried from Pellsglade.¡±


    He nodded, and she made a dismissive gesture. Clay took that as a signal to bow and retreat. Michael the page was already waiting for him to show him the way.

 B2Ch3: Instruction

    Michael led him through the maze of the Academy, crossing courtyards and passing by large rooms filled with chairs.


    Eventually, the page led him to a new part of the Academy, one that was set a small distance from the rest of the building. Even before the place had come fully into sight, Clay could hear the familiar sound of a hammer pounding metal, and he grinned to himself as he prepared himself to face the blacksmith of the Academy. He pictured another humble [Commoner] like Adam back in Pellsglade, someone who was close enough to the trades to not have lost sight of the rest of the world, even when surrounded by adventurers.


    He was swiftly disappointed.


    The moment he stepped into the Forge, it was as if he had entered a startling new world. It was a room nearly half the size of Baron Pellsglade¡¯s manor house, with anvils and workstations lining the walls. Heat flared from furnaces all along the walls, all feeding into chimneys that rose high above them. Some of the fires didn¡¯t burn a familiar red and yellow; he saw blue, green, and purple fire as well, swirling in patterns that caught the eye.


    It wasn¡¯t just one blacksmith in the Forge. Clay watched as a small army seemed to move between the fires, hammering on hot steel or plunging glowing weapons into barrels to cool. Some were busy carving arcane symbols into wood or metal, while others surrounded equipment and filled the air with low chanting that seemed to fill the air with the crackle of power. The sheer scale and energy of the place stunned him for a moment, and Michael took a handful of steps into the Forge before he realized Clay hadn¡¯t followed him.


    By the time Clay had recovered, a giant figure abruptly loomed over him. He looked up and found a face half-covered by a bristling black beard glaring down from a head mounted on shoulders that were well above eye level. Two slate grey eyes were fixed on him with a mixture of belligerence, amusement, and curiosity that threw him immediately off balance.


    The man¡¯s stature was not the only thing that was strange about him. He wore only a tunic and pants. They were plain, homespun items that could have come from any village weaver¡ªexcept for the fact that each item could have housed at least two normal people. His right hand, however, looked like it had been sheathed in a dark metal gauntlet, which had been inscribed with glowing runes of some kind. His right foot wore a normal, plain boot, but his left was clad in a solid metal armor as well. A broad, heavy longsword was laid across his shoulder, the bare steel glimmering in the lights of the Forge as if it had just been dipped into a stream.


    ¡°So. Here is the brand new initiate, fresh from the trial grounds. How did it go?¡±


    Clay reeled back a little¡ªeven the man¡¯s voice seemed ready to batter down a wall¡ªbut he still managed to collect himself and respond. ¡°I passed, Sir¡­¡±


    ¡°Orn. Armsman Orn, though the Sir still applies.¡± Orn shrugged, tilting the sword on his shoulders back and forth. The fingers of his gauntleted hand flexed a little on the hilt. ¡°I haven¡¯t been in the field in ages, but the Council has put me in charge of the physical equipment and training for our cadets and initiates. Those yours?¡±


    The giant gestured at Clay, taking in the boar spear, shortbow, and knife in a single motion. Clay nodded, and Orn held out a hand.


    With a hint of reluctance, Clay handed over the boar spear. It looked like it had shrunk as Orn picked it up. With an elaborately casual motion, Orn set the sword aside and began examining the spear more closely, running his hands along the oaken shaft and peering closely at the crossguard and the spearpoint. He muttered to himself as he did.


    ¡°Yes, solid craftsmanship. Must have been a very experienced weaponsmith. Some minor fracturing, I suppose, but not enough to really tell at this point. I¡¯d say it would have held up for ages still. Where did you get it?¡±


    Clay blinked at the question. ¡°At the village blacksmith back home.¡±


    Orn smiled. ¡°And where is home, young hero?¡±


    ¡°Pellsglade. The smith¡¯s name was¡ª¡±


    ¡°David! David of Pellsglade.¡± Orn broke out into laughter. ¡°This is not the first time I¡¯ve had the chance to appreciate the man¡¯s work! Weren¡¯t there a passel of young heroes that passed through here recently from Pellsglade? They all had excellent work done for them, a true craftsman, to be sure.¡±


    Clay nodded, feeling a little shocked. Everyone in Pellsglade knew David did good work, but he suspected that the [Smith] would have been flabbergasted to receive a compliment from the master of the Forge in the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Orn examined the spear for a few more moments, and then set it aside, next to the sword. He gestured impatiently for Clay to hand over the bow.


    He examined the shortbow for a few moments, muttering to himself. ¡°Adequate. Something fit for a [Guard], certainly, but it¡¯s already seen hard use. Not as bad as the wear on the spear, of course, but bows age faster¡­¡± Orn shook his head. ¡°I am confident that we can do better.¡±


    The bow was set aside, and Orn picked through a few of Clay¡¯s arrows with similar judgments. Feeling a little defensive about it, Clay finally stripped off his knives and handed them over to the man.


    Orn examined the utility knife first, nodding in appreciation of David¡¯s craft once more. ¡°A perfectly adequate crafting knife. I imagine you¡¯ve already been putting it to good use on the road.¡± He set it aside, and then paused over the second, larger knife. ¡°Now this I can see is something else entirely. Was it David¡¯s idea?¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°No. A merchant in our town named Adam thought it up.¡± The same merchant had also given him a few other bits of equipment that had helped him kill a pair of Guardians, something that Clay supposed meant he still owed the man for. Adam was probably just biding his time to collect on that debt, his smile wide and victorious.


    ¡°Adam. Also of Pellsglade.¡± Orn drew the knife from its sheath and swung it experimentally. He bounced it in his gauntleted hand, as if testing the weight, and then made an appreciative noise. ¡°Hmm. I might have to visit this village of yours, young hero. There are too many interesting things coming from it.¡±


    He sheathed the knife again and set it aside with the rest. For a moment, he studied the collection with a jaded eye, as if fixing them in his mind. Then he nodded and waved across the Forge. One of the nearest workers abruptly set aside their own work and came forward to begin gathering everything up, sword included.


    Clay stepped forward, ready to protest, but Orn looped an astonishingly thick arm around his shoulders. ¡°Now, now, young hero, we¡¯ve had more discriminating adventurers than you come through this place. We¡¯ll take good care of your equipment; if what we produce feels inferior to your own, you are free to stand by my good friend David¡¯s work¡ªyes and Adam¡¯s too, I suppose.¡±


    Orn gave him a crooked grin. ¡°I am confident that you will be happy with what we¡¯ll do, however. Before I begin on it, however, I¡¯m afraid that I will need to assess your abilities personally. The initiate¡¯s trial is an effective one for weeding out the ones too soft to fight, or who have no taste for combat, but we are talking about weapons here, and armor. If what you wield in battle does not match your Soul, how can you expect victory?¡±


    The way he was talking made Clay wonder if he was walking into a trap. He caught sight of Michael the page walking away, shaking his head in amusement. ¡°W-what kind of test are you talking about, Sir Orn?¡±


    ¡°The only kind that matters, Sir Clay.¡± Orn grinned. ¡°The test of steel.¡±


    For the second time that day, Clay found himself in a courtyard, facing off against an opponent.


    This time, however, the only onlookers were members of Orn¡¯s workers. They had brought sketchbooks and parchment, with quills poised over the pages.


    Orn himself was standing in the center of the courtyard, his gauntleted hand wrapped around the hilt of a thick wooden practice sword. He seemed unconcerned that Clay had gathered up his own practice weapons, including a shortbow with padded arrows. Clay had tested each of the weapons, trying to get a feel for how they would move. The last thing he needed was to end up addled because he misjudged a block or a swing.


    The Armsman had watched him with faint amusement. Then, as Clay stepped into the courtyard with him, he scratched at his beard. ¡°Ah, your pardon, young hero! I forgot to ask your [Class] and level. Perhaps it will not matter, but it may help to judge how to help you.¡±


    He paused, mildly grateful that yet another adventurer hadn¡¯t simply pulled out a [Chant] to rip the information from him. ¡°I¡¯m a [Commoner], Sir. Level eight.¡±


    Orn frowned, his brows drawing together in confusion. ¡°A [Commoner]? And at level eight? No wonder you¡¯ve been turning everything upside down today!¡± Then the man threw back his head and laughed. ¡°I really will have to visit this village of yours¡ªif only to find out what they¡¯ve been feeding you all.¡±


    Clay cracked a smile of his own. ¡°I¡¯m sure they would give you a hero¡¯s welcome, Sir Orn.¡±


    The Armsman grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sure they would.¡± He tapped the sword against his shoulder, as if reminding himself of the weight and balance of the thing. ¡°Now, feel free to use whatever abilities your [Class] has granted you. I want to see your full capabilities, not some pale imitation.¡±


    The request made Clay blink. He remembered Katherine¡¯s reaction to his use of [Chants] in the previous fight. ¡°Sir Orn, I use mostly [Chants] for magic. I¡¯m not sure if this place has something that would reduce¡­¡±


    He trailed off as Orn waved the words away. ¡°Do not fret, Sir Clay. I am familiar with most lower level [Chants], and they won¡¯t do me any harm.¡±


    Clay looked the man up and down skeptically. Aside from the armor on his arm and leg, Orn seemed completely unguarded. ¡°Are you sure? Some of the spells can fell monsters with ease.¡±


    Orn nodded, his beard split by a fresh smile. ¡°I am, though I appreciate your caution. It is a sign of wisdom not to rush in without question.¡± Then he stretched, with some of the muscles in his back popping and shifting. ¡°In fairness, young hero, wounded as I am, I¡¯m no easy target. I am a [Fighter] at level seventeen. I have faced worse than a few warm breezes.¡±


    The Armsman was more than double his level; that fact explained his relative lack of concern. His [Fortitude] was likely high enough that even the spears of the Canticle of Ice would shatter when they hit him. Feeling more than a little intimidated, Clay settled into a fighting posture. Orn nodded encouragingly at him and smiled a bit broader. ¡°Let¡¯s start with your options at range, please. Show me how you would use that bow, and the few [Chants] you¡¯ve found.¡±


    Clay nodded. He set aside the practice spear and drew out the shortbow. It was a fine piece, one that reminded him of a slightly more battered version of his own weapon. The arrows were sheathed in a bit of padding that would keep them from being more than a light impact, but Orn wasn¡¯t standing like he was concerned about even taking that much damage.


    Standing with the first arrow on his bowstring, Clay began his first [Chant]. It was the Canticle of Ice, a spell he¡¯d used multiple times to kill elder troll spiders outright. It had only grown stronger with his increased [Stats] and the bonus from [Banisher]. If Orn recognized it, the man seemed utterly unimpressed. In fact, he seemed almost bored.


    A part of him wanted to wait until the spell was complete, but another part decided that maybe keeping the Armsman busy was a good idea. As he continued the [Chant], Clay drew his first arrow back and fired.


    The shaft sped through the air directly towards Orn¡¯s face. It made it most of the way there before Orn batted it aside with the back of his unarmored hand. Clay felt a burst of surprise as the arrow shattered, spraying wooden fragments and frayed cloth across the courtyard behind him.


    Orn hadn¡¯t even flinched. His eyes had taken on a calculating look. ¡°Sufficient aim, I suppose, but your time between arrows is too long. You¡¯ll need to be faster, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay forced himself to continue the [Chant], even as he fired arrow after arrow. He aimed for different parts of the [Fighter], but each time Orn simply stepped aside or knocked the arrows away like they were buzzing flies, unworthy of his attention. Clay had fired four more times when the Canticle was finally complete.


    He held it until he drew back one more arrow and released it as he fired.


    The arrow sped across the courtyard, and this time it was joined by five spears of ice, all formed from the power of the magic inside him. He watched with satisfaction¡ªand no small hint of worry¡ªas the projectiles flew true.


    This time, Orn moved. The sword came off his shoulder, and it became a blur that Clay could barely see. Ice and arrow shattered, broken by blows that could have snapped trees off at the roots. Orn only stepped aside to avoid two of the ice spears, allowing them to continue on across the courtyard. They crashed against a stone column, which showed no more marks than Orn had as they became a shower of splintered water.


    ¡°Interesting.¡± Orn tapped the sword on his shoulder again, as if thinking. Clay shot at him again, and the Armsman idly knocked the arrow away without really paying attention to it. ¡°Enough of that now. I believe I have your measure when it comes to that part of your arsenal.¡±


    Then he focused on Clay again. ¡°Now then, how do you close the distance? Or do you wait for your enemies to come to you?¡±


    Clay shrugged, picking up another arrow. ¡°I tend to hunt the monsters I fight, so stealth and tracking are both important.¡±


    ¡°The element of surprise is crucial, yes, but you won¡¯t find much of that in an open fight¡ªmuch less a duel.¡± Orn smiled again. ¡°So, how do you resolve it?¡±


    After a moment¡¯s thought, Clay shot at the Armsman again. This time he missed deliberately; Orn started to lean out of the way and frowned as the arrow sped past him. The shot had been low and far enough out to the side that the [Fighter] would have needed to step into it. ¡°A poor move, young hero.¡±


    Clay just smiled and started a new [Chant]. Pursuing Leap seemed to be unknown here, and he was more than willing to use it as a surprise. He quickly set aside the bow and picked up his spear again, getting ready for the pull. Orn studied him with increasing puzzlement, his frown growing.


    Then the [Chant] completed, and Clay leapt into the air. He shot towards the arrow, as if he had jumped down a deep hole, and he braced his practice spear for an impact.


    Orn, however, was already reacting. The [Fighter] stepped well away from the fallen arrow, and Clay¡¯s attempted stab went well wide as he sped past. Clay hit the dirt and spun, charging the Armsman from short range, his spear swinging and stabbing at the man.


    Still moving lightly to avoid the assault, Orn burst out laughing. ¡°I see! That is quite a surprise. A good use of a lower [Chant] to be sure.¡±


    Clay lunged at him, trying to bring his spearpoint in range to strike at Orn¡¯s face, and the [Fighter] finally responded. The sword came off his shoulder and flicked out. He barely had enough time to brace before the impact landed on his spear haft. It sent him skidding backwards across the courtyard, just barely keeping his feet.


    Orn studied him a moment more, and then nodded. ¡°Good. Now, let¡¯s see how you handle an attack.¡±


    He immediately began the [Chant] for Firm Step, one of the first spells he¡¯d ever used. Clay didn¡¯t know what kind of hit he needed to expect, but he wasn¡¯t going to let it push him back again.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The Armsman cocked his head to the side at the sound of the [Chant]. Then he shrugged and started forward, the sword still tapping his shoulder.


    Clay retreated, trying to buy himself a little time before the [Fighter] hit him. His opponent didn¡¯t seem willing to let him have that chance, however. Orn began to speed up, the tap of the sword against his shoulder accelerating along with his pace.


    The first swing came when Clay was still only partially through the [Chant]. He ducked aside, feeling the wind of it nearly push him on its own. Clay retaliated immediately, trying to strike back at the man. Orn simply dodged the attack and lashed out with his unarmored hand, a blow that Clay barely caught on the haft of his spear.


    Orn barked out a laugh as Clay continued to dance backward, dodging and blocking however he could. ¡°Good! It is better not to allow an opponent to direct the pace, but if you face overwhelming strength, it is better to retreat. Though I¡¯d say that¡ª¡±


    The [Chant] completed, and Clay braced himself with his feet anchored by magic to the floor. Orn had been mid-charge, his sword held out and ready to strike. Clay saw the sword coming and grimaced.


    He felt the impact in his very soul. The magic of the [Chant] kept him anchored in place, preventing his footing from giving way, but the power of the blow cracked the haft of his spear. Orn¡¯s confident expression suddenly became alarmed, and he stopped and backed away slightly. He seemed disconcerted. ¡°Another of your [Chants], hero? You may need to choose your timing better. Standing your ground may do you no good if you lose your weapon.¡±


    Clay looked down at the spear in his hands and winced. A crack ran clear through the haft; it wasn¡¯t going to be useful for much else, now. He released the [Chant] and sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right, Sir Orn.¡±


    ¡°Of course I am!¡± Orn laughed. He gestured for Clay to go get another spear from a nearby rack. ¡°Let¡¯s continue with a new weapon, shall we? I wish to see you engage me in melee. First with the spear, then with that oversized knife of yours. Come now, I don¡¯t have all day.¡±


    After Clay selected another weapon, Orn gestured for him to charge. Clay obliged, closing the distance as quickly as he could. The previous clash had shaken him, but he could tell that the Armsman was holding back as he stabbed again and again, trying to bring his spearpoint to bear.


    Orn didn¡¯t seem to be in the mood to indulge him. Every time the spear lashed out, the Armsman simply deflected it or stepped aside. After a few moments of frantic stabbing, Orn caught his spear with one hand and shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s see how you do at closer range.¡±


    Clay frowned as the [Fighter] stepped closer. He swung his spear, but Orn¡¯s sword blocked it easily. He tried to step back, but Orn just closed the distance again, staying well within the reach of Clay¡¯s weapon. ¡°It¡¯s kind of hard to hit you like this, Sir.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡± Orn smiled and then reached over with his unarmored hand. He grabbed the practice sword by the blade, gripping it as if it were an odd kind of spear. Clay barely had the chance to recognize the danger before he was sent flying across the courtyard, rolling to a stop at the feet of some Forge apprentice who was busily scribbling notes.


    As Clay coughed and fought to stand back up, Orn called out to him. ¡°That was called half-handing, and it is an attempt to deal with shorter range opponents. Can you guess what kind of weapon the swordsman is copying when he holds his blade that way?¡±


    The image of Orn shifting his grip flashed through Clay¡¯s mind. He grinned and spat into the dirt. ¡°All right.¡±


    He pushed himself up out of the dust and came back into the courtyard. This time, as Orn stepped in close, he choked up his grip on the spear, shortening the length of the thing. Orn chuckled and nodded, using his own half-handed grip to maneuver his sword and deflect the thrusts. ¡°Good, good. You might learn quickly, though there is still quite a long way to go.¡±


    Orn shoved him hard, and Clay stumbled backward. The Armsman held his sword in one hand again, this time extending the blade at full length. It had to be agonizingly heavy, but the point didn¡¯t waver at all. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see how you handle medium range?¡±


    An hour later, Clay was breathing hard and bent over, with his hands on his knees. Sweat ran down his face despite the chill winds of autumn blowing through the courtyard.


    {Fortitude increased by 1!}


    Orn had been merciless. He¡¯d had to fight at close range, at long range. The [Fighter] had challenged him to grappling, to fight one-handed, and to bare-knuckled boxing. He¡¯d lectured Clay on how he used the knife, showing him different ways of holding it, and daring him to try to get in under the reach of his sword with just the knife. More than once, he¡¯d demanded that Clay use his [Chants] in the middle of the fight, though the one time Clay had tried to hit him with the Flame-tongued Song, the [Fighter] had cuffed him on the head so hard that Clay had nearly fried his own boots with the spell.


    It had lasted for ages, to the point where the sun was already high in the sky before Orn had called a halt. The Armsman chuckled to himself while Clay desperately tried to catch his breath. ¡°It was a good test, Sir Clay. I look forward to training with you from now on.¡±


    Clay felt a burst of despair and resentment. How often was he going to have to do this? It wasn¡¯t like he could gain a level from it. Still, he forced himself to try to sound grateful. ¡°So¡­ do¡­ I, Sir.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Orn shook his head. Then he grew more serious. ¡°I believe that you¡¯re likely to need movement and flexibility when you fight. Others might be able to depend on heavy armor, but you need speed more than protection in many cases. Still, it would be good for you to wear more than a simple shirt into battle.¡±


    The prospect of lugging around some suit of armor seemed foolish to Clay, but he supposed he could humor the man while they kept him at the Academy. ¡°If you say so, Sir Orn.¡±


    A bell began to ring across the Academy, and Orn perked up. He glanced towards the rest of the campus, his gaze fixing on something that Clay couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Well then! Time for a meal. I trust you can find your way to the kitchens, initiate?¡±


    Micheal was waiting for him again, this time at the entrance to the Forge. Clay realized that the [Youth] was acting as a guide for the first few days. The others weren¡¯t exactly being accompanied everywhere they went. He started to try to memorize the courtyards and corridors as they walked, hoping to find some pattern he could use to navigate once he was on his own.


    Fortunately, the noise of others eating and talking drew him towards the kitchen once they got close. He once again thanked the page for his help and then set out to get his own meal.


    The kitchens were barred to anyone who wanted to stroll through, but they had a broad counter where the available food had been laid out. Some ingenious craftsman or enchanter had made parts of the stone surface warm or cold, allowing drinks to remain chilled and bread to stay warm. Clay grabbed a fine wooden plate, and then shoveled bread, ham, and beans onto it. Then he wandered back out into the dining room where Michael had led him that morning.


    This time the place was nearly full of people, all of whom were alternating between eating and talking with their companions. Clay ran his eyes over the mass of people, a little intimidated by how many there were; he¡¯d practically only ever seen so many together during a festival back in Pellsglade. He shook his head and looked for a relatively empty table near the edge of the room.


    When he set his plate down, he realized with a start that the same surly man from that morning was waiting for him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you weren¡¯t saving this seat, were you?¡±


    The man looked at him, seeming a little off balance. His native glower reasserted itself a moment later. ¡°No. Suit yourself.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Clay settled into the chair and began to dig in. His struggle against Orn had given him quite an appetite. He managed to shovel half the beans and a few solid chunks of ham down before he realized that the other man was watching him with faint amusement.


    A bit chagrined¡ªhis mother would have been mildly horrified at his manners¡ªClay thumped his chest a little to help the last bite down early and then spoke up. ¡°Again, I¡¯m sorry. My name is Clay Evergreen, from Pellsglade. What is yours?¡±


    The man blinked and raised both eyebrows. ¡°Pellsglade. There was another group that came through here a while back. All from the same village. Friends of yours?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Yeah. We all knew each other. They¡¯re actually back there now.¡±


    ¡°Some sort of emergency, from what I heard.¡± The man was studying him closely now. ¡°Everything all right with them? Didn¡¯t know them well, but they seemed fair enough.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all fine.¡± Clay resisted the urge to explain the whole situation. The last thing he needed was more rumors, especially among the few adventurers who were willing to talk to him. ¡°They just had a little more business to take care of before they came back.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it.¡± The man¡¯s frown drew deeper. ¡°If you¡¯re all such good friends, why are you here by yourself? Why didn¡¯t you come with the rest of them, back in the middle of summer?¡±


    The question had been delivered just on the near side of rudeness, and Clay couldn¡¯t quite miss the spark of distrust in the other man¡¯s eyes. His mind flashed back to what Syr Anne had said; if there were rumors he¡¯d been a Rogue, then the other man would probably not want to associate with him.


    Still, it was a fair enough question. Clay shrugged, breaking off another piece of bread. ¡°Because I¡¯m a [Commoner]. They were all adventurers, and I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    His answer made the other man go suddenly still. ¡°A [Commoner]? What are you doing here then? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be out there tending a farm or something?¡±


    Clay decided he¡¯d been humble enough for the meal. ¡°Turns out they drag you away from your farm when you kill a Lair. [Commoner] or no, they decided to make an exception after that.¡±


    To his surprise, the other man laughed, a harsh sound. ¡°You killed a Lair, all by yourself?¡±


    He felt a flicker of anger. It might have been hard to believe, but he was here in the Academy, wasn¡¯t he? ¡°I did have some help, but yeah, I was the one that killed it. That¡¯s why I¡¯m at level eight.¡±


    This time, the other man went completely and utterly still. His mouth hung open in shock, at least until he shook himself like a dog and closed it. ¡°How did you manage that? I thought [Commoners] couldn¡¯t level at all.¡±


    ¡°Any [Class] can level by killing monsters. Even mine.¡± Clay finished off the bread and beans, chewing fast. He was getting a bit tired of the conversation; he swallowed and tried not to choke. A quick drink of water helped wash it all down. ¡°Any other questions?¡±


    The man shook his head. He still looked a little dumbfounded, as if he couldn¡¯t quite believe what he was hearing. ¡°No. Thank you, Sir Clay.¡± Then he paused and laughed again. He held out a hand that was heavily calloused and wrapped with a simple rag. ¡°My name is Jack. Jack Clearhelm, of the Crownsguard slums. It¡¯s an honor to meet you.¡±


    Clay paused, surprised by the man¡¯s sudden warmth. He shook Jack¡¯s hand. ¡°Good to meet you as well, Jack Clearhelm.¡± He took another drink of water, trying to hide his sudden confusion at Jack¡¯s change of heart. ¡°I¡¯ve got to go see Master Taylor about studies. Maybe we¡¯ll meet later.¡±


    Jack laughed again, this time with a sour grimace. ¡°Master Taylor? I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll see each other there, no¡ªbut I¡¯ll keep an eye out. Travel well, Sir Clay Evergreen.¡±


    He nodded back, wondering what Jack had meant. Then he caught sight of Michael hovering at the edge of the room and headed over to the page. Better to get the rest of things over with, so he could collapse for a bit.


    Master Taylor turned out to be a severe-looking woman with long dark hair and eyes one shade from black. She wore a formal-looking robe, decorated with stitched runes that occasionally flared and glowed as she moved. The adventurer seemed to regard the appointment with Clay with an impatient bluster, as if he was interrupting a schedule already full of petty obstacles and needless trivialities. The stare she had impaled him with when he introduced himself had been more than enough to tell Clay that she was not his biggest fan.


    Her most striking feature, though, had nothing to do with how she looked. She wore frames that held planes of glass in front of her eyes, just like the Sage had in his dreams, and during the Choosing. He¡¯d come to a frozen halt outside of her room when he¡¯d seen those bits of glass catch the light, but he¡¯d shaken it off quickly enough. She wasn¡¯t the Sage, after all; she looked completely different.


    Besides, he guessed the Sage had a far less nasally voice in person.


    ¡°Quite fine penmanship. You said it wasn¡¯t yours, did you?¡± Taylor let a breath hiss out through her teeth when Clay nodded. ¡°Whoever this Olivia is, she has certainly dedicated herself appropriately to her studies. Perhaps there might be some hope for salvaging you, then, if you recognized her worth.¡±


    Clay grunted. Apparently, she was not as impressed as Orn had been to hear he was a [Commoner] who¡¯d turned adventurer. Apparently Master Taylor had already heard all about it and had impatiently informed him she was here to tell him things and not to be lectured by some backwards farmer when he¡¯d tried to explain his situation.


    Now she was pouring over Olivia¡¯s notes, having evidently cracked the shorthand the Novice had used within minutes. It was impressive enough, but Clay couldn¡¯t help but feel an increasing desire to be anywhere but this cramped room piled high with books and parchment. Even the windows were partially covered with stacks of books; some of them looked like they hadn¡¯t been touched in years, with dust as thick as a curtain draped over them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to keep these for a day. Perhaps two.¡± She looked up as he opened his mouth to protest, and fixed him with a glare. ¡°These observations are well detailed and extremely valuable. They will be a help to any adventurer who encounters these creatures in the future. I will return them to you, and accredit this Olivia person accordingly, but these notes will be made part of our library.¡±


    Clay settled back in his seat, feeling resentment well up in him. Had the Academy brought him here just to steal all of his possessions? ¡°As long as I get them back.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. You¡¯ll hardly miss them, with all the rest of the work you¡¯ll be doing.¡± At his surprised look, Taylor sighed. ¡°Did you think you would be lounging in your room, like some idle farmhand? You are supposedly quite adept with [Chants], a fact that I choose not to challenge, but you remain woefully ignorant of enough information to make it shameful for you to claim any kind of magical talent. Between that and your tardy arrival, you have a lot of work to do if you ever want to catch up with the other initiates inducted this year.¡±


    He gritted his teeth and managed to avoid going over the table at her. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve done fairly well learning things on my own.¡±


    ¡°Mostly thanks to this Olivia you kept mentioning. Your notes are even in her hand.¡± Taylor shook her head, tapping the end of a quill to the side of the broad-brimmed hat she wore. ¡°Perhaps I can send for her. Surely she¡¯d do better as a member of our staff than suffering in some distant Rectory. You said she was Shrinekept, right? That may make it easier; no troublesome family to raise quarrels.¡±


    The sheer lack of sensitivity about the matter only emphasized for him how little he wanted Olivia to meet this person. ¡°I think she is more than happy where she is, Syr Taylor.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense.¡± She clucked to herself and made a note on the parchment in front of her. One of Olivia¡¯s parchments, and Clay felt his hands tighten on the arms of his chair. The wood creaked. ¡°Now. I want you to start your reading immediately. You¡¯ll find three books on the chair over there. The History of Crownsguard, The Founding of Heroes, and, of course, The Annals of Kings and Queens. I want you to start reading all of them. You will compile enough notes to cover the first chapter of each by tomorrow at this hour; if you do not, I will have a rather creative task ready for you. Possibly you could help me organize one of my research projects.¡±


    Clay must have let his shock show on his face, because she met his eyes and smiled. It was not a kind expression. ¡°Of course, preparing that task might delay my work with this Olivia¡¯s notes. I would have to keep them an extra day. It seems like you would want to avoid that, would you not?¡±


    He glared at her, not bothering to try to hide his complete dislike for the woman. She seemed more amused by it than intimidated. ¡°Well then, go find the books, and then be about your studies, please. Our first class together won¡¯t start until tomorrow. I look forward to seeing what you can produce.¡±


    With no further dismissal, she returned her attention to the notes in front of her. Clay spent another few moments glaring at her and then threw himself out of the chair to stalk over to the books. It took a very real effort not to groan when he found them. The history book alone could have killed a mantrap spiderling if he¡¯d dropped it on the monster; he might have been able to use Annals to kill a Guardian if he had tossed it from high up enough. He could picture his mother¡¯s delight at their finely inscribed leather bindings, but it was hard to feel excited about spending the next few days¡ªor weeks, more likely¡ªpouring through the dusty tomes.


    He staggered out under that heavy load. Master Taylor didn¡¯t even bother looking up as the door closed behind him.


    By the time Clay set his head down on the desk, hours later, the light had long since faded from the sky outside.


    He¡¯d spent nearly five hours reading through the books Taylor had given him. They were dry, incredibly boring texts, ranging from subjects about long dead kingdoms to political intrigues between aristocrats that he¡¯d never heard of. His own notes were a tangle of sloppy lines scratched into a few sheets of parchment that Michael had fetched for him. The page had then informed Clay that he¡¯d need to find his own way the next day, and had left him with a slate that detailed his schedule for the next day.


    It looked nightmarish. He was scheduled to meet Orn first, over in the courtyard near the Forge. The appointment was listed as Technical Combat Training, and lasted nearly two hours. He shuddered at the prospect of the Armsman hammering on him for that entire time, but not as much as he dreaded the next appointment, a two-hour space listed as Chant Specialization and Techniques. Syr Katherine¡¯s cold warning about conflicting [Chants] had been hard to forget.


    Those weren¡¯t what really hovered over him, however. The two-hour course called Remedial Studies with Master Taylor promised unending agony¡ªespecially if he didn¡¯t manage to make through another handful of pages before the next morning. He looked back down at page after page of cramped words written in narrow lines, and groaned. Why did adventurers need to know any of this stuff?


    A very large part of him wanted to throw his hands up and abandon the whole thing. He didn¡¯t need the Guild¡¯s permission to hunt monsters, after all. Clay had already been doing fairly well on his own, and he¡¯d probably only do better as he continued to destroy Lairs. There was no way for him to gain Soul here, and while he might be able to increase some of his [Stats], he wasn¡¯t going to gain anything for his [Gift] by reading books or practicing with their trainers.


    At the same time, it wasn¡¯t like he had the choice to just leave. He was reasonably sure that the moment he stepped outside of Crownsguard, the Guild would send at least one adventurer out to collect him by force if necessary. Back in Pellsglade, he had been confident in his abilities, especially with how he¡¯d managed to back Sir Leonard down. Now that he¡¯d fought Sir Orn, however, he¡¯d realized that even a single advanced adventurer probably wouldn¡¯t have any trouble knocking him down a peg or two before dragging him back to the Academy.


    So, no matter what he wanted, Clay was stuck here¡ªso he might as well try to make the most of it.


    It wasn¡¯t like the time he was forced to be in the Academy would be completely wasted. The Academy was a place of magic and wonders, very real ones that existed outside the daydreams he¡¯d used to have back home. Charles and the others had spoken of it frequently; the library alone would be a treasure trove that Olivia would expect him to plunder. Orn¡¯s training, while it seemed painful, would probably help him as well. His friends had come back to Pellsglade knowing far more about how to fight. He¡¯d fought them after the Lair had been destroyed, just a handful of mock duels, and they had stood up to him easily despite his higher levels. He needed to know what they knew, needed to learn what they had learned. That kind of knowledge was simply going to remain out of his reach if he ran for it now.


    Besides, there was something deep inside Clay that simply rebelled against the idea that these people could give him a challenge that he couldn¡¯t rise to. He¡¯d gone into the Tanglewood on his own; he¡¯d fought a lonely war against creatures that made anything in Crownsguard pale by comparison. No matter what kind of tests or trials they cooked up, he wasn¡¯t going to let them push him out. Clay would take their tests and pass them, and by the time he left, he would do so on his own terms.


    Stubbornly forcing himself to focus, Clay turned his attention back to the book. Just a few more pages to go, and he could rest. Just a few more pages.

 B2Ch4: Signs of Progress

    The next day dawned far too early.


    Clay was a farmer¡¯s son, however, and he woke regardless of how tired he felt and how late he¡¯d stayed up reading. The [Chant] of Heart¡¯s Light had given him plenty of illumination, even without a candle, but it couldn¡¯t replace the lost rest. Still, he had his first training with Orn that day, and if he wanted breakfast before it, he needed to move quickly.


    Washing and dressing in his narrow, cramped quarters proved to be an interesting endeavor, but luckily the [Chant] of Pure Touch helped to clean his clothes easily enough. He spent a precious few minutes looking over the notes he¡¯d taken the night before, organizing them into something coherent and useful for later in the day, and then he went out to try to find the kitchens.


    It took him a while, navigating mostly by the smell of fresh bread and sausage, but he finally found his way there. There were few other people there¡ªapparently the adventurers in the Academy were not fond of early mornings¡ªbut he still found plenty of warm food, which looked like a feast to his tired, hungry eyes.


    He came away from the counter with two plates piled high with eggs, bacon, and bread. Clay had settled down at a table and started to devour the lot of it when he saw Anne walk in, accompanied by another woman he didn¡¯t recognize. The friendly adventurer waved at him and turned to talk to her companion for a moment. After some low conversation, they ducked into the kitchens and returned with their own plates.


    Clay had just managed to finish one plate before they sat down with him. Anne grinned. ¡°Well, hello there! Heard that you put on quite the show yesterday for your initiate¡¯s trial.¡±


    He took a precious moment to finish chewing and swallow before he answered. ¡°I suppose I did. Do you think I made an impression?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say so. Half the people here are talking about you, in one way or another.¡± Anne looked back at her friend, who was standing with her own plate in hand. She was a shorter woman, though a little taller than Anne was, with brown hair that had been gathered back into a ponytail. The woman wore a simple hooded tunic, like Anne¡¯s, but much more richly embroidered. While Anne could probably blend into the background of any crowd, her friend seemed far more likely to stand out. ¡°This is Natalie. She¡¯s another one of our group of initiates. Natalie, I¡¯d like to introduce you to Sir Clay. You¡¯re probably going to be seeing him around now.¡±


    Clay stood slightly and extended his hand. ¡°Good to meet you, Syr Natalie.¡±


    She set down her plate and shook his hand. As they sat back down, she gave him a slight smile. ¡°I heard you were using rather interesting techniques yesterday, Sir Clay. Are those a part of your [Class]?¡±


    He paused a moment, both to force down the next chunk of bread and take a moment to consider things. ¡°No. I¡¯m a [Commoner], so I don¡¯t have anything magic that comes from my [Class] directly.¡±


    Natalie abruptly leaned back in her chair, as if surprised, and Anne grinned at her. ¡°See? I told you. That¡¯s what Jack was saying yesterday, too. He¡¯s a [Commoner].¡±


    The other adventurer turned and glared at her. ¡°You can¡¯t blame me for being skeptical, Anne. Don¡¯t act like half the things that come out of your mouth aren¡¯t¡­ enthusiastically reimagined.¡±


    Anne rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh please. I just make life more interesting.¡± Natalie snorted derisively, and they turned back to him.


    ¡°So if it¡¯s not from your [Class], how were you doing all of that? I heard you were flying and controlling your weapons from a distance.¡±


    Clay frowned. ¡°Have you ever heard of [Chants]? All [Classes] can use them, as long as your [Memory] and other [Stats] are high enough. There are some tricks to using them, but even [Commoners] should be able to use half the ones I do.¡±


    Anne gave Natalie a triumphant look, and the woman sighed. ¡°All right, all right, you weren¡¯t exaggerating this time.¡± She turned back to Clay. ¡°Do you happen to have a list of these [Chants]? I would be very interested in learning them.¡±


    He winced. ¡°I do¡­ but Master Taylor has currently borrowed them. She promised that she¡¯d return them soon.¡±


    Natalie grimaced, and Anne patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he might get them back someday.¡±


    Alarmed, Clay looked back and forth between them. ¡°Someday?¡±


    ¡°Master Taylor has a habit of¡­ acquiring things.¡± Anne sniffed. ¡°Not that there¡¯s anything wrong with grabbing stuff. It just seems like she gets away with it far too easily.¡±


    Natalie shook off her scowl. ¡°Could you teach me the [Chants] yourself, Sir Clay? I would¡­ appreciate the help.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Then he glanced out the window and sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I have a lot to do today. Maybe after my class with Master Taylor this afternoon.¡±


    The sympathy on their faces was not encouraging. Despite that fact, Clay hurried through the rest of his meal and headed over to where Orn was waiting.


    Hours later, Syr Katherine shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t approve of teaching others the [Chants], Sir Clay. They are dangerous.¡±


    Clay gave her a disbelieving look. His entire body was one mass of half-healed bruises, scrapes, and aches. Orn hadn¡¯t quite spent the two whole hours beating on him, but in a lot of ways it felt like he had. He¡¯d forced Clay to adjust how he stood, to practice how he held his spear, even to practice being shoved or pulled without falling over. It had been exhausting, and one of the Academy¡¯s healers had been by to soothe some of the strains and injuries he¡¯d gotten.


    One thing that practice had not been was entirely safe. To hear that a [Chant] like Firm Step or Heart¡¯s Light was somehow more dangerous than weapon practice seemed ridiculous.


    Still, Katherine seemed very serious. She sat across from him in her study, a relatively well-furnished room with much more luxurious chairs than Master Taylor¡¯s office. Katherine¡¯s desk was clean, and her books were all well-organized on the bookshelves behind her. Three tall, wide windows lined the outer wall, and the fall sunlight filtered through them to light the room well. Katherine herself was sitting behind her desk, her green eyes fixed on him. There was no compromise in her expression.


    Clay gathered himself and tried to let out a calming breath. ¡°As adventurers, I¡¯d think that everyone here is ready to take risks. Otherwise, how are we going to be able to face the monsters?¡±


    Syr Katherine leaned forward slightly, steepling her fingers in front of her. ¡°I did not say it would be dangerous for the adventurers. I said it would be dangerous.¡±


    He blinked and went back over the situation in his mind. Realization soon dawned. ¡°You¡¯re worried that someone will try to create a new Lair.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°It is a concern, yes.¡±


    ¡°But I won¡¯t be teaching them that one. They wouldn¡¯t even be able to¡­¡± He trailed off as he remembered the desiccated corpses surrounding the Lair in Tanglewood. That adventurer had been warned he wasn¡¯t strong enough, and he¡¯d attempted it, anyway. The resulting Lair had claimed countless lives across the generations since.


    ¡°Anyone is capable of using that particular [Chant], Sir Clay. From the lowliest [Commoner] to the most experienced adventurer.¡± Katherine placed her hands palms down on the desk and leaned back. ¡°What¡¯s worse, the [Chant] in question behaves¡­ oddly. I¡¯m sure you noticed.¡±


    Clay thought back to those desperate moments when he¡¯d discovered the book that contained the forbidden [Chant]. The thing had been unlike any other spell he¡¯d known; it had wanted to be used, had wormed its way into his mind and nearly forced its way out of him. What if he hadn¡¯t had enough [Will] to resist it? What if he hadn¡¯t been willing to fight back?


    ¡°I did.¡± He shuddered. Then he shook his head. ¡°Still, as long as they don¡¯t find that [Chant]¡­¡±


    ¡°[Chants] are hidden away in almost every corner of the world, in books and scrolls from here to the Void Sea.¡± Katherine shook her head. ¡°Did you think your village Shrine was unique? Even if our forebears had been wise enough to suppress that particular [Chant], they couldn¡¯t suppress the reversed form without denying themselves the chance to close the Lairs that already existed.¡±


    ¡°And as long as one exists, the other will, too.¡± He sat back, thinking over the situation. ¡°At the same time, wouldn¡¯t the adventurers have sworn the Oath? Their stones would tell you if they intended to break it.¡±


    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t prevent them from being a massive problem, especially if we didn¡¯t know where they had gone. If the first Opening didn¡¯t kill them, they could potentially create dozens of Lairs before we could track them down and kill them.¡± Katherine¡¯s expression grew shadowed, and her eyes stared into the space between them without seeming to see Clay anymore. ¡°Worse, each one would give them increasing amounts of power. They could easily reach a point where the Guild would no longer be able to face them.¡±


    Clay frowned, thinking over the problem. ¡°So your solution isn¡¯t to avoid [Chants] entirely. I¡¯ve seen you use them at least twice, and there are plenty of adventurers who seem to have access to them here.¡±


    ¡°All of a relatively high level. They are all members of the Guild who have proven themselves over the years. No one else is generally permitted to have access to the library, where the information we have about the [Chants] are all kept.¡±


    His eyes narrowed slightly, and he abruptly realized that Master Taylor had probably more than one motivation to confiscate his notes. Would she even return them to him at all?


    Then he shook his head. ¡°None of those measures prevents the adventurers from running across the [Chants] out in the world. If there are as many copies as you are worried about, then it will be impossible for them to avoid it, eventually.¡±


    Katherine nodded, but her eyes remained firm. ¡°Yet most of those copies of [Chants] are generally written in obscure or forgotten tongues, or tucked away in books that they wouldn¡¯t notice. The risk of that problem is far less than if we were encouraging the members of our Guild to search out such things to augment their abilities.¡±


    ¡°Of course, it also leaves them completely defenseless for when they do run into it.¡± Clay studied her for a moment. ¡°You are also leaving them weaker against the threats we know they¡¯ll be facing, to say nothing of the rest of the people who might be able to use the lower level [Chants] to make their lives better.¡±


    She looked back at him, inscrutable. ¡°That is the price of safety, Sir Clay. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He very carefully did not say he agreed, because he didn¡¯t. Without those [Chants] he would have been dead a hundred times over. His friends back in Pellsglade were already using those same [Chants] to make their lives easier, and he had no doubt that Olivia was going to put them to use the instant she could. How many other adventurers had died because they had been denied the tools they needed to succeed? How many more innocents had died after their defenders had fallen? It seemed like an awful lot of bodies to lay down for ¡®safety¡¯.


    Still, he wasn¡¯t about to fight it out here, at the Academy where the Guild ruled. Once he was free of this place, Clay could do what he wanted to protect people¡ªand if it upset the Guild, they¡¯d probably have to admit he was right as soon as he¡¯d finished destroying every last Lair and Dungeon in the world.


    Katherine watched him a moment longer, as if she was seeing the thoughts running through his mind. Then she sighed and shook her head. ¡°For now, you need only worry about how you use your current abilities. [Chants] can be a risk for an adventurer to use¡ªin the wrong circumstances, they can put you at severe risk¡ªbut if you are well prepared, you should do well. First, we¡¯ll go over the way your reversal of the Orison of Soul might create a backlash that¡­¡±


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    By the time Clay finally staggered out of that lesson, he felt like his very soul had been rubbed hard against a washboard. Katherine was a severe, exacting teacher, and he got the impression that she would have stripped the knowledge of [Chants] from his mind if she could. Failing that, she was going to make sure that he knew enough about them and how they could go wrong that any mistakes would be his and his alone. It was possible that she just wanted to make him too worried to use one again, but that ship had already sailed.


    As it was, his ears were still wringing with phrases like soul extinguishment and intellect fracture, along with half a dozen descriptions of exactly how crippling those consequences would be for him and anyone around him. She had also demonstrated, as gently as possible, what some of those things had meant.


    The moment that Syr Katherine had broken through his Shroud had been¡­ memorable to say the least. It had felt like she¡¯d smashed her way through his skull and ribcage with a single blow. He was surprised that the painful scream had not brought any onlookers, but she hadn¡¯t seemed concerned as she waited for him to pick himself back up off the floor. She hadn¡¯t even seemed overly worried as they continued the lesson, her words taking on an additional pointed tone.


    Fortunately, he hadn¡¯t walked away without any gain from the agony.


    {Will increased by 1!}


    It brought him nearly to his maximum for the [Stat], which was soon going to be true for most of his other [Stats] as well. It wasn¡¯t a major boost, compared to what he would have gotten fighting a Lair, but it was better than nothing. He kept telling himself that as he staggered down the hallway, making his way to the kitchens.


    He only managed to get a little lost in the maze, but he found his way there, eventually.


    The place was mostly deserted again; apparently, his lesson had gone a bit longer than he¡¯d expected. Still, the food was there¡ªbread, cheese, even some slices of ham. He grabbed as much as he could stomach and forced it down. It took some effort to ignore the way his stomach roiled at the memory of the Orison scraping away at his soul.


    All he had to do now was get through one more lesson. Just a few hours reading books with Master Taylor.


    He paused, mid-chew, and slowly put his head down on the table. It was a while before he finished his food and set off for Taylor¡¯s office, but he did do it. He wanted his notes back.


    Clay paused in his unfortunate wanderings through the hallways, carrying his armful of parchment. He knew the room was around here somewhere, but he couldn¡¯t remember which of the branching intersections had been the right one to turn left. It was this one, or the next. Or maybe it had been the turn two hallways before¡­


    ¡°Ahem?¡±


    The tentative noise made him blink for a second. He turned and spotted the shy adventurer who had been sitting with Jack the first time he¡¯d gone to the dining room. The man was wearing the same robe, plain brown except for the occasional streak of red or black. It gave him a bit of an exotic look, but the last thing Clay suspected he¡¯d want was to stand out. It was odd, now that he thought about it.


    ¡°Are you lost?¡±


    He snapped back to the present again. ¡°Ah, maybe. Do you know where Master Taylor¡¯s room is?¡±


    The adventurer nodded. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m on my way there too.¡± He peered at Clay. ¡°Are you okay? It looks like you¡¯ve had a hard day.¡±


    Clay smiled despite himself. ¡°Yeah, you could say that.¡± He followed the man as he led the way through the hallways. It had been the last intersection. ¡°I think we met the other day. My name is Clay Evergreen.¡±


    ¡°From Pellsglade, yeah.¡± The other man nodded. ¡°My name is Lawrence Fullshod. Are you on the way to Remedial Studies too?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately.¡± Clay sighed. His mind seemed like it was just barely starting to clear, but he didn¡¯t know how well things would be going over the next two hours. ¡°You¡¯re stuck there along with me, huh?¡±


    Lawrence gave him a reassuring smile. ¡°Not just me, actually. Xavien and Natalie are going to be there too.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Good.¡± The prospect of not having to face Taylor alone made the afternoon look much, much brighter. Then he frowned. ¡°Why are all of you still dealing with this? Haven¡¯t you already learned just about everything you could from her?¡±


    The other man¡¯s smile turned a little uncertain. ¡°Not¡­ exactly. There¡¯s always more to learn, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°If you say so. Will Jack and Anne be there too?¡±


    Lawrence paused and then shook his head. ¡°No. I think they¡¯re working with the Armsman today.¡±


    Clay simply nodded his head and groaned inwardly as they reached the door. Master Taylor was already waiting for them, looking like a wolf about to jump on a herd of vulnerable deer. It was going to be a long afternoon.


    By the time Clay managed to get back to his room after dinner, his head was spinning.


    Master Taylor had been merciless about drilling each of them on their reading assignments. She¡¯d pronounced Clay¡¯s notes as ¡®passable¡¯¡ªthough she¡¯d made pointed remarks about both his organization and handwriting¡ªand had immediately informed him he had the next chapter to read from each book.


    Lawrence, Natalie, and Xavien had all had their own reading assignments as well, each from a series of other books. Xavien had been assigned a batch of religious texts, while Lawrence had been assigned some vague historical tomes. Natalie had given her report on some kind of herbology text with a sour look on her face. She¡¯d tried to talk to Clay after the lesson was over, but Lawrence had intercepted her and let Clay stagger off on his own. He¡¯d felt a disturbing amount of gratitude to the robed adventurer for that, even as he dropped by the kitchens to grab a hurried dinner before he lurched back to his room.


    Once there, he¡¯d very nearly collapsed. The level of fatigue he was suffering from reminded him of when he¡¯d battled the frenzy of spiderlings back in the Tanglewood, though here in the Academy the stakes seemed so much less severe. He spent a short time just drifting, trying to recover from everything he¡¯d had to fight through in the past day.


    Eventually, though, he forced himself to get back up. The books wouldn¡¯t read themselves, and he wanted to practice some things that Orn and Katherine had taught him. Orn¡¯s advice on stances was somewhat clearer than Katherine¡¯s vague hints about some of his [Chants], a fact that immediately endeared the Armsman to Clay. What was the point of hiding things behind hints and riddles?


    Feeling somewhat more settled, Clay sat on his bed and pulled open the Annals. He focused, and began to wade through the text, all the while searching for some reason behind it all.


    The next few days passed in a blur.


    Each day began with a quick breakfast and then proceeded with Orn¡¯s rough tutelage. After getting himself halfway pounded into the courtyard floor, he visited Syr Katherine¡¯s room to have his soul scraped raw and the flaws in his use of the [Chants] critiqued. Then a fast lunch, followed by Master Taylor¡¯s droning lecture. In the slim gap between Taylor¡¯s torture and dinner, he sometimes managed to have enough time to rest a little. After supper, it was more practice in private, along with readings and work on his [Chants].


    At first, he almost doubted his ability to keep up with the pace, especially with the grueling expectations of his instructors. They seemed determined to push his limits, to the point where he almost thought they were trying to convince him to leave the Academy instead of causing trouble. Stubbornness kept him in place, however, and gradually, as the days wore on, things grew easier.


    It was not, of course, only because his [Stats] reached the maximum for his level, though that could have been a part of it. Reaching twenty-three in all six [Stats] should have been something of a celebration, but the teachers appeared to have some other goal in mind. Eventually, he had asked Orn about it, partway through one of their duels. The gruff Armsman had deflected the question just as easily as he had Clay¡¯s attempts to stab him with a practice spear, so Clay had turned to Katherine. She had been just as determined not to answer.


    So, in saddened desperation, he¡¯d asked Taylor.


    ¡°Ah. Interesting. I was wondering when you would finally ask.¡±


    Clay tried not to notice the smug smile on the woman¡¯s face. He¡¯d come early to the lecture this time, his notes already prepared and his lunch cut short. It had been a gamble that she would actually respond instead of simply ignoring his curiosity, but apparently Taylor was in the mood to indulge him. Either that, or she wanted to show off.


    He knew which of those two options he would have wagered on.


    ¡°You see, young hero, the Academy has had a long history of learning about the development of adventurers. How they grow, what leads to their success, and what efforts can be made to help them achieve the kind of stature that allows them to perform their duties.¡± Taylor¡¯s smile grew wider, as if she could smell Clay¡¯s frustration simmering beneath the surface. ¡°Do you disagree?¡±


    Clay wanted to say something about their refusal to teach [Chants], but he restrained himself. ¡°No, Syr.¡±


    ¡°Oh? A shame.¡± She shrugged and stood from her chair. He watched as she paced over to a nearby stack of books, one that looked rather haphazardly stacked on a windowsill. ¡°You are aware of [Achievements], correct? I believe at one point you had mentioned gaining a few.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°Yeah. I have three. [Spiderbane], [Corpsebane], and [Paragon].¡±


    Taylor laughed, a shrill bark of noise that Clay had never heard before. ¡°Ah, that last one is an incredible variation, let me assure you¡ªbut before we speak of it, how are [Achievements] gained?¡±


    Clay frowned. He hadn¡¯t actually thought much about it before. ¡°Well, some of them you can get by killing large numbers of monsters. That¡¯s how I got the first two.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes.¡± She waved away his answer, her expression mildly annoyed. ¡°Those are rather obvious. And [Paragon]?¡±


    His frown grew deeper as he thought back to the Council. ¡°The Council mentioned something about me having [Stats] all above twenty.¡±


    ¡°Correct! [Paragon] has rather specific conditions that are often hard for most adventurers to¡ªwell¡ªachieve.¡± Taylor selected a small book from the middle of the pile. She pulled it free in one sharp movement, somehow not toppling the volumes above it. ¡°Now, what does the existence of [Paragon] suggest?¡±


    Clay opened his mouth, and then hesitated. The answer came to him slowly. ¡°That some [Achievements] can be gained based on how you develop your [Stats].¡±


    ¡°Not just [Stats], but you are correct. The other thing that can lead to new [Achievements] are an adventurer¡¯s collection of [Feats], [Styles], [Charms], and [Sigils]. More importantly, an adventurer¡¯s [Experiences] are also quite important. I trust you have plenty of those?¡±


    He laughed a little in response. Compared to most [Classes], he actually had twice as many, in exchange for never receiving any of the other special abilities that adventurers enjoyed. ¡°Yes, you could say that.¡±


    ¡°Have you noticed that some of them do similar things? Or have similar bonuses that apply?¡±


    Clay paused, and she continued in a playful tone, like nails scraping against a mischievous chalkboard. ¡°What do you think might happen if an adventurer were to gain enough similar [Experiences] at once?¡±


    His eyebrows climbed his forehead as he thought about it. ¡°You¡¯re saying that combinations of [Experiences] can lead to new [Achievements]?¡±


    Taylor nodded. ¡°I am. And since new [Experiences] are often shaped by your training before you level¡­¡±


    ¡°The Academy tries to help adventurers develop ones that would help them gain an [Achievement].¡± A few puzzle pieces began to fall into place. Still, he frowned. ¡°Is it really that beneficial to bend everything towards that goal? It seems like a lot of work.¡±


    ¡°Well, to be sure, there are other benefits to the work we have you do. The martial skills that Armsman Orn is instilling in you will help you to wield your weapons more effectively, and a broad knowledge of the world such as I am giving you will often be useful as you wander the land. At the same time, the [Achievements] are the goal we are attempting to steer you towards, yes.¡±


    Clay shook his head. It seemed ridiculous, but so much about the work he¡¯d been doing now made so much sense. As he thought about it, his friends back in Pellsglade had mentioned that many of them had shared the same [Experiences], despite having different [Classes]. Now he knew why. ¡°Are they really that important, though? Why not focus on other skills?¡±


    He bit back the urge to mention [Chants], but Taylor¡¯s eyes seemed to twinkle, as if he¡¯d actually said it. She chuckled to herself as she turned her attention to the book in her hands. ¡°I suppose you could make that argument¡ªbut would it be justified? From the accounts I¡¯ve read, [Spiderbane] and [Paragon] are likely the only reason that you managed to survive much of what happened in the Tanglewood. If we know about similar power, why wouldn¡¯t we attempt to shape our students towards it?¡±


    Much as he hated what it meant, Clay was forced to accept the sense behind her logic. Then something else occurred to him. ¡°Wait. None of that helps me at all.¡±


    Taylor paused. She looked up in surprise, as if taken aback for the first time since he¡¯d met her. ¡°What do you mean? I thought you of all people would appreciate¡ª¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I can see the value in the [Achievements], but that¡¯s not what I mean.¡± When she gestured for him to continue, he tried to find the best way to phrase what he¡¯d realized. ¡°A lot of the Academy¡¯s training is meant for people to gain the right [Experiences] and [Achievements], sure, but it¡¯s also meant to help them gain [Stats] and level up, right?¡±


    She nodded, frowning. ¡°Of course. Helping initiates and cadets gain their first few levels before they are sent against the monsters can guarantee that they survive much longer than they otherwise would.¡±


    ¡°But what happens when someone can¡¯t level up while they are here?¡± Clay saw her grow still, and he pressed on in a frustrated tone. ¡°I can¡¯t level up the same way a [Noble] or [Fighter] can. Lots of adventurers can complete quests or study rituals in order to gain Soul and increase their level, but I¡¯m a [Commoner]. The only way I can level up is by fighting monsters¡ªand I can¡¯t do that here.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Taylor seemed to have forgotten about the book in her hands. She was staring off at her piles of books, as if she were examining the problem itself, directly. ¡°That is¡­ disconcerting. I¡¯m sure that once you do leave the Academy, the training might still affect whatever [Experiences] you gain, but¡­¡±


    Clay grunted. The effect of the training would likely be diluted by whatever other work he¡¯d done in the time since he¡¯d left. From his past levels, he¡¯d noticed that it was often the things he¡¯d been doing most recently that had the most effect. Did that mean he wasn¡¯t going to gain much of anything from being here?


    Taylor closed the book in her hands with a sudden, deliberate snap. It sent a small cloud of dust into the air, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice. Instead, she turned her attention back to him, her stare challenging. ¡°Still, the other benefits of our work will remain. Orn will make sure you know which end of your spear to hold, I will try to broaden your horizons, and Syr Katherine will attempt to make sure you don¡¯t do anything¡­ unwise. In the meantime, you¡¯ll have to do what you can to learn until you are ready to head out on your own once more.¡±


    ¡°And when is that going to be?¡± Clay began to feel a little more than frustration about it now. Was the Academy some kind of trap, where he¡¯d be locked away by the Guild¡¯s rules? ¡°When does the Guild allow adventurers to go out on their own?¡±


    ¡°Traditionally, initiates are required to stay within the Academy unless there are special circumstances. Cadets are trusted to leave as long as they are supervised by higher ranked member of the Guild, though it is common for them to remain in the Academy until they are journeymen.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°So once I am a journeyman¡­¡±


    Taylor winced. ¡°Even then, journeymen are usually monitored carefully.¡± When he gave her an exasperated look, the scholar rolled her eyes. ¡°The Guild has no interest in allowing their junior members to throw themselves into suicidal missions in search of honor or glory. Most journeymen are attached to higher ranked members such as the Guild¡¯s peers. A peer is usually trusted to go wherever they are needed, though some often stay together so that the Guild can send them where things are worst.¡±


    He grunted. At least now he knew how deep the hole went. ¡°So, how do I get to be a peer?¡±

 B2Ch5: The Rogues Gallery

    Later that day at dinner, Clay was picking at his food in a foul mood when Anne and Xavien arrived, with Natalie trailing behind them. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t Sir Clay! How has the Academy been treating you?¡±


    He grimaced. ¡°Like a [Guard] treats a practice dummy.¡± Xavien snorted, and he glanced at the man. ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t see you volunteering much in the lecture today.¡±


    Xavien shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t need to dodge all that much. Our dear professor seemed mildly distracted.¡±


    ¡°Probably because she just finished telling me I was stuck here until I managed to find a way to make peer. Which might be difficult since I¡¯ll have to fight my way through cadet and journeyman, and then persuade some batch of idiots to go fight a Lair with me.¡± Clay saw the stunned expressions on their faces, and he waved a fork at them. ¡°Easy enough if you can level up without fighting monsters, but if you can¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°It makes things a lot harder.¡± Anne¡¯s soft agreement seemed completely out of character for her, but Clay just took it as a rare expression of sympathy from the woman.


    ¡°That¡¯s an understatement.¡± He stabbed another chunk of carrot. ¡°I¡¯ll make it happen, one way or another. I just¡­ need to plan, is all.¡±


    Anne reached over and squeezed his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find a way.¡± She glanced at the others, who exchanged looks with her that Clay couldn¡¯t read. Natalie was the next to break the silence as she stirred her soup.


    ¡°Did she give your notes back?¡±


    Clay shook his head, feeling a grim certainty that those [Chants] were going to be gone for the time being. He also had a suspicion that Taylor was worried about him running off; she¡¯d been anxious to leave after the lecture, and she¡¯d been glancing at him as she retreated in the direction of Katherine¡¯s office. Would they be watching his room for escape attempts now? Should he try to leave, anyway?


    He snorted to himself. If he ran, with no food and his weapons still in Orn¡¯s Forge, what good was he going to do? For now, he would try for the cadet¡¯s trial in another couple of days. Then he¡¯d see what he could do to regain his freedom.


    The others had started to talk amongst themselves; Xavien and Anne were having some kind of disagreement, while Natalie was poking at her own food in some glum mood. Clay looked around at them and sighed. He caught sight of Lawrence and Jack standing with plates in their hand, and waved them over.


    They¡¯d made it halfway there when he heard someone snicker. Someone spoke up a moment later, in a whisper meant to be clearly heard across the dining room. ¡°Looks like another member for the Rogue¡¯s Gallery. How nice.¡±


    Clay blinked as the other members of the table went stiff. He looked up and saw Jack clenching his fists around his plate in rage, while Lawrence looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.


    He didn¡¯t know what the name meant. Honestly, he didn¡¯t particularly need to. Clay turned in his seat and found exactly what he was looking for.


    It was a group of adventurers sitting at the next table, all of whom were hiding laughter or openly grinning at him and his friends. Clay felt his eyes narrow immediately. Enessa had warned him about the occasional pompous fool in the Academy. He was surprised that it had taken so long to find them.


    Clay pitched his own voice about the same as the other man had. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t think I heard that. What did you say?¡±


    One of the adventurers, a proud-looking man with a fine tunic and richly embroidered cape, smiled. ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking to you.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Clay smiled back and turned back to the table. He found the others all looking at him in surprise. ¡°Anyone else want to eat where the air smells a little¡­ cleaner?¡±


    They were all staring at him in something approaching amazement. He winked at them and gathered up his plate. ¡°Come on. Something over here stinks like one of my father¡¯s goats after a really bad night. That table over there looks better.¡±


    Anne popped up immediately, and Xavien and Natalie followed soon after. Jack seemed to have gotten a hold of himself, though Lawrence still seemed to want to vanish.


    As he started for the new table, he heard the chair slide back behind him. Clay paused and turned back. He met the adventurer¡¯s eyes, seeing his tight, red-flushed face. ¡°Did you have something to say to me this time, Sir?¡±


    The question cut across the dining room like a knife; conversations were starting to die as others took notice of the situation. It stopped the adventurer dead, as if he suddenly realized that Clay wasn¡¯t going to cower or retreat. So instead of escalating things, he smiled insincerely. ¡°Take care, Sir Clay. Your new¡­ friends might be the sort to steal the bread from your plate¡ªor put knives in your back.¡±


    Clay raised an eyebrow and snorted. ¡°Ask Sir Leonard how I deal with warnings like that one. Enjoy your meal.¡±


    Then he turned and led the way to the new table.


    Clay waited as the others settled in around him. He gave them time to start into their food, something they seemed reluctant to do. If they needed an example, he gave them one; he tore off a chunk of bread and started eating. Once they¡¯d finally started chewing as well, he asked the question he needed to, around half a mouthful of bread. ¡°So. What was that about?¡±


    Anne smiled, an expression that was obviously wooden and false. ¡°Just a little ribbing between colleagues, Sir Clay! Nothing you need to worry¡­ about¡­¡±


    He stared at her until she had faltered and fallen silent. Then he turned to Jack, who was still carving away at his steak like the cow had eaten someone he loved. ¡°Jack. What was that about?¡±


    The man looked up in surprise. Then he scowled down at his food again. ¡°Sorry. I guess we should have told you, but we thought¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. They call us the Rogue¡¯s Gallery. Ever wonder why we are all still initiates, even though we¡¯ve been here as long or longer than your friends from back home?¡±


    Clay grunted. It vaguely occurred to him he probably should have asked, but he had mostly assumed that they had taken the challenge of the cadet¡¯s trial a bit too early. He hadn¡¯t asked because he¡¯d been worried about hurting feelings, but it had obviously been more than that.


    Jack continued in a hard voice. ¡°It¡¯s because we are stuck at level one. All of us. For one reason or another, we can¡¯t or won¡¯t gain any levels.¡±


    Lawrence spoke up next, his voice low. ¡°It¡¯s because of our [Classes]. They¡¯re expecting us to leave, or go Rogue. We don¡¯t want to, but we can¡¯t get any better the way we are. So we¡¯re stuck.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. All of them were still picking at their food, pretending to continue the meal, but most of them were just staring down at the table. The only exception was Jack, who was still staring at Clay. It was as if Jack was waiting for him to get up and leave.


    Instead, Clay asked the obvious question. ¡°What are your [Classes]?¡±


    There was a moment of silence. Some of them glanced at each other, as if hoping someone else would go first. Finally, Anne was the one who answered first, her voice more fragile and quiet than he¡¯d ever heard before. ¡°I¡¯m a [Burglar].¡±


    Clay very carefully didn¡¯t react. Normal people didn¡¯t get [Burglar]. It was the kind of [Class] that everyone tended to whisper about, and most people made the assumption that anyone who received it had already been stealing for most of their childhood. There were occasional stories of heroic [Burglars], but they were far outnumbered by the tales of sinister thieves that true heroes needed to track down and bring to justice.


    It didn¡¯t help that to level up without fighting monsters, a [Burglar] had to steal things. Things they knew other people valued and wanted to keep safe.


    He turned to Xavien, who looked a little defiant. ¡°I¡¯m an [Oracle]. I can supposedly level by making Vows¡ªbut I refuse to limit my future that way. I¡¯ve heard too many stories of [Oracles] that have sacrificed nearly their entire lives for simple levels. Not when I can serve in some other way.¡±


    His reasoning made sense, though Clay knew his father might have thought the man selfish. Then again, Sam Evergreen had never been asked to forswear meat or something just to gain the chance to fight, so perhaps the opinion of a [Farmer] didn¡¯t count for as much.


    Natalie spoke up next. ¡°I¡¯m an [Alchemist]. I could level up using reagents and experiments and all that, but¡­¡± She looked down. ¡°The kind of reagents I would need are expensive. Ridiculously expensive. The only way I could afford them would be to sign contracts with the nobility, but by the time I¡¯d complete one of those I would probably be too old to do any adventuring. My choices are to either stay here, stuck, or sign away the next twenty years of my life.¡±


    Lawrence had shrunk down into his chair, refusing to meet Clay¡¯s eyes. Jack glanced at him and then lifted his chin. ¡°I¡¯m a [Knave].¡±


    Clay blinked despite himself. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Jack shifted on his chair, but still met Clay¡¯s eyes. ¡°I am.¡±


    A [Knave]. Out of all the [Classes], it was quite possibly the one people hated the most. Someone who was a [Knave] could level by killing people, and anyone who got it had probably done the deed already. They were known for being villains, assassins, and worse. Jack¡¯s hostility and defensiveness suddenly made a lot more sense¡ªas did his reluctance to try leveling up without fighting monsters.


    Then Clay turned to Lawrence, who, if it was possible, had sunk even lower in his seat. When the last of the group finally spoke, it was in a voice so quiet that Clay could barely hear them. ¡°[Occultist]. I¡¯m an [Occultist].¡±


    Clay felt himself grow completely, absolutely still. Outwardly, he noticed Anne glancing around uneasily; Jack suddenly tensed, his expression abruptly wary. In his mind, however, he was back in that ancient tower in the Tanglewood, surrounded by the corpses of an [Occultist] and their hapless coven. He saw that brilliant, impossible point of light, felt its soul-tearing magic collapsing in on itself. How many had died, for one [Occultist]¡¯s obsession?


    As he stayed frozen, Lawrence had kept speaking, his eyes still glued to the table in front of him. ¡°I know that [Occultists] are supposed to be some kind of swindlers or cult leaders, but I don¡¯t want to hurt anyone. I just want to help people, to help everyone be kind. I¡¯m not going to try to brainwash anyone, but if I never build a coven of followers¡­¡±


    He sighed and shook his head. Clay stared at him for another moment, his heart pounding. Then he slowly forced himself to breathe again, locking away those memories. Lawrence wasn¡¯t the power-mad fool that had killed so many out of pride and arrogance. If anything, the man was just a little too humble; Clay would have been unsurprised to find him giving away everything he owned just to make up for the [Class] he¡¯d been given.


    Natalie spoke up again, apparently unaware of Clay¡¯s rigidity. ¡°Jack told us about how you gained your levels. We could try that as well, just going out and killing monsters to gain levels, but the Guild won¡¯t let initiates go out without supervision¡­ and no journeyman in his right mind is going to take the Rogue¡¯s Gallery to fight a Lair.¡±


    Jack snorted. ¡°No, they won¡¯t. It doesn¡¯t matter how much we train; we¡¯re going to be trapped here forever.¡±


    ¡°Unless we take Greg up on his offer.¡± Anne rolled her eyes when Jack glared at her. ¡°Oh, loosen up. I¡¯m obviously joking.¡±


    ¡°Greg?¡± Clay thought he managed that question without letting too much of his roiling emotions through. The others all looked at each other, with even Natalie seeming to realize that all was not well.


    Xavien was the one who answered, the [Oracle]¡¯s voice dismissive. ¡°He¡¯s a [Knave] that never bothered to attend the Academy. He leads a gang in Crownsguard, with a few other [Knaves] and [Burglars].¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s at least one [Occultist], too. At least that¡¯s what he told me.¡± Lawrence shivered.


    Jack nodded, his face slipping back into its customary scowl. ¡°He wants us to join. I¡¯ve told him no, but he¡¯s persistent.¡± He folded his arms. ¡°I¡¯d fight him, but¡­ he¡¯s at level four. A lot of his guys are at level three, too. And I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve been fighting monsters.¡±


    Clay narrowed his eyes. His heart was starting to slow down as he started to get a grip on the situation. He had a problem he thought he could solve. Facing the fact that his newly met friends were all considered potential Rogues could wait for another time. ¡°The Academy is aware of them?¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Xavien shrugged. ¡°Maybe. I doubt it. As long as the criminals stay in Crownsguard where the Guild doesn¡¯t have to worry about them, I don¡¯t know if they care. They seem to want to leave enforcing the King¡¯s law up to the [Guards]. Not that the [Guards] have much of a chance against adventurers of that level.¡±


    Likely, the Guild wouldn¡¯t involve themselves unless they heard about the gang attempting to find the kind of magic that would let them create monsters. Perhaps it was some kind of deal that the Guild had worked out with the King, that they would stay out of conflicts in Crownsguard in return for his patronage. If that was the case, they might think that their hands were tied.


    Theirs might have been. Clay¡¯s were not.


    He drew in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. When he looked up, the others were all watching him, as if waiting for his reaction. Clay smiled.


    ¡°All right, we¡¯re in a bad place, but we aren¡¯t dead yet.¡± The others relaxed suddenly, as if relieved he hadn¡¯t just gotten up from the table and abandoned them. ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do.¡±


    ¡°The Council of the Crownsguard Charter of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild will now come to order.¡±


    Clay was in a faintly familiar situation, but he felt far calmer this time. The members of the Council seemed to display a mix of amusement and irritation at repeating the circumstances of their first meeting. If he felt any less smug about what he¡¯d been doing the past few days, he might have had a flicker of worry about their expressions, but honestly, he was too happy to care.


    Guildmaster Evan studied Clay¡¯s expression for a moment and sighed. ¡°The accused will step forward.¡±


    When Clay had complied with the order, the Guildmaster continued in an unhappy tone. ¡°Initiate Evergreen, can you stand accused of causing disruptions within the city of Crownsguard, of ignoring your responsibilities as an initiate of the Guild, and of besmirching the good name of the Guild of Adventurers. Do you have any defense?¡±


    Clay smiled, something that seemed to irritate the man. ¡°I do not believe the charges are accurate, Sir Evan. Nothing I have done should harm the city, the Guild, or should lie outside my responsibilities as a member of the Guild.¡±


    Sir Evan grunted. Several of the other Councilors rolled their eyes or sighed. Probably not the best start, but he doubted he was at risk of being actually punished. He hoped.


    The Guildmaster leaned forward, massaging his temples for a moment. ¡°Sir Clay, if you truly believe that your actions are beyond reproach, can you explain your activities yesterday?¡±


    He paused. ¡°Yesterday was the free day granted to all initiates. We¡¯re permitted to leave the Academy and visit the rest of Crownsguard.¡±


    When he didn¡¯t elaborate further, Sir Evan tilted his head. ¡°I am assuming you did so.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re correct, Sir Evan.¡± Clay nodded. ¡°I asked some of my fellow initiates to recommend places I could visit. I had never come to the capital before, so it was an interesting experience.¡±


    Sir Mark abruptly burst out laughing, and Syr Marissa broke into a grin. Syr Alia sighed and put a hand over her eyes, and Sir Bartholomew shook his head. Sir Richard simply tilted his head, as if trying to study Clay in a slightly different light.


    The Guildmaster, for his part, restrained himself to a quirk of the lips and a brief glance around at the rest of the Council. As his fellow adventurers settled back into their chairs and their dignity, Sir Evan continued. ¡°I see. It must have been very interesting indeed.¡±


    Clay raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sir?¡±


    Sir Evan looked down at a scrap of parchment as if consulting something he¡¯d written there. ¡°You were apparently seen leaving the Academy after breakfast, carrying a practice spear you claimed to need as a ¡®walking stick¡¯. You did not return to the Academy until just before dinner, having spent the entirety of the intervening hours in the neighborhoods of Crownsguard.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°That¡¯s correct, Sir Evan.¡±


    ¡°During that same time, the city watch of Crownsguard reported that there were at least twelve different assaults by an unnamed adventurer. In the aftermath, they took four [Knaves], three [Burglars], an [Occultist], and various [Commoners] associated with a criminal gang into custody. All of them were injured to a severe degree, several with broken limbs that will require weeks to heal.¡±


    Clay didn¡¯t respond when the Guildmaster paused. Sir Evan consulted his parchment again. ¡°Witnesses to the assaults claimed that magic was utilized. Almost all of them agree the criminals were struck from ambush.¡±


    This time, Clay nodded again. ¡°It seemed wise to end the fights quickly. There were too many bystanders in the area to drag things out.¡±


    Sir Mark snorted again, though when Clay glanced at him the adventurer appeared to be trying to hide his laughter. Syr Marissa seemed far less pleased this time, though. Not the best sign of how things were going.


    The Guildmaster set aside his parchment. ¡°So you admit to attacking these people? In broad daylight, right in the middle of Crownsguard?¡±


    He heard the accusation in the Guildmaster¡¯s tone, and was suddenly finished with attempting to remain humble. ¡°I admit to cleaning up a mess that you should have handled a long while ago, Guildmaster. If you cannot even pretend to regret the fact that you allowed a band of murderous, criminal adventurers to run loose in Crownsguard for this long, then I don¡¯t know why I should stand here and listen to this nonsense any longer.¡±


    Sir Evan leaned back in his seat, his eyes wide with surprise. Before he could respond, Syr Alia spoke up with anger in her voice. ¡°An initiate has no right to address the Council in such a manner.¡±


    ¡°And the [Commoners] of Crownsguard have no right to expect any help from this Guild, is that correct?¡± Clay met her gaze, glare for glare. ¡°How many people would you have allowed this ¡®Greg¡¯ to kill before it would become your problem? He was at level four, and most of the others were at level three. Would you have ignored it until things grew so dire you had to step in? For all your worries about Rogues, you practically had eight of them on your doorstep and did nothing.¡±


    ¡°The King often asks us to allow his soldiers to handle such problems in Crownsguard.¡± Sir Richard¡¯s voice was cool and even. ¡°Stepping in without his permission can erode his authority among the people. Such actions are contrary to our Oath as adventurers.¡±


    Clay raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Did my stone in the Oathvault stop glowing, Sir Richard?¡± The following silence answered the question for him, and he continued in his own even voice. ¡°Then my Oath remains unbroken. And if my action might have undermined some perception of the King¡¯s authority, then he is free to claim responsibility for what I did. As it was, your inaction has eroded the trust the people have in you. Why should they believe you stand to protect them if you never actually do it?¡±


    Syr Marissa was glaring at him openly now. ¡°Our numbers are few, Sir Clay. We must send our strength only where it is most needed.¡±


    ¡°Which was the reason the Tanglewood was allowed to fester. The Dungeon in Sarlsboro too.¡± Clay folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. ¡°What I did yesterday took me a handful of hours. What did you do with that time?¡±


    The woman growled at him, half-rising from her seat, but Sir Richard spoke up again, his voice still even. ¡°Guildmaster, have we received any complaint from the King?¡±


    Sir Evan glanced at the other Councilor. After a small hesitation, he answered. ¡°No, Sir Richard.¡±


    ¡°Were any of the people of Crownsguard injured? Aside from the criminals themselves, of course.¡±


    The Guildmaster sat back in his seat, tapping on the parchment in front of him. ¡°No. There were no other injuries, though there was some property damaged.¡±


    Sir Richard nodded slightly. ¡°And the reactions of the people of Crownsguard? What have they been saying in the streets?¡±


    Another, deeper silence followed. The Councilors looked around at each other for a moment as Sir Evan appeared to be searching for a response. Then Sir Richard answered the question himself, his voice still in that same cool tone. ¡°For my part, I¡¯ve heard a few people were concerned about the use of magic in the city, but they seemed far more worried about the presence of so many high-level criminals. Any who were concerned were far outnumbered by those who were talking about the ¡®Commoner Hero¡¯. I believe I heard a few bards already composing songs, and more than one of my acquaintances asked me about his origins.¡±


    Clay winced. He hadn¡¯t wanted that kind of result. His idea had been to get rid of the bad adventurers, help the Rogue¡¯s Gallery out, and actually get out and do something for once, rather than stay stuck inside the Academy. When he looked over at Sir Richard, he thought he saw a flicker of amusement in the man¡¯s dark eyes. It was confusing; hadn¡¯t Richard wanted him to be punished the last time?


    Syr Alia sighed. ¡°I suppose if that is their reaction, we can hardly hold him guilty of ruining the Guild¡¯s reputation. I move for that charge to be set aside.¡±


    For a moment, the Guildmaster seemed ready to argue. Then he grunted. ¡°Fine. All in favor?¡±


    Richard, Alia, Bartholomew, and eventually Sir Mark raised their hands. Clay felt himself relax slightly. One down, two to go.


    The Archivist spoke up next, his voice hesitant. ¡°For the second charge, I¡¯m afraid I must also ask for its dismissal.¡±


    Syr Marissa stared at him in shock. ¡°Sir Bartholomew, are you saying that his actions are appropriate for an initiate of the Guild?¡±


    ¡°No, Syr Marissa. I am only acknowledging that he was not shirking any of his actual responsibilities as an initiate.¡± Bartholomew smoothed the robes on his lap with both hands. ¡°Our own decisions granted him the day off, and from what I can tell, he has been one of the most diligent students in the Academy. Despite the extremely heavy workloads, I have had no reports from Syr Taylor or Syr Katherine about him skipping lessons or falling behind in his studies. Sir Mark?¡±


    The other Councilor shook his head. ¡°No. The boy has been attending every training session with Orn, and the Armsman has plenty of compliments about his behavior. In fact, the man came to talk with me just this morning, demanding to speak on his behalf. I second the motion to set the charge aside.¡±


    There was more grumbling from Marissa, but when the Guildmaster called for a vote, Richard, Mark, Bartholomew, and Evan himself all raised their hands. Marissa sat back in her seat with clear anger on her face. ¡°Well, can we at least agree that the city was disrupted? He was firing off [Chants] in the middle of markets in the Downs!¡±


    Clay nearly protested that accusation. He¡¯d been careful about ambushing his targets in alleyways or isolated buildings; his main worry had been avoiding getting anyone hurt, but it had contained most of the fights. Not that they had lasted long anyway¡ªhis bonuses from [Ambusher], [Unseen], and [Paragon], combined with the sheer advantage the element of surprise had given him, most of the ¡®fights¡¯ had been over in heartbeats.


    ¡°Property was damaged. Citizens were concerned.¡± Richard shrugged. ¡°I see no reason to set that charge aside.¡±


    Sir Mark grumbled something under his breath. ¡°As if the [Knaves] weren¡¯t already disrupting things.¡±


    Marissa gave the man a glare. ¡°Weren¡¯t you complaining about his actions before, Sir Mark?¡±


    ¡°Likely because he envied him, Syr Marissa.¡± The humor in Sir Richard¡¯s voice was as unexpected as it was effective; both Mark and Evan chuckled, and some of the tension leaked from the room. ¡°Are there any objections?¡±


    None of the adventurers raised their hand, and Clay felt a small sinking feeling undermine his righteous outrage. He¡¯d gotten out of two charges, but what would the consequences be for the third?


    ¡°All in favor of sustaining the charge?¡± Evan¡¯s eyes flickered with satisfaction as every hand was raised. ¡°Good. Master Archivist, what is the punishment?¡±


    Sir Bartholomew thought for a moment and nodded. ¡°Restriction from the city for no less than six weeks. Additional duties as determined by their instructors during that time.¡±


    Alia spoke up. ¡°I propose we extend it to eight weeks. To encourage¡­ a more respectful tone.¡±


    There were nods all around the Council, and Clay tried to console himself with the fact that it could have been far, far worse. He didn¡¯t exactly think he was going to miss going into the city anyway¡ªthe place was just too crowded and smelly for him to be comfortable¡ªbut he had a bad idea about what kind of additional duties would be waiting for him after the meeting.


    Sir Evan sat back in relief, his face showing a mixture of satisfaction and fatigue. ¡°Good. Now, do we have any other business with this initiate?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The Council looked over at Sir Richard in surprise, and the Councilor smiled. ¡°Syr Marissa asked a question earlier, if Sir Clay¡¯s actions were appropriate for an initiate. I agree they do not fit what we would have expected from a lower ranked member of our Guild. They do, however, fit something we could hope for in our cadets. As such, I propose that we immediately advance Sir Clay to that rank within the Guild.¡±


    A moment of surprise followed. Then Sir Mark snorted. ¡°That might seem like we¡¯re rewarding him for his insolence, Sir Richard.¡±


    ¡°And encouraging others to try to bypass the cadet¡¯s trial this way, as well.¡± Syr Alia shook her head. ¡°I¡¯d almost recommend that we forbid him from taking that tomorrow, given his attitude.¡±


    ¡°What is the cadet¡¯s trial, Syr Alia?¡± Sir Richard shrugged. ¡°We pit our initiates against one another, and those who win three times in five progress. Sir Clay fought against eight adventurers yesterday, one at a time, and beat them. I see little difference.¡±


    Marissa shook her head. ¡°He took them from ambush, Sir, in case you forgot.¡±


    ¡°Which showed appropriate wisdom, I¡¯d say.¡± Sir Bartholomew had raised his eyebrows, looking over at Richard with an impressed expression. ¡°If we did allow him to take the trial tomorrow, is there any doubt he¡¯d pass? Perhaps we can spare our poor initiates the opportunity to be humiliated, and acknowledge his skill in the process.¡±


    Alia frowned, but she nodded. ¡°A good point, Master Archivist. It may also give him enough extra work to¡­ discourage future problems from him.¡±


    ¡°Next you¡¯ll all be talking about granting him advancement to journeyman!¡± Syr Marissa threw up her hands in frustration. ¡°Does nobody remember what he was saying just moments ago?¡±


    Sir Richard nodded. ¡°I remember, Syr Marissa. I think the more important question is if his words struck us as true.¡± He turned to look at Sir Evan. ¡°Which I believe I need to think more on. That alone makes me reluctant to hold him back. For now, at least.¡±


    The Guildmaster grimaced. ¡°Very well. All in favor?¡±


    Richard and Bartholomew raised their hands immediately. Alia followed suit a moment later, and after another moment of hesitation, the Guildmaster joined them. ¡°Sir Clay, you are now granted the privileges, rank, and responsibilities as a cadet. Stand ready for whatever need the Guild has of you.¡±


    Still in shock, Clay bowed deeply. ¡°I will, Sir.¡±


    He was still processing the results of the meeting when he got to the dining hall. The Rogue¡¯s Gallery was already waiting for him, all looking fairly anxious. Anne was the first one to speak. ¡°What did they say? How much trouble are you in?¡±


    Clay fell into a chair beside Jack and Xavien and then smiled. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll need you guys to take care of any shopping for me the next eight weeks, and I might have a bit of extra work, but other than that, we¡¯re good.¡±


    The others all let out sudden breaths of relief. Smiles broke out as they looked around at each other. Natalie was the only one that still looked worried. ¡°Are they still going to let you take the cadet¡¯s trial tomorrow? Or have they delayed it?¡±


    ¡°They did us one better, actually. As of today, I¡¯m the Guild¡¯s newest cadet.¡±


    There was a moment of shock, and then half of them burst out laughing. Even Jack clapped Clay on the shoulder and grinned; Lawrence rubbed his hands over his face and blinked, as if trying to make sure that he wasn¡¯t dreaming. Clay gave them a few moments to celebrate the event, quietly swiping a bit of bread from Anne¡¯s plate for the sake of irony, and then leaned forward.


    ¡°So. It looks like part one of the plan is done. Now we just have to get through parts two and three. We can start on the training for you guys tomorrow. How long do I need to wait for the trial to advance to journeyman?¡±


    Xavien shrugged. ¡°It¡¯ll probably be a few weeks at least, so there¡¯s plenty of time. Luckily, it sounds like you are still on good terms with the Council.¡±


    Clay blinked. ¡°Why do you say that?¡±


    ¡°The trial for journeyman¡¯s a little different than the one for cadet or initiate. You have to win a challenge of some kind, but you also have to receive approval from the Council as a whole.¡± Natalie had started back in on her food, as had most of the others. It was fortunate; Clay wasn¡¯t completely sure that he¡¯d managed to avoid the look of horror on his face.


    Jack laughed a little around a mouthful of chicken. ¡°Yeah, that would have been bad otherwise. Someone who¡¯s on the bad side of the Council is going to spend a long time as a cadet. I heard of one guy that was stuck at that rank for three years until some of the Council members left or died. Good thing you aren¡¯t in that position.¡±


    Clay nodded, thinking back over the Council meeting. ¡°Yeah. Right.¡±

 B2Ch6: A Brief Reunion

    Clay¡¯s instructors had graciously given him the day off¡ªpossibly because none of them were entirely confident that he wouldn¡¯t be in some kind of Guild cell after the meeting¡ªa fact that Clay immediately wanted to put to good use. Natalie had mentioned offhand¡ªwith a certain amount of envy¡ªthat cadets were allowed to explore the Academy¡¯s library, and the potential to find some new [Chants] was too good to ignore.


    The Academy¡¯s library had been built beneath some of the main buildings, sunk into the earth in a vault of stone. Its entrance was tucked away in a hallway that didn¡¯t lead anywhere else, and there were at least two peers on guard at all times. As Clay approached, both of the armored figures studied him and dismissed him as a threat. Apparently, the news of his new rank had traveled fast.


    If the guards had seemed to be there out of paranoia, the library¡¯s door only reinforced that impression. It had been crafted out of solid stone and mounted on hinges of dark iron that swung smoothly. As Clay walked past the doors, he noted that there was a portcullis retracted into the ceiling overhead for every three steps down into the library proper. There were a lot of steps, to the point where Clay began to worry about ever getting back up if all those gates closed.


    The entrance hall of the library was curiously full of light for an underground vault. There was no fire, of course, but the glow of enchanted lights filled a place dressed in white marble and silver fittings. It was a circular chamber, seemingly held up by columns of marble that stretched back up to the ceiling. Gems or crystals of some kind had been set into a curved ceiling of dark stone; their shine and glitter reminded him of a night sky.


    More adventurers were waiting in that hall, some of whom were on guard duty as well. Others were simply passing through the library¡¯s hall, on their way to or from the half-dozen hallways that branched off from the library. The halls were labeled, but in a language that Clay didn¡¯t recognize; the angular script seemed far more severe and determined than any characters he¡¯d used or seen Olivia read. A part of him wondered how ancient this place was; another part whispered that he really didn¡¯t want to know. Had the library been here before the Guild, or was the rest of the Academy just as old?


    He shook off the thought; he had a mission to finish here. Somewhere in this place, the [Chants] he wanted were hidden away. Given enough books, even the Guild¡¯s own officials wouldn¡¯t have been able to remove the information entirely. If he was right, then all he needed to do was find them.


    ¡°Sir Clay. I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be too surprised that you are already here.¡±


    He jumped a little, and then turned to see Syr Katherine standing there, her eyebrow arched. ¡°Yeah, I wanted to get started as soon as possible. Any advice on where to start?¡±


    The question brought a smile to her lips, but she shook her head. ¡°No. I will remind you that certain areas of the library remain unavailable to you as a cadet. There are wards and locks to keep you out of them. Don¡¯t attempt to bypass them, or you¡¯ll go before the Council over it. Am I clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He privately made a wager that the exact [Chants] he was looking for were locked away in those exact areas, but he knew there was no chance that he¡¯d be able to change her mind. Better to bide his time and find what he could in the unsecured areas.


    ¡°Good.¡± Katherine nodded. ¡°I look forward to our next lecture. I have some¡­ suggestions about how you could better employ your magic, considering how you used it in town. May you find what you are looking for, Sir Clay.¡±


    He bowed, and she glided past him, headed for the long stairs that went back to the surface. Clay watched her go for a moment and then headed for the nearest hallway. He could see row after seemingly endless row of books there. It was as good a spot as any.


    The next morning was a hard one, seeing as he¡¯d spent half the previous day clambering around the labyrinth of old tomes and forgotten texts, but Clay still arrived well before the designated start of his training session with Armsman Orn.


    He caught sight of the massive adventurer working with some of the smiths at an anvil, hammering some bit of metal into the desired shape. Over the past few days, Clay had come to know that the metal-shrouded leg and hand the man wore were not some affectation or attempt at armor. Orn had lost both limbs to monsters in the distant past and had been forced from the front lines as a result. Orn still fought¡ªand, thanks to his [Class], could still gain levels¡ªbut an active role on the teams sent to clear Lairs and Dungeons was denied him.


    Of course, he saw it as a sacred duty to hammer on the initiates and cadets under his care to help them avoid a similarly grim fate. Clay supposed he should have been grateful, but sore muscles usually made it hard to maintain the proper perspective.


    Orn caught sight of him and paused in his work, just long enough to wave. Then he finished things with another pair of hits that could have smashed stone, and set aside the forgehammer. His metal hand flexed and released the massive tool, before latching onto the hilt of another weapon, this time a battleaxe. The Armsman was fond of switching between weapons and styles in an effort to keep the training fresh. Today would be the second time with the axe, but he had no doubt that Orn had other surprises in mind.


    Then again, Clay had one of his own as well.


    ¡°Ho, Sir Clay! How goes the life of a young hero today?¡± Orn¡¯s smile was broad enough to split his black beard, and he moved with a kind of enthusiasm that made Clay return the smile in kind.


    ¡°They raised me to cadet, and are going to have me take on a few extra duties.¡± Clay tried to make it sound like he was looking forward to both of those things, but Orn¡¯s smile took on a knowing quality that told him the Armsman had seen straight through him.


    ¡°I see, I see. Well, let us celebrate your newfound achievements, shall we? Councilor Mark has been by to see if I could find some work for you in the Forge, but I told him that your clumsy hands would hurt more than help. I don¡¯t believe he has finished looking, however.¡±


    Clay grimaced. ¡°I imagine not.¡±


    Orn laughed, a deep, booming sound. ¡°In any case, shall we get started? I know that you have arrived a little early, but since your time will soon become quite precious¡­¡±


    His words trailed off as a group of people stepped into the courtyard where they normally practiced. They were all carrying practice weapons of some kind or another. Orn had to have recognized them; Jack and Anne had both been assigned a bit of training under the Armsman, though it was far less intense than what Clay had been enduring. The other three members of the Rogue¡¯s Gallery were probably fresher faces, however. [Occultists], [Oracles], and [Alchemists] weren¡¯t exactly renowned for their physical strength and endurance among heroes, after all.


    Relatively frail or not, all five of the initiates wore determined expressions and the padded armor that most sparring partners wore. They came to a stop when they saw Orn and Clay, and the Armsman studied them with a considering expression. He turned back to Clay and raised one thick eyebrow. ¡°Interesting indeed, young hero. I assume you were kind enough to invite these companions to help you train?¡±


    There was that same knowing look in Orn¡¯s eyes, but Clay managed not to grin. ¡°You are right, Sir Orn. I was hoping we could all learn from one another.¡±


    ¡°A laudable goal.¡± Orn studied them for a long moment, and then nodded. ¡°So be it. I¡¯ll have them spar a while so that I can focus on your progress, and then see if I can reevaluate the others while you, Jack, and Anne keep each other sharp. Sir Jack is a quick one, mind you, and Anne¡¯s a clever girl with that sword of hers. The difference might do you some good, especially if I pair them against you.¡±


    Clay relaxed slightly; he¡¯d been worried that Orn would refuse to help them, or dismiss them as unworthy of his time. Then Orn¡¯s grin grew a little wider. ¡°Of course, we may have to extend your time this morning. I wouldn¡¯t want you to lose out on my personal attention, you see. We¡¯ll send a note along to Syr Katherine; I¡¯m sure that she won¡¯t mind moving your lesson with her to the afternoon, once you¡¯re done with Syr Taylor¡¯s lecture. That should give us more than enough time together, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    He groaned inwardly, but Clay forced himself to nod. ¡°Of course, Syr Orn.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now let¡¯s get started.¡± He gestured for Clay to follow him into the courtyard. ¡°We all have plenty of work to do.¡±


    ¡°Ah, there you are.¡± Master Taylor¡¯s tone was just shy of shrill as Clay led the others into her lecture hall. ¡°I appreciate that your circumstances have changed, but I hope you do not¡­ make¡­ a habit of¡­¡±


    She trailed off as Anne and Jack followed the others into the hall. Taylor stared at them for a moment¡ªJack and Anne had told Clay that they¡¯d never had any of the study sessions that the others had been given¡ªand then turned back to him. ¡°Sir Clay, if I might have a moment of your time.¡±


    Clay nodded tiredly¡ªthe more magic oriented members of their sorry band weren¡¯t the only ones limping or nursing sore muscles or bruised limbs. Orn had been rather¡­ enthusiastic about his tutelage that morning. He¡¯d claimed that a cadet should be able to endure a bit more discomfort, but something told him that the [Fighter] was simply enjoying himself. He¡¯d been especially happy about the five-on-one challenge he¡¯d set for himself near the end, taking on the entire Rogue¡¯s Gallery at once.


    Taylor waited until the others had fallen into their seats, with Anne and Jack dragging over chairs so they could sit near Xavien and Lawrence. They were considerate enough to leave him a chair open, so at least he wouldn¡¯t have to go hunting for one of his own. ¡°Sir Clay, do you remember the discussion we had about [Achievements]? And how the courses we choose to share with each group of adventurers were both calculated and planned to help them reach the best combinations for their [Class]?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Yes, Master Taylor, I do.¡±


    She nodded as well, though the expression on her face made the motion look like an agitated bird pecking at the air. ¡°If an adventurer is exposed to the wrong kind of practice before they level, they might be¡­ diverted onto a less optimal course for their [Experiences] and [Achievements]. That is why it may not be for the best to have every adventurer join every kind of training. That is why we limit each [Class] to a prescribed set of instructors¡ªexcept for yourself, of course, thanks to your¡­ special circumstances.¡±


    Clay blinked. It dawned on him that he¡¯d probably been doing about three times as much training as any other candidate, but he tried not to let that fact¡ªand the resentment that welled up along with it¡ªdistract him. ¡°That makes sense, Master Taylor, but do you remember what we talked about? How that plan might not apply as well to people who aren¡¯t actively leveling?¡±


    Taylor frowned. ¡°Yes.¡±


    He pressed on, hoping to get the idea out there before she could start objecting. ¡°Most of the others in this group are in exactly the same situation as I am. So if they aren¡¯t leveling, why shouldn¡¯t they try to increase all of their [Stats] as high as they can go? And what¡¯s the harm of attempting a small experiment to see if they can find new [Achievements] or other combinations that work better with their [Class] than we might have expected?¡±


    She gave him a wary look. ¡°Your companions might not agree with being treated as fodder for experimentation, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°You can always ask them, but frankly, they asked me to help them with this. They want to be heroes, Master Taylor. This change might give them their chance. Do they seem like they are worried about not having optimal training?¡±


    Taylor blinked. Then she turned to look back at the Rogue¡¯s Gallery. They looked battered, bruised, and tired. At the same time, most of them looked more enthusiastic for the lecture than Clay could ever remember. Even Natalie, who spent most of each lecture glaring a hole in her desk, seemed chipper, despite the remnants of a black eye that Lawrence had accidentally given her in the courtyard.


    The lecturer watched them for a few moments more, and then she sighed. ¡°So be it. I will not be held responsible for the consequences later on, but I will not stand in the way of your progress.¡± Then she fixed him with a gimlet stare. ¡°Sir Orn demanded an extra hour of your time in exchange for his work, I imagine. I will ask for the same.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Master Taylor. Thank you.¡± Inwardly, Clay was screaming at the thought of being trapped in the lecture hall for an extra hour, but there was no way around it. If he wanted to help the Gallery, they needed to improve, and the quickest way to accomplish that was to convince his instructors to help.


    So instead of running out the door like he desperately wanted to, Clay hobbled over to the open seat and took out his notes. Master Taylor took up her own position and began. ¡°Welcome to my new pupils, Jack and Anne. I am sure that you will find great knowledge and benefit for you in this lecture. For our first subject¡­¡±


    By the time Clay dragged himself into Syr Katherine¡¯s room, he felt like he was back on the first day of his time at the Academy. The addition of Anne and Jack to the lecture had not distracted Master Taylor nearly enough from her incessant questions and thought problems. If anything, the additional students had only inspired the woman to new heights. Together with the additional homework that cadets apparently merited, it made for a particularly hard hill to climb.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Fortunately or unfortunately, there had never been any real chance for the Gallery to accompany him to the lesson with Syr Katherine. Even if she had been willing to share the [Chants] with them, they still lacked the [Stats] to employ them effectively. Which meant the next two hours were going to be his and his alone to enjoy.


    Syr Katherine looked up from her desk as he knocked at the door and gestured for him to come in. ¡°Sir Clay. You seem to have had a rather busy day, from what I understand.¡±


    ¡°I have, Syr. Thank you for adjusting your schedule.¡± He was sure that having to move the lesson twice had not sat well with her, but she didn¡¯t seem to be particularly annoyed.


    ¡°It was no problem¡­ this time. From now on, I expect no deviations in your schedule. Especially since I have just secured a number of interesting opportunities for you during the next eight weeks.¡±


    Clay grunted. He tried to sound as grateful as he knew he probably should be. ¡°That¡­ sounds great, Syr Katherine. May I ask what you will have me doing?¡±


    Katherine smiled. ¡°Well, I thought that there is a small amount of time between Orn¡¯s extended lessons and your lunch. I felt that, given your particular interests, you might benefit from sharing a bit of the responsibility with the city watch.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    Her smile grew, almost becoming mischievous. ¡°I¡¯ve informed the King¡¯s soldiers that they can expect you to escort them on a short patrol each day once you are done with Sir Orn. After lunch, you can eat and attend the extended lecture with Master Taylor before coming here and finishing your day with me and my lesson. You¡¯ll have a few short hours after dinner to work on whatever other projects you might have available¡ªand on your free day, you can spend the entire day in the library, sorting and shelving books. Does that sound agreeable?¡±


    It sounded like a bit of a nightmare¡­ but one that actually sounded doable, now that he thought about it. Getting to patrol around the city with the watch might help him stop feeling so alien to the place, and could stop any feelings of claustrophobia. Working long hours in the library might help him find the [Chant] he was looking for that much faster.


    Of course, if it did turn out to be a horrible nightmare, he would only need to stick it out for another eight weeks. It wasn¡¯t impossible. Better than fighting spiders. Probably.


    Clay pasted a grin on his face. ¡°It sounds wonderful, Syr Katherine. Thank you.¡±


    She smiled back, with far more sincerity and maliciousness. ¡°It was no problem at all, Sir Clay. I hope you learn all that you need to in the coming weeks.¡±


    The next three weeks fell into a blur of lectures, training, and work.


    His mornings became a frantic mess of physical exercise, brutal duels, and constant martial drill. By the time Orn was finished with him, Clay felt as if a cart had rolled over him. All the same, he was growing more and more skilled. The moves that Orn was drilling into him were becoming second nature, to the point where the bonuses from [Laborer] and [Determined] were starting to give him extra speed and strength.


    Then, just as his limbs were trembling, and he was covered in sweat, the King¡¯s men arrived to take him out into the city. From there, he wandered the streets of Crownsguard for an hour or two, walking along with a pair of [Guards] as they made the presence of the King known in the surrounding neighborhoods. Mercifully, they rarely left the eastern side of the river, which meant that he usually got back in time to eat lunch. He did manage to get to know some of the [Guards] however, and was starting to get familiar with the streets of Crownsguard. A few of the people began to recognize him and call out a welcome as they walked. It embarrassed him every time, which amused the [Guards] to no end.


    After he came back from the patrol, he devoured lunch as quickly as he could, and then headed off to the lecture with Taylor. The scholarly adventurer was quickly warming up to the idea of a larger, more invested lecture. She was including an ever-increasing series of books for them all to share and study, with group assignments and discussions about the history of the Kingdom and the Guild. Their conversations began to branch out into the theories of magic, the nature of the monsters they would fight, and even the difference between the various [Classes]. If the entire experience didn¡¯t make Clay¡¯s head spin, it would have been fascinating.


    Then, once the lecture was over, it was time to meet with Syr Katherine, who spent hours going over [Chants] and the way that others could use the same [Chants] against him. Those challenges to his abilities, coming at the end of days that were already exhausting, left him feeling battered and raw down to his very Soul, but he could feel his mastery of the spells growing stronger. The instructor also began to give him hints about where he might be able to hunt down more [Chants] within the library¡ªthough she accompanied that with dire warnings not to share that information with anyone else.


    At the end of each week, he spent nearly the entire day combing through the library, searching for books that would help him. It was a¡­ frustrating experience, one that made him miss Olivia more than he already did. Half of the ones he found were in languages that he had no hope of recognizing, let alone reading. Others were books that promised secret knowledge or powerful magic, only to contain obscure rituals and fairy tales rather than anything useful. His time in the library was busy and somewhat exhausting, but by the end of the third week, he¡¯d started to enjoy the hunt a little. The [Chants] were already more elusive than any spider had been, but he was dedicated to finding them where they were hiding.


    The rest of his time he spent with the Gallery, training, studying, or eating. They were starting to grow and develop as they worked; the aura of hopelessness that had haunted them started to lift. Lawrence began putting on weight and looking people in the eye; Jack acted so much calmer and less hostile that he occasionally smiled. Xavien and Natalie had both loosened up, apparently a side effect of trading blows in the courtyard, and although Anne remained almost desperately cheerful, she seemed far more confident as she moved through the Academy. It warmed his heart, if only because he wasn¡¯t the only one suffering through the experience.


    He was just returning to the Academy after his daily patrol with the watch when he heard someone call out to him. Surprised, he looked up and saw Enessa waving at him.


    His friend from back home had not changed much since the last time he¡¯d seen her. She had the powerful build and obvious strength of a [Fighter], though not nearly as much as Orn did. She still wore her hair short and had a pair of heavy metal gauntlets strapped to her hands. He¡¯d seen her pound craters into the ground with those fists, and he had no doubt that she¡¯d only gotten stronger fighting the Undead in the Sarlwood since he¡¯d left.


    ¡°Enessa!¡± He broke into a smile as he waved back at her. The [Guards] he¡¯d been walking with shook their heads and wandered off as he jogged over to her, his legs aching a little from his earlier workout and the long walk after. ¡°Why are you here? Did the others come with you?¡±


    ¡°Yep, we¡¯re all here!¡± She put her arms around him and squeezed. When she¡¯d done it before, his ribs hadn¡¯t protested nearly as much. The [Fighter] had gotten stronger, and he felt a flicker of jealousy over the fact that she¡¯d been out growing while he¡¯d been stuck at the Academy. ¡°The Guild finally sent out a messenger to bring us back. I think they might have done it sooner, but Charles¡¯ dad kept us out as long as he could.¡±


    ¡°How is home? Is everyone safe?¡± When Clay had left, the village had been safer than it had been for a long time. The Lair in the Tanglewood had been destroyed, and even with the Undead encroaching from the south, they had a team of adventurers there to prune the monsters back. Still, the unexpected could always happen.


    ¡°As safe as they could ever be.¡± Enessa grinned. ¡°We spent a bit of time fighting those Undead down south, and it seems like we pushed them back quite a bit. Good thing too; it looked like they might have been expanding out again. Now it should take them a year or two before they can get much past Sarlsboro again.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡± His father had come from Sarlsboro, before the Undead had destroyed the town. The fact that the monsters couldn¡¯t reach his family yet again was truly comforting.


    ¡°At the same time, it seems like we are starting to catch up to you! I¡¯m nearly at level seven now.¡± She shook him gently, something that was far, far easier for him than it had been. ¡°What have you been up to here? Just getting fat off the food?¡±


    He rolled his eyes. ¡°They¡¯ve been keeping me busy. I¡¯ve already been hammered on by Orn today, and that was before I helped patrol the city.¡±


    Enessa blinked. ¡°Patrolling the city? Why do they have you doing that?¡±


    Clay smiled. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a long story¡­¡±


    ¡°It always is.¡± She poked him hard in the ribs. ¡°Come on. The others are already in the dining room waiting for us. We¡¯ve already reported to the Council, and we don¡¯t have much time before we have to head out again, so I¡¯m sure we¡¯d all like to know how the missing member of our ¡®generation of heroes¡¯ has been doing here.¡±


    Charles shook his head as Clay wound down his story. ¡°Why am I not surprised? How long have you been here? Four weeks?¡±


    ¡°Getting close to five.¡± Clay tried not to sound defensive, but his friends simply grinned. George and Ned started chuckling outright, and Charles shook his head a second time.


    ¡°Ned, remind me about this when I call you our troublemaker, will you?¡±


    The [Dark Knight] smiled broadly. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m more than ready to point that out from here on out.¡±


    Maribel rolled her eyes. ¡°The difference is that he¡¯s been getting things done, Ned. You just get in trouble for the fun of it.¡±


    ¡°Hey! A little bit of trouble puts some spice into an otherwise bland life.¡±


    George snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll remember to write that on your gravestone, cousin.¡±


    ¡°Oh, like he¡¯s the only one I¡¯ve had to rescue lately?¡± Enessa leaned back and folded her arms. ¡°Who was it that jumped into that pack of Undead levies again? I can¡¯t quite remember¡­¡±


    The [Dragoon] flushed red. ¡°Hey, I already apologized for that.¡±


    ¡°Still haven¡¯t given me that cake you promised.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll get on it.¡±


    Clay grinned at the conversation, feeling a bit of bittersweetness. It was good to see them, to know that they were all safe, but at the same time¡­


    When they¡¯d left for the Academy, he¡¯d regretted not being able to go with them. Now that he was the one at the Academy, he wanted to be with them out in the field. He didn¡¯t know why, but it seemed that whatever the Trickster had planned for him, it didn¡¯t include fighting alongside his friends for long.


    At least, not yet.


    Charles leaned forward, his expression betraying a bit of exasperation. ¡°In any case, Clay, we do have some news from home for you. Your mother sent a letter from your family.¡± He fished a small bundle out of his travelbag, with what looked like far more than a single letter. ¡°There¡¯s also some things that Olivia sent along as well.¡±


    Clay felt his heart beat a little faster, and he tried not to take the pages from Charles too quickly. ¡°Thank you. It¡¯s been forever since I heard anything from home. They¡¯re all still doing well?¡±


    Enessa coughed into her hand, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Maribel looked a little sour about something, though it could have just been the fact that George had gotten into a mock fight with his cousin and had accidentally bumped into her.


    For his part, Charles just smiled. ¡°Yes, Clay, they¡¯re fine. I think Will got into a fistfight with Peter Quilltree, and Saphy was sick with a cough when we left, but everyone is doing just fine. Your father said the crops were coming in just fine, though he¡¯s having a hard time getting out to your place as much as he¡¯d like.¡±


    Clay smiled as another bittersweet pang ran through him. He could almost picture his father trudging the road back and forth between the family farm and the small homestead that Baron Pellsglade had granted him near the Tanglewood. Knowing Sam Evergreen, the man would try to keep both places flourishing until his son came home to take on the job. An idle thought drifted through him; when would the next time be that he laid eyes on his home?


    He shook off the question and continued on. ¡°Anything else I should know?¡±


    ¡°Olivia wanted to make sure you got those letters and read them. Said it was very important.¡±


    Ned leaned in close. ¡°He means she was blushing like crazy when she¡ªow! That hurt, Maribel.¡±


    The [Mage] leaned back in her chair. A whisper of smoke was trailing from one finger, and a satisfied look was on her face. ¡°Then maybe you should learn just a little bit more discretion, Ned Furrows.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you shouldn¡¯t be such a spiteful¡ªow!¡±


    Enessa turned from the developing skirmish between the two friends and sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t mind them. She just wanted to make sure it reached you. I think she wouldn¡¯t mind if you sent a letter her way, either. Your mom mentioned that she¡¯d taught you to write fairly well also, so you might as well put it to good use.¡±


    Clay winced. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just been so busy with everything¡­¡±


    ¡°I believe she said something to the effect of ¡®actions, not excuses, Clay Evergreen.¡¯¡± Charles smiled, and Clay was forced to smile along. It had been a poor imitation of his mother, but the words had come through just fine. ¡°I think a messenger might be headed that way by tomorrow. At the very least, I intend to send something to my father, so that he doesn¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have something ready to go with yours, then.¡± Clay made the mental note to get that done before he slept for the night. Then a thought struck him. ¡°So where are you headed, if not back to Pellsglade?¡±


    The others glanced at once another before they responded. Enessa spoke up first. ¡°We actually don¡¯t know, just that the Council requested we come back.¡± She sighed. ¡°I guess that with the Dungeon suppressed, and the Lair destroyed, they don¡¯t see the need to keep a team of cadets out at Pellsglade.¡±


    Charles nodded. ¡°You remember Lord Frensfeld? The Council is still speaking with him.¡±


    Maribel paused in her assault on Ned longer enough to grin. ¡°I¡¯d say they are probably trying to decide whether to keep him as a cadet, or promote him to journeyman.¡±


    Clay frowned. ¡°You¡¯re all still cadets? But you had a lot of success after leaving here. You even helped destroy a Lair!¡±


    Ned laughed. ¡°So did you, but you¡¯re still a cadet too, Evergreen.¡±


    He glared at the [Dark Knight]. ¡°I¡¯ve also only been a member of the Guild for four weeks, Ned.¡±


    Charles broke back into the conversation, as if hoping to head off the argument before it began. ¡°In any case, it turns out that rebelling against the journeyman sent to supervise your first mission was not behavior that the Council approves of. Not that we seem to have attracted enough of their attention to get pulled before them twice in five weeks, but we aren¡¯t all overachievers, Clay.¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re good, you¡¯re good. What can I say?¡± Clay grinned to show he wasn¡¯t serious, and Charles rolled his eyes before continuing.


    ¡°At the same time, I don¡¯t see the Council endorsing Sir Leonard¡¯s behavior. Last I heard, they¡¯d sent him off on another mission for additional training.¡±


    Clay blinked. He realized suddenly that he hadn¡¯t heard anything about the disagreeable [Outrider] since he¡¯d arrived. Not that he minded, but he did feel another flicker of resentment that even Leonard got to go fight monsters, and he didn¡¯t. Did he just need to break more rules?


    George chuckled to himself. ¡°Good riddance to bad rubbish. Anyway, I¡¯m betting that they are going to decide that Lord Frensfeld acted well enough that he becomes our new journeyman. That way they can send us out reliably supervised and still don¡¯t reward the lot of us for mutiny.¡±


    Enessa snorted, and Charles nodded. Maribel met Clay¡¯s eyes and smiled. ¡°He was a decent leader back in Pellsglade, and he¡¯d been on several missions before. I¡¯m surprised the Council is taking this long, actually.¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe they¡ªhey, here he is! Frensfeld! Sir Frensfeld!¡±


    Enessa waved, and Clay looked over to see the [Noble] walking into the dining hall. The man had seemed a little stuffy at first, but once he¡¯d realized the situation in Pellsglade, he¡¯d acted well and fought hard. Charles had said he was a good man, and Clay had learned that his friend had not been mistaken.


    Frensfeld looked a little troubled, but he smiled easily as he rejoined his comrades. Clay stood up and extended his hand. ¡°Welcome back to the Academy, Sir Frensfeld.¡±


    The [Noble] took his hand without hesitation. ¡°It has been too long, Sir Clay. You were missed during our fight against the Dungeon.¡±


    ¡°I missed being there.¡± Clay shrugged, and they sat back down at the table.


    Maribel leaned forward, her expression eager. ¡°So? Did you get the promotion?¡±


    Frensfeld nodded. ¡°The Council agreed. I am now a journeyman, and we leave for our next mission in the morning. There is a Lair in the Dolglenn that needs to be culled.¡±


    Then he paused, and his expression became a mix of frustration and regret. ¡°Sir Clay, I asked the Council to allow you to come with us, but they¡­ were decidedly against allowing you to leave. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Clay felt a spike of irritation, but he fought it down. ¡°That¡¯s okay, Sir Frensfeld. You tried.¡±


    Ned grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, Fren. He just can¡¯t stop himself from causing trouble. We¡¯re mostly just lucky he hasn¡¯t burned down half the Academy.¡±


    To his chagrin, nobody contradicted the [Dark Knight]¡¯s accusation. Enessa threw an arm around him and laughed, though. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, Clay. If you ever stopped doing it, we¡¯d be more worried than anything else. At least you mean well.¡±


    ¡°True enough.¡± He smiled and tried not to think of having missed out on leaving on an adventure with his friends. ¡°True enough.¡±

 B2Ch7: Changing Plans

    ¡°Syr Katherine, have you ever heard of a [Chant] called the Eternal Seal?¡±


    His instructor paused, her eyes narrowing slightly at the question. She looked up at him in surprise. ¡°The Eternal Seal? Where did you hear that name?¡±


    Clay paused for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s something I think I ran across in the library. Not the [Chant] itself, just the mention of it.¡±


    It was a lie, and a fairly risky one. None of the books in the library had so much as a trace of the thing; in fact, he still hadn¡¯t managed to find a [Chant] that hadn¡¯t been written down in some ancient script.


    Olivia had been the one who had mentioned it, along with including a full copy of the [Chants] that she¡¯d found. She¡¯d said that she didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d managed to lose the copy she¡¯d already given him, or if he¡¯d given it away. The faint accusation that had accompanied her letter had made Clay wince; Master Taylor had still not returned her notes to him, despite repeated promises. It was clear Olivia had anticipated the problem, though it seemed like she had expected him to lend it haphazardly to other newcomers at the Academy.


    He¡¯d already asked Taylor about the Seal, but had been careful not to mention the new notes from Olivia. The scholar already had far too much interest in Olivia as it was. He didn¡¯t want to give her any other reason to go out and kidnap Olivia to drag her back to the Academy. As it was, he didn¡¯t know if he was going to be able to escape any time soon; it would only be that much worse for Olivia.


    Unfortunately, Syr Taylor had not known anything about the [Chant], which meant that unless he got extremely lucky in the library, he had just one place where he could find out more.


    Syr Katherine was watching him closely, as if she didn¡¯t entirely believe his story. It was a fragile excuse, but he didn¡¯t want Katherine to know anything more about Olivia, either. Somehow, he suspected that her finding out about what Olivia knew would be worse than Taylor whisking her off to the Academy.


    When the [Calculator] finally responded, her voice still carried a hint of skepticism. ¡°The Eternal Seal has been a piece of lost knowledge that the Guild has been trying to obtain for quite some time. What have you learned about Dungeons at the Academy?¡±


    Clay blinked in surprise at the change in subject. ¡°Master Taylor has spoken a little about them, but they haven¡¯t been a focus for us.¡±


    ¡°Her decision makes sense. Dungeons are no place for cadets or initiates.¡± Syr Katherine raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Outside of the Academy, what have you learned?¡±


    He frowned and tried to phrase things in a way that wouldn¡¯t incriminate Olivia, still working away in the tiny library in Pellsglade¡¯s only Shrine. ¡°Dungeons are formed when Lairs are allowed to fester for too long. The Curse inside grows too powerful to banish in one attempt.¡±


    Katherine inclined her head. ¡°And what does that mean to you, knowing what you know?¡±


    The question caught him off guard. He thought for a moment, and his eyes widened. ¡°Garden¡¯s Peace won¡¯t work on a Dungeon, will it?¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t, no.¡± She shook her head. ¡°At best, it might weaken the Curse within the place, but it won¡¯t destroy it. It won¡¯t even force it into hiding; within a week, the monsters and Guardians will start to reappear.¡±


    Clay grimaced. ¡°Why not stay there and keep blasting it?¡±


    ¡°Dungeons are particularly hostile to humanity. Every portion of the place is alien and strange; sometimes even the air seems to poison and corrupt. Remaining there for any length of time is dangerous, and when the Curse reawakens after it is wounded¡­¡± Katherine paused, and a hint of some emotion crossed her features. It was gone when she reopened her eyes. ¡°More than one adventurer has tried, and more than one adventurer has failed to survive the attempt. Besides, we cannot spare every [Paragon] we have to watch over a handful of Dungeons. We must move to where things are worst to push back the tide.¡±


    He nodded slowly. He¡¯d assumed that the Guild simply hadn¡¯t been active enough to contain the dangers coming from the various Lairs and Dungeons, but if they couldn¡¯t even seal a Dungeon permanently¡­


    There had to be a near-constant stream of enemies pouring from places like Sarlsboro, places lost to humanity. He pictured more and more adventurers being lost year to year, more and more Lairs that were left to worsen and grow into something uncontainable. All it would take was a handful of years neglected or hidden, and a new Dungeon would corrupt a portion of the world.


    Then he looked up. ¡°So what does that have to do with the [Chant] of the Eternal Seal?¡±


    ¡°It was a [Chant] known to the greatest of adventurers from a time past. A [Chant] so powerful that it could banish a Lair even if the user didn¡¯t have the mastery provided by the [Paragon] [Achievement].¡± Her eyes grew distant, as if searching the air for that ancient spell. ¡°It was said to be complex, beyond anything we currently use. The magic would fill the air, then gather around the wound in the world caused by the Curse. Slowly, carefully, the breach would be sealed, and the evil contained.¡±


    She shook herself slightly and then met his eyes again. ¡°It was even said to be able to destroy Dungeons, purging their Curses and returning the land around them to normalcy.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. No wonder Olivia wanted him to find it. He had no chance of destroying the Dungeon in Sarlsboro without it¡ªand he wanted that place gone almost more than he had the Lair in the Tanglewood. Another thought occurred to him, and he grimaced. ¡°If it was that powerful, I imagine they kept it so secret because the reversal of it was incredibly dangerous. Could it create a Dungeon immediately or something?¡±


    Katherine smiled. ¡°No. In fact, it was said to be irreversible. That it had no dark mirror, the way Garden¡¯s Peace does.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Clay felt his hands tighten on the arms of the chair. ¡°Then what happened to it? Why was it hidden, and how did it get lost?¡±


    ¡°Treachery, Sir Clay. The ancient heroes were betrayed.¡± Katherine¡¯s expression grew harder. ¡°A faction of warriors arose that wished to use their power to rule over the rest. They started a civil war, and their first strikes were against those most familiar with the [Chant], along with anyone who could create anything like it. Such powerful spells became tools that the different groups sought to use against each other, with all of them either struggling to capture knowledge that belonged to the others, or trying to burn the books and kill the teachers that knew it.¡±


    She glanced in the direction of the Academy¡¯s library. ¡°Some places were created to hide that knowledge, but more often than not, they were discovered and pillaged or destroyed. By the end of the War of Heroes, there were only fragments of the knowledge left, and everyone who knew the oldest [Chants] were all dead. Only the inferior, butchered copies remained.¡±


    Katherine fell silent, and Clay was left struggling with the implications of the new knowledge that he had just gained. If the Guild had access to the [Chant], they would already be using it. Without it, all they could do was hold the line against increasing amounts of danger, and perhaps stop enough of the smaller threats before they could become too powerful to kill. It was a war they would be fortunate to fight to a standstill.


    Otherwise, all they could hope to do was lose slowly.


    He looked down for a few more moments until something she¡¯d said abruptly stood out to him. Clay opened his mouth to speak, and then paused, thinking over some of the other things she¡¯d said. How she¡¯d emphasized the importance of rhythm and intonation when he was using the [Chants], encouraging him to sense the meaning behind each syllable and phrase of the arcane language.


    Then he looked up to see her patiently waiting for his next question. She seemed partially amused, and partially resigned, as if she knew what his question would be and didn¡¯t look forward to answering it. ¡°Syr Katherine, you said that the [Chants] were created. Does that mean we could create them on our own, without knowing the spell beforehand?¡±


    She stared at him another moment, and then slowly sighed. ¡°Yes.¡±


    The implications of that fact roared through Clay¡¯s mind. He¡¯d always believed that the spells of the [Chants] were rigid, unchanging. If they could be improvised, created at a whim rather than memorized and recited by rote, then the possibilities for the magic expanded in near-infinite combinations. He slowly sat back, his eyes wide as he pictured himself calling out a brand new [Chant] for each situation in battle, of inventing new spells to use against every monster he found. Clay pictured himself calling magic into being that mocked the abilities of any of the adventurers around him, imagined himself rediscovering the lost magic that could destroy the Dungeons¡­


    Then reality reasserted itself, and Clay sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not easy to do, is it?¡±


    Syr Katherine smiled, as close to a humorous expression as he¡¯d ever seen from her. Her green eyes sparkled with a hint of long-buried mischief. ¡°So you can be taught! How comforting.¡± She gestured with one hand, indicating the window. ¡°The language of the [Chants] is something that was ancient when the earliest known empires were buried. Even those ancient heroes did not truly understand parts of it, and the most powerful [Chants] were complicated creations of such length and subtlety that even the slightest flaw in it would create a nonfunctional spell¡ªor worse, yield a terrible result.¡±


    ¡°Such as creating a Lair by accident.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Exactly. I sometimes wonder which came first, the Poisoned Wish, or Garden¡¯s Peace? The debate about the matter has continued for ages, and I suspect we will never truly know. All we do know is that creating a new [Chant] is by no means easy or risk-free. Especially when the strength of the spell often depends on one¡¯s [Stats].¡±


    Clay nodded as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. ¡°Because you could have a valid [Chant], but without the [Stats] for it¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d never know.¡± Syr Katherine leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and lacing her fingers together under her chin. ¡°So, are you planning on rushing off to try to experiment with this new knowledge by yourself, Sir Clay? I know how much you hunger for the abilities those spells would offer you.¡±


    The [Calculator]¡¯s gaze still seemed more amused than anything, but he sensed a hint of warning in her words. He knew Katherine had been watching him for signs that he¡¯d be a danger to the Guild. Did she really think he was that reckless?


    Then he thought over what he¡¯d done since his Choosing, less than six months ago. He thought over all the mischief and nonsense he¡¯d done in the years before that. Slowly, he was forced to concede that she had a point.


    All the same, he had better sense than to just stick his hand into an open flame. As long as someone hadn¡¯t told him he shouldn¡¯t, and as long as someone else wasn¡¯t at risk if he didn¡¯t¡­


    Clay sighed and gave her a resigned smile. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready for it yet, Syr Katherine. Do you have any advice on how I could become prepared?¡±


    For a moment, he half expected the [Calculator] to tell him to forget the whole thing. It was clearly something that the members of the Council would have probably preferred he didn¡¯t even know about. He could almost imagine Sir Evan reciting a list of charges after the first disaster he¡¯d manage to cause.


    Yet, to his surprise, Syr Katherine simply nodded. She stood up and walked over to the bookcase behind her desk, walking along the gathered, leather-bound tomes.


    ¡°Your question shows that at the very least I have managed to teach you some caution, Sir Clay. I am glad; when you first arrived here, there was some doubt over whether you could ever be trusted with this kind of knowledge.¡± She paused and pulled a book off the shelf. Clay half-shuddered as he recognized the title; it was yet another volume of the Annals, a book that he didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d ever reach the end of.


    Then she opened it and drew out a second smaller volume. Clay blinked and leaned forward. Syr Katherine gave him a small, satisfied smile. ¡°Master Taylor has quite a fondness for the Annals, but I always found them a bit dry. Still, they serve to conceal what I would consider a more vital truth.¡±


    She replaced the Annals on the shelf and brought the smaller book over to him. Its leather binding was old, so fragile and cracked that Clay wondered if it was about to fall apart in her hands. Katherine certainly handled it as if it was about to scatter to the four winds. When she set it on the desk before him, she moved carefully and gently, as if she was trying not to startle it.


    The title on the cover read A Collection of Lesser Chants by Syr Katherine Demills. His breath caught.


    ¡°I was never all that good at preserving things, unfortunately. This book has been through quite a lot. I¡¯ve taken it on dozens of missions, through fire and storm. I¡¯ve had to piece it back together half a hundred times. In fact, I¡¯m not sure that it will survive many more years.¡± Katherine slowly sat back down behind the desk. ¡°I¡¯m also quite sure that it is the only book containing clear descriptions of [Chants] outside the library¡¯s restricted section. Do you understand?¡±


    Clay nodded. He couldn¡¯t convince himself to look away from the book. He was afraid if he breathed, it would vanish. ¡°Yes, Syr Katherine. I do.¡±


    ¡°You will be permitted to study these [Chants], but only while you are here with me. You will practice them, but not use them in the open while you are at the Academy. If you are observed using them elsewhere, you will claim you discovered them in some obscure library, the way you did your first collection.¡± She raised her chin a fraction, and her emerald eyes seemed to glow with a cold verdant fire. ¡°And if I warn you to avoid something, you will do so. I will steer you away from danger, and caution you against misuse, and you will listen to me. Otherwise you will not answer to the Council. You will answer to me¡ªand you know what I can do. Do you accept?¡±


    He felt a chill. The members of the Council had threatened and blustered, but deep down, he hadn¡¯t really believed that any of them would have actually tried to harm him. Right then, in that moment, he was very, very certain that Syr Katherine had just threatened to kill him¡ªand that she would make good on that promise.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Yet it was more than worth the risk. Anything would be worth it if he could find a way to bring back some of that old magic. ¡°I do, Syr Katherine.¡±


    She watched him for several moments more, for long enough that he started to wonder if she would take the book back already.


    Then she reached out and very carefully turned the first page. ¡°Then let us begin.¡±


    When he met the Gallery for dinner that night, Clay felt like his world had shifted once again.


    He¡¯d already been able to memorize another three new [Chants], something that had even impressed Syr Kathering. True, they didn¡¯t seem to be very useful¡ªthe Gnat¡¯s Bite, for example, could be used to mimic the noise of a buzzing insect, or to drive them away when reversed. One was called Autumn¡¯s Grasp, and could chill food or drink for an extended time, while its opposite could thaw the same material out immediately. The last, called True Ink, created writing that could never be erased or covered, while its reversed form obliterated any writing immediately.


    Clay had been very careful not to practice that last one around the book. Katherine had chuckled a little over his paranoia, but he thought it was more than justified.


    When he caught sight of the others gathered around the table, he felt a sudden burst of regret. He was going to have to bring them bad news. Their original plan had involved him teaching them [Chants] once they had all their [Stats] at the highest possible level, and then helping them reach cadet that way. Yet given what he¡¯d learned from Katherine, and what he could learn¡­


    He shook his head and diverted to the kitchens first, making sure to pile a little extra food on his plate. It was probably going to be a long night of explanations.


    ¡°So we can¡¯t learn [Chants]?¡±


    Clay winced at the disappointment in Natalie¡¯s voice. She was the one who had been hoping the hardest for the chance to learn more magic; he suspected that she¡¯d only gone along with the physical training because she never really believed that she¡¯d ever have to use it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What I¡¯m learning now¡­it¡¯s too important to risk. We¡¯ll have to try it another way.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say.¡± Jack folded his arms and glared. The others mostly just looked disappointed or betrayed, but the [Knave] had seemed particularly unhappy the past day or so. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s this mystery knowledge you can¡¯t share? Or did your heroic little friends from back home convince you to stop hanging around a bunch of bad influences?¡±


    He jerked as if Jack had slapped him. ¡°What? No. That¡¯s not what this is about.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe you could explain it a little better, Sir Clay, because it sounds like you¡¯re choosing to abandon us right when we are getting close.¡±


    ¡°Stop it, Jack.¡± The [Knave] looked at Lawrence in surprise, but the [Occultist] didn¡¯t flinch or back down. He just stared back at his friend with a calm confidence that he¡¯d never had before. ¡°Clay didn¡¯t really owe us anything, and it sounds like you are asking him to risk a lot more than just his standing in the Guild. Syr Katherine isn¡¯t someone who trusts easily. Would you want her coming after you once she was finished with him?¡±


    Jack shifted in his seat, and some of his glower slipped away. Pain, real pain, revealed itself underneath. ¡°No. No, you¡¯re right. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    A silence descended over the table, thick with disappointment and frustration. Clay could almost feel it raging around him, ready to either drive them back to hopelessness or to lash out in pain.


    He shook his head. [Chants] or no [Chants], he wasn¡¯t going to let either of those two things happen.


    ¡°We always knew that the [Chants] might not happen. Master Taylor still has my notes, after all, and I don¡¯t want to risk teaching you without them, anyway.¡± Once again, he didn¡¯t mention the notes now hidden in his room. Clay figured that it would be better not to even have the temptation sitting there, especially with an increasingly skilled [Burglar] listening in, just waiting to be tempted. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean that all your work has been for nothing. How many of you still haven¡¯t reached your maximum [Stats]?¡±


    They all looked around at one another, some making motions as if consulting their [Gift]. Anne spoke up first. ¡°I still have a point in [Insight] and [Will] to go.¡±


    Lawrence half-raised his hand. ¡°Two points in [Fortitude] and one in [Valor].¡±


    Xavien laughed. ¡°I only have one in [Might], but that won¡¯t be for long, with what Orn has us doing.¡±


    Natalie lost some of her burdened expression as she looked around. ¡°I only have a point in [Fortitude] and another in [Will] before I am done.¡±


    They all looked at Jack, but he sat back and crossed his arms. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. I¡¯m done.¡± Anne made a disbelieving noise, and he glared at her. ¡°I¡¯ve been putting in plenty of extra practice. Don¡¯t blame me if you haven¡¯t kept up. I wanted¡ª¡±


    He glanced at Clay and then looked away. ¡°I wanted to be ready to start learning.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s going to be worth it.¡± They all looked back at Clay, even Jack. He smiled. ¡°When my friends came to visit me in Pellsglade, do you know what I learned? Their primary [Stats] were all high, higher than mine, in fact. Their secondary [Stats] were all still low. Really low. Low enough that a hardworking [Commoner] without any levels could have outmatched them.¡±


    Xavien was watching him with narrowed eyes. ¡°All our best combat techniques usually depend on those primary [Stats], though. Anyone will be able to lean on their advantages to blow through us.¡±


    ¡°Unless we find a way to even the odds.¡± Clay leaned forward and smiled. ¡°What can you tell me about the Crown festival?¡±


    Another brief silence reigned, and then Anne coughed into her fist. ¡°Clay, that¡¯s not going to work.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± He let his smile grow a little larger. ¡°I was told that every year on the King¡¯s coronation day, there¡¯s a festival in Crownsguard. Everyone celebrates for nearly an entire day; there¡¯re all kinds of parties and feasts and contests.¡±


    Jack nodded along. ¡°Yeah, yeah, along with a tournament where everyone can compete. So? We aren¡¯t going to prove anything by jousting.¡±


    Xavien had frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t mean for us to enter into the Melee, do you? Clay, we¡¯d be destroyed. Even with you helping us.¡±


    Clay looked at the [Oracle] and raised his eyebrows. ¡°Why do you think that?¡±


    ¡°Because we are all still at level one!¡± Xavien rolled his eyes. ¡°Even if we are matched against other initiates, most of them are at level three or higher, at least. If we¡¯re facing cadets, we¡¯d probably be facing level fours or fives. We¡¯d be completely outmatched. I, for one, am not looking forward to getting beaten around the ring by a half-dozen¡ª¡±


    ¡°What are you planning, Clay?¡± Lawrence¡¯s question cut the tirade short. The others all suddenly peered at him, and Clay sighed. He¡¯d wanted to keep things a bit closer to the chest, but he supposed it was better to have it all out in the open.


    ¡°Our main goal is to make it so that the Council lets us go on a mission, right? So that we can level?¡± The others nodded. ¡°My plan is to pit us against a group of cadets, led by someone at my level or higher. If we beat them, that should give the Council enough evidence to give us permission.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t do it, though.¡± Xavien remained determined. ¡°I know that you probably have some tricks, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why the Melee?¡± The [Oracle] frowned at being interrupted a second time, but Natalie didn¡¯t pay him any attention. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t it work if we fight things individually?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± She gave Clay a look that promised immediate retribution, and he sighed. ¡°Look, the next time we fight against Orn as a group, I want you to put me in charge. All of you¡ªand then pay attention to what happens.¡±


    They all exchanged looks, but Clay turned his attention back to the food in front of him. The next day, things were going to be fairly busy.


    Orn smiled when he saw Clay walk into the Forge. The Armsman had been increasingly happy with him over the past few days, though Clay couldn¡¯t precisely understand why. Perhaps it was simply the opportunity that he¡¯d given Orn to challenge and teach even more students; the [Fighter] appeared to truly enjoy the work of creating new combatants in the war against the monsters, even if he probably believed that none of the Gallery would ever leave the Academy.


    ¡°Sir Clay! I have good news for you.¡± The Armsman waved him over. ¡°Your equipment is almost prepared. Come and see.¡±


    Despite himself, Clay felt a sudden burst of enthusiasm. It had been weeks since he¡¯d been able to feel like he had his own weaponry; the dull practice weaponry that he had to return to the racks after each session simply didn¡¯t compare to the feel of an actual knife and spear in his hands. He grinned before another thought occurred to him. ¡°Does equipment always take this long to make? It seems like you¡¯d have finished it a while ago.¡±


    The smile faded a little from Orn¡¯s face. If he had to guess, the Armsman was feeling a little uncomfortable. ¡°I was asked to take extra time with your equipment. To make sure it was¡­ ready for use in the field. It required a bit of additional work and attention, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clearly, someone had leaned on Orn to delay the work a little. Probably someone from the Council, now that Clay thought about it. Would it have been Syr Marissa or Sir Mark? It made him wonder if Master Taylor had been instructed to withhold most of his notes for the same reason. If true, it would mean that the Master Archivist was involved in the process of keeping Clay here as well.


    Still, it wouldn¡¯t gain him anything to make Orn feel uncomfortable about it. The man had worked hard to train Clay and the rest of the abandoned initiates; he¡¯d probably actually done well on his weapons as well. It wasn¡¯t as if Clay had actually been able to leave, anyway. He did wonder why they were finally giving him his equipment back now, though. Was it because they had some plan for him? Maybe they were planning on sending him out on a mission as a cadet?


    If that was the case, he had to hope that it wouldn¡¯t happen before the Crown festival. The Council might have trapped him here, but when he got free, he wasn¡¯t going to leave alone. Not by a long shot.


    Clay was still thinking vengeful thoughts when Orn came to a part of the Forge where the finished pieces were waiting. He blinked as Orn gestured to the rack. ¡°Here is your new equipment, Sir Clay. What do you think?¡±


    He looked at the rack, and all thoughts of the Council¡¯s plans abandoned him for a moment. Instead, he was instantly enraptured by the sight of what Orn and his workers had created for him.


    The first thing that struck him about the spear was how¡­ solid it looked. His old boar spear had been sturdy enough; David had crafted it from the best available steel and oak, and it had withstood everything that Clay had put it through. This new weapon was slightly shorter, and the haft was capped by a metal counterweight at the end, something that Clay could see himself using as a bludgeon if he needed to. He couldn¡¯t identify the kind of wood; it was dark, almost black, and was smooth to the touch as he ran his hands along it. There were leather wrappings along part of the upper haft; the dark metal of the spearsocket extended much further back from the crossguards, which would help guard against the haft being cut through.


    His eyes fixed on the spearblade, and he took an involuntary step forward. The boar spear had been given a long, broad blade that he¡¯d put to great use. This spear had that same style of blade, but the metal seemed to almost glow from how it had been refined and forged. He thought he could make out small runes that had been etched into the wave-patterned steel, and he ran a careful finger along them, unable to recognize what they said.


    ¡°Honor, dedication, loyalty.¡± Orn¡¯s low rumble showed his satisfaction, and Clay glanced back at him. ¡°Just a motto that I thought fitting. There¡¯s a few on the other side as well.¡±


    Clay turned the beautiful spear over and saw other runes, again unreadable. ¡°And these?¡±


    ¡°Sacrifice, trust, unity.¡± Orn shrugged. ¡°Another motto. If you do not approve, we can always switch the spearhead in a few weeks.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. I like it well enough.¡± Clay picked the spear up off the rack. It was heavy, far heavier than his other spear. It would take a bit of time to get used to it, but the extra weight promised to put more power behind his attacks. Time would tell if the change would be worth it. ¡°Where did the other one go?¡±


    Orn rubbed at the back of his neck. ¡°I¡¯ve added it to my personal collection, actually. A model of craftsmanship for my apprentices to aspire to. Same with the knives, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    Clay nodded. He was a farmer¡¯s son; he hadn¡¯t expected the boar spear¡ªor any of his tools and weapons¡ªto last forever, and to have it used as an example of fine craftsmanship was not the worst fate for it to have.


    Still, he would have been lying if he had pretended that he wouldn¡¯t miss that plain old spear.


    Shaking his head over his apparent sentimentalism, Clay hefted the spear and swung it a few times, testing the weight and the balance. Then he nodded. ¡°Thank you, Sir Orn. I¡¯ll use it well.¡±


    ¡°So I hope, Sir Clay, so I hope! But do not thank me yet. Not until you have tested the rest of my gifts.¡± The Armsman gestured to the side, where more equipment waited for him.


    Clay went to the next piece, a sheathed knife that looked to have a very familiar shape. He grinned as he drew it, feeling the extra heft of that well-forged steel. ¡°Another of Adam¡¯s knives?¡±


    Orn laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve taken the liberty of calling them ¡®Pell knives¡¯ after your dear home.¡± The Armsman grinned. ¡°It will be heavier, yes, but the weight and quality will suit such a brutal weapon. Your friend Jack has expressed interest in using a pair as well. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they became quite popular over the next few years.¡±


    Clay swished the long, thick blade through the air. Again, it was going to take a bit of getting used to the new weight, but his increased [Might] would more than make up for it. He sheathed the blade and then reached for the next knife.


    This one was less exciting, just a higher quality version of the utility knife that Adam had commissioned for him. The serrated edge would probably cut through wood as well as any saw might have done; once he finally escaped this place, he would make sure to put it to good use.


    His eyes went to the next piece of equipment, and he smiled. It was another shortbow, complete with a quiver and sheath. When he drew it out, it was clearly several steps above the plain [Guard] shortbow that Herb had leant him back in Pellsglade. To his eye, it was made out of some kind of grey polished wood that seemed far, far stronger than he expected. The tension on the bowstring was far higher than before; he could easily picture an arrow being driven into a target as if he had shot with a longbow. The arrows seemed plain, but that made a certain sort of sense; he wasn¡¯t exactly going to be able to get them only from the Forge, after all, and reliability was important.


    Clay had been just about to turn away from the rack when Orn cleared his throat. He glanced at the Armsman, and the [Fighter] gestured to the next rack. ¡°I believe I mentioned some armor for you, young hero.¡±


    He felt his eyebrows climb his forehead, and he turned to the second rack in surprise. There weren¡¯t any weapons there. Instead, he saw a suit of armor and a cloak that had been hung on a figure. ¡°These are for me?¡±


    ¡°Of course, young hero! I know you were used to just throwing yourself into danger, but armor can be the difference between a mortal wound and a scratch. Even against the worst monsters.¡± Orn tapped his metal leg for emphasis and Clay winced. The Armsman stepped over to the armor rack and started to gesture to the various pieces.


    ¡°I¡¯ve kept things light; you¡¯ll want to prize your mobility, and full plate might slow you too much. For that reason, I¡¯ve created a simple jack of plate for you. It will allow for flexibility and still keep you fairly safe.¡±


    Clay stepped forward and poked at the shirt-like armor. The fabric was still and strong, and he could feel plates sewn into it. He winced as he pictured how heavy it was going to be, and forced himself to remember that he¡¯d have the additional [Fortitude], [Might], and [Valor] to handle it. He hoped.


    ¡°For the legs and arms, I made simple brigandine vambraces, greaves, gauntlets, and the rest. The plates will protect your limbs, while giving you a bit more flexibility and speed than heavy mail. It might be hotter and heavier than you are used to, but much, much safer.¡± Clay winced again, and opened his mouth to protest, but Orn tapped his metal leg again meaningfully.


    ¡°Finally, the helmet.¡± Orn smacked the curved headpiece with a ringing blow. It held firm. ¡°I decided on a sallet without a visor; your visibility will be important. The tail in the back will be important to guard against strikes from behind, and the mail on the sides should keep your ears attached. Most importantly, you¡¯ll be able to survive much, much longer. Wouldn¡¯t want to waste all that training we¡¯ve done, eh?¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. The helmet, in particular, seemed heavy; the metal it was forged from was thick, which he supposed was the point. ¡°It¡¯s going to be harder to move and dodge when I get back into the field. Might take some getting used to.¡±


    ¡°Which is why we¡¯ll be practicing in armor from here forward, young hero.¡± Orn¡¯s expression grew almost malicious from glee. ¡°We have some time before the Council will allow a journeyman to sponsor you for a mission. I aim to make sure that you have plenty of experience wearing and moving in with this equipment¡ªand when we send you to battle, I aim to make sure you return safely.¡±


    He felt a small quirk of amusement work its way across his lips, but Clay nodded. ¡°Thank you, Orn. I appreciate your help, and it all looks incredible.¡± Perhaps he wasn¡¯t entirely convinced about the armor, but it was something he might adjust to in time.


    Then he smiled. He¡¯d come to the Forge a little early, and he could see the others starting to wander in from outside. ¡°Before we do, however, can we try something? I want to face you alongside the others for a match. It¡¯s practice for something coming up soon.¡±


    Orn blinked. Then he laughed again. ¡°I see! Did they bribe you somehow, Sir Clay? I¡¯m afraid that if you¡¯re hoping to lend them a victory, I think I can match myself against the lot of you and win.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re that confident, then you wouldn¡¯t mind us trying, then, would you?¡± Clay gave him a challenging smile, and Orn raised both his eyebrows.


    ¡°I suppose not! We¡¯ll leave the armor for after. You might need it to cover the bruises, after all!¡± Orn laughed, and clapped Clay on the back. Then he paused. ¡°Might I ask what you are planning on practicing for?¡±


    ¡°The Crown festival, actually.¡± Clay watched the surprise flash across the [Fighter]¡¯s face and forced himself to ignore it. ¡°We are hoping to participate in the Lesser Melee as a team.¡±


    ¡°Interesting.¡± Orn sounded far more uncertain now, as if unsure about how to dissuade him. ¡°You¡­ are aware that most of the members participating are at least cadets or journeymen, right? A team of initiates¡­¡±


    ¡°May surprise you, Sir Orn.¡± Clay started for the practice yard. ¡°Let¡¯s see.¡±

 B2Ch8: Some Mild Scheming

    A short time later, Clay stood with the members of the Rogue¡¯s Gallery, facing the Armsman across a distance that seemed far too short.


    The others had all agreed that he would lead them into battle. They hadn¡¯t noticed the effect of [Mentor] on their [Stats] yet, but Clay was looking forward to when it would take hold. Increasing their abilities by twenty percent wouldn¡¯t be the same as bringing them up to level three, but it would be close enough. Probably not enough to matter much against Orn, but it would help.


    For a long moment, they stared at each other across that distance. Then Orn nodded and gestured for them to approach. He was holding a longsword today; even dulled, the edge would probably hurt quite a bit. Clay made a note to keep moving and not to give him an open shot.


    Then he charged, hearing the Gallery roar around him as they joined him in the assault.


    Clay quickly outstripped the others, his higher level and other bonuses giving him a clear edge in speed. Orn smiled broadly at him, clearly anticipating dealing with him first, then hitting the others as they arrived. He started the [Chant] for the Drums of the Earth, keeping it going even as he stabbed at Orn¡¯s face.


    The Armsman moved quickly, bringing his sword down and around in a sudden horizontal cut. Clay paused, skidding to a stop just before the practice sword whirred by his face, and then lunged in again. Orn backed up slightly, grabbing his blade with his off hand and pivoting to stab down at him. He fended off the stab, just barely, and went for two quick thrusts that convinced Orn to back up another short step.


    Then the [Fighter] lowered his shoulder and charged into Clay, using his sword to divert the spearpoint. Clay had just enough time to brace himself before Orn slammed straight into his chest, knocking him across the courtyard. Orn started forward, raising his sword with the obvious intent of eliminating the biggest threat first.


    Then Xavien was there, ducking low to put his shield between the [Fighter] and Clay. Orn jerked a little in surprise, robbing his strike of some power; the [Orcale] grunted at the blow, but stayed standing. Before Orn could recover, Natalie and Anne were both there, darting in at Orn from the sides, and the [Fighter] backed away, avoiding the [Burglar]¡¯s longsword and the [Alchemist]¡¯s clubs. Bafflement was clear on his face, even as he tried to bat the women aside, a confusion that only grew as Lawrence and Jack both arrived, quarterstaff and knives swinging.


    Clay grinned as he rolled back to his feet, still continuing his [Chant]. Xavien glanced backward to make sure Clay was up and then ran in to join the others harassing the Armsman. Orn was still frowning as he moved to block and counterstrike; with all five initiates attacking him, the fight was starting to look like a pack of wolves trying to bring down a bear. Still, the [Fighter] was moving well and striking quickly; he was already recovering from the surprise of the others being much faster and stronger than he was used to. A moment more, and he¡¯d likely start smashing them aside.


    Or he would have, if Clay hadn¡¯t finished the Drums of the Earth. The ground shook beneath the [Fighter], and Orn lost his footing. Clay saw Orn glare at him for a moment, clearly aware of who was to blame for the situation, and Clay winced. He instinctively started up the Flame-tongued Song next, hoping to complete it before the Armsman could break through to take his revenge.


    Fortunately, the initiates saw their chance to strike as well. Lawrence reached out with one hand, and a sudden flurry of shadows wrapped around Orn¡¯s face. Xavien ducked a sword swing and then pointed his mace like a staff; lightning crackled a moment later, smashing against Orn¡¯s metal arm. Jack darted in, his knives bouncing off of Orn¡¯s knees, while Anne tried to maneuver to strike at Orn¡¯s swordhand, trying to separate the [Fighter] from his weapon. Even Natalie threw herself at him, her twin clubs ringing a quick rhythm against Orn¡¯s torso.


    For a moment, it looked like Orn was about to fall and concede his first loss to the team¡ªto anyone, really¡ªsince Clay had ever known him.


    Then the [Fighter] found his footing again, and he lashed out with all the power of a storm.


    Anne barely managed to duck below a swing that might have taken her head off. Jack wasn¡¯t quite as lucky; he got a knife in front, but the weapon snapped, and the strike sent him spinning across the courtyard and out of the fight. Lawrence charged in, his staff held high over his head, and Orn swept his legs out from under him with a swing of his metal foot.


    Xavien hurled himself in, his mace smashing into Orn¡¯s shoulder; the giant [Fighter] just grunted and elbowed the [Oracle] hard enough to knock him down for good. Lawrence was still trying to rise when his friend collapsed right on top of him, putting him down again. Natalie lasted a moment longer; she swung both clubs as hard as she could, and Orn continued to pivot, just enough to dodge her. Anne attacked a moment later, and evaded the [Fighter]¡¯s counter by a hair.


    Clay charged across the courtyard, hoping to reach the fight before his allies went down. He was still three strides away when Natalie took a boot to the chest that knocked her down and out. Orn roared and swung at Anne, who dodged again. She failed to dodge the backhand blow from Orn¡¯s free hand that sent her sprawling.


    Orn then started to turn to look for Clay. He didn¡¯t really need to; Clay was already there.


    He lashed out with a thrust of his spear, and Orn backpedaled with a muttered oath. Clay didn¡¯t let up, stabbing again and again to maintain the momentum. Orn still had the advantage of his levels, of his years of experience, and of his many [Feats] and [Styles]. If Clay could keep him off balance long enough to land a real blow¡­


    Something caught at Orn¡¯s heel, and he staggered. Clay leaped forward, a victorious shout in his throat, and the practice spear leveled straight for Orn¡¯s heart. The dull tip wouldn¡¯t penetrate the practice armor, but for once he¡¯d land a ¡®lethal¡¯ hit, and the Armsman would be forced to admit¡ª


    Orn caught the spear just behind the blade. He grinned, his stance suddenly solid and unmoving. He grinned at Clay, his teeth white against his beard. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one with tricks, young hero.¡±


    Then Clay was flying across the courtyard, the spear gone from his hands and still gripped in Orn¡¯s fist. The only thought he had before impact was that at least it had seemed to go well¡­


    ¡°My apologies again, young heroes! I was simply surprised by your sudden improvement.¡±


    The initiates were all sitting around the edges of the courtyard, nursing the bruises the brief skirmish had left. Orn always had a few healers on hand to manage post-training injuries, but they always left some evidence of the fight. ¡®To encourage improvement¡¯, according to the [Fighter], a sentiment that Clay had to grudgingly agree with. At the very least, his current crop of bruises was going to go a long way to encourage him to reevaluate the armor Orn had offered him.


    ¡°Your improvements showed quite a dramatic increase, honestly. You are still all at level one, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    A hint of suspicion had run through Orn¡¯s question, and Clay sighed. ¡°They are, Sir Orn. The change was from an [Experience] that I gained. It¡¯s called [Mentor].¡±


    Orn blinked. A considering expression crossed his features. ¡°And it increases the skills of lower-level heroes? Interesting indeed. I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever heard of it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s something I gained back in Pellsglade. Not something I¡¯d really been able to put into effect before.¡± Clay shrugged, but privately he was gloating. If his little crew of initiates had nearly been able to put down Orn, what were they going to do to a bunch of unprepared cadets?


    ¡°So that¡¯s why I was so fast!¡± Anne laughed, still massaging her hands. ¡°It was like everything else was moving in slow motion. That was incredible.¡±


    ¡°Not quite enough, though.¡± Xavien shook his head and rubbed his shoulder. ¡°We should continue to practice this¡­type of attack. At least until the festival.¡±


    Jack nodded. ¡°I agree. The boost was nice, but it was difficult to adjust to for a few moments. Timing¡¯s going to be critical.¡±


    Natalie was frowning. ¡°Will the Council accept it, though? They may not consider it a valid victory¡­¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯d like to hear them explain why.¡± Lawrence grimaced. ¡°They¡¯re perfectly fine with people dueling one another when they aren¡¯t equal levels. Why should they care about something like this?¡±


    It was a good question, and the others grumbled a little. Orn looked a little troubled, so Clay spoke up. ¡°Whether they agree with our tactics or not, it¡¯ll still be a good experience. If we ever want to help people, we¡¯ll need to get used to using every advantage we can. The monsters certainly aren¡¯t going to play fair, after all.¡±


    Then he looked at Orn. ¡°That said, it¡¯s going to work a lot better if it¡¯s a surprise. Can we count on you keeping it close, Sir Orn?¡±


    The [Fighter] blinked. Then a slow smile grew across his bluff features. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t see any problem with that, Sir Clay. It¡¯s not my business to stick my nose into every little thing¡ªand that last fight was actually a really good one! In fact, I might even get close to my next level¡­¡±


    Clay blinked as the Armsman trailed off. He¡¯d known that [Fighters] leveled up through personal combat, but he hadn¡¯t realized that the practice against him might be giving his instructor as much as the students were getting. Obviously, every fight didn¡¯t benefit the man, but if a battle crossed a certain level of difficulty¡­


    He smiled. ¡°Well, Sir Orn, let¡¯s see how we can help one another out. Maybe we can all give the festival a few more surprises when the time comes.¡±


    ¡°Here are your notes, Sir Clay. I must thank you again for allowing me to study such interesting information.¡±


    Clay accepted the stack of parchment back from Master Taylor and tried not to grimace. Not only had the instructor made numerous notes in the margins of Olivia¡¯s notes, the stack of paper was missing several sheets. He didn¡¯t have to rifle through them to realize that the [Chants] were probably not included.


    Still, he forced himself to attempt to smile. ¡°Thank you, Syr Taylor. I am glad they were helpful to you.¡±


    ¡°They were indeed helpful! Not as helpful as if your Olivia had been here herself, but perhaps once she has been through her Choosing, we can bring her here as well. I¡¯ll bring it up with the Council.¡± Master Taylor adjusted the frames on her face¡ªher spectacles, he¡¯d learned over the past weeks¡ªand turned her attention back to the book she was studying. Her dismissal couldn¡¯t have been clearer.


    Clay hesitated instead of turning to the door. The scholar had been rather helpful the past couple of days. He¡¯d caught sight of Orn talking with her in the hallway, and after that, the curriculum of her lectures had shifted dramatically. Rather than histories and bestiaries, she had begun focusing on tournament rules and small group tactics, gleaning lessons from accounts of frontline soldiers and ancient generals. Apparently Orn had convinced her to help them fight in the Melee, though he couldn¡¯t guess how that had happened.


    It was obvious she was only returning his notes now for the same reason that Orn had ¡®finished¡¯ his weapons and armor. The Council was getting ready to send him out somewhere, and Taylor had been told to play along with that fact.


    Yet he was starting to get worried about her references to Olivia. Each time she had brought up the possibility of bringing Olivia to the Academy, Clay had gotten an unpleasant feeling about it. If Olivia received the [Commoner] [Class] during her Choosing, and the Guild brought her to the Academy, she¡¯d never have any chance of leveling up the way he had. She¡¯d be stuck at level one, just like the Gallery, and her dream of learning magic would be permanently out of reach.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He watched Taylor turn a page and decided to say something. ¡°Syr Taylor, I¡¯d like to ask you a favor.¡±


    Taylor blinked. She adjusted her spectacles again, and looked up at him. ¡°Oh? Is there something you wanted to ask about the flanking maneuver we studied today?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Clay shifted slightly on his feet. Why did he feel so nervous? ¡°I would appreciate it if you just¡­ didn¡¯t mention Olivia to the Council.¡±


    She stared at him for another moment. Then she tilted herself. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡±


    Clay gritted his teeth and tried to keep his hands from clenching. ¡°I believe she would be happier in Pellsglade, Syr.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I can understand that. Some people are quite content in more¡­ provincial areas.¡± She looked down at her book and then sighed, sitting back in her chair. ¡°Yet are you sure that this Olivia is one of those people?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I am sure, yeah.¡±


    Taylor smiled a little crookedly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I agree. Her work on these subjects suggests she has an incredibly active mind, and she cannot be entirely happy with only a simple Shrine¡¯s library to study. What do you think she could accomplish as someone with access to the Guild¡¯s library and resources? She¡¯d practically die of happiness, I¡¯d wager.¡±


    He gave her a tight smile in return. ¡°If she receives an adventurer¡¯s [Class], I am sure that she¡¯d enjoy that opportunity. Otherwise, I believe she will want to pursue her own goals.¡±


    ¡°And those goals would be easier in some backwater compared to the Academy?¡± Taylor¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Or are you concerned that she would be at risk here? The Academy is one of the safest places in the Kingdom! So that cannot be it. You clearly get along; I¡¯d say you care for her deeply, so it cannot be jealousy. But what could she possibly do there that she could not¡­. here¡­¡±


    She trailed off, and he saw her eyes widen slightly behind the spectacles. ¡°Oh. Oh I see, now.¡±


    Clay winced. ¡°Syr Taylor¡ª¡±


    ¡°One moment, Sir Clay. Let me think.¡± Taylor looked away, staring at her piles of books for a moment. Her eyes roamed around the office as if looking for an answer.


    Then she shoved herself out of her seat and started to pace around the place, her robes brushing across the foundations of various literary towers. ¡°I believed it was infatuation. I couldn¡¯t blame her, but now¡­ She must have some other motivation. Still, we anticipated this problem, but not so fast, so soon. Her Choosing is barely six months away. Easy enough to collect her, but the Rector may not cooperate. Involving the High Rectors would cause delays¡­¡±


    Taylor came to a halt, tilting her head back to study the ceiling. Clay waited, trying to contain his own impatience. Parchment crumpled slightly under his fingers and he glanced down with faint horror to see he¡¯d smudged a section of the notes.


    When he looked up again, Taylor was watching him, her eyes no longer vague. They were sharp, like dark gems that were scouring him for clues.


    Then she sighed. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I cannot promise not to mention Novice Olivia Shrinekept to the Council, Sir Clay. They already know about her, though I have not explained the depth of her skill, and I remained ignorant of her apparent¡­ goals at the time I reported to them. When last we spoke, they believed that having her here would help you feel more comfortable as a member of the Guild. They wanted to be able to use your¡­ fondness for her to keep you from going Rogue, or from attempting to leave.¡±


    Clay blinked. He felt like Orn had smashed him upside the head. ¡°M-my what? I don¡¯t know¡ª¡±


    She laughed, a curious, high-pitched sound. He fell quiet as she waved away his protests. ¡°It¡¯s amazing sometimes how they forget what it was like¡ªthey forget how young you are. Your accomplishments and abilities cloud their judgment.¡±


    Then her expression grew more serious. ¡°I believe that their actual plan was to send you out on a mission in early spring, and then reward you¡ªif you survived¡ªby sending you back to Pellsglade with instructions to bring her here after her Choosing. They believed she would most likely be a [Commoner], but it isn¡¯t uncommon for people to bring their¡­ interests with them to live at the Academy.¡±


    He pictured, for a moment, his mother¡¯s reaction to the idea of kidnapping a girl to be his¡­ interest in Crownsguard. Amelia Evergreen would have been quite vocal about her opinion of the situation. His horrified expression must have told enough of the story, because Syr Taylor just laughed again. ¡°I believe that some of them believed it would have been romantic.¡±


    ¡°Romantic!¡± Clay felt a sudden piercing ache through his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. It took a few moments of calm breathing to regain control of his voice. ¡°That may not be the best idea, Syr Taylor.¡±


    ¡°So I gathered.¡± The irony in her voice was thick enough to paint with. She adjusted her spectacles and sighed. ¡°So. What does she want, Sir Clay? Obviously her goals go beyond mere study.¡±


    He arched an eyebrow at her. ¡°And yours don¡¯t?¡±


    Taylor looked around the room. ¡°Of course, but perhaps not as far as you¡¯d think.¡± She sighed and walked back to her desk. ¡°Do you know why I am here, Sir Clay? Why most of your instructors are here?¡± When he shook his head, she continued in a low voice. ¡°When an adventurer has been heavily injured, or has destroyed enough Lairs, they are given the option to retire from the field. Then we are given the chance to rest from our battles.¡±


    Clay stared at her in surprise. ¡°So wait, you¡¯ve¡ª¡±


    ¡°I participated in the destruction of ten different Lairs, and went on almost as many assaults against Dungeons. Then I accepted the chance to take a position under the Head Archivist here.¡± Taylor smiled weakly. ¡°I¡¯d always loved books, you see. We never had enough at home, and the chance to live among them¡­ well, it was enough for me.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t be for her.¡± Clay shook his head, thinking of what he¡¯d learned from Katherine. What would Olivia do with that knowledge? Just the potential of crafting new spells would be a dream come true for her. To be kept at the Academy, chained like a pet¡­ ¡°She wants magic, Syr Taylor. Enough that she¡¯ll risk her life for it, if she needs to.¡±


    Taylor nodded slowly. ¡°So that is it. A dream of hers, I imagine. But why?¡± Clay looked at her, and she gestured to the books around her. ¡°If I¡¯ve learned anything, Sir Clay, it is that magic is a means to an end. A powerful tool, but meaningless without a purpose. She wants something more than just spells, Sir Clay. I can promise you that.¡±


    Clay frowned, his thoughts troubled. It occurred to him he¡¯d never asked why she wanted that kind of power; he hadn¡¯t even realized the question would be important. What would happen if she wanted some kind of revenge on someone, or if she actually did turn out to be some kind of Rogue?


    Then he shook his head. Olivia had helped him, had trusted him, when he¡¯d had no one else to rely on. He had no intention of doubting her now. ¡°Syr Taylor, is there any way I can help her?¡±


    Taylor crossed back to her chair behind the desk. She sat and tilted back from the desk slightly. For a moment, she examined the ceiling again. Then she shrugged. ¡°I suppose the best option is if the gods decide to grant her an adventuring [Class]. She¡¯d probably do very well with [Calculator] or [Artifactor]. If she gains the second one, I¡¯ll help her with her first levels personally.¡±


    He met her eyes. ¡°And if not?¡±


    She hesitated. ¡°The Council occasionally overlooks it when a peer of the Guild takes on a personal apprentice. Those of such a rank are considered inherently trustworthy, enough that they can be relied on not to create Rogues or other troubles for the Guild.¡±


    Clay relaxed slightly. It wasn¡¯t the best solution, but at least it was a solution. ¡°So if I reach peer, then¡­¡±


    Taylor held up a hand. ¡°I can promise nothing, Sir Clay.¡± Then the corner of her lips quirked. ¡°But I do wish you every luck in the Melee.¡±


    Another three weeks passed in a grueling blur of training and drills.


    Clay practiced with his armor and new weapons, trained alongside the rest of the Rogue¡¯s Gallery, and tried to survive the rest of the lessons the Academy was teaching him. Exhaustion chased after him, haunting his steps as he went from Orn¡¯s tender attention, to patrols with the [Guards], to Taylor¡¯s stern lectures and Katherine¡¯s instruction. Even his time in the library became a grinding punishment as he tried to dig up every piece of information that he could about [Chants] and the languages that formed them.


    Word soon spread that he was entering into the Melee, however, and he was surprised by the reaction it provoked. Some of the other members of the Guild were amused by the idea, rolling their eyes and scoffing at the idea of mere initiates competing against their betters. Others were actively hostile, tossing out insults and challenges, obviously looking forward to meeting the Rogue¡¯s Gallery on the field of the mock battle.


    The Council appeared to be somewhat divided, with most of them treating the matter with the same cool disdain they appeared to treat everything else. Occasionally, Clay would feel their eyes on him as he walked past¡ªSyr Marissa, in particular, seemed to have taken a severe disliking to him¡ªbut he tried to act as normal as he could. He couldn¡¯t afford to raise any suspicions, after all.


    To his surprise, the most enthusiastic supporters he found were the men and women who walked with him on patrol through the streets of Crownsguard. He already knew a few of them, given the number of times he¡¯d gone on patrol, but soon it seemed like every member of the [Guards] wanted to give him advice on how to survive the Melee. It ranged from grizzled sergeants teaching him street fighting techniques, to excited recruits demanding to know what his strategy would be for his small team. Even some of the everyday [Commoners] started to stop him in the street to wish him well.


    It was baffling. Clay knew that the Crown festival was a diversion for most of the people in the capital, but the people should probably have been excited to see the Melees no matter the contestants or the result. For whatever reason, they kept encouraging him and giving advice. Even the bards began to get in on the game, changing their songs mid-tune when they spotted him in the crowd. He quickly lost count of the number of times he¡¯d had to duck away, face aflame, from a minstrel that was calling him ¡®hero jawed¡¯ and ¡®strong thewed¡¯.


    So the days went, even as the leaves continued to fall and the wind grew colder¡ªand each too-early sunset brought the festival closer.


    The week before the Crown festival, Clay walked into Syr Katherine¡¯s office and found her at the window.


    She was staring out into the courtyard outside, watching some of the cadets practicing in the yard down below. Her face was unreadable, a mask that Clay had grown used to over the past few weeks. When he closed the door, she half turned to look at him, her cool emerald gaze sweeping over to him. ¡°Sir Clay. I have news for you.¡±


    The way she¡¯d said it was not encouraging; it was not the introduction someone would give a person before congratulating them. Dreading whatever new plot that the Council had cooked up for him, Clay braced himself. ¡°Yes, Syr Katherine?¡±


    Katherine turned from the window and gestured for him to proceed to the chair in front of her desk. ¡°First, allow me to congratulate you on your progress so far. You¡¯ve learned much, much faster than I had anticipated. Your ability with these spells is something to be proud of.¡±


    He felt his stomach turn a little. ¡°Thank you, Syr.¡±


    ¡°I have also informed the Council of your progress.¡± He paused partway down in the chair. She raised an eyebrow, and he finished sitting. ¡°They were¡­ impressed. So impressed, in fact, that some of them are wondering if you should already join the teams already in the field. Your assessments by Syr Taylor and Sir Orn support that idea, but the members of the Council would still appreciate the chance to give you more time to adjust to things here before we send you out again.¡±


    He managed to not grit his teeth. It wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d even sent him out the first time. ¡°I understand, Syr Katherine.¡±


    Katherine¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°Those same voices advocated caution in allowing you to join in the Melee, but they were persuaded by the rest. I believe they may use it as a test, of sorts. To see if you are genuinely ready to join the ranks of the heroes in the field. They will be watching your teamwork and leadership very closely, so I hope you do your best.¡±


    Clay nodded, feeling another burst of anxiety rush over him. The stakes for the Melee had already been high, but now apparently they had been ratcheted up just that much more. He inclined his head. ¡°We¡¯ll do our best, Syr Katherine.¡±


    ¡°I know you will.¡± She paused, looking back out of the window. When she continued, her voice had grown even more cool and calm than usual. ¡°There is another matter I need to discuss with you.¡±


    There was another pause. Clay was starting to wonder what she was worried about when she abruptly turned back to face him. ¡°Some of the heroes sent out on missions earlier are now returning in time to join the Melee.¡± He felt a burst of hope, wondering if his friends from Pellsglade had made it back already. ¡°One of them is the team led by Sir Leonard.¡±


    The sudden change in expectations made his mouth feel like it had been filled with ash. Katherine was watching him, clearly expecting a response. He forced a smile. ¡°Thank you for letting me know, Syr Katherine.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°I have been instructed to tell you that any conflict between you and Sir Leonard is to be restrained by the boundaries of the Guild¡¯s laws. No duels are permitted between you, and you will not be assigned to his team for his next mission. As far as the Guild is concerned, you are two heroes who happen to have had an unfortunate introduction. No feuding, no grudges, nothing more. Am I understood?¡±


    There was absolutely no chance that Sir Leonard was going to forget the contempt Clay had shown for him. As for his part, Clay had no intention to forget the way Leonard had practically staked Olivia out as bait in the Tanglewood, just to have a shot at catching him. Still, she was once again expecting an answer. ¡°Yes, Syr Katherine.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She watched him for a moment longer. Then she spoke in a speculative tone. ¡°Now, if you happen to meet him in the Melee, I expect you both to conform to the rules of the contest. No crippling wounds, no intentionally dangerous attacks. An opponent who is helpless, is struck at least three times, or has surrendered is no longer a participant. Anything beyond that will attract the Council¡¯s attention¡­ and their ire. Again, am I understood?¡±


    He nodded, and she sighed. ¡°I am glad to hear it.¡± She shook her head. ¡°As if the Guild does not have enough to worry about. These divisions do almost as much harm as the monsters.¡±


    ¡°If you say so, Syr.¡± Clay winced as she gave him a level look. He needed to change the subject quickly. ¡°Syr Katherine, I do have one other question. About the Council, and the Melee.¡±


    Katherine studied him for a moment, clearly expecting some protest. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°If an initiate defeats a cadet in the Melee, could that count towards their cadet¡¯s trial?¡±


    Whatever question she had been expecting, it was clear that hadn¡¯t been it. She blinked once, twice, and then frowned. ¡°I¡­ do not know. I have heard of cadets who performed extremely well receiving the chance to advance in rank, but initiates are not usually a part of the Melee¡­ and they usually perform extremely poorly. To be honest, the expectations for your success are not high, Sir Clay. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I just wanted to know.¡± Sir Clay smiled, and the expression felt mostly genuine. ¡°Thank you for the information. Should we get started on the lesson?¡±


    Katherine hesitated, a small fraction of a moment where she seemed to want to continue the conversation. Then she nodded and went to retrieve her book of [Chants]. After all, he still had plenty to learn.

 B2Ch9: The Lesser Melee

    The day of the festival dawned with clouds overhead.


    Clay watched those clouds with a jaded eye. His regular instruction had been canceled for the day, and the entire Academy seemed to be headed for the festival grounds, but he still nursed the half-formed fear that rain would cancel the whole event. He¡¯d planned for weeks now; would it all be ruined by an errant rumble of thunder?


    He needn¡¯t have worried, though, because it seemed like nothing could have stopped half of Crownsguard from turning out at the tournament grounds east of the city. The streets were crowded with people flowing out past the eastern walls, filling the temporary stages that the [Guards] had set up earlier in the day.


    The number of people dwarfed any festival that Clay had ever seen. It seemed like there were people everywhere, talking, laughing, and arguing. Sellers were hawking their wares in all directions, even as adventurers and [Nobles] moved around the field, preparing for the various contests that were planned for later in the day.


    Some of the [Nobles] had started up things in the jousting lists. He was halfway tempted to watch the nobility clashing with their armored horses and brightly painted lances, but the joust had never been the main event that people looked forward to in the Crown festival.


    No, that honor had been given to the Melees.


    There were three of them, separated by the quality and level of the adventurers involved. The first was called the Common Melee, and was made up of the [Guards] and other [Commoners]. Technically, anyone could participate, but only a fool entered without some form of armor or battle experience. Two grand teams formed on opposite sides of the field, and at a signal, they charged at each other, blunted weapons held high. The team whose banner-bearer was captured and defeated lost, and the victors took home the tokens of their conquest. Healers stood by to address the injured, many looking overworked and irritated at the sport.


    The second Melee, the Lesser Melee, was where Clay and the Rogue¡¯s Gallery were going to participate. It was full of cadets and journeymen, with initiates technically allowed, but practically never seen. Just as with the Common Melee, two grand teams would be formed with a single banner-bearer. Unlike the Common Melee, the grand armies would be subdivided into smaller teams, in imitation of adventurers being sent out on missions. Also, unlike the Common Melee, magic was allowed, though lethal blows were penalized. Victory remained the same, however, and the spoils were much larger, especially for the team that took the other army¡¯s banner.


    Later in the day would be the High Melee, the one reserved for skilled journeymen, peers, and masters of the Guild. Though fewer in number, the power on display would be enough to overawe anyone who might have been impressed by the brute numbers of the Common, or the enthusiasm of the Lesser. Stories of the High Melee had even reached Clay¡¯s ears in Pellsglade. He only hoped that he would not be beaten up too badly to enjoy it now; it was easy to imagine Charles and Enessa grimacing with envy over it.


    He caught sight of Jack and the others, already in their armor. Each contestant in the Melee was given a simple set of padded armor. It was mostly just a cloth gambeson with a chestplate, along with a few bits of plate along the arms and legs, and a simple helmet that lacked a faceplate. Orn likely rated the stuff one step above wearing nothing at all, but it would give the adventurers a bit more protection against the brutal blows they were about to exchange. Even with blades blunted and arrows padded, injuries were common. A green scarf was tied around each of their right arms.


    Clay smiled as he joined them, his own blunted spear in his hand, and a blunted Pell knife strapped to his side. ¡°Everyone ready?¡±


    Jack nodded with a smile of his own. The [Knave] wore a pair of blunt Pell knives; he¡¯d fallen in love with the style of blade almost at first sight, and Orn had been delighted to make another set for him. ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡±


    Xavien sighed. He was toying with his padded mace, with his shield strapped to his arm. ¡°You¡¯re sure this will work, Sir Clay?¡±


    ¡°As sure as I can be.¡± Clay tried not to sound nervous, his conversation with Syr Katherine echoing in his mind. ¡°Does anyone know where we are going to be on the field?¡±


    Anne shook her head. Her longsword was still in its sheath, and she was fidgeting with her hands. ¡°No, but I think the team leaders are getting together over there. You might want to join them.¡±


    Clay nodded, seeing a small group of armored adventurers in close conversation. He started in that direction, but Natalie stopped him, her clubs held in one hand and a scarf in her other. ¡°Wait, wait, you need your colors.¡±


    He paused, and she tied the green scarf around his upper right arm. She tugged on it to be sure it was secure and then stepped back. ¡°There. Welcome to the Greens.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Clay paused for another moment, looking around at them. There were signs of nervousness in all of them, from the way they were fiddling with their weapons to the way Xavien was sitting. He took a deep breath. ¡°We can do this. We will do this. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    Lawrence called out after him. ¡°Just make sure we get our shot!¡± Clay grinned and waved back at the [Occultist], and then headed over to where the other leaders were meeting.


    They looked over as he approached, shifting slightly to make a space for him. Some of them gave him sour looks, as if they weren¡¯t especially pleased to have his team on their side. The adventurer they¡¯d picked to be the banner-bearer, a [Dark Knight] named Andrew, grimaced for a moment. ¡°Sir Clay. So glad you could join us.¡±


    The words were delivered in an especially flat tone, utterly bereft of enthusiasm. Clay struggled to take them at face value. ¡°Glad to be here. Where can we help out?¡±


    His question prompted a handful of grumbles from some of the other leaders, but Andrew just gave him a false smile. ¡°We¡¯re going to put you out on our right flank. Syr Emily and Sir Daniel should be able to support you there, and it should be hard for you to get into too much trouble.¡±


    Clay raised his eyebrows and nodded. From what Master Taylor had said, the flanks could be pivotal to the battle¡ªbut they were also just as likely to be sparsely populated compared to the clash in the center. Perhaps Andrew just expected his team of initiates to be overrun instantly, and the other two teams on the flank were there to cover for them. Either way, it was a chance to not get crushed into the mass of teams at the center, so he thought it would be a good opportunity.


    A series of trumpets blared out over the field, and he looked out to see the Common Melee about to begin. There were dozens of people lined up on both sides of the field; it looked like twice the population of Pellsglade was down there, all armed and armored for battle. Each army stood between two tall poles that formed the boundaries; retreating outside of those boundaries counted a person as out of the battle, as if they had surrendered. Shouts and jeers ran across the distance as the two armies formed up.


    Then the trumpets blared again, and the two armies charged. They met with a colossal clash at about the center, and the air filled with shouts, screams, and the clanging of steel. For a moment, the Reds seemed like they were pushing forward, about to break the line of the Blues in two places. Then a group of Blues that had held back from the initial charge threw themselves into the center, driving the Reds back again. Their banner forged its way forward, and the Red banner fell back.


    Sir Andrew glanced in that direction and snorted. ¡°Every time I see that I wonder how [Guards] even manage to keep going in that mess. How do they even move?¡±


    It was a good question, and it seemed like there were at least a few of the [Commoners] that were trapped in the crush, unable to do much more than lash out in all directions. The shouting from the stands as the spectators yelled encouragement to either side competed with the battle cries and orders below, and for a moment it looked like the Reds¡¯ center was about to give way completely.


    Then the Blues¡¯ line fractured on the left, letting groups of Reds through. They shoved their way into the gap, circling around the Blue banner in the middle, hitting them from behind. The Blues¡¯ momentum began to fall apart as the ones in the back started to turn around to defend themselves, and the Reds rallied. Soon enough, the entire Blue line had come apart, with half of them running for safety at the other side of the field while the rest gathered for a desperate last stand around their banner. Another handful of minutes later, the banner fell, and the crowd roared in both disappointment and victory.


    Clay glanced towards the King¡¯s stand, where the monarch himself was watching the games. He saw the distant figure raise a red flag to honor the victors, and the Reds still on the field roared in celebration. They filtered back towards the stands to receive the rewards, though some of them were limping or reaching down to help half-trampled competitors to their feet. The hostility between the two sides seemed to be utterly abandoned now as they cleared the field.


    Andrew shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s try to do better than that, shall we? To your teams, Sirs.¡± The leaders nodded to him, and Clay went back to the Rogue¡¯s Gallery. They¡¯d been watching the first Melee just as he had, and he could sense their anxiety.


    ¡°We¡¯re on the far right. Remember, hit them hard from the start. Don¡¯t hold back. The quicker it¡¯s over, the less time they have to react.¡± They all nodded, their eyes serious. Lawrence had his quarterstaff in a death grip, and Natalie was spinning her clubs in a determined fashion. ¡°All right, let¡¯s get to the field.¡±


    In what seemed like a vanishingly short time later, Clay lined up with the others on the far right side of the field.


    They were facing the White army across that same half-frozen field. The ground felt firm, despite the grass and leaves, which he supposed would help. His attempt today would look a little ridiculous if it ended because he faceplanted after slipping on some mud.


    The armies were evenly matched, with each side fielding a little over seventy adventurers and low ranked [Nobles] that weren¡¯t members of the Guild, all in teams of six. His team was standing about as far right as they could go, practically up against the boundary pole. Two other teams were on the flank with them, but they had formed up a little further to the left, as if putting some distance between the Rogue¡¯s Gallery and their own teams.


    Across the field, he could see the Whites milling around, settling into their own positions. He tried to see how many of them his team would face, but they kept shifting around. His breath misted on the late autumn air, and his fingers tightened on the haft of the spear. Around him, the initiates were shifting on their feet. Far out to the left, he caught sight of the Green banner waving in the breeze. Ahead and to the left, the White banner opposed it; he had a brief imagined picture of himself capturing it, but it was nothing more than a dream. He¡¯d leave the attempts at glory to others today. Right now, all he needed was for his friends to prove their worth.


    A horn blew, and around him, all the adventurers tensed. Clay dropped into a crouch, ready to start running. Those around and ahead of him braced in the same way. Speed would be life. The tactics Master Taylor had outlined for them had emphasized that fact again and again; staying still would only invite the magic users on the other side to take careful aim. Archers would be firing too; under his breath, he started the Ballad of Air, hoping to use it to deflect incoming attacks.


    Then the second horn blew, and the armies charged.


    Clay sprinted at the front of his team, careful not to get out ahead of them. They needed his leadership in more ways than one. While others roared and shouted, they stayed silent. Ahead, he watched the enemy shift positions. Unless he was seeing things wrong, they were lining up at least two different teams to face his group of initiates. It was a risky move, gambling that the initiates would crumble fast enough that the two cadet teams beside them wouldn¡¯t be able to punch through the single team ahead of them.


    It wasn¡¯t going to pay off. Not if Clay had any say in the matter.


    The distance between the armies seemed to vanish in mere moments. Lightning began to strike from the sky; the ground split beneath others¡¯ feet. Fire and ice streamed across the distance as adventurers unleashed their magic, while others sent arrows, javelins, or stones hurtling towards their targets.


    Someone had apparently picked him out as a target. An arrow nearly struck him in the chest, but he managed to dodge at the last moment. A few steps later, a blast of fire fountained out of the ground, forcing him to change course again. Another three projectiles came in at him, but the Ballad had finally completed. He sent streamers of wind out in a rush, swatting the incoming arrows and spears aside. He still had to dodge as a crackle of energy warned him about a lightning bolt, but then he was rushing straight at the enemies in front of them.


    He focused on their team leader. The adventurer had her sword raised high, charging at him with a battlecry on her lips. No magic crackled around her; he thought he recognized her as a [Fighter] that had made a few pointed comments about Jack at one point.


    Clay waited until she was nearly to him and then threw the blunted spear directly at her chest.


    It hit her right in the breastplate, and the impact knocked her right off her feet. He saw an expression of baffled surprise as she went down. Before she could stand back up, he drew his blunted knife, began the [Chant] of the Cycle of Return, and sprinted forward. Clay caught her still struggling to rise and finished her off with a pair of quick strikes to her helmet. There was a muffled oath as the cadet was knocked back down into the cold dirt, but he didn¡¯t bother with anything else. She was already down, and there were plenty more opponents to fight.


    Except as he straightened up, it looked like the adventurers in front of him were all turned the wrong direction. The second team that had been running towards him had all turned towards the left, as if they were going to try to attack the teams there. Clay paused in confusion and glanced around.


    His team had already more or less finished their opponents off. Xavien was still smashing away at one hapless cadet on the ground, and Natalie was still looking to deliver her third strike on another, but Anne had her sword at one cadet¡¯s throat, Jack¡¯s opponent was already down with three scratches on his chestplate, and Lawrence had already knocked a third unconscious.


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    Clay waved to them, and then charged forward, again aiming for the other side¡¯s team leader. It was a [Mage] that he¡¯d seen a handful of times, mostly practicing throwing out ice and fire at target dummies. The adventurer caught sight of Clay and froze, as if shocked. As the cadet turned, Clay hurled his knife at them. It hit hard enough to knock their head back, and they staggered.


    Then he completed the Cycle of Return, and his spear shot back into his hands. He grabbed it and delivered two quick, punishing stabs to the [Mage], knocking them back and out. Jack and Lawrence slammed into cadets on either side of him, followed quickly by Natalie and Anne. The last of that team pointed at Clay, lightning wreathing their hands, only to crumple as Xavien hit them from the side.


    That quickly, the field in front of them was mostly clear. Clay looked around for a moment, getting reassuring nods from the others. Then he shrugged and gestured for them to follow him, completing the Cycle of Return again to recover his knife. The single remaining team of Whites on the left flank was already being overwhelmed by the two teams they faced. Since it didn¡¯t look like they needed much help at all, Clay led his team of initiates around the back of the Whites¡¯ line, hoping to hit the opposing side from the rear.


    Unfortunately, it looked as if the Whites had anticipated the move. A team in the center had been held back, waiting in reserve. As Clay and the initiates came around the flank, he saw them start in his direction.


    Then he recognized the figure leading them, and groaned. ¡°That¡¯s Sir Leonard¡¯s team. Stay fast, hit hard. Give them everything you¡¯ve got!¡±


    He knew, from the grapevine, that his initiates were going to be facing a full group of [Nobles], all level four and well trained. Sir Leonard had been tasked with giving the cadets experience, and he¡¯d accomplished that role. Rumor also said that Sir Leonard himself had gained a couple of levels in the process, meaning he was now facing a level ten [Outrider] with a serious grudge.


    Clay started the Canticle of Ice. He had a grim feeling he¡¯d need it.


    At first, he expected [Charms]. [Nobles] had access to them; he¡¯d seen Baron Pellsglade use lightning, and the field gave them a clear shot. The other team didn¡¯t unleash their magic, however. Perhaps they thought it wasn¡¯t needed, or perhaps Leonard had told them to hold back. Either way, they were waving their swords and closing with his friends, eager to finish them quickly.


    Leonard didn¡¯t have such hesitation. Clay saw the first spear of stone coming straight for him and just barely managed to dodge it. A second [Charm], this one a blade of ice, nearly caught him, but he smashed it aside with his spear. He dodged another two stone spears, running hard and out to the right, before ducking beneath a second ice blade and sprinting at the [Outrider] head on.


    His spear met Leonard¡¯s knife and was turned aside. Only his advantage in speed saved him as Leonard lashed out with his second knife, nearly carving a chunk from his breastplate. ¡°I knew you wouldn¡¯t be able to resist fighting me, Rogue!¡±


    Clay danced back out of range, still striking at him with his spear. The dull spearpoint struck sparks as Leonard swatted it aside, still pushing his way forward. Leonard was smiling, each blow seeming to invigorate him further. ¡°Did you really believe that you were going to have the advantage in close combat, you would be Rogue? A single cheap shot does not determine a real battle.¡±


    He risked a glance at the others and saw that Leonard¡¯s team might not have agreed. Lawrence had used his own [Charm] to blind one of the [Nobles] and then caught them a vicious blow on the shoulder that had grounded them. The cadet facing Anne had tried an axeblow, but the [Burglar] had evaded it and lashed out at the axe haft, snapping it and disarming them immediately. The other three were falling back in a panic as Xavien, Natalie, and Jack pursued them.


    He looked back at Leonard just in time to dodge to the side as another spear of stone shot past him. This time, it clipped his helmet and sent a ringing sound through his skull. As he staggered, Leonard darted in, his smile ghoulish and his knives ready to strike.


    Clay reversed his grip on the spear and swung hard at him with the opposite end. Leonard was forced to dodge to the side and block with a knife. The [Outrider] still pushed further in, obviously expecting to negate the spear¡¯s reach.


    Orn¡¯s training took over for a moment. Clay stepped in to the charge, closing the distance faster than Leonard had expected. The adventurer¡¯s eyes widened slightly as Clay let the spear slide through his fingers, turning into a broad dagger with a very long handle. Spear blade met knife as Leonard was forced to block yet another, closer ranged, strike.


    Then Clay used an incredibly dirty street fighting move he¡¯d learned from a [Guard] with a long history and a laugh like grinding rocks. Leonard grunted as Clay stepped on one foot, and then his eyes bulged as Clay looped an arm around his neck, pulled him forward, and brought his knee up with the kind of force that could crack boulders.


    The impact did the [Outrider] no good. Clay shoved him back and to the side, and Leonard nearly fell. When Clay stabbed at him, however, the [Outrider] still managed to block the strike. The sparks from the clash lit an expression of pure hatred on Leonard¡¯s face. If he hadn¡¯t hated Clay before, he certainly did now.


    Then the Canticle of Ice finished, and Clay gave him a smile of his own as the spears formed above him.


    He didn¡¯t go for the obvious strike; it might very well have been lethal if Leonard wasn¡¯t prepared for it, especially with all of his boosts. So instead Clay shot the spears straight down into the dirt in front of him, smashing them into the already-cold earth like a pile of stakes. The [Outrider] shouted and dodged backwards, giving Clay a precious moment to breathe. He started the Flame-tongued Song, and circled around the hedge of ice, searching for his target.


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for that, [Commoner]. Your tricks won¡¯t save you.¡± A stone spike dove at him from above, and he barely dodged to the side. Ice crackled as a blade chopped at the hedge between them. ¡°You¡¯re only buying yourself a few moments before the end. Soon enough, you¡¯ll be all alone.¡±


    Clay glanced at where Jack was landing hit after hit on a staggering [Noble]. Just beyond him, Natalie booted another one in the face, while Xavien battered another back with his shield. He looked back as another stone spike dove at him. This time, he knocked it aside, feeling the sting of the blow in his fingers as the spear shook.


    Another blade of ice carved through the hedge, and then Leonard darted around the hedge from the opposite direction. Clay was ready for him and struck out with his spear immediately. Spear met knives in a blinding exchange of blows. In the space of three breaths, he brought the [Outrider] to a stalemate.


    Leonard backed away slightly, his face contorted in rage. ¡°You should be in a cell somewhere, not here where men and women are honored. I promise you, if it is the last thing I do, I¡¯ll¡­¡±


    He paused, a moment of confusion on his face. The [Outrider] glanced around, as if just realizing how quiet things had become. Clay lunged at him, nearly reaching his face, and Leonard¡¯s attention was back on him again. ¡°Will you stop that accursed nonsense!¡±


    The Song finished, and Clay breathed flame. Leonard ducked away, using the ice as cover, but Clay was fine with that. He let the fire wash over the hedge, converting it from ice to steam in a single, brilliant step. A cloud of newborn mist flooded out in all directions, swallowing the field around him.


    As soon as the Song ended, Clay turned to his next [Chant]. It was one he¡¯d learned before, in Pellsglade, but had not had much chance to use. Distant Whispers was a [Chant] that allowed him to speak to someone a fair distance away. The reversed form, however, let him hear someone with excruciating accuracy. No matter where they were, as long as they were close, he¡¯d know what they were saying or doing.


    He thought of Leonard as the Distant Ear finished, and listened.


    The [Outrider] was muttering to himself. Clearly things had not gone well, and the stream of curses from Leonard¡¯s mouth were proof. Clay backed away, leaving the mist behind as he retreated. He hadn¡¯t wanted to face Leonard, really, and he especially didn¡¯t want to give the picture of having hunted the man down.


    When he left the fog, he found the rest of his team. They seemed a bit battered and scorched, but they were still standing and grinning at him. Clay glanced towards the larger battle, and found the Whites¡¯ left flank collapsing, pushing their center off balance and their banner-bearer to retreat. The Greens were chasing, and the Whites had no reserve to call on. Not anymore.


    Then he looked back to the mist, and motioned for his initiates to take up positions around it. The fog faded, and left Leonard revealed again.


    Leonard snarled. ¡°There you are. No more hiding. It¡¯s time to¡ª¡±


    The adventurer stopped, suddenly aware of the fact that he was surrounded. The Rogue¡¯s Gallery hefted their weapons and grinned. They glanced at Clay, who nodded.


    He heard Leonard scream in rage, but he¡¯d already turned away, looking for where it would be best to throw their team in next. If they circled around to the other flank, maybe they could help that side collapse next. Then the Whites would be surrounded! Master Taylor had said something about giving the enemy a way to retreat, but he didn¡¯t think that applied here. When he looked back, Leonard was down, and Jack was helping an abashed looking Lawrence off his back. A slash mark across the [Occultist]¡¯s chestplate told him that the [Outrider] had at least gotten one [Charm] off.


    Clay grinned. ¡°All right, guys, let¡¯s finish this thing off. Who¡¯s up for one more charge?¡± They laughed, and he motioned for them to follow. They started off together towards the other flank, leaving Leonard and his team in the dirt.


    It had been a wonderful Melee.


    The fight came to a close in a complete victory for the Greens, a fact that had his fellow initiates cheering. They hadn¡¯t done much after bringing down Leonard¡¯s team¡ªmost of their contributions had been tripping up opponents and sniping them from behind. It had been enough, though, combined with the collapse of the other flank, to trigger a general rout. Clay had cheered along with the rest of the Greens as the White banner fell, a good distance from the safety promised by the other side of the field.


    Then they had collected their cheers and jeers from the crowd, watched the green flag rise over the King¡¯s stand, and gone to collect their tokens of victory. None of the Rogues had been able to stop smiling, and Clay laughed along with them.


    Syr Katherine and Sir Evan had been moving among the victors, congratulating each team on their efforts. They also paused here and there to console the adventurers who had been injured or who had been on the losing side as well. Clay caught the Guildmaster glancing at him and grimaced. The head of the Guild in Crownsguard did not seem pleased.


    He braced himself, and in time the two senior adventurers came to where he and the rest of the Rogue¡¯s Gallery were relaxing. Clay and the others started to stand, but the Guildmaster motioned for them to stay seated. ¡°No, no. Don¡¯t get up. I just wanted to congratulate you on your victory. All of you performed incredibly well, especially considering your level.¡±


    Lawrence spoke up. ¡°We owe it all to Sir Clay. We couldn¡¯t have done it without him, Sir.¡±


    Evan¡¯s eyes flicked over to Clay and then went back to the initiates. ¡°I¡¯m happy to hear his example has inspired you, Sir Lawrence.¡± He looked back at Clay again, and a false smile brightened his expression. ¡°Sir Clay, can I speak with you?¡±


    Clay nodded, but before he could follow, Jack spoke up. ¡°Guildmaster, can we advance to cadets now?¡±


    The question seemed to stun the man into immobility for a moment. Then Sir Evan seemed to try to keep his voice conciliatory. ¡°Young hero, the rank of cadet is reserved for those who are ready to venture out into the world. To give it to an adventurer who has not yet reached level two would be¡­ negligent. That is the reason we have the trials.¡±


    Xavien looked up from where he had been studying his mace. ¡°The trials are when an initiate beats three out of five other initiates. We each beat at least three cadets out in the Melee.¡±


    ¡°And one journeyman, though we did that together.¡± Anne laughed to herself, though the sound carried an edge of nervousness. The Guildmaster examined her for a moment and then smiled.


    ¡°I suppose I will have to¡­ consider that as a potential trial, yes.¡± He looked back at Clay, and his eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Sir Clay?¡±


    Clay looked back at him and then glanced at the others. The light of victory was starting to dim in their eyes, but he gave them a quick smile. ¡°I¡¯m coming, Sir Evan. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    They walked a few steps from the others, and then Sir Evan spoke. ¡°Sir Clay, I believe I gave Syr Katherine strict instructions that you were not to seek out Sir Leonard on the field today. Did I not, Syr Katherine?¡±


    The [Calculator] nodded. ¡°You did, Sir Evan.¡±


    ¡°Yet here I find Sir Leonard has been beaten quite badly. In the Melee. By your hand. Can you explain the situation?¡±


    Clay came to a stop. He turned to face the Guildmaster, and though he kept his voice low, he didn¡¯t bother with politeness. ¡°Sir Leonard¡¯s team came to mine, Sir Evan. As I¡¯m sure you saw during the Melee. As for the injuries he may have suffered¡­ I¡¯m sure you can find witnesses to say that it was my team of initiates that inflicted them. Not me.¡±


    Sir Evan¡¯s face hardened. ¡°You expect me to believe five initiates beat a journeyman in direct combat?¡±


    He met that stare and smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to expect of you, Sir Evan. I only know what happened, and that those initiates over there have worked harder and come further than any cadet here. They deserve their chance.¡±


    Evan glanced at Syr Katherine, his expression still angry. ¡°Syr Katherine, your advice on how to handle this¡­ request?¡±


    There was a pause as she looked at Clay with an impassive expression. Then she looked at Sir Evan. ¡°There is precedent, Sir Evan. It would not be an unreasonable a reward, especially given their¡­ participation against Sir Leonard¡¯s team. Raising them to cadet would prevent some inconvenient questions, at the very least.¡±


    The Guildmaster turned to look at her in surprise. ¡°You are in favor of this move, Syr Katherine? To have them as representatives of the Guild¡ª¡±


    ¡°Would do less harm than having Crownsguard watch them beat our representatives and then wonder why they were held back.¡± Syr Katherine met the Guildmaster¡¯s gaze and raised an eyebrow. ¡°I would rather our Guild be known as a place where any hero of any class can be welcome and nurtured, rather than one where there are those who are forced to look¡­ elsewhere for advancement.¡±


    Sir Evan snorted. ¡°I see. You speak good sense, Syr Katherine.¡± He glanced at Clay and sighed. ¡°Well, I suppose it can¡¯t do all that much harm, as long as they are watched. You really didn¡¯t mean to go after Sir Leonard?¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°No, Sir. It was an accident.¡±


    ¡°And one I¡¯m sure you regret.¡± Evan snorted again at Clay¡¯s expression and held up a hand. ¡°Well, I hope you are happy with your promised rewards, Sir Clay. Feel free to inform the rest of your team. I¡¯m sure they will appreciate your¡­¡±


    The Guildmaster¡¯s words trailed off as he looked past Clay. When he turned around, he saw a messenger dressed in the royal colors, waiting politely off to the side. Evan raised his voice slightly. ¡°Yes?¡±


    With a deep breath, the messenger stepped forward. ¡°The King wishes to congratulate Sir Clay on his victory in the Lesser Melee.¡±


    A messenger from the King, for him? Clay blinked in surprise, and felt a burst of panic as Sir Evan and Syr Katherine looked at him. ¡°Ah, thank you. Please express my thanks to the King.¡±


    The messenger nodded. ¡°He also wishes to inquire which army he will be joining for the High Melee.¡±


    There was a moment of silence, and Clay felt his eyes grow wide. Sir Evan glanced at him, and then added. ¡°I regret to inform the King that Sir Clay was not planning on participating in the High Melee.¡±


    The response should have sent the messenger running, but instead the man smiled. ¡°The King has then asked that he change his plans. It would be¡­ a personal favor if he would compete alongside the other accomplished heroes today.¡±


    Syr Katherine stepped forward, her expression curiously hard. ¡°It is not customary for a cadet to participate in the High Melee. They are considered too inexperienced for the level of combat. Cadet Clay might be able to participate at a later¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your pardon, Syr Katherine.¡± The messenger bowed a little lower. ¡°The King then also requests that it be Journeyman Clay that participates in the High Melee.¡±


    Another, deeper silence filled the air. Sir Evan turned to look back at Clay, his expression saying plenty about his suspicions. Clay took a half step back and shook his head, and the Guildmaster¡¯s look became a little sour when he looked back at the messenger. ¡°The ranks of adventurers within the Guild are at our discretion. The King knows this well.¡±


    The messenger nodded. ¡°Indeed. He hopes that his previous trust in your judgment continues to be well founded, Sir Evan.¡±


    Clay felt like it would have been very convenient to melt into the ground, but that wasn¡¯t exactly an option. Instead, he tried to crunch himself down as low as he could. The last thing that he needed right now was to be in the middle of a power struggle between the King and the Guild. Neither the Guildmaster nor the messenger seemed willing to back down, however, and the tension only increased as the silence stretched on.


    Then Syr Katherine stepped forward, her voice even and unaffected by the obvious displeasure on Sir Evan¡¯s face. ¡°Perhaps a¡­ probationary appointment might allow Sir Clay to participate. In order to see if he qualifies for the rank¡ªand to learn humility, should he not.¡±


    Sir Evan¡¯s gaze went to her for a moment, and then back to the messenger. ¡°Very well. Sir Clay will be on the side of Gold.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. I will inform His Majesty immediately.¡± The messenger bowed again, making an entirely unnecessary flourish with his hand. ¡°Good fortune to all of you.¡±


    As the messenger turned and jogged away past the tents, Clay was left with the two senior adventurers. He wondered for a moment if Sir Evan was preparing to unleash his frustration on him, but to his surprise, the Guildmaster turned to Syr Katherine instead. ¡°We will speak later about this¡­ incident.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. ¡°I understand.¡±


    Sir Evan looked back at Clay, and his expression grew resigned. ¡°Sir Clay, inform your team of their reward and then prepare to take to the field again. I suspect the rest of your afternoon may be far more interesting than you planned.¡±


    Then he paused and sighed. ¡°Do your best not to get crippled.¡±

 B2Ch10: A Royal Audience

    Once again, Clay found himself waiting near the field, a colored scarf tied around his right arm. This time, it was a gold-colored cloth, and the adventurers around him were not initiates. Not at all.


    ¡°Are they serious? Why would they send a cadet here at the last minute? Are they asking for him to get injured?¡± A [Paladin] named Syr Annette was scowling with rage at the distant stand where a few members of the Council sat. Clay felt grateful that the distance was far enough that he couldn¡¯t see expressions; he was fairly confident that he could see Sir Evan and Syr Marissa arguing.


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s not going to be on my team. He¡¯ll just slow us down.¡±


    ¡°Same here. Should we just throw him into the mix? Or maybe tuck him back with the reserves?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take him. My group¡¯s short two people, anyway.¡±


    Clay looked over at the man who¡¯d spoken. It was Sir Bennett, a [Mystic] he¡¯d seen in the library occasionally. He¡¯d gotten the man a book or two during his time there. Perhaps he¡¯d made a good impression without knowing it.


    ¡°Great, fine. You guys are out on the left flank. Try not to get crushed over there, and we¡¯ll all hold together.¡± The leader of the Gold army, an [Artifactor] named Sir Ryan, grimaced as he looked across the field. The Black banner was already coming forward. ¡°All right, let¡¯s get into position. We don¡¯t want to give them the chance to get ahead of us.¡±


    The adventurers all nodded, and Clay trailed after Bennett as he led the way to the rest of his group, over on the left of the field. Luckily, the rest of Bennett¡¯s team seemed to accept his joining them with relatively good humor. One of them, a [Dragoon] he didn¡¯t recognize, actually started to laugh.


    ¡°So, why did they send you? I¡¯d bet it was either very good behavior or very bad. Which was it? Punishment or reward?¡±


    Clay immediately decided it was better not to tell the whole story. ¡°I think Syr Katherine said something about humility, Syr.¡±


    The [Dragoon] laughed again, throwing her head back and bracing with her gigantic axe. Sir Bennett shook his head. ¡°Well, humble or not, you¡¯re with us now. Stick close, try not to get in the way, and stay away from the heavy hitters. The armor should help a little, but if you get hit hard enough¡­¡±


    He nodded, already worried about the possibility. A level eight would seem like an initiate on this field; there were adventurers three times higher than him on both sides. The last thing he wanted was to take a full on hit from someone on Orn¡¯s level.


    Across the field, the Black army was shifting its position a little. He caught sight of one team seeming to shoulder another two out of the way in front of their own position. They seemed odd, somehow, but before he could focus on it, the first horn sounded.


    This time, he didn¡¯t even bother to hesitate. He started the Ballad of Air, knowing he¡¯d need the defense as he charged. Sir Bennett glanced at him, and then shrugged, going back to his own focus on the enemies ahead.


    The second horn blew, and a roar from dozens of adventurers tore the air. Clay charged across the field, trying to seem inconspicuous among the others. Lightning bolts as thick as his head snapped between the armies; fireballs soared through the sky to explode against shields made of air. Spikes of stone and ice shot between the ranks, along with projectiles that could have punched holes in trees. When he finally completed the Ballad, he tried to shove some of them aside. It was like trying to move a branch with a straw.


    Then the lines crashed into one another, and Clay found himself facing a giant man in armor, wearing the black scarf. He lunged at the warrior, trying to bring his spear to bear. His opponent blocked the thrust and then stepped past him. Clay pivoted, about to strike at the adventurer¡¯s side. For some reason, the man was ignoring him; we he really that slow by comparison to them?


    Just as he was about to strike, a bolt of lightning snapped between him and his target. Clay jumped back in alarm, and turned to find himself facing another man, one who carried a single sword. One that was staring at him without any intent of ignoring him.


    Clay sprinted at him, hoping that the rest of the team would keep others off his back. If this man was a [Mage] or an [Oracle], he might be able to take them off guard at close range. As long as he stayed close and kept them from using their [Charms], he might have a chance. He charged, spear ready to strike.


    His new opponent moved with a fluidity and assurance that instantly told him that this man was no unbalanced magic caster. When Clay stabbed, the man swatted the point aside with his sword. Clay tried again and again, trying to drive the man back, only for every thrust to be turned aside. Frustrated, Clay started the Flame-tongued Song, hoping to catch the man off guard.


    Then, to his surprise, the other man raised a hand and began a brief [Chant] of his own. A sudden humming noise echoed through Clay¡¯s skull, and he flinched back in shock as his [Chant] faltered and failed. What had just happened?


    ¡°Fear not, Sir Clay. I¡¯m sorry for the subterfuge, but this was the best way that I could speak with you.¡± The man swatted aside one last stab, and stepped further away, disengaging. ¡°I hope it does not place you in too awkward a situation with the rest of the Guild.¡±


    Clay drew back, debating whether he should strike again. He had to keep the pressure on, or the other man would try to use another [Charm]. Either that, or another member of the Black would attack him from the side¡­


    He slowly became aware of the fact that the area around him was relatively clear. A ring of five Black aligned adventurers had formed a small circle around him, keeping the rest of Clay¡¯s own team and the rest of the battle away. Even their own allies were not immune; out of the corner of his eye, Clay caught sight of another Black team starting to rush towards him, only to be intercepted and sent away. What was happening?


    The man in the circle with him began to pace, as if circling Clay. Clay matches his motion, prowling around the edges of the cleared area. His mind was racing. Who was this person? Why had they wanted to talk to him anyway?


    He saw his opponent smile. ¡°Again, my apologies. I know this must seem strange to you, but I had to keep up appearances.¡± Clay frowned, and then the man darted in to strike at him. The counterthrust came so easily that it felt instinctive. He watched as the man withdrew again, but he could tell it hadn¡¯t been a serious attack. Was he being toyed with?


    ¡°You see, my father always said that you knew a man best in battle.¡± Another strike and withdrawal. Clay tried to pursue, but the man gestured, and a burst of wind nearly tossed him from his feet. A second charge forced him to back away, but the other man gave up the attempt almost as soon as he¡¯d started. ¡°He always loved the Melee, whether it was Common, Lesser, or High. He nearly always competed in them too, though he used disguises to make sure that he wasn¡¯t recognized.¡±


    The man straightened up. ¡°Just as I do today, of course. It wouldn¡¯t do to worry anyone.¡±


    Clay¡¯s eyes darted to the King¡¯s stand. There was a figure there, sitting beside the Queen, but it occurred to him that the stand was placed in a way that it was hard to see into it. It also occurred to him he hadn¡¯t seen any hint of affection between the King and Queen. Perhaps it was just royal dignity, or perhaps¡­


    He turned back fully to the man, who was grinning at him. Shock made him almost miss a step. ¡°You can¡¯t be¡ª¡±


    The man¡ªKing John of Crownsguard¡ªstruck at him again, just enough to force Clay to focus again. His expression was both haughty and amused as he withdrew. ¡°¡¯Can¡¯t¡¯ is not a word I hear often, Sir Clay.¡± John tilted his head. ¡°Now, as I was saying, my father always said you knew a person most when they fought. In battle, all the pretenses and illusions are stripped away. There are feints and deceptions¡ª¡± With suitable timing, the King tried another strike, and Clay countered with a block and a stab that John evaded easily. ¡°But they are never as easy or well-concealed as they would be in a court or a dining room. Things grow¡­ simpler here, on a plain field, with steel in hand.¡±


    Clay watched him closely, his mind whirling. He couldn¡¯t fight the King, could he? If he surrendered, would the King be offended? Would he be mad if Clay managed to land a blow? It didn¡¯t seem likely, given how things had been going so far, but if he did strike the King, would he be executed? Or would the Guild just lock him up somewhere dark for the rest of time?


    He shook his head, trying to focus on the task ahead. ¡°What do you want of me, Your Highness?¡±


    John smirked. ¡°Ah yes, they do say you are a plain-spoken man. They talk a lot about you, Sir Clay. Adventurers and [Commoners] both.¡±


    Clay felt his face start to heat. ¡°They do?¡±


    ¡°They do.¡± John¡¯s smile faded. His expression grew serious. ¡°You¡¯re a [Commoner] who killed monsters. Who killed a Lair, all before he even reached the Guild. You became a cadet so quickly that some questioned why you were even an initiate. You broke up a gang of killers barely a week after arriving in Crownsguard, and patrol the streets alongside my own [Guards]. You rescued a kitten from a tree the other day.¡±


    He had no idea how the King had heard about that one. The [Guards] he¡¯d been with hadn¡¯t been able to stop laughing. ¡°It was stuck.¡±


    The King gave him an exasperated look. ¡°I know.¡± Then his expression darkened, and he struck again, probing Clay¡¯s defenses. ¡°At the same time, you worry the Council. You¡¯re an outsider who may hold his own loyalties. You¡¯re rebellious; you¡¯ve been before the Council twice already, and I don¡¯t doubt the third time will come soon. You know dangerous secrets and show little regard for the wisdom of others. You even associate with [Knaves], [Burglars], and other outcasts. You had to be threatened into swearing the Adventurer¡¯s Oath.¡±


    Clay shuffled slightly, feeling a spark of resentment burn to life. He struck out at the King on his own this time, pressing the attack for a handful of strikes. ¡°I¡¯ve never put anyone at risk. All I want to do is fight monsters and help people.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve heard.¡± The King blocked each strike and then spun away. A cocky smile flashed across his face. ¡°But which of the things I¡¯ve heard are true? Are you a rebel? A Rogue? Are you a sincere hero, or an ambitious threat? Who are you, Clay Evergreen, Commoner Hero?¡±


    The question was impossible to answer. Clay shrugged. ¡°I am who I am. How am I supposed to prove that?¡±


    King John nodded. ¡°You see my problem, then. Many people have told me who you are. Here is your chance to show me.¡± He stopped circling. ¡°Come at me with everything you are. Everything you know, everything you can do. Show me.¡±


    Clay weighed the problem in his head for a moment. The consequences of fighting a personal duel with the King were probably pretty severe. Sir Evan would probably prefer it if he just surrendered; Syr Katherine might have agreed, if Clay had the chance to ask her. None of the other adventurers would even blame him for it. Even setting the royal dignity aside, King John likely had years of training and several levels on him.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Then he set all of that aside and charged.


    John gave a wild laugh as Clay closed with him, falling into a defensive stance. Clay didn¡¯t laugh or roar. He just started the [Chant] for the Drums of the Earth, hoping to throw the King off balance. As he drew close, he unleashed stab after stab aimed for the [Noble]¡¯s torso. All he would need was a handful of strikes, and he¡¯d win.


    His hopes for a quick victory were dashed a moment later as the King blurred into motion. [Nobles] had [Fortitude] and [Valor] as their main [Stats], which gave them the speed and endurance to fight for longer than most could expect. King John appeared to have developed that skill to the limit. His sword seemed to almost vanish from sight as he turned Clay¡¯s thrusts aside, always keeping ahead of the spearpoint. Clay continued the attack. He knew he had the advantage in strength, thanks to his higher [Might]. If he could force the man into a struggle for leverage, he might be able to rely on brute force to win the day.


    Unfortunately, John gave him no chance to reach that point. The [Noble] continued to dodge and deflect, giving ground for a while. Then he began to counterattack, the longsword flickering out to strike at Clay. Despite his advantage in reach, Clay had to pull back to avoid being hit. John followed him, forcing Clay back onto the defensive. A mocking grin was clear under his helmet, and Clay grunted as the dull blade passed by his face so close that he could feel the wind from it on his nose.


    Then, Drums of the Earth finished, and he focused on the ground beneath the King¡¯s feet. He saw the guards around them shift as the earth shook, and he grinned as he expected John to stumble.


    Then he realized John had been whispering something too.


    His jaw dropped as the King rose above the shaking ground, hovering above it without a care in the world. The fact that the King knew Floating Step exploded into Clay¡¯s mind, just before he was forced to duck beneath an opportunistic slash. He retaliated almost without thinking, swinging his spear in a wide strike at John¡¯s midsection. John caught it with his blade, and the relative lack of friction sent him skidding backwards with a wild laugh.


    Clay frowned and started the Flame-tongued Song, hoping the close quarters would make it impossible to avoid. The Guild would just have to forgive him for roasting the monarch a little.


    John tilted his head as the ground stopped shaking, and then he drifted back down to earth. He straightened up and made a gesture, and Clay was forced to throw himself to the side as lightning crackled out at him. There was no chance to stay at long range; Clay charged in again, even while the King backed up and fired bolt after bolt.


    He caught the last bolt on his spear, ignoring the way the crackling blast seemed to shake the weapon, and then swung at the King again. John ducked and then lunged, the point of his sword nearly catching Clay in the stomach. Clay just barely twisted out of the way, and he choked up on the spear enough that he could deliver another three quick stabs to John¡¯s chest. All of them were turned aside or dodged, the [Noble] still putting his superior speed to good use. Worse, he was muttering something as he fought, and a part of Clay thought he recognized the [Chant].


    Clay completed the Flame-tongued Song anyway, breathing out a wave of flame. John winced and completed the [Chant] of the Vanishing Ember a heartbeat later. The reversed form of Spontaneous Spark activated immediately, and Clay¡¯s grunted as it tried to extinguish the fire he¡¯d summoned. A familiar strain pushed against him; Syr Katherine had forced him to oppose her in [Chants] time after time, and now the practice proved useful as he pushed back against John¡¯s attempt to frustrate him again.


    The flames of the Song flickered and sputtered, but John growled a curse and jumped backward as the pressure abruptly faded. Apparently, his [Will] didn¡¯t match Clay¡¯s after all. His fire chased the [Noble] around the circle for a moment, and then John¡¯s fingers snapped out, and a wave of wind pushed the flames back in on Clay in a roiling cloud of fire.


    Clay released the Song and dodged as his own flames nearly washed over him. He¡¯d almost forgotten the [Noble] could use [Charms]; his use of [Chants] had blinded him. A poor excuse, and one that wouldn¡¯t help him if John caught him again.


    The King was grinning at him, and Clay shook his head and snorted. Then he charged again, this time drawing his knife. He threw it as they closed, sending the dull blade tumbling end over end.


    John rolled his eyes and smacked the knife aside. Then his expression grew more serious as he once again focused on turning the spearpoint aside. Another rapid exchange of blows sent sparks flying as steel met steel, and then the King¡¯s eyes hardened, and another gust of wind caught Clay directly in the face.


    He stumbled back, lashing out with the spear to try to defend himself as John pressed the attack. The King used the [Charm] again and again, continuing to knock Clay off balance. Desperate, Clay began to run through the [Chant] for Firm Step, hoping he could finish it before the King managed to shove him off his feet completely.


    As it was, the [Chant] completed just as the King¡¯s sword slipped past his guard and rang off Clay¡¯s breastplate. He heard John crow in victory, and Clay growled as he felt the strength of the [Chant] settle over him. The next time the King lashed out with his Air [Charm], Clay braced himself and felt Firm Step grounding him. John darted in, still expecting an off-balance foe. Clay saw his eyes widen in surprise and swung at him with every ounce of strength he could muster.


    The King managed to get his sword up in time, but the blow still sent him rolling away. Clay released the [Chant] and sprinted after him, only to stop short as the King regained his feet and sent another burst of wind his way.


    ¡°A nice¡­ hit¡­ Sir Clay.¡± John smiled despite his lack of breath, and Clay grinned back at the man. He started the [Chant] for Pursuing Leap, his eye on his discarded knife, and began to circle. The King circled as well, unknowingly getting closer to the knife.


    Around them, the rest of the Melee continued, though the battle on this part of the flank seemed to have faded away. The guards were still facing outward, but he sensed their close attention on the fight inside the circle. He hoped they didn¡¯t accidentally let some attack through at an inopportune moment.


    John seemed to grow impatient after a moment. His hand moved, and lightning flicked out to lash at Clay. He dodged, buying himself another few moments. A second burst sped past him, and John frowned as Clay simply dodged again.


    Then he looked down in the grass and spotted the dulled Pell knife. He looked back up, and his eyes widened as Clay finished the [Chant]. Magic grabbed hold of Clay¡¯s body and hurled him across the field towards the fallen knife, launching him at the King like a striking hawk.


    He¡¯d crossed half the distance before King John reached out with a foot and kicked the knife to the side, sending it flipping over the grass.


    Clay¡¯s smile died completely before he found his course abruptly changing, sending him careening over the field after the knife. He heard the King laugh and managed a wild swing at the [Noble] before he flew completely out of range. Disoriented and slightly nauseous, Clay still kept his feet. He even managed to recover quickly enough to fend off the King¡¯s next charge, though not before the sword clipped the plates on his left shin.


    Dancing back slightly, Clay settled himself back into the next exchange. He needed to change the momentum quickly, or he was going to be beaten without even having the chance to respond. The smug look on the King¡¯s face did not encourage him to accept the defeat with grace.


    So instead, he began the Cycle of Return, and pushed forward to close the distance with the King. He shortened his grip on the spear, fighting hard to keep the sword from hitting him again.


    Then, just as the [Chant] neared completion, he dropped the spear and lunged at the King. John¡¯s eyes widened again in surprise as Clay came in close, too close for the sword to reach him. Clay grabbed his sword arm and smashed it with his other hand, knocking the sword flying. Then he latched onto John¡¯s armor and shoved him into place. The King shoved him back, but the [Noble]¡¯s [Might] was less than it needed to be to break free.


    ¡°What are you¡ªyou can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Clay grinned at the King¡¯s frustrated growls and focused on his [Chant]. It completed just as the King began his own [Chant], one he immediately recognized as the Pursuing Leap. The tactic was obvious; the [Chant] would probably have yanked both of them off their feet, and maybe ripped the King out of Clay¡¯s grasp.


    It didn¡¯t keep Clay¡¯s dulled dagger from smashing into the back of the King¡¯s chestplate, however with an audible clang.


    He saw the King stiffen, and his eyes went wide. John¡¯s focus on the [Chant] faded, and he glanced back at the knife as Clay let the Cycle go. When John looked back, Clay grinned. ¡°Not done yet, Your Majesty.¡±


    John¡¯s expression became a mixture of impressed and angry. ¡°Why you little¡ª¡±


    The King snuck a foot behind Clay¡¯s ankle before he shoved, forcing Clay to stumble a little. He still held onto the King¡¯s armor with one hand, but John managed to free one hand enough to start punching away at him. Clay guarded his face with his left arm as the King punched at him once, twice, and again. A detached portion of his mind considered using the same dirty trick he¡¯d used against Leonard, but in the end, he settled for a quick left jab that stung the King¡¯s cheek. John¡¯s outraged expression as his head rocked back told him he¡¯d probably chosen the wiser course.


    At least, he thought that until the King pulled him close and tried to use the same exact trick on him, which Clay only avoided by twisting barely out of the way. He growled without thinking. ¡°You dirty¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re one to talk!¡±


    They grappled for a few more moments, with the King proving frustratingly resilient despite his lower [Might]. Clay felt the irrational urge to laugh; his mind flashed back to wrestling and boxing with Charles and Enessa, among the fields and crops of Pellsglade. He doubted that Sam Evergreen had ever pictured his son trading blows with a King when he¡¯d given his son a few pointers, but apparently nobody had taken the Trickster into consideration.


    Trading punches and grips wouldn¡¯t end things, though. The King, as a [Noble], had far higher [Fortitude]. If he let things go on, even Clay¡¯s endurance would give way, and he¡¯d lose from sheer exhaustion.


    So after yet another right cross rang against his left arm, Clay gave the King a quick jab and then dropped his guard long enough to launch into a full tackle. The King kept his feet, though Clay drove him back for a moment. He felt two frustrated blows ring off the back of his armor as John elbowed him. Clay could only hope the sounds muffled the noise of him reciting the [Chant] for the Pursuing Leap. His knife was just a short reach away, frustratingly close.


    The King tried to knee him again, and Clay used the opportunity to heave him aside. John yelped a little as he rolled off into the dust, but Clay ignored him for a moment as he scrabbled in the dirt for his knife. He turned and lunged for the King, who was headed for his sword, which lay halfway across the circle.


    John saw him coming and caught Clay¡¯s knife hand as it descended. Clay grinned, and switched hands, a trick that Jack had taught him. A quick move caught the King across the chestplate, with an audible scrape of steel on steel.


    His grin lasted just until the King looked up at him and smirked. ¡°Well fought, Sir Clay.¡±


    Then the King brought up his other hand and nearly placed it, palm out, against his chest. A blast of flame roared out, throwing Clay across the ring in a wave of smoke and heat. He hit hard, smashing down on his back and rolling for a moment. Despite the surprise and the pain, Clay forced himself back to his feet, wavering in the cold autumn air as the smoke rose from his half-destroyed armor.


    The King had recovered his sword and waved him back down with it. ¡°That¡¯s three. That¡¯s three. I think we¡¯re done.¡± He sounded gratifyingly out of breath. Clay slumped back down on his butt; he wasn¡¯t exactly fresh anymore either. His chest felt a little too warm, and there was an ache in his shoulder, where the Guardian had bitten him back in the Tanglewood, that worried him a little. A sense of relief filtered through him. It was done.


    John stumbled over to him and sat. His guards looked at him, and the King gestured for them to rejoin the rest of the Melee. As they charged off, John looked over at Clay with a smile. ¡°So. Stubborn, resourceful, determined. Mostly honorable too, despite the occasional lapse.¡± Clay snorted, and the King grinned as he continued. ¡°I think the people are mostly right about you, Sir Clay. Are you certain you don¡¯t want to join my Royal Guard? They¡¯re usually [Nobles], but I¡¯m sure you could add some new perspective.¡±


    The offer stunned Clay, but he shook his head. ¡°No, Your Majesty. I¡¯ve sworn to help the Guild, and the monsters are waiting out there. I want to find them and stop them.¡±


    With a sigh, King John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ¡°Then I suppose we¡¯ll have to get you out there again, before you cause the poor Guild any more trouble. Unless you feel the kittens of Crownsguard need you?¡±


    His heart suddenly pounding in his ears, Clay rolled his eyes. ¡°I suppose they¡¯ll be able to make it all right. At least until I get back.¡±


    John reached over and clapped him on the shoulder, shaking him gently. ¡°Good. Very good.¡± Then he pulled himself up off the ground. ¡°Make sure you see to those burns. That last [Charm] is a potent one. I almost never use it in a duel.¡±


    Clay snorted again. ¡°Glad I could make the cut.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you did. You most certainly did.¡± King John idly tapped his sword against his hand, as if considering saying more, and then shook his head. ¡°Good fortune, Sir Clay. I look forward to hearing more about our Commoner Hero.¡±


    With that, the King turned and charged back towards the fray in the center. It looked as if things weren¡¯t exactly going well for the Golds, but that was hardly Clay¡¯s concern now. Weary and aching, he heaved himself back to his feet and headed for the medical tents. Hopefully, things wouldn¡¯t hurt quite so badly by the time he made it back to bed today.


    Then he glanced in the direction of the Council¡¯s stand and groaned. Every single Councilor there was staring straight at him. The chance of a good meal and a nice bed seemed to get further and further away.

 B2Ch11: Wishes Granted

    ¡°The Council of the Crownsguard Charter of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild will now come to order.¡± Sir Evan was openly rubbing his hands across his face, as if he could scrub what he was seeing out of his very eyes. ¡°Sir Clay, will you please step forward?¡±


    Clay shambled forward. He was still tired and aching from the two Melees he¡¯d fought in. The Council had been considerate enough to allow him enough time for a quick piece of bread, some water, and a few healing salves before summoning him, but the page he¡¯d been sent seemed worried when Clay had insisted on actually doing all of those things before dragging himself to the Council room.


    The Councilors seemed both tense and quiet. Sir Mark wasn¡¯t leaning back in his casual, disinterested air; Syr Alia was studying Clay with some amount of worry. Even Sir Bartholomew wasn¡¯t looking around the room with his usual detachment. He sighed internally. Obviously, something had gone very, very wrong.


    Only one of the Councilors appeared to be unaffected. Sir Richard sat as he always did, studying Clay across his steepled fingers. His dark eyes seemed curiously amused by the situation. No doubt he had some plan in motion; the hooded Council always seemed to whenever Clay showed up.


    Sir Evan cleared his throat, and Clay looked back to find the Guildmaster watching him with a weary expression. ¡°Sir Clay, for the benefit of the others, you were asked by a messenger of the King to enter the High Melee, were you not?¡±


    Clay nodded wearily. ¡°That is correct, Sir.¡±


    ¡°While in the Melee, you encountered someone who then engaged you in a duel. Witnesses state that there were other members of the opposing army that made sure that duel was not interrupted. Is that correct?¡±


    ¡°It is, Sir.¡±


    The Guildmaster studied him for an additional moment. ¡°Are you aware of that person¡¯s identity, Sir Clay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± Clay paused. He didn¡¯t think it was all that much of a secret that the King had been there. If anything, the adventurers on the Black side would have known, right? ¡°It was King John.¡±


    There was a sudden pause. Sir Evan slowly lowered his head into his hands again for a moment. Then he recovered and persevered. ¡°You¡¯re saying that you engaged King John in a personal duel during the Melee.¡±


    ¡°It was more like he wanted to duel me, but yeah. That¡¯s who I was fighting.¡±


    Syr Marissa sighed. ¡°Did you think about what would happen if you injured him? I thought you swore an Oath.¡±


    Clay gave her a glare. ¡°I did. He wanted me to fight him. Was our Oath to obey his authority or to keep him safe?¡±


    The Councilor blinked. She sat back with a frown. ¡°A fair point, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°Did King John say why he wanted to fight you?¡± Sir Bartholomew seemed uneasy, but his voice was steady.


    Clay shrugged. ¡°He said he was curious. Apparently, he wanted to see me, but without raising too much of a fuss.¡± Then he winced as his shoulder ached. ¡°At least, with anyone else. I would have settled with just a talk, honestly.¡±


    Sir Mark chuckled. ¡°I bet, young hero. You gave quite a showing out there.¡±


    Evan was back to massaging his temples. ¡°If the King wanted to avoid too much talk, then I¡¯m afraid he failed. Far too many people noticed your¡­ demonstration. There are already rumors about who exactly you were fighting, and why.¡±


    Sir Richard spoke up. ¡°Perhaps the King might not mind if the truth was revealed. Though I expect it will make Sir Clay rather uncomfortable.¡±


    Mark snorted. ¡°As if that has stopped him until now.¡±


    ¡°Comfortable or not, it was an interesting way of evaluating you, Sir Clay.¡± Syr Alia was watching him with a frown. ¡°Did he happen to mention anything else?¡±


    ¡°Not really. Mostly he was trying to knee me right in the¡ªI mean, we were fighting, Syr Alia.¡± He heard Amelia Evergreen lecturing him about propriety in the back of his mind and winced. Sir Mark laughed outright, this time, and even Syr Marissa and Sir Richard smiled.


    Then he paused, remembering. ¡°Actually, wait. He did say something about getting healed and sending me out again. That and he offered me a position on the Royal Guard, but I turned that down.¡±


    Surprise flashed across all of their expressions of the Council, quickly buried again. Sir Evan glanced at Sir Alia. ¡°You were right, I suppose. He stood out too much.¡±


    Alia nodded, a choppy, definite motion. ¡°I agree, though I will say our own disciplinary actions only made things worse.¡±


    Syr Marissa opened her mouth to respond, but Sir Bartholomew spoke first. ¡°That is spilt milk, I¡¯m afraid. Right now, we have other concerns. We¡¯ll need to move quickly. King John is a reasonable person, but he does occasionally suffer from¡­ impatience.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Sir Evan looked at Sir Mark, who was now looking far more serious. ¡°Do we have a team ready?¡±


    ¡°We do, but¡­¡± Sir Mark hesitated and then shook his head. ¡°There are three of them, but none of them matches what we would need. One is a team that needs significant recovery from injuries, both those taken during their last mission and during the Melee. Another is slated to approach the Dungeon at Frosthelm, as I understand it.¡±


    Richard spoke up, his voice cool. ¡°Far too dangerous. He is skilled, but not ready for that yet.¡±


    Evan gave the man a brief, stern look. ¡°Agreed. Sir Mark?¡±


    The bluff man grimaced. ¡°The final team is headed by Sir Leonard.¡±


    There was a rustle through the room as the Councilors shifted, and Sir Evan closed his eyes for a moment. ¡°I see.¡± When he opened them, he looked at Clay in vague dissatisfaction. ¡°Not ideal, not ideal at all.¡±


    Clay decided he¡¯d been talked past enough for one afternoon. He was tired, relatively beaten, and frustrated at the fact that they hadn¡¯t even accused him of something. ¡°Sir Evan? Can I ask what is going on? Am I in trouble for fighting the King?¡±


    The Councilors shared a few significant looks. Then Syr Alia answered in a soft voice. ¡°No, Sir Clay. The King has requested that you be sent on a mission, however, as soon as possible.¡±


    It suddenly became very, very clear that the Council had just been considering sending him out to fight monsters with Sir Leonard and his team ¡®watching¡¯ his back. ¡°Oh. And we can¡¯t tell him to wait?¡±


    Bartholomew answered next. ¡°Technically, yes. However, the phrasing of the request makes it seem like if we do not find some ¡®use¡¯ for you, then the King will. His suggestion that you join the Royal Guard may become quite a bit more¡­ forceful.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like something the King would do, but he had made the offer. Clay started to see a possibility, but he tried to keep his excitement buried. ¡°Did he say what the mission was?¡±


    Syr Marissa answered, her eyes focused on him like a hawk spotting a rat. ¡°It¡¯s an emergency at a mining town called Rodcliff. A new Lair has appeared there, threatening the miners and disrupting the metal for the King¡¯s weapons.¡± She paused as Clay shifted. ¡°He wants the Lair destroyed. Immediately.¡±


    His heart was racing again. ¡°It¡¯s just a new Lair, right? Not a Dungeon or an established spot?¡± Syr Marissa nodded, and Clay drew in a deep breath. ¡°Councilors, I may have a solution.¡±


    Two hours of arguing later, Clay finally made his way back to the dining hall. He was hungrier than he could ever remember being, and his head ached almost as much as his shoulder, but the plan was set.


    When he walked into the room, he found the Rogue¡¯s Gallery waiting for them. They looked much, much better rested than he did. Despite that, they were all talking in low, worried voices around a single table that didn¡¯t hold any food. He eyed them for a moment and then started for the kitchens.


    He only made it a few steps before Natalie spoke up. ¡°He¡¯s here!¡±


    In the next minute, he was half-swarmed by the former initiates. They rushed him to the table, while Lawrence and Anne went to grab food for him. Even before he¡¯d sat down, Jack was talking in a low, serious voice. ¡°Look, Sir Clay, we appreciate everything you¡¯ve done, but if it is causing trouble for you with the Council, we can wait to reach cadet until next year. It¡¯ll take more time, but there¡¯ll be new initiates that we can fight next summer. With all the training, we¡¯ll be sure to advance.¡±


    Xavien grimaced. ¡°I still say it seems wrong to be ambushing newcomers, but I guess we don¡¯t make the rules.¡±


    ¡°Then all we¡¯ll need to do is find some journeyman dumb enough to take a bunch of level one cadets on a mission.¡± Natalie looked around defensively as the others glared at her. ¡°What? He¡¯s smart enough that he¡¯ll know it¡¯s a problem.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s our problem, Clay, not yours.¡± Jack shook his head. ¡°That fight in the High Melee alone should get you to journeyman. Don¡¯t let us drag you down when you should be out there.¡±


    Clay held up both his hands, waving them tiredly. ¡°Wait, wait, hold on. What are you talking about?¡±


    Natalie frowned. ¡°The Council. Didn¡¯t they bring you in to punish you again?¡±


    ¡°No. At least, not really.¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°Look, you are all cadets now. The Council agreed to it.¡±


    Xavien tilted his head. ¡°Truly? And what about you?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m still technically a cadet, but really I¡¯m a probationary journeyman.¡± The Council had been rather firm about that, though he was starting to wonder what was ¡®probationary¡¯ about the rank at this point. ¡°I¡¯m fine with that, for now. You guys don¡¯t need to worry about that at all.¡±


    ¡°Then what were they talking to you about?¡± Jack frowned. ¡°They had you in there for hours.¡±


    Clay sucked in a breath. It was going to be a turning point, one way or another. Time to see whether or not they were as dedicated to the job as they¡¯d said they were. ¡°There¡¯s an emergency mission up north. A new Lair in a mining town. Other teams aren¡¯t available to take care of it.¡±


    Jack was frowning, but Natalie¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°And they¡¯re sending you.¡±


    He nodded, and Xavien grimaced. ¡°Alone? They¡¯re sending you all by yourself?¡±


    ¡°Hey, I handled the last one pretty well by myself.¡± Then Clay smiled. ¡°Not this time, though. I get a whole team to lead.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s nice.¡± Natalie sighed. ¡°Wish we could¡­ wait.¡±


    Clay laughed at the dawning realization on their faces. ¡°That¡¯s right! You¡¯re all coming with me. If you want to gain levels, here¡¯s your chance. We leave tomorrow aft¡ª¡±


    Plates clattered to the ground behind him, and he spun around to see Anne with a pile of food and tableware at her feet. Lawrence was right behind her; the [Occultist] set aside his own plates on a nearby table and put an arm around Anne as she half collapsed into a nearby chair. The [Burglar] seemed stunned, even more than the others, but shock was starting to give way to joy.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    And then Clay was being hoisted into the air and carried around the dining room. It took him nearly half an hour to get to the food Lawrence had brought him, and by then it was cold¡ªbut he had warmth enough in the half-manic, excited babble of conversation from his friends.


    He just hoped that they¡¯d all survive to come back here, and that he hadn¡¯t just signed all of their death warrants.


    The next day dawned cold and cloudy. Bright blue sky peeked through the occasional hole in the grey, but a cold wind kept Clay from enjoying the illusion of warmer weather. Those few trees that he saw on the way through Crownsguard were bare of leaves, and there were no birds anywhere that he could see.


    Those facts didn¡¯t mean that the city was barren of life, however. The people of Crownsguard still went about their business, chattering and hawking their wares on every street. Bards and musicians let their voices ring through the chill air, steam rising from their mouths. Clay felt a moment of embarrassment as he recognized that some of them were narrating the battles of the previous day. He heard mention of the ¡¯Commoner Hero¡¯ more than once.


    Anne chuckled to herself and turned to the others. ¡°Do you think the rest of us are going to get a mention? Or will we just be background characters to his rising star?¡±


    Jack snorted. ¡°As if I¡¯ll be content with that. I¡¯ll get a few songs of my own soon enough. Today¡¯s just a start.¡± The [Knave] sounded confident enough, but Clay saw his fingers stray towards a good luck charm, something his sister had given him as they left the Academy.


    Lawrence spoke up from the back of the group. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll all have adventures enough. That¡¯s why we¡¯re doing this, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourself. I just want to not be the weakest [Alchemist] in existence anymore.¡±


    Xavien laughed. ¡°A noble reason to risk your life, Natalie.¡±


    She glared at the [Orcale] a bit. ¡°Have I ever told you how much I¡¯d appreciate it if you would just take a Vow of silence? I mean, would anyone really miss you talking?¡±


    ¡°I would! At the very least, it makes Anne take a breath.¡±


    ¡°Shove it, Lawrence.¡±


    Clay smiled and shook his head. He still had worries in his head, and his body was still battered and sore, but they were on their way. The Academy had given them a pack mule and all the weapons and supplies they¡¯d need for the journey. From the map that Master Taylor had provided, Rodcliff was a full ten days to the north, located in one of the most distant parts of King John¡¯s territory. There would be plenty of villages along the way, at least at first, and some of them would be happy enough to give a group of adventurers a place to sleep and eat.


    He''d left a pair of letters behind, meant for his parents and for Olivia. He still hadn¡¯t heard back from them yet, which was only natural. They probably had plenty on their minds, with winter nearly here. A cold wind reminded him of that fact, even as the road north came out from around a corner. Even as the others bickered and joked, he led them away from safety and into the wilds of their first mission.


    It took a little longer than two weeks to reach Rodcliff in the end.


    At first, the road was fairly easy to walk. The chill of late autumn had frozen most of the mud, and the leaves had all been blown into the undergrowth; they didn¡¯t have to fight with piles of slippery leaves or pits full of mud. Cold and wind were no true challenge to adventurers who spent their time braving ice and fire; all of them had warm clothing, and the day¡¯s walk gave them plenty of time to work up the heat they needed. A nice fire was easy enough to get thanks to the [Chant] for Spontaneous Spark, and the reversed form extinguished the firepit easily each time they left camp.


    As he¡¯d predicted, there were villages along the road, though he had trouble keeping track of them as time went by. The local barons had no issue offering them lodgings at their manors, and they often sent Clay¡¯s group on their way with refilled travel rations. None of them were happy about news of a new Lair; it was all too easy to picture one popping up much closer to home. Most of the [Commoners] kept a somewhat respectful distance, though others had a habit of staring at them as they passed. The further north they went, the fewer villages were left, with far longer stretches in between. Eventually, cleared fields and well-established villages gave way to stretches of wilderness, sometimes with nothing more than a single homestead or a supply station for leagues.


    The change was a breath of fresh air for Clay. Pellsglade had been fairly far away from most places, at the end of a road that no longer led anywhere in particular. Not all of the group was as happy, however; both Xavien and Jack had a tendency to grumble about a lack of people, and Clay had to remind himself that not everyone had been blessed to grow up outside of a city wall.


    They made good time for the first five days, enough that Clay was beginning to suspect that they¡¯d actually arrive early. It wasn¡¯t that he was that anxious to go back to the Academy, but the sooner he could destroy the Lair, the people of Rodcliff would be safe, and he¡¯d be that much closer to returning home.


    The snow started to fall midway through the sixth day, and it didn¡¯t stop for another three days. They continued to head north, forcing their way along roads that were growing increasingly choked with snow. Treacherous footing combined with the worsening conditions to slow their progress, and Clay began to worry that he¡¯d managed to strand them in the middle of the wilderness without any way to gain supplies.


    Then, on the fourteenth day since their departure from Crownsguard, they crested a hill and found themselves staring at the rough, ramshackle town of Rodcliff.


    Clay led the way into town, still shivering from the need to splash through a half-buried stream. Nobody had taken the trouble to build a bridge over the creek, and he¡¯d misjudged a part of the cold, dark water, resulting in a bit more water in his boots than he¡¯d expected. The others had laughed and chosen safer routes, but they didn¡¯t seem all that much more excited about the wind and the cold. He wasn¡¯t the only one who was sincerely looking forward to a warm fire and a bed out of the weather.


    Rodcliff didn¡¯t seem to be an open, welcoming place, unfortunately. Smoke still rose from many of the chimneys, but many more of them seemed to be deserted and empty. Nobody was watching for travelers along the road, which didn¡¯t bode well; any baron worth their manor would have had a [Guard] or two watching to see if bandits or other trouble was coming close to the town.


    He couldn¡¯t help frowning as they passed the closest buildings. Rodcliff wasn¡¯t laid out anything like Pellsglade. His home had been built out from the original cluster of farms that had occupied the spot. The shops and farms had sprawled wherever their original builders had placed them, with little care for how they looked or worked together.


    Rodcliff, on the other hand, seemed far more planned. Instead of single houses or independent shops, there were clusters of barracks and rows of shops like something out of Crownsguard. Everything was clustered far closer together, and large warehouses and silos appeared to store the supplies the place depended on, rather than individual barns or sheds. The place could probably hold two or three times as many people as Pellsglade, but it seemed somehow far emptier. A chill wind did little to dispel the illusion of isolation as it moaned and howled through the rickety structures.


    They made their way past piles of discarded mining equipment and empty carts. Clay heard the others murmuring under their breath at the sight of one house standing with its door broken open, as if someone had kicked it down. Clay shook his head over the sight¡ªwho would leave a perfectly good house like that, especially in winter?¡ªand continued to lead them further into town, looking for a place with more signs of life.


    He caught sight of a building that had smoke billowing from the chimney, and light spilling from open windows. Clay grinned and started straight for it. There had been plenty of stories about mining towns and how rough they could be. The heroes of plenty of stories had to pass through a tavern full of ruffians, either in search of some villain or on the way to a distant battlefield. At one point, he might have been worried about what he would find; that had been before he¡¯d fought giant spiders and dueled with the King.


    Clay led the mule to the barn, which had been left curiously unguarded. They set down some of their supplies and then looked around. He spoke first. ¡°Who wants to go see where the baron is?¡±


    They all exchanged looks. Lawrence answered. ¡°Might as well go together.¡±


    The others nodded, and Clay shrugged. He led the way out of the barn¡ªit didn¡¯t look like anyone was planning on stealing anything, especially in the cold¡ªand stomped back out into the snow and over to the front door of the tavern house.


    He paused at the door, half-expecting to hear raucous songs and wild laughter spilling out. Instead, he only heard the low murmur of conversation and the subtle clink of glassware. Frowning, Clay pushed open the door and walked in.


    Every person inside immediately spun to look in his direction. There was a range of different people, from surly, half-drunk miners to fearful women and children clutching at each other. He could even see a handful of [Guards], though their armor and weapons had seen better days.


    Clay looked around for a moment, and then nodded. ¡°We¡¯re members of the Guild of Adventurers sent from Crownsguard. Where is Baron Rodcliff?¡±


    The question was met with silence. Wide eyes stared back at him, as if frozen by the gust of cold air that blew in from around his back. Then, one of the [Guards] stepped forward, a haggard man with deep bags under his eyes.


    ¡°Baron Rodcliff disappeared a week ago, Sir¡­¡±


    ¡°Clay. My name is Clay Evergreen.¡± The fact that the resident [Noble] was gone was¡­ disturbing. Most of the gentry held their positions thanks to a commitment to fight any monsters or invaders that disturbed the peace of their lands. Had the [Noble] run? If so, why hadn¡¯t they met him on his way south? ¡°You said the Baron disappeared?¡±


    The [Guard] nodded. ¡°The baron went into the mines, to cut back the monsters. He took half the [Guards] with them.¡± He shivered. ¡°None of them came back.¡±


    Clay felt a chill. Baron Rodcliff hadn¡¯t been an experienced adventurer¡ªthe Guild had listed him as a level two, at best¡ªbut the man shouldn¡¯t have been that easily killed. The fact that his [Guards] had disappeared as well suggested that things were far, far worse than anyone in Crownsguard had expected. How? The Lair here was supposed to be brand new, without nearly enough time to get established.


    He shook himself. The blank, desperate looks from the townsfolk made much more sense now. Their only defender had vanished over a week ago, and who knew how many people had been killed since. ¡°Where are the monsters? How close are they to the town?¡±


    A harsh laugh echoed from one of the miners, though he was quickly shushed by another sitting close by. The [Guard] shivered. ¡°They¡¯re practically on top of us, Sir. We started seeing them in the mines, and they¡¯ve been coming up out of the pits after us ever since.¡±


    That¡­ did not sound good either. ¡°What are they? What do they look like?¡±


    The [Guard] stared at him, his eyes so wide that Clay could see all around the edges of his pupils. ¡°Like nightmares, Sir. Like demons from beyond.¡±


    Clay asked the others to get settled into the town. Jack and Natalie both protested, but he reminded them he was the one in charge of their mission. He wasn¡¯t going to throw them into combat based on the half-dazed descriptions of traumatized villagers. Before any of them set foot in the area, he was going to have at least some idea of what they were going to be facing.


    The sun had started to slide towards the horizon by the time he set out from the town, headed north to where the mines were located.


    Rodcliff had the fortune of being near several veins of metal ore, and the hills north of town were honeycombed with tunnels seeking iron, gold, and other materials. The [Guards] hadn¡¯t been sure which tunnel housed the Lair, and Clay didn¡¯t want to stumble across it, but if the monsters were already coming up out of the mines, he thought he might be able to catch one or two unawares.


    As he moved through the forest, it was as if he had suddenly come home. The trees were unfamiliar, and their bare branches and snow-covered undergrowth didn¡¯t exactly seem welcoming, but there was simply something right about stalking through the snow, his eyes searching for any sign of the enemy. In no time at all, he fell back into the usual pattern of searching the branches and the ground for any sign of disturbance.


    The snow was making things more difficult. Once again, he was grateful that he hadn¡¯t been searching for the spiders amid poor weather during most of his campaign in the Tanglewood. It would have been far too easy to stumble across a mantrap hole hidden under a layer of snow, or miss a troll spider among the bare branches of the forest.


    Then he stopped. Something in the air around him had changed again.


    Clay froze, his senses stretching out as he scanned the snow-covered terrain around him. What was it? His eyes didn¡¯t find anything hiding nearby, his ears weren¡¯t finding any errant sounds. There wasn¡¯t even anything that smelled off, not that the cold air carried much to his nose beyond the frigid temperature.


    Despite that, something was wrong about the forest. It sang in his nerves, as if a low alarm bell was ringing in the back of his mind. It almost made him retreat, at least until he remembered his final few [Experiences]. One of them had mentioned a new skill, something called Ethereal Sense. Was this what it was?


    Tentatively, he reached out with his senses again, searching the terrain one more time. This time, he paid close attention to when the feeling grew worse. He put a foot forward, and then another, moving carefully across the snowdrifts.


    A handful of steps later, he found it.


    The thing was curled in a tight circle near the foot of a tree. Its skin was the same color as the snow and rocks around it, even matching the texture; it didn¡¯t even appear to breathe. He might have missed it entirely if he hadn¡¯t been searching specifically for it. Even now, his eyes threatened to slide past it.


    Moving slowly, Clay drew out the shortbow Orn had made for him. He nocked an arrow and took another step forward, his eyes locked on the creature. Curled up as it was, he was having a hard time identifying the head. Did it even have one?


    Another step, and he thought he saw it move. The thing didn¡¯t twitch, exactly. It was more a subtle shift in the way it was curled. He caught sight of an angular face, with an eye that rolled very slowly to point in his direction.


    For a long moment, he simply looked at the thing. It looked back at him.


    Then Clay drew the arrow back to his cheek and loosed in the same motion. As he did, the thing burst into motion, uncoiling almost like a snake, something hissing and glowing in its throat.


    His arrow took it right between the wildly pivoting eyes. The shaft was nothing special as far as arrows went, but the power behind his draw was enough to punch straight through its skin and skull, only stopping halfway with half the arrow buried in the thing. Clay moved to the right as it froze in place, not wanting to stay where he was with an unknown threat facing him.


    He needn¡¯t have bothered. The creature collapsed a moment later. A thin stream of liquid fire dribbled out of its slack lips a moment later, hissing in the snow before it darkened to simple mush.


    Clay very nearly jerked as a notification arrived, the first he¡¯d received for months.


    {Flame Wretch slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    He fought the urge to relax in sudden relief. It was dead, but it could have other friends nearby. Still, it was hard to fight the smile as he searched the forest for signs of danger.


    It wasn¡¯t Pellsglade, but suddenly Clay was home.

 B2Ch12: The First Hunt, Part One

    Some hours later, Clay returned to Rodcliff. The sunlight was already fading, but he¡¯d had a fairly productive hunt. He¡¯d found and killed another four of the wretches, two more with the bow, and another two with his spear. They¡¯d been hard to sneak up on, and even harder to reach at close range, but it was doable. Now he just needed to give the others a chance.


    When he reached the edge of the town, he found the others waiting for him in a small bunch, along with the remaining [Guards]. To his surprise, the adventurers seemed to be sullen and resentful, while the [Guards] looked angry and agitated. He frowned as he drew close. ¡°Something happen while I was gone?¡±


    Jack spoke up, while Anne curiously avoided his eyes. ¡°Unfortunately, someone happened to mention her [Class] to the locals, which meant they started asking questions about the rest of us.¡±


    Clay blinked, but before he could ask another question, the leader of the [Guards] stepped forward. His expression seemed just as shell-shocked as he¡¯d been hours before, but his face now flushed with anger. ¡°Sir Clay, if that¡¯s what I should call you, we need real adventurers here. Not [Knaves] and [Burglars] who are going to take advantage of a bad situation. We¡¯ll let you stay the night, but after that you¡¯ll have to¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll let us, Captain?¡± Clay felt his own sudden flare of anger, and tried to rein it in. The man had seen a quarter of his town, and the baron besides, die to an invasion of monsters. He deserved some consideration. ¡°We don¡¯t need your permission to be here, and we certainly don¡¯t take orders from you.¡±


    The [Guard]¡¯s face turned a darker color of red. ¡°Adventurers have to follow local authority.¡±


    ¡°The baron had authority to order us. He¡¯s not here.¡± Clay let a bit more steel leak into his voice. ¡°We are here by direct request from King John. Are you claiming we should listen to you instead?¡±


    The question brought the [Guard] up short, and Clay¡¯s friends hid smiles behind their hands. Clay watched the man open and close his mouth a few times, and then look away. He looked around at the rest of the [Guards], who seemed uncertain now. ¡°We are going to destroy the monsters threatening the town, and only when we are done are we going to leave. We need a place to stay and enough food to keep us moving. That¡¯s all we¡¯re going to need from you.¡±


    Angry mutters started up among the [Guards], and Clay raised his voice a little. ¡°If you don¡¯t give us that, or if you interfere with us in any way, then I¡¯m going to start having members of the town come with us to help fight. If you don¡¯t want our help, I¡¯ll at least try to teach you how to help yourselves before we leave, because there won¡¯t be any more adventurers coming to save you.¡±


    One of the [Guards] spoke up, her voice high and shrill. ¡°You can¡¯t make [Commoners] fight monsters! We¡¯ll be killed!¡±


    ¡°Why not? I¡¯m a [Commoner] after all.¡± The announcement seemed to strike them all dumb for a moment, and Clay pressed on. ¡°I¡¯m hoping that won¡¯t be necessary, though. Just give us what we need to do our job, stay out of our way, and we¡¯ll put a stop to this. That¡¯s all we want. Understand?¡±


    He waited until the [Guards] all nodded, and Clay turned to the adventurers. ¡°All right. We need to set up for the night, and then we¡¯ll get started tomorrow. I think that house over there is empty; we¡¯ll stay there and keep watch.¡±


    Xavien spoke up, his voice calm. ¡°Did you see anything out there? What are we fighting?¡±


    ¡°Looks like flame wretches. We¡¯ll check the books to see what else we can find about them, but they don¡¯t seem too bad.¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°They were all over the place, though. Already killed five just in the time I was out there. Didn¡¯t see any bigger ones, but they could show up soon too.¡±


    He heard murmurs from the [Guards], but he ignored them. Clay hadn¡¯t dismissed them because he wanted them to see that the adventurers were handling the issue. Hopefully, it would reassure them and let them know things were being done.


    Natalie seemed to have perked up at the mention of the monsters. ¡°So tomorrow we¡¯ll all go out together?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Clay smiled at the disappointment on her face. ¡°I¡¯ll take each of you out with me for about an hour. The rest are going to stay here and guard the town while we try to push them back.¡±


    Lawrence glanced to the north, his expression a little worried. ¡°Are they really getting that close?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Yeah. I took one of them about ten to fifteen minutes from here.¡± The murmuring from the [Guards] cut out. When he glanced at them, they seemed stricken. ¡°We don¡¯t want them getting behind us and hitting the town while we are out hunting, so until we push them back, we¡¯ll want to have most of us stay close.¡±


    He didn¡¯t point out that he wanted to give them a bit of experience hunting first, too. The Academy training was good, but it wasn¡¯t everything, and he was sure that if they could earn the [Achievement] for killing ten of the wretches before committing to larger hunts, they¡¯d do much better in the long run. Especially if their efforts started attracting attention from larger monsters.


    The others nodded, and as they started off to the empty house¡ªthe most northern building in the town¡ªClay turned back to the [Guards]. ¡°Did you have anything else you needed to say?¡±


    There was a pause, and then their leader shook his head. The [Guards] dispersed, leaving Clay to stand on the edge of the town alone. He looked back north and shook his head. The wretches had been dangerous, sure, but he had trouble picturing how they¡¯d killed a [Noble], even an under leveled one. Something else was going on here, something he didn¡¯t understand.


    He turned to follow the others. Whatever it was, it could wait until the morning. Behind him, a chill wind rose, promising a grim night of cold.


    ¡°So all we¡¯re doing is hunting monsters. That¡¯s great. Perfect, really! Just a few monsters and we¡¯ll be back home. Great.¡±


    Clay breathed out slowly, trying to be understanding. Anne had drawn the first straw for the day, and it was early. She¡¯d joined him just as the sun was starting to rise on another cold day of early winter, her longsword at her side and a longbow in her hand. A quiver of arrows was strapped to her back, something he hadn¡¯t seen her use before. When he asked her about it, she¡¯d shrugged and said something about noticing the need for long range attacks during the Melee.


    Now she was chattering to herself¡ªbabbling, really¡ªas they moved through the snow-covered forest, searching for wretches. Clay had looked up what he could find about the creatures in the translations of the manual that Olivia had found and had seen a typically brief description. They begin as wretches, using camouflage and stillness to ambush prey. Their tongue is like a strong whip, and they spit fire when disturbed from afar. Their hide can turn aside a weak blade or an insincere attack. Kill from a distance, take care at close range. Armor is nothing before their bite. Watch the shadows.


    The others hadn¡¯t been inspired by the information, or by the drawing of an adventurer catching a ball of flame on her shield, but Clay had felt it gave good advice. Every piece of knowledge helped, even if it wasn¡¯t entirely complete. Now all he had to do was calm the [Burglar] down before she alert every flame wretch inside of a league that they were here.


    He glanced at her as she scanned the forest and muttered to herself. She had the longbow out and was trying to walk with her hand already in the quiver. It kept throwing her a little off balance, and every gust of wind made her jump a little. Clay sighed. ¡°Anne, you¡¯re going to be all right. I¡¯m right here with you.¡±


    Anne gave him a brief look. ¡°I know that. It¡¯s just¡­ just¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to let the team down. To let you down. After all we did to get here¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be fine. I know it.¡± Clay nudged her a little. ¡°Were you always this jumpy back in Crownsguard?¡±


    ¡°No! Of course, back in Crownsguard I always knew where we were and we didn¡¯t have all these darn trees everywhere. Why did they bother planting all of these, anyway? They get in the way of everything.¡±


    He considered trying to explain that the forest was something that had always been here, but she continued without his input.


    ¡°But yeah, back home, I always knew where everything was. Which streets were safe, where the freshest water was in the fountains, which [Guards] were mean and which weren¡¯t. I even knew which bakeries threw out their bread early, and which ones occasionally left their doors unlocked.¡± She paused, and then blushed. ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡±


    Clay blinked. He realized that she¡¯d actually stolen from people back in Crownsguard. She¡¯d had to get the [Class] somehow, but he¡¯d put it out of mind. ¡°So you used to¡­ take things? But now you don¡¯t.¡±


    Anne nodded, a hollow, defiant look in her eyes. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right.¡± She set her jaw, as if expecting an argument. Clay just turned his attention back to the terrain around them, making sure some monster hadn¡¯t snuck up on them. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to say to her about her past. She¡¯d never stolen anything since he¡¯d known her¡ªaside from the occasional bread roll at dinner¡ªand he had every confidence that he could still trust her now.


    Eventually, she sighed. ¡°Look, growing up, we didn¡¯t have much. Just me and a few brothers. We were always hungry, and some days it was steal or starve. I chose the one where my brothers¡¯ bellies were full.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. ¡°I see.¡± Another thought occurred to him, even as his senses began to sing to him again. ¡°And at the Academy¡­¡±


    ¡°We had all the food we needed. Why steal anything?¡± He heard her sigh again. ¡°I mean, yeah, I did sneak some food out to my brothers on occasion, but I don¡¯t think that counted. The food was there for us to use. Why wouldn¡¯t I share it?¡±


    It made sense. At least he could see the logic behind it. What would he have done, if he¡¯d been starving on the streets, and Will or Saphy had been starving with him? He started to say the same to Anne, but his eyes caught on something in the snow ahead.


    He stopped dead and motioned for Anne to stay low and quiet. She nodded, her eyes wide. Clay motioned for her to get closer, and she did, cautiously.


    Clay kept his voice to a whisper. ¡°Do you remember what the notes said?¡±


    ¡°About breathing fire? Gods yes.¡± She was also whispering, though her breath was coming too fast. Puffs of steam drifted away from her mouth, rising into the winter sky.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Not that. These things like to ambush people. They hide and change colors to blend in.¡± He waited until she¡¯d nodded, and then he pointed at a small mound of snow up ahead, one that was barely overshadowed by a handful of bare branches. ¡°It also said to watch the shadows.¡±


    ¡°So they like dark places? Then why¡­¡± Her voice trailed off as a gust of wind moved through the trees. The branches swayed overhead, and her eyes narrowed. ¡°That doesn¡¯t look right.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°They match the colors around them well enough, but if shadows shift around them, it doesn¡¯t look the same does it?¡± Clay turned back to where the flame wretch was hiding, its scaled skin a mottled white that should have helped it hide¡ªif it hadn¡¯t been for the shadows of the branches that had caught its disguise wrong.


    Anne nodded slowly. Her fingers crept back to her quiver and drew out one long arrow. She nocked it, never letting her eyes off the creature. ¡°Will one shot kill it?¡±


    ¡°One of mine did yesterday. Your bow is a bit stronger, so we¡¯ll have to see.¡± He drew his shortbow out of the sheath, and nocked an arrow. ¡°If you miss, or if it comes after us, I¡¯ll finish it. Just focus on your shot.¡±


    She nodded, pausing in place as the wind gusted again. Some of her hair brushed against her cheek, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice. Instead, she just waited for the breeze to die down, letting the branches rock back and forth for a moment.


    Then, in a single movement, Anne the [Burglar] drew the fletching to her cheek and shot.


    The arrow sped across the snow-covered terrain in a flash of motion. Clay braced himself to draw and shoot as well; Anne was a level one adventurer, and she didn¡¯t have all the boosts that he did when it came to hunting their enemy.


    His caution was wasted, however. A fraction of a heartbeat later, Anne¡¯s arrow caught the beast straight in its swiveling eye. It twitched once, sending up a flurry of snow around it. Then it collapsed and went still. Anne let out a breath, steam gusting into the air again, and turned to look at him.


    ¡°So that¡¯s what the notification looks like. Never seen it before.¡±


    Her voice was filled with a cautious kind of wonder, one tempered by disbelief at seeing a long-held dream come true. Clay smiled at her and nodded. They shared a joint moment of victory.


    Then he motioned for her to follow, and they set off again on their hunt.


    Three hours later, Clay led Lawrence through the woods, searching for yet another wretch to kill.


    Anne had killed her second monster before he¡¯d taken her back. Xavien had been next, and he¡¯d been able to help the [Oracle] fry another two wretches with well-placed bolts of lightning. The man had been a bit more solemn in victory than Anne had been, but he¡¯d gone back to their temporary home with far more of a spring in his step than before.


    Lawrence seemed nervous, but the [Occultist] had been following his directions with utter and complete seriousness. He watched the woods with a determination that belied his inexperience, and unlike both Xavien and Anne, he seemed to know a little more woodcraft. Clay remembered that he¡¯d spoken of life in a small village, but he didn¡¯t seem like much of a farmer or a hunter.


    Still, the middle of a forest filled with monsters was not the place to discuss such things, so Clay just reminded himself to ask at a later time. Unlike Anne and Xavien, Lawrence had no long ranged options¡ªhis only [Charm] was one that could fog an opponent¡¯s vision, but it couldn¡¯t actually kill the things for him¡ªwhich meant Clay would need to get him to within range where the quarterstaff could be put to use.


    He''d just started to sense that now-familiar ethereal song, right at the edge of his senses, when Lawrence paused. ¡°I think I see one.¡±


    Clay looked over in surprise and then traced the path of the [Occultist]¡¯s line of sight. There, tucked into the hollow formed by the roots of a tall tree, was a flame wretch. He could just barely see the grey of its swiveling eyes.


    He turned back to the [Occultist]. ¡°Good catch!¡±


    Lawrence grinned, his expression a little bashful. ¡°I was just thinking of where I would hide if I were one of them. Part of my [Subclass], actually.¡±


    ¡°Really? You never mentioned it.¡± Clay turned back to study the creature for a moment, trying to find the best way to reach it.


    ¡°Yeah. I guess I don¡¯t talk about it much.¡± Lawrence hesitated. ¡°[Empath] just doesn¡¯t seem like it would count for much, honestly. Outside of manipulating people, of course.¡±


    Clay grinned at him. ¡°Well, that and finding monsters. Come on, I think we can get at it if we circle around. Keep your staff ready; you¡¯ll want to hit it as hard as you can before it can uncoil.¡±


    Lawrence nodded, and they moved through the forest. The [Occultist] did a fairly decent job of trying to avoid making noise, though he still slipped and brushed against things a bit too much for Clay¡¯s tastes.


    They moved quietly around the tree, their feet crunching softly through the snow. Occasional gusts of wind stirred the snow, and the branches moved and whispered above them. Clay paused every few steps, listening for sounds that would tell him that the wretch had moved, but he heard nothing. The forest wasn¡¯t quite empty of wildlife¡ªthere were still some squirrels and such darting around¡ªbut the lizards had already made it a far more silent place than it should have been, even in winter.


    During one of those pauses, Lawrence shivered. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be like this. Where are the animals?¡±


    Clay looked back at him. ¡°Monsters eat them as much as they do us. The Tanglewood had nothing living in it but trees and spiders. Even the trees were dying near the center.¡±


    The [Occultist] shivered a second time. Clay didn¡¯t think it was from the cold. ¡°They really are wrong and evil, aren¡¯t they? Part of me wondered if they were just misunderstood. If they were like¡­ well¡­¡±


    Like him, Clay realized. He shook his head. ¡°A person is more than their [Class], Lawrence. I¡¯m as good an example of that as anyone.¡± Then he looked back at the tree where the creature waited. ¡°These things, though¡­ they don¡¯t belong here. All they do is destroy, and if we let them, they¡¯ll kill everyone in Rodcliff and us with them. When we reach it, don¡¯t hesitate and don¡¯t sympathize with it¡ªbecause if you give it the chance, it will not hesitate to kill you. Understand?¡±


    Lawrence nodded, and Clay watched him a moment longer to make sure the lesson had been heard. Then they stalked forward, drawing closer and closer to the spot.


    When they reached the spot, Clay gestured for the [Occultist] to move forward. He drew out his shortbow, nocking an arrow just in case. It would be risky to shoot near an ally, but it was a better chance than Lawrence would have if things went really wrong.


    Clay watched Lawrence draw close. The [Occultist]¡¯s hands were wrapped tightly around the quarterstaff, which was angled back across his shoulder. It had been carved from the same dark wood as Clay¡¯s spear haft, and the one time Lawrence had let him test it, the weight of it had surprised him. It made him wonder how well Lawrence could swing it, at only level one.


    Lawrence took another step, and then another. He paused, shifting his grip on the staff to give his strike more leverage. The [Occultist] lifted it off his shoulder, glancing up to make sure the weapon wouldn¡¯t get tangled in the branches above.


    Then Lawrence brought it down with all the force of a hammer smashing an anvil. Clay heard the sound of crumpled bone and a short wet cough. Lawrence brought his staff up again and hit it a second time. Then again. After the third time, he jerked and looked to the side, as if someone had grabbed him by the shoulder.


    Then he smiled and nodded to Clay. ¡°One down. One more to go?¡±


    ¡°At least.¡± Clay smiled. He gestured for the [Occultist] to join him. ¡°Let¡¯s be about it.¡±


    By the time the sun was starting to fall towards the horizon, Clay was feeling the drag of exhaustion. Lawrence had managed his second kill, and Jack had been able to pull off a couple of kills in the hour after that.


    Which had left him with only a single member left of the team.


    Natalie had given herself better long range options than Jack or Lawrence had. She¡¯d brought a small collection of steel-tipped javelins from Crownsguard, and she¡¯d already put one of them through the head of a flame wretch a few minutes before. She hadn¡¯t been as nervous about hunting, either; it seemed like she¡¯d talked with the others while he was out with Jack, and she¡¯d seemed both eager and confident as they had stalked through the forest.


    Now, though, she seemed a bit more solemn. It was as if that first kill had made things real for her. Clay tried to ignore the sudden change in personality and kept his focus on the task at hand.


    Then, as he eased his way around a tall tree whose empty branches spread across the sky above, she spoke up. ¡°Is this how it was for you? When you started?¡±


    Clay glanced back at her in surprise. Then he chuckled. ¡°Not exactly.¡± He looked around at the snowy landscape. ¡°It was a lot warmer, for one thing. Also, I was using a woodaxe and a pitchfork, so¡­¡±


    He hefted his spear to emphasize the comparison, expecting her to laugh. She just looked back at him, her expression still serious. ¡°You still survived, though. Without any training, without anyone helping you. How did you do that?¡±


    Uncomfortable, Clay shrugged and returned his attention to the terrain. ¡°I just did my best with what I had available. It wasn¡¯t like it went smoothly, either. I think I nearly died probably three or four times.¡± His shoulder ached, and he grimaced. ¡°Probably more. And I wasn¡¯t completely alone. Even if they weren¡¯t in the forest with me, I had people helping me.¡±


    ¡°Really? Who?¡±


    ¡°My family, for one.¡± Clay smiled at the memories. ¡°My parents were always watching out for me. I might have starved from neglecting my farm if I hadn¡¯t had them to keep me fed, not to mention helping me stay sane. There was a [Guard] too, named Herbert. He patched me up when I got injured and tried to cover for me with the baron. The Baron helped too, in his own way.¡±


    He fell silent, remembering. ¡°There was a girl too, in our village Shrine. Without her, I don¡¯t think I would have survived very long on my own. She¡¯s the one who helped me find those notes and translated them for me. Helped me learn [Chants] too, even if she couldn¡¯t use them herself. Without those, I¡¯d have been spider food for sure.¡±


    Natalie was quiet for a few more moments. ¡°Sounds like someone pretty special. She lived in the Shrine?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Olivia Newfeld Shrinekept.¡± He smiled a little at the memory of when he¡¯d met her. So much had changed since then. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll get to meet her someday.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± The [Alchemist] seemed a little doubtful as she said the word, probably because she knew it wasn¡¯t true. Even if Olivia was chosen as an adventurer, there was little chance they¡¯d run across one another. There was probably even less of a chance if Olivia was a [Commoner]. At least, unless the Council put their plan into place.


    He was grimacing again when Natalie spoke up again. ¡°Do you know what happened to her family?¡±


    Clay paused, and when he stepped forward, it made a bit more noise than he¡¯d expected. ¡°Her family?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah. She¡¯s Shrinekept, right?¡± Natalie stepped along behind him, her eyes alternating between searching the forest and peering at him in curiosity. ¡°She¡¯s probably an orphan, or from a family that decided they didn¡¯t want her anymore. People don¡¯t end up taken in by the Rectory without something like that in their background. Either way, there¡¯s some story there, right?¡±


    He felt like a complete moron.


    He¡¯d known what it meant to be Shrinekept. Like Natalie had said, the Rectory took in those with nowhere else to go, and tried to give them a place at least until the day of their Choosing. Many Rectors had once been Shrinekept, though many others went on to find other occupations. There were even many heroes that had once been Shrinekept.


    Knowing all of that, why hadn¡¯t he ever asked her about it? Why hadn¡¯t she mentioned it? Had she been waiting for him to ask?


    Did he even really know her at all?


    Clay became aware the silence had gone a bit too long. He winced a little, searching for the words to change the subject. ¡°She¡­ didn¡¯t talk about it much.¡±


    Natalie gave him a skeptical look. ¡°I see. I guess I can understand that.¡± She paused, looking at a spot where the wind had just pushed a clump of snow off a branch. ¡°I saw someone get shipped off to the Rectory back when I was growing up. Family had too many mouths to feed, and then the parents got in some kind of trouble with the local baron. They had to give her up. It wasn¡¯t pretty. I guess if it was something like that¡­¡±


    He felt a hollow, guilty hole open up in him. ¡°Yeah. I guess.¡±


    There was another silence as Clay inwardly flagellated himself for being such a shallow friend. How could Olivia even pretend to be interested in someone so thoughtless?


    Then his eyes settled on a small spot where the shadows didn¡¯t make any sense. He felt a burst of relief at finding the monster, and motioned for Natalie to come and see it. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the single, shifting eye the creature had left exposed.


    He waited as she drew out one of her special javelins. They were heavy, sturdy things, but she had pointed out that she wasn¡¯t going to be finding anything of a similar quality while they were here. Each one needed to last, unlike the arrows he and Anne used. Natalie balanced the weapon in her hands for a moment, reassuring herself of its weight and shape.


    With a sudden burst of motion, she hurled it at the target. The wretch barely had the time to twitch before the javelin caught it in the midsection, burying itself deep. Clay watched as it thrashed for a moment, belching small bursts of fire in all directions. Then it went still, and Natalie sighed in satisfaction.


    She gave him a sidelong glance. ¡°You know, if you shared some of those magic spells Olivia taught you, I wouldn¡¯t have to walk all the way over there to get my javelin back. Are you still worried about Syr Katherine coming after you?¡±


    Clay waved for her to get moving. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. Now that we¡¯re out here, fewer people might ask questions, but still¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, have to be cautious. [Chants] are dangerous, somehow. I get the picture.¡± The [Alchemist] started forward, staying alert for other dangers as she approached the corpse. Clay watched their surroundings too, looking for any sign that the monsters were waiting for her.


    At the same time, the problems she¡¯d brought up continued to torment him, long after he led her back to the house where they had set up their camp.

 B2Ch13: The First Hunt, Part Two

    {Flame Wretch slain! Soul increases by 5.}


    Clay pulled the spear out of the dead wretch. The corpse shifted a little, but it remained as lifeless as he¡¯d left it.


    Once he¡¯d seen Natalie back to the house, Clay had set out again for a hunt, though this time he had gone alone. The others hadn¡¯t complained; they had already filled their day with standing watch, hunts of their own, and a bit of training when they could fit it in. He was already starting to plan out which [Chants] he would leave for them to study while he was out with their companions; with their [Memory] and other [Stats] already trained, they would probably be able to master at least a few of the basic ones quickly, and Natalie, with her higher [Memory] would be able to do even more.


    At the same time, the [Chants] couldn¡¯t do everything. If they were going to level up, he needed to find a much bigger threat for them to fight, and soon. Just like with the spiders, the Soul gained from each kill decreased by half after the fifth; it would vanish completely after the tenth, though the [Achievement] would be a nice consolation prize. That would leave him woefully short of his next level, with nearly eight hundred still to go. The rest of the team would be stuck twenty-five Soul away from their second level.


    That fact was part of why he was out in the forest alone again. If he could find traces of the wretches¡¯ larger friends, then he¡¯d be able to guide the others to them. Even better, he¡¯d be able to fight a few of them himself, before the others had to risk themselves. Maybe it would help reach third level before he had to find even harder versions of the wretches to fight.


    The notes that Olivia had provided were rather thin on the details, as expected. It did have the names of the creatures he expected to find here now, the larger versions of the flame wretches. One had been given the sketch of a much larger, longer version of the wretch, vomiting a wave of flame that an adventurer was barely managing to ward away with an ice spell. Olivia¡¯s translated advice had been¡­unpromising. Flame devils are sharper of claw and fang, and thicker of scale. Their eyes remain weak, as are their wide mouths. They burn the land before them. Their flame becomes impossible to extinguish, save by magic or luck. Those who burn may not be saved. Moreover, if they escape, their wounds become unmade unless mortal. Strike first, strike true, or suffer the consequences. Failing that, they may be lured into ambush.


    He''d read a little further, just in case the even larger versions made a surprise appearance. There had been another picture, this time of a lizardlike creature bursting from the ground in a shower of molten fire. The unknown adventurer¡¯s description had been just as poor as it had for the elder versions of the spiders in the Tanglewood. Flame horrors lurk beneath the ground. Step carefully. The window to strike will be brief. Seek where they sleep.


    It was not the kind of advice that made Clay excited to track down the monsters in the mines themselves, but it was going to need to be done, eventually. At the same time, he hadn¡¯t seen much of a sign of the larger beasts anywhere within the forest. He had found the signs of the smaller ones; the wretches were seemingly everywhere, and he was growing more and more familiar with the tracks their claws left, or the swishing marks their tails left in the snow. If anything, it was a little easier than tracking the spiders, though they didn¡¯t seem to reuse the same ambush spots the way the mantraps used to.


    The other difference that felt off to him was the apparent disinterest the wretches had in the corpses of their fellows. He¡¯d already tracked back across several places where he and the others had killed a wretch. He¡¯d seen no sign that the other wretches had been scavenging the corpses, and even less sign that one of the devils had been gobbling them up. Back in the Tanglewood, a spiderling corpse would have attracted attention almost immediately. What were the larger monsters eating if they weren¡¯t grazing among their lesser counterparts? Surely they weren¡¯t eating that many people from town.


    Still, even with the light fading, he¡¯d tracked down four more of the wretches. One more, and he¡¯d find out what the name of the [Achievement] attached to them was called.


    Eying the winter sunset overhead, he debated whether he should continue the hunt or call it a night. The danger of falling for an ambush would increase if he stayed, but he felt like getting so close to the [Achievement] and giving up would be incredibly frustrating.


    After a brief struggle, Clay turned back toward Rodcliff. As satisfying as it would have been to finish things, the risk simply wasn¡¯t worth it. He wasn¡¯t just gambling with his own life this time; the entire team was counting on him, and the town was counting on all of them. Getting killed, or even just badly wounded, had the possibility of dooming hundreds. Better to be cautious than foolish.


    Clay made for the town, half-hoping that he¡¯d run across another wretch on the way. Instead, he found nothing but cold, wind, and snow, with the occasional slaughtered flame wretch to punctuate the scenery. Slightly disgruntled, he broke free of the forest and headed for home. At least the next day would bring more chances to hunt. The lizards weren¡¯t going anywhere, after all.


    A lightning bolt tore across the snow and drilled into the flame wretch. It writhed and fell still, flames guttering in its mouth, and a hole in its hide where Xavien¡¯s [Charm] had struck it.


    Clay tried not to feel a little jealous as the [Oracle] lowered his hand. He hadn¡¯t had the chance to score his tenth kill quite yet, and the wait until that evening seemed to be interminable.


    It hadn¡¯t helped that finding that first wretch had seemed to take forever. The corpses that they¡¯d left in the forest the night before were still undisturbed, and it had taken Clay pushing them even further into the forest to find another batch of them. Were the lizards just lazy? Or were they taking the corpses as a sign to avoid the area around the town? If that was the case, the baron should have been able to just keep them at bay with a small ring of dead lizards. It didn¡¯t make sense.


    Still, Xavien had done well. He only had one [Charm], but it was obvious he¡¯d spent plenty of time training with it. The fact that it was instant was helpful, and it had the range to keep Xavien out of trouble¡ªso far, at least.


    They nodded to each other, and then started out again, searching for more signs of the wretches. Xavien seemed to feel no need to hear himself talk this morning. He seemed more contemplative as they walked, as if he was struggling a little with what they were doing. Clay wondered what could be bothering him now.


    Eventually, however, the [Oracle] spoke up. ¡°Sir Clay, are we doing this fast enough?¡±


    ¡°Better that we take a little more time if it keeps us all alive, Xavien.¡± Clay grimaced. Technically, he could make a beeline straight for the center of the Lair, but the last time he¡¯d fought a Guardian he¡¯d nearly died. Just because he was at level eight didn¡¯t mean that he was invincible¡ªand any Guardian would still be a rank ten threat, in addition to whatever other guards were present. ¡°Besides, this is your chance to gain a level. You shouldn¡¯t overlook the opportunity.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we aren¡¯t going to gain a real level without facing some of those flame devils the notes mentioned, correct? Why not head straight for them?¡±


    Clay glanced back at the [Oracle]. Xavien wasn¡¯t looking sullen or surly, but he did seem concerned. His eyes were searching the forest, but Clay didn¡¯t know if he was actually seeing anything in front of him. ¡°Because it is better to get a feel for what kind of threats we¡¯re facing. Besides, we need to clear the monsters away from the town before we dive further in. Otherwise, the town might get attacked while we are gone, or the monsters might pull back and surround us.¡±


    Xavien shook his head. ¡°Are they really that smart? The creatures we¡¯ve been facing haven¡¯t seemed all that impressive.¡±


    In Clay¡¯s mind, he flashed back to the moment when the Guardian had sent the hunters after him the first time he¡¯d gotten close to the Lair. Then he remembered the Guardians emerging from the tower after having isolated him and ambushed his friends. ¡°Yes. They are. Don¡¯t underestimate them. Part of the reason we are killing them this way is because they are so dangerous. We can¡¯t afford to be overconfident.¡±


    The [Oracle] nodded. He accidentally stepped on a stick and winced as it snapped audibly. Clay grimaced as the sound seemed to echo out through the trees. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir Clay. It¡¯s just¡­ I talked to some members of the town yesterday, after I went out. Nearly a third of the people who lived here are missing, likely gone. I feel like we shouldn¡¯t prolong their suffering if we can avoid it.¡±


    Clay paused long enough to clap Xavien on the shoulder. ¡°Your heart is in the right place, Sir Xavien, but you can¡¯t let yourself get carried away. We¡¯re doing what we can, as quickly as we can. We¡¯re guarding the town, too, which means the monsters won¡¯t get any more of them.¡±


    ¡°Unless the monsters come, and we are too weak.¡± Xavien looked away, guilt and unhappiness written on his face. ¡°I am¡­ questioning some of my previous decisions lately. When I refused to take a Vow, it was for reasons that I believed made sense. Yet at the same time, it meant that I couldn¡¯t be here, or in another place like this, where people are suffering. Was it just my own selfishness? Am I responsible for something like this happening somewhere else, just because I was a fool?¡±


    The questions made Clay pause. He turned to check the forest around them again; the last thing they needed was for a wretch to suddenly make an appearance. When he answered, he tried to sound reassuring. ¡°There are many kinds of heroes, Sir Xavien, and no one right way to do things. You slowed down your ability to fight, true, but you¡¯ve also given yourself other opportunities. There¡¯s no reason to be ashamed of that.¡±


    Xavien shook his head, his expression seeming a bit stubborn. ¡°And now, Sir Clay? Now that I¡¯ve seen people suffering, can I make the same choice? Why shouldn¡¯t I take Vows now, if it means that this mission ends that much sooner?¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Clay grimaced. ¡°Can you guarantee that your Vows won¡¯t keep you from helping people in the future? Are you sure the additional levels would be worth it, then?¡±


    The [Oracle] blinked. ¡°How would that be possible?¡±


    He thought for a moment. ¡°Let¡¯s say you make a Vow of silence. Not the best example, but it would probably give you a few levels, right?¡± Xavien nodded, and Clay continued, leading the way through the forest again. ¡°Then maybe in the next battle you see something coming at one of your friends from behind. Can you shout a warning to them?¡±


    There was a long pause as Xavien thought it over. Clay gave him a while to think before he continued. ¡°The way I see it, the only thing you can do is try your best. If this is your best, then stick to it, and you¡¯ll be fine. Nobody can predict the future.¡±


    Xavien chuckled suddenly. He shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ mostly true, I suppose. Though my [Class] does seem like it gives people hints, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°And with the hints you received, you made the best choice you could. Who am I to judge you based on that?¡± Clay gave him a grin and then paused. He looked ahead at the slope of a nearby hill. ¡°I think I have the next one.¡±


    ¡°I see it.¡± Xavien nodded. He stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. Clay drew an arrow and set it on his bowstring. The [Oracle] hadn¡¯t missed yet, but it was better to be careful just in case.


    He watched as Xavien set himself and started to call up the power of his [Charm]. It was a fascinating difference compared to how a [Chant] worked. Xavien didn¡¯t say anything; apparently voicing the [Charm] was something that people did when they weren¡¯t familiar with the spell, but Xavien had been training with this [Charm] and only this [Charm] for months. All it took for him to call a spear of lightning into being was a bit of mental focus, a clear target, and a pair of pointed fingers. The [Oracle] didn¡¯t even have to let go of his mace.


    Clay watched, again subtly jealous, as the bolt of lightning streaked across the forest¡­ and then his jaw dropped when it struck a wretch further up on the slope of the hill, a dozen long strides from the one he¡¯d been looking at.


    Shock froze him for a moment, and that was enough for the surviving wretch to throw itself into motion. It uncurled from its hiding place in a single burst of speed. The camouflage that concealed its form seemed to vanish immediately, shaken off like a dog spraying water everywhere. Fire glowed to life under its hide as both its eyes swiveled to fix on Xavien; snow burst into steam as the wretch scrambled across the woods towards them.


    ¡°Down! Shield!¡± Clay took one long step to the left and drew his arrow back to fire. As he did, the wretch opened its mouth and spat fire, a lumpen gob of burning pitch that arced through the air towards them. He loosed in that same moment, sending the shaft straight back at the beast. The thing seemed to see the arrow coming and started to dodge with a sudden sideways leap.


    It couldn¡¯t completely avoid the arrow, however. The shaft struck the thing a half-heartbeat later, drilling into the scales on its shoulder. Clay heard it hiss and he saw new flickering lights fill its mouth.


    To the side, he heard Xavien shout as the flaming liquid struck his shield. The [Oracle] had moved fast enough to intercept it, but the material splashed across the tempered wooden surface of the shield. Pieces of it spattered into the snow around his feet, still burning even in the snow. Xavien shouted a second time and dove for a snow bank, likely hoping that the fire would be extinguished before it could burn his only defense to ash.


    Clay started the [Chant] for the Vanishing Ember, mentally cursing himself for not having it prepared. He shot at the wretch a second time, only to have it dart to the side even faster this time. The arrow missed cleanly, hissing off into the forest.


    Then he dropped the shortbow and picked up his spear. The blade of the weapon glimmered in the winter sun, and Clay set himself to face the thing¡¯s charge. It darted in, apparently not worried by the two opponents facing it, or the metal spearpoint already seeking its heart.


    He watched it come, his heart beating hard and his breath turning the air to fog in front of him. The creature¡¯s skin had apparently reverted to its natural state as it ran, going from the mottled pattern that helped it to blend in with the surrounding area to a seared, black color, underlit by red lights beneath its scales. Its eyes had gone from a mild grey to a burning, fiery red. One of them was focused on him, while the other had swiveled to look in Xavien¡¯s direction.


    It charged straight for him, continuing to hiss in an enraged counterpoint to the guttering flames around them.


    Then it stopped, opened its mouth wide, and spat again, sending fire hurtling straight at Clay¡¯s face.


    He dodged instinctively, moving faster than he ever had before. The glob of burning pitch very nearly brushed his hair as it went past; he thought he smelled a brief puff of smoke. Heat flashed past him, continuing out into the forest behind.


    Instead of focusing on it, he lunged at the monster in front of him. It had started another charge, this time heading straight for Xavien. The [Oracle] was still distracted, trying to put out his burning shield in the snow; his head started to come up when the second burst of fire happened, but he was moving too slowly. On his own, the wretch would have been on him.


    Clay slammed into it three strides short of Xavien. The wretch¡¯s burning maw snapped shut as the spear pierced its hide. It twisted, trying to snap at the haft, but Clay simply lifted it from the ground and pitched it away from him, as if he was discarding a disappointing bale of hay. He saw it continue to twist and writhe in midair, right up until it slammed into a tree trunk.


    The impact seemed to settle the matter. It slid down the rough bark, limp and coughing, even as bare branches and snow tumbled down around him.


    A moment later, Clay received a notification that he had definitely earned.


    {Burning Wretch slain! Soul increases by 5.}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Lizardbane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against lizards. Bonus increases to 10% versus Flame Wretches.}


    He nodded to himself and finished the [Chant] another heartbeat later. The flames burning on Xavien¡¯s shield¡ªand also the pool of fire now spreading behind them, at the foot of a tree¡ªabruptly sputtered and went out. Xavien half-collapsed into the snow a moment later. The [Oracle] was pale, almost shaking from relief. His shield now had streaks of black across it, as if some monster made of soot had swept one filthy claw across it.


    Clay walked over to help him up. He glanced around again as Xavien came back to his feet. ¡°So it looks like these ones work together sometimes. The Undead did that, but the spiders didn¡¯t help each other out until their Guardians made them.¡±


    ¡°Good to know.¡± Xavien shook himself and then sighed. ¡°I can see what you mean about not underestimating them. Do you think there are more nearby?¡±


    He spent a moment listening, stretching out with both his ears and his newfound ethereal senses. Neither gave him any sign of impending hunters. ¡°No. At least, not near enough to come after us. Shall we call it a day?¡±


    The [Oracle] nodded, and Clay started back towards their camp. As good as it had been to gain the [Achievement], it would have been much, much better to do it without risking Xavien¡¯s life. Clearly, he¡¯d have to be more careful for the rest of the day.


    By the time Clay went out with Jack, it was nearing the end of a very long hunt.


    Each time he¡¯d gone out, they had found at least one pair of wretches that had nested together. He¡¯d managed to avoid getting taken off guard again, the way he had with Xavien, but the close call had him on edge. What if the wretches kept grouping up? What would happen if he started to find them in threes or fours? By himself, he was confident in his ability to whittle them down, but doing it while also helping the Gallery get their kills was making things extremely complicated.


    Still, it had to be done. Even if he killed his way through most of the enemies, there wasn¡¯t likely to be enough Soul in them to help get much beyond level nine. He needed their help to destroy the Lair, and they needed the strength for whatever their next mission would be.


    Jack was quiet, stepping easily through the snow and undergrowth. The [Knave] had been a consistent companion, and he seemed to be taking his job seriously. Even though he was restricted to close range combat, Clay wasn¡¯t nearly as worried about him as he had been about Lawrence earlier in the day. Perhaps it was the fact that he carried a pair of Pell knives with their dangerously heavy blades. It might also have been about the simple confidence with which he moved. He might grumble a bit about being surrounded by too many trees, but he seemed comfortable with the need for constant vigilance.


    A moment later, they found a wretch. This one was by itself, something that made Clay sigh with relief. At least it would be a simple start.


    He signaled for Jack to sneak forward, and the [Knave] nodded. Jack vanished into the trees, moving quietly for such a big man, and Clay settled in to wait with an arrow on his bow. His eyes continued to scan the nearby trees and rocks, searching for another monster in hiding. Clay still hadn¡¯t seen any signs by the time Jack struck.


    The [Knave] moved with terrifying speed, for a simple level one adventurer. He struck the wretch so quickly that it barely had enough time to flinch before both knives had torn through its scaled skin. That quickly, it was over, and Jack was cleaning his blades on the carcass.


    Clay moved over to the man, who was finishing up. He wondered, briefly, if the next kill would be that easy. He somehow doubted it.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯ve never asked.¡±


    He blinked. It was the first thing that the [Knave] had said since they entered the forest. Jack wasn¡¯t looking at him, but his expression seemed idly curious. He finished his task, and then finally looked up at him, expectation plain on his face.


    Clay shifted in place. ¡°Asked about what?¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± Jack smiled, though there wasn¡¯t much humor in the expression. ¡°You know what I meant. Everyone asks eventually.¡±


    Perplexed, Clay looked at the man. ¡°No, really. About what?¡±


    Jack¡¯s expectant expression disappeared into a puzzled frown. ¡°About who I killed. Because of my [Class].¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Clay fell silent for a moment. It was almost a requirement to be a murderer to be a [Knave], but Clay had simply assumed that there was an exception every so often. His own life was full of them so far, so he saw no reason not to expect them from others.


    It sounded like he¡¯d been wrong, however. Jack was talking like he¡¯d actually killed someone. Not just killed, murdered, and likely tried to cover it up afterward. Had he been that wrong about trusting him?


    Jack shook his head, as if trying to force his way past his own confusion. ¡°Sorry, I guess I thought you were wondering about it. Figured it would be better to have it out there, rather than leaving it a secret.¡±


    Clay shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to talk about it, we can always go over it later. If it¡¯s bothering you, though¡­¡±


    The [Knave] sheathed both his knives and stood there in uncharacteristic indecision. Then he sighed. ¡°You¡¯ve seen my sister, right? We grew up in the slums, kind of like Anne. Not as bad off in some ways. We always had enough food. At the same time¡­¡±


    He tilted his head back to look into the sky. ¡°There was a man. He broke into our house, looking for something. Maybe it was something my dad had before he died, or maybe something my mom left. Either way, he decided my sister knew where it was. He started to choke her¡­¡±


    Jack looked back at Clay, his eyes clear and hard. ¡°There was a knife on the counter. I grabbed it when his back was to me. I just wanted him to stop. After, my uncle helped drag the body down to the river.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. It still made his guts twist to think about it, but he pictured someone coming after his own sisters, with no other way to stop them¡­ ¡°Did the watch never investigate?¡±


    ¡°They had no reason to. They hardly ever came to the slums back then, anyway, at least not until King John tried changing things.¡± Jack shrugged and looked away. ¡°Thought I could leave it behind me, at least until the Choosing happened. Then I got my [Class], and now¡­¡±


    ¡°Now there¡¯s no way around it.¡± Clay nodded. ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t change anything, right? You still want to make a difference. You want to be a hero.¡±


    Jack snorted. ¡°Yeah, I do.¡± He looked at his hands. ¡°Still, I feel like I can never escape it. Not completely. Everyone¡¯s going to see me, figure out my [Class], and then they¡¯ll know.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll just have to prove who you are no matter what they think.¡± Clay clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve more than proved yourself out here so far. Just keep at it. We¡¯ll destroy this Lair and prove it to everyone at the Academy. You¡¯ll see.¡±


    Jack gave him half a smile, and they continued onward. He seemed less troubled, even when a wretch nearly lit him on fire afterward. It was an odd way to mark progress, but Clay supposed it was better than nothing.

 B2Ch14: Sudden Dangers

    The next three days proceeded the same way, with more and more wretches falling. Clay would spend the evenings widening his search, killing whatever monsters he ran across, and spend most of the day leading the others to the ones he could track in the daylight. By the time they began to celebrate earning their first [Achievements], the lizards had already been driven further back from Rodcliff, to the point where Clay began to consider making a group attack further into the monsters¡¯ territory.


    Of course, the increasing numbers of wretch packs helped weigh the scales on that decision. Even by himself, facing a trio of the beasts was risking a bad wound unless he had the advantage. With the others, it was becoming more and more dangerous as the trios grew more common the closer to the mines he pushed. He still hadn¡¯t seen any hint of flame devils, but he was sure they had to be closer to where the Lair was.


    Still, he kept to the pattern for another three days, trying to make absolutely sure that there wouldn¡¯t be attacks on the town while they were gone.


    He talked with the Captain of the [Guards] trying to make sure that the [Commoners] would stay close to Rodcliff, and that the few remaining armed defenders would be alert. The man seemed skeptical of his plans, but had been forced to accept them, anyway. After all, it was what the adventurers had been sent to do.


    So early in the morning, they set out as a group for the first time since they¡¯d left Crownsguard, and headed north. With any luck, the Gallery would return a level higher.


    Clay just hoped that they would all return, period.


    Their journey went fairly easily at first.


    They were careful as they walked, with Clay making an extra effort to find the wretches strewn across their path. The monsters didn¡¯t give them any Soul when they were slain, but killing them removed more threats to the town, so it was worth the small pauses it took to slay them.


    By the time they had reached the furthest point that Clay had scouted, they¡¯d already killed five different trios of wretches, and Clay was beginning to believe that the group tactics might be necessary moving forward. At least when it came to everyone but him; he might have been able to slip past or butcher each trio on his own, but the others weren¡¯t going to be able to do it by themselves.


    Finally, they reached the valley that separated Rodcliff from the mines themselves.


    It was a broad, shallow depression where the road that led to the mines meandered a little before rising into the mines themselves. There were plenty of trees, though Clay could see several spots where the forest had been scorched by something. Were those signs of the flame devils? The more powerful mantrap spiders had left visible marks like those back in the Tanglewood; perhaps signs of fire were the devils¡¯ calling card.


    They moved down into the valley and reached a small clearing covered in small pools of water. A half-burned mining cart lay on its side near the path, with the axels shattered and the wheels hanging loose. The abandoned load of ore had been spilled out across the snow, and Clay thought he could see burnt cloth scattered around it. Had that been a tarp of some kind, torn when the cart had been overturned, or was it the remnants of some poor miner that hadn¡¯t made it to Rodcliff?


    Clay led them into the clearing, looking for signs of wretches. His ethereal sense was screaming about danger, but he saw no sign of the wretches anywhere. Traces of them were everywhere, though the pattern made no sense. It was almost as if they had been fighting something here, and recently. Burnt patches marked where their pitch breath had punched holes in the snow, and in some places, the snow was mixed with dirt, as if the wretches had mixed it with their dying thrashes. Had they fought the baron here? If they had, why did the signs here still seem so fresh?


    He turned, searching for more signs of battle, but he didn¡¯t see any weapons or armor that could have been left behind. The others spread out around him, their own eyes running over the terrain. He saw Anne idly kick one of the rocks in the pile that had spilled out of the minecart. It skipped over the snow, kicking up a piece of dirt that landed in a nearby puddle.


    The puddle rippled, but the dirt stayed on the surface.


    Clay froze, his mind replaying those events. Everything about it was wrong. If the water had been frozen, there should not have been ripples. If it hadn¡¯t been frozen, despite the cold, the dirt would have sunk into it. His eyes widened slightly as he looked around, counting at least half a dozen more puddles around the clearing. Why would there be so much water in this one spot, especially in small puddles? Why wouldn¡¯t it have been buried beneath snow or frozen solid?


    Why was his ethereal sense screaming at him now? What if it wasn¡¯t water at all?


    He tried to keep his voice low and urgent. ¡°Circle, now. We¡¯re surrounded.¡±


    It was a testament to their training that they responded immediately. They fell back into a rough circle, excluding Clay out of sheer habit, since he¡¯d never really seen the need to be part of it. Some of them were desperately searching the surrounding woods for signs of the wretches. Others were looking at him, as if expecting him to point them at the enemy. For his part, he started the Flame-tongued Song, knowing he suddenly had need for close range power.


    They had almost gotten fully into formation when the water started to move.


    It wasn¡¯t water, of course. The monsters seemed to be made out of fluid, but they were contained within a skin of some kind that shone in the wan sunlight of the winter sky. They didn¡¯t just ooze out of the holes they had dug into the earth. Instead, they came vaulting out of the ground, leaping in a single lurch that sent them airborne. Some of them went for the others in his group, but isolated and on his own, Clay must have seemed more vulnerable. At least three of the things jumped at him.


    Clay moved, knowing that staying in place was going to be a death sentence no matter what level he¡¯d reached. He moved to the side, swinging his spear as he passed out of the line of the monsters¡¯ charge. The blade of the spear glittered as it caught the sunlight. Then the cutting edge buried itself in the middle of one of the airborne blobs. To his shock, the monster seemed to deform around the impact, as if it was trying to absorb the attack.


    Then the spear breached the rubbery skin of the beast, and it abruptly exploded, showering the snow with a wave of noxious, sharp-smelling fluid. Clay jerked in surprise; he hadn¡¯t expected the thing to self-destruct.


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 20.}


    He didn¡¯t let surprise stop him. The others were all shouting; he heard the crackle of Xavien¡¯s lightning and caught a flash of Natalie stabbing at another slime with a javelin. The two remaining slimes that had leaped for him landed hard, plowing up small furrows of snow as they rolled to a halt. Clay lunged after them, catching one with his spearpoint before it could cancel its own momentum completely. Once again, the rubbery surface resisted for a moment, and then it exploded in a fountain of that same awful fluid.


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 20.}


    Part of it slapped him in the chest, and Clay accidentally sucked in a breath of the fumes. The foul air seared its way down into his lungs, and he felt his vision blur slightly. He coughed, forcing himself to focus, even as he lost the grip on his [Chant].


    He¡¯d just barely managed to cough twice before the third slime jumped him.


    It hit his chest like a sledgehammer, and Clay let go of his spear as he stumbled backward. The slime seemed to sprout three separate grasping arms, two of which tried to bind his arms while the third reached for his throat.


    Clay snarled, ripping his right arm free of the thing¡¯s grasp. His Pell knife was in his hand a moment later, and he stabbed the thing so hard that the rubbery flesh failed to fight back at all. He barely had time to see the notification that showed its death before it abruptly exploded again.


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 20.}


    He barely saw the [Gift]¡¯s text through the sudden blurriness. The foul liquid burned at his eyes and nose; foul fumes filled his lungs. Clay fell to his knees, choking and gasping. Clay spent a desperate moment swiping the fluid away from his face and chest, trying to clear his mouth and nose.


    Then he gritted his teeth and started a new [Chant].


    Pure Touch wasn¡¯t normally something that found a lot of use. The cleaning [Chant] had mostly served to hide evidence of spider ichor when he was still concealing his hunts in the Tanglewood, but now, covered in slime goo, he needed it for a different purpose. It was completed in a few painful breaths, and then he was purged of the fluid.


    His vision cleared slightly, and he staggered back to his feet. The others were choking and sputtering as well; it didn¡¯t look like any of the slimes had survived, but their aftereffects clearly had.


    Stumbling forward, he started Pure Touch again and grabbed Natalie and Lawrence by the shoulders. The [Chant] surged through him again, and both adventurers slumped in relief as the remnants of the slime fled. He stumbled forward, to where both Anne and Jack were still standing, and purged them as well. Xavien seemed completely unaffected; a charred patch of melted snow showed how he¡¯d managed it.


    ¡°I-Is everyone okay? Any wounds?¡±


    Natalie was coughing too hard to respond, but Anne spoke up first. ¡°I think most of us are fine, but what were those things? Ironslimes? I thought this was a new Lair. It shouldn¡¯t have two types of monsters already, right?¡±


    ¡°Slimes aren¡¯t lizards, Anne.¡± Xavien looked more troubled than officious. He looked at Clay. ¡°Lairs only produce one type of creature, right? Spiders in the Tanglewood, lizards here.¡±


    Clay nodded, his slime-numbed mind starting to recover. ¡°T-that¡¯s right. One Lair, one monster.¡±


    Natalie finally spat something out into the snow and shook herself. Lawrence put a hand on her back, looking a little dazed himself. ¡°Could we be facing a Dungeon? Do those have multiple types?¡±


    Jack shook his head. ¡°No. They follow the same rules. Just more kinds of the same type. Plus, how would a Dungeon form that quickly, here?¡± He looked at Clay, as if expecting to be either corrected or reinforced.


    ¡°Jack¡¯s right. It can¡¯t be a Dungeon.¡± Another possibility was forming in his head. ¡°There have to be two.¡±


    Anne snorted. ¡°I mean, yeah. We just fought the second type.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what he means, Anne.¡± Jack¡¯s eyes were narrowed now. ¡°You¡¯re saying there¡¯s a second Lair.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Has to be.¡± He felt a sudden chill move through him. Lairs did form spontaneously, sometimes. It usually happened around old ruins or ancient artifacts, places where Lairs had formed before, or where a large number of adventurers had died. The Guild usually checked on such places regularly, and they were normally far from towns or villages, for obvious reasons.


    Lairs did not normally form spontaneously in the same place, at the same time. There was only one way that could happen, and it suggested that things in Rodcliff were worse than he could have ever expected.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Xavien was protesting, his voice incredulous. ¡°How is that possible? The magical energies that rip open the breach should have dissipated after the first Lair formed. What could possibly make a second one in such a short¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not now, Xavien.¡± The [Oracle] glanced at him, clearly mulish, but he subsided. Clay looked around, evaluating them. Natalie was definitely the worst off, but she seemed to be getting back on her feet even as he watched. ¡°Natalie, can you continue? Or do you need more help?¡±


    The [Alchemist] shook her head, as if trying to clear it. ¡°¡¯Vrything¡¯s pretty fuzzy, but I¡¯m fine.¡± She spat into the snow again and grimaced. ¡°Might need a minute. M¡¯be two?¡±


    ¡°Let me try something.¡± He started the reversed [Chant] for Pure Touch, something he¡¯d called Clean Heart. It completed in mere moments, and he touched her on the shoulder. She shook herself as the fog of the toxins cleared from her system. ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I am.¡± She gave him a glare. ¡°You know, I think it¡¯s past time we started to learn some of that stuff. If only so I don¡¯t have to wait around for you to clean the poison off of me.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Yeah. That starts now. Today.¡± The others jerked in surprise, and Natalie¡¯s mouth fell open. ¡°We¡¯ll start the moment we get back to Rodcliff. The question is, do we keep going, or do we go back now?¡±


    They looked around at each other, considering. It was, as usual, Anne that spoke up. ¡°Well, I know that we just got jumped pretty bad, but I¡¯m about five Soul away from my very first level increase. I say we try to find a few more of those slime things and put some holes in them. Jack?¡±


    Jack flourished with his knives. ¡°I am ready to continue.¡±


    Xavien nodded as well. ¡°I am as well.¡±


    Lawrence looked at Natalie with concern. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Those [Chants] might be useful in case something grabs Clay. I think we should catch our breath first.¡±


    Natalie finished one last attempt to spit the remaining poison into the ground. ¡°Normally, I¡¯d agree. I do have a vengeful streak, though.¡± She looked at Clay. ¡°Let¡¯s keep going. We¡¯ll level up, and then you¡¯re sharing those spells of yours, at last.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s keep going. Stay alert, and watch for more of those pools of slime around here. I want to keep those things at range, if we can.¡± They nodded, though both Jack and Lawrence looked a little unhappy. Perhaps the [Chants] might give them more options. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They found the next nest of slimes just a handful of minutes later. There were seven of them, nestled into little divots of earth between the trees. There were more signs of combat between the lizards and the slimes; apparently the monsters of the two Lairs had already been fighting one another. Clay wondered if that meant there would be fewer monsters, or more highly ranked ones. They¡¯d find out eventually.


    Clay started the Canticle of Ice and then motioned for Jack and Lawrence to stalk forward. The two melee-focused adventurers would need a little more long range help, and he wanted them to take their shot while the number of enemies was lower.


    He finished the [Chant] and then waited until the two men were close. Then he unleashed it, forming five sharp spears of ice that shot straight over the [Knave] and the [Occultist] and into most of the holes in the ground. Five sudden detonations sent clouds of toxins across the snow and dirt.


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 20.}


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 20.}


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    He watched as the remaining two slimes lurched out of their holes to face the adventurers one on one. This time, he had a much better view of the action. Lawrence caught the slime mid-jump, smashing it to the ground. Its skin resisted his initial hit, but he simply kept battering it until the thing exploded, coating half his staff in toxins, but fortunately not affecting the [Occultist] himself.


    Jack, however, didn¡¯t have that luxury. He darted in close to the slime, his knives held ready. As it jumped at him, its grasping arms reaching for his face, the [Knave] dodged out and to the side, striking along the side of the slime with one of the heavy Pell knives. The edge of the knife tore a brutal gash in its skin, and Jack staggered a little as some of the fluid splashed over him.


    Then he abruptly straightened up. He and Lawrence exchanged a look and grinned widely. ¡°Wow. Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d live to see the day.¡±


    ¡°Me either.¡± Lawrence flexed his fingers, and tentacles made of dirt erupted from the snow nearby. They wrapped around a small tree, as if trapping it. ¡°That is¡­new.¡±


    Clay grinned. ¡°So what [Experience] did you get? [Conditioned]? [Studious]?¡± Those were the ones that Master Taylor had always referenced as key parts of the Academy¡¯s efforts to guide their adventurers¡¯ progress.


    ¡°[Slayer].¡± Jack and Lawrence had answered in unison, clearly by accident. They both stopped and stared at each other, surprised. When they turned back to him, Clay tried to cover his own incredulity.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ great. Actually, that¡¯s one of the first [Experiences] that I got back in the Tanglewood. It should help you out a lot.¡±


    Natalie was studying him, clearly unconvinced by his act. Xavien was too busy looking a little sour that the others had leveled up first. Anne, on the other hand, was already starting to look through the forest for new targets. Clay got them back into formation and headed out again. One more fight, and then they¡¯d head for home.


    The next battle went more or less the same. This time, he prepared the Flame-tongued Song, and asked the three long-ranged adventurers to take their shots. They were facing only six slimes this time, and he wanted to be sure that they got their kills before he wiped the remaining targets out.


    Clay held the [Chant] as soon as he finished and nodded to the others. Xavien unleashed his lightning immediately, followed closely by Anne¡¯s arrow and Natalie¡¯s javelin. Three of the slimes popped in quick succession¡ªthe one struck by lightning released a blinding flash as it died¡ªand then the last three hurled themselves out of their holes towards him.


    He let them close just enough for the flames to reach them before he burned them all. Their toxic clouds only made the detonations that much bigger and brighter. The fumes burned away, leaving behind clouds of oily black smoke that filled him with satisfaction.


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    {Small Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 10.}


    {Small Ironslime slain!}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Slimebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 10% versus Small Ironslimes.}


    The team was now at level two, and he already had a new [Achievement]. A good day, as long as he ignored the fact that he was facing twice the threat that he¡¯d assumed he was going to have to fight here. His feeling of satisfaction faded and he looked over at the others.


    He found them already talking with one another. Natalie¡¯s voice raised over the others. ¡°You got [Slayer] too? Did we all get the same [Experience]?¡±


    ¡°Seems that way.¡± Xavien glanced at Clay. ¡°Perhaps something odd is happening with us, as well as with this place.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± He looked around the clearing, where the smoke was already starting to disperse. ¡°Grab your javelin and arrow, and let¡¯s go. We¡¯ve done enough for today. Let¡¯s get back and warn the town that their problems just got twice as bad.¡±


    The other nodded, and they started back through the valley. Clay couldn¡¯t help but glance back as they reentered the forest again. It was barely midday, but it seemed like the entire face of the mission had changed¡ªand he wasn¡¯t entirely sure of how to handle it.


    ¡°All right. First lesson on [Chants].¡± Clay took a deep breath, trying not to picture Syr Katherine¡¯s disapproving glare in his mind. ¡°The first and most important thing you need to know is that some [Chants] are dangerous.¡±


    Jack rolled his eyes. ¡°I mean, we know that, Clay. We¡¯ve seen you breathing fire and throwing ice around.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean.¡± Clay shook his head. For a moment, he looked for a new way to explain. He drew his Pell knife and tapped the flat of the blade. ¡°This is a tool. A tool, but you can control it, right? Is it dangerous?¡±


    They all nodded, and Clay tossed the knife onto the floor. It clattered on the wood and sat in the middle of the circle of adventurers. ¡°Now is it dangerous?¡±


    Jack started to nod and then stopped. Anne gave him a look, and he grimaced. ¡°No, I guess. I mean, I¡¯d have to step on it, and even that probably wouldn¡¯t hurt. The most I could do was trip on it.¡±


    Anne laughed. ¡°Which means it would mostly be dangerous to Lawrence, right? One time back at the Academy, he managed to trip over¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not now, Anne. I need you to understand something.¡± Clay drew in another breath. ¡°Some [Chants] are dangerous. Not dangerous tools, not dangerous in the wrong hands. They are a threat all on their own, without anyone behind them. Using them is not like using a knife. It¡¯s like sticking your hand in a fire.¡±


    They all looked back at him with skeptical expressions. Lawrence was the only one that seemed appropriately worried. It was Natalie that spoke first, though. ¡°How dangerous are we talking here? A bad backlash or something?¡±


    Clay fixed her with a look. ¡°It will kill you. It will kill anyone near you. It will keep killing anyone who is nearby for years and years after you¡¯re gone. If people find out it was you that did it, they will curse your name for generations. I am not exaggerating.¡±


    He stared at her until she nodded, and then looked around at each of them in turn until they did the same thing. Lawrence had gone pale now, and the rest seemed suitably impressed. Clay let out a small breath, and then continued. ¡°The reason I¡¯m telling you this is because I need you to be careful with this knowledge. Stick to the [Chants] you know are safe. Don¡¯t improvise or explore, not until you know a lot more than even I do right now.¡±


    Then he paused, the image of an enraged Syr Katherine appearing in his vision for a moment. ¡°Finally, if you ever find a [Chant] that wants to be used, fight it. Don¡¯t let it take control. Your life, and the lives of anyone around you, depends on it. Do you understand?¡±


    They all murmured agreement, and Clay relaxed a little. He¡¯d done what he could to warn them. There wasn¡¯t much more he could do now, except to teach them the kinds of things that would keep them all alive. He dug into his belongings and found Olivia¡¯s notes.


    ¡°These are some [Chants] that I¡¯ve discovered. The attack spells are only likely to be useful for those of you that have [Memory] as one of your primary [Stats]. The rest are more¡­ useful than deadly, but they are safe to use. I can tell you how to read them, but they are going to be hard to fix in your mind at first. That¡¯s normal, and a good sign about them, actually.¡±


    Natalie got her hands on the pages first, and she was already greedily trying to read the words. Clay grimaced and continued. ¡°You¡¯ll find that every [Chant] has two versions, one for when it is read forwards, and the other when it is read backwards. For example, Firm Step helps you anchor yourself on a surface. The reversed [Chant], Floating Step, is what you can use to hover above the ground.¡±


    ¡°Oh, gods.¡±


    Lawrence¡¯s whisper snapped Clay¡¯s attention to him. The rest of the adventurers looked over as well, their expressions curious. Even Natalie frowned and looked up from the parchment. Anne seemed the most disturbed. ¡°Lawrence, buddy? You¡¯re making everyone worry.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember, do you? I mean, some of you weren¡¯t there.¡± He shook his head, his eyes still wild. ¡°We asked Master Taylor how a Lair was sealed or destroyed. She said it was magic that was restricted to higher-level adventurers. That we didn¡¯t need to worry about it yet.¡±


    Xavien shrugged. ¡°So what? I¡¯m betting we still don¡¯t need to worry. Not at level two.¡±


    Clay stayed silent, and Lawrence met his eyes. The [Occultist] nodded slowly. ¡°I think Clay doesn¡¯t agree. Don¡¯t you remember? He didn¡¯t just bury the Lair near his home. He destroyed it.¡±


    Natalie blinked. ¡°And?¡±


    Jack¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°The only magic he can use are [Chants], Natalie. He¡¯s a [Commoner]. Which means the magic he used, the magic Master Taylor was talking about¡­¡±


    ¡°Was a [Chant].¡± Lawrence swallowed. He almost looked sick. ¡°And [Chants] can be reversed.¡±


    Now they were all pale. One by one, they turned to stare at him, some looking for confirmation, others hoping for denial. Clay closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. When he opened them again, he repeated the words they needed to hear.


    ¡°Some [Chants] are dangerous. Do you understand now?¡±


    Their zeal for study was somewhat dampened after that discussion.


    All the same, they took to studying the magic, anyway. As Clay had known, they would need the [Chants] for the fight ahead. More than that, he hoped that being familiar with the safer kinds of [Chants] would shield them, in case any of them happened across a copy of the Poisoned Wish somewhere down in the mines.


    He was reasonably certain that it might exist there. With two Lairs in one place, at least one of them had to have been created by a Rogue. Almost worse than that, it had to have been a Rogue that knew what they were doing. Otherwise, the fool would have been killed by the creation of the first Lair, the same way the ancient [Occultist] had been in the Tanglewood.


    All of which suggested that the Guild would want to know about the situation sooner rather than later. The idea of a Rogue running around bringing Lairs into the world had to be a special nightmare for them, which Clay had to consider a fair concern. How many Lairs could the Rogue create? How much power did each one give them? Were they still in the area, just waiting for the chance to ambush the team? Or had they left to go cause more problems elsewhere?


    The information on the slimes wasn¡¯t any more encouraging. Olivia¡¯s notes contained a simple sketch of the bloblike, formless things, followed by a typically vague explanation of their abilities. Ironslimes have no form. They strike from ambush, seeking to imprison or envelope. Their hide resists damage, and they are full of poison. They are capable of strong jumps and silent movement. Beware the water. They are never alone. On death, their sacrifice can weaken a warrior. A second image, that of an adventurer struggling with the slime engulfing his head, showed what the things¡¯ goal had been in their ambush.


    Her other entries for the larger versions were not encouraging, either. Under an image of a woman stabbing at slime that was trying to swallow her whole body, the words continued. Large ironslimes grow in both durability and size. They remain silent. They may lurk below the ground or in the branches. Beware their nature, as they are subtle. They must be cut into pieces. Their poison is more potent; take care of how they die. Where they move, the ground becomes water.


    Then there was another picture, this time of a slime the size of a small house lurking in the dark. The slim shape of a spear extended from the slime to where an adventurer was blocking it with a shield. Under it, Olivia¡¯s writing summed up the ancient handbook¡¯s brief advice. Giant ironslimes strike from the dark. Beware their extended reach. They turn the world itself against you. Stand fast, or perish.


    Combined with the unknown nature of the larger wretches, it didn¡¯t look like either of these Lairs was going to be fun to destroy¡ªespecially since the handbook had never given any details about what the Guardians would be like, or how to counter them. Based on his previous experience, the answers to those questions would not be easy to find out.


    Still, at least he would have some way of finding things out. He¡¯d start with those burnt patches he¡¯d seen in the valley, and work from there. They just needed to keep going.

 B2Ch15: Bigger Problems

    The next day, they set out on yet another group patrol into the valley. Once again, they fought their way past the flame wretches that had edged their way closer to the town. With their new abilities and increased [Stats], the team seemed to have an easier time cutting down the trios of wretches that obstructed their way. Even when they made it to the valley, it seemed like they had a much easier time hunting down and eradicating groups of small ironslimes, too. Only one of them even came close to being wounded, and the others spent a decent amount of time hassling Jack for letting the monster get close enough to drench him with its death spray.


    None of them were using [Chants] yet, though he saw Natalie struggling to remember the spells. Perhaps it would take them a bit longer than he¡¯d expected to master the magic than he¡¯d feared.


    Once they had each slain at least two of the ironslimes, Clay called a halt to their progress and led them back out of the valley. He paused at the top of the ridge that separated the valley from the forest just outside of Rodcliff. ¡°All right, you can all head back on your own. Make sure to do a sweep near the town, and then see if you can spend more time training and memorizing those [Chants].¡±


    Xavien raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°You aren¡¯t coming with us?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°It will do you some good to hunt a bit without the bonuses I¡¯m giving you. That way, if something ambushes you when I¡¯m not around, you won¡¯t get thrown off balance.¡±


    Jack snorted. ¡°Besides, Clay wants to go hunting without having to worry about protecting us.¡±


    Clay winced, but even while he was searching for something to say, Anne started laughing. ¡°Well, that¡¯s fine by me! From the sounds of it, those flame devils are not exactly a whole lot of fun to play around with. Feel free to figure out the best way to wipe them out before you get home, Clay.¡±


    Still unhappy with the way the [Knave] had phrased things, Clay still tried to come up with a different reason. ¡°It¡¯s not that you would be in the way, it¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°We still have things to learn, and you knowing what¡¯s ahead of us will help keep everyone alive.¡± Natalie waved his excuses aside. ¡°We¡¯ll try to get some of those [Chants] down. Go take care of what you need to do. We¡¯ll be fine on our own.¡±


    He still hesitated, but Lawrence gave him a nudge back towards the valley. Then they all set off through the forest together, their eyes watchful and their weapons at hand. Clay watched them for a while, hoping that they didn¡¯t stumble into a patch of wretches right when he had sent them off, but they vanished from sight without incident.


    Then he turned back towards the valley and picked out one of the scorched areas. With any luck, a flame devil would be hidden somewhere inside of it. He glanced back at the town one last time and then set out to see what he could find.


    The journey through the valley was far less rough than he¡¯d been expecting.


    True, there were the occasional fields of ironslimes, but the monsters didn¡¯t appear to have nearly as much awareness as the wretches. Half the time, he¡¯d already killed most of them with arrows or ice spears, and the few that were left died a long way short of where he stood. The bonuses he got from [Slimebane] and his various [Experiences] were simply too overwhelming when they didn¡¯t have the advantage of surprise.


    He didn¡¯t know if the same would be said of the flame devils. The manual had mentioned tougher hides, worse fire, and more dangerous claws and bites. It sounded like they would be almost as dangerous as an elder mantrap in their own way. Better to be careful than to be dead.


    So he crept through the half-burnt forest, keeping his eyes moving as he went. He was still looking for those odd shadows that always revealed the positions of the flame wretches; if they were anything like the spiders, their habits stayed with them even as they increased in rank and power. Then again, if the things had gotten better at hiding, the others would need to know before they walked into another trap.


    Clay felt his heartbeat rise slightly as he neared the spot he had chosen. The burnt trees showed signs of old fire; trees already bare of leaves had been scorched and scarred by whatever blaze had burnt among them. Some of them appeared to have been knocked down and nearly consumed by the flames, too, leaving only ashes mixed with snow behind. Black and grey dominated the small grove, and Clay paused as he realized what that would mean.


    It was ideal for the type of camouflage that the wretches used. The dark colors would muddle things when it came to shadows. Trying to see if there was a wretch in that place would be much, much harder, especially if those weird swiveling eyes stayed still for long enough.


    Of course, Clay didn¡¯t have to ask if there was a monster in that burnt glade. His ethereal sense was already screaming at him that there was.


    Carefully, alert for any twitch or shift, Clay crept forward. He had his spear in his hand; if the devils were tougher and bigger than the wretches, he didn¡¯t think that a shot from the shortbow would be enough to kill them. Besides, if the thing did manage to take him by surprise, he didn¡¯t want to waste time dropping the shortbow and trying to grab the spear.


    A gust of freezing wind blew through the glade, and Clay paused. He watched as the breeze stirred the ashes and snowflakes, trying to see if the patterns of shadow from the half-crumbling branches revealed anything. There was nothing, and he stepped forward again.


    Slowly, carefully, Clay entered the glade. The dead, burnt bones of a half dozen trees rose around him, a dead place in the middle of the rest of the thriving forest. He wondered if the devils knew how obvious they had made their homes. In the Tanglewood, the mantraps had marked their dens with webs, but it had been for the sake of communication. None of the trolls had made their homes obvious, aside from their desire for perches where they could glide around. Burning an entire section of forest just seemed so obvious.


    He froze, not even daring to breathe. It was obvious, the kind of thing that he would have expected from a dumb animal trying to hide from a hunter. The devils weren¡¯t animals, though; they were predators, and a fellow hunter would only use something like this burnt grove for a single purpose.


    For bait.


    Under his breath, Clay began to recite the reversed form of the [Chant] for Heart¡¯s Light. He called it the Soul¡¯s Shadow, and he¡¯d used it often enough in the Tanglewood to hide. There hadn¡¯t been nearly as much reason to use it here, with the understandable clumsiness of the others making stealth a bit harder to come by. Now, however, he was alone, and surrounded by ashes. What the devil could use, Clay could use too.


    The hairs rose on the back of Clay¡¯s neck, as if he could feel the devil¡¯s breath just behind him. He shifted his grip on the spear, preparing for a desperate lunge as soon as he heard a sign of the monster that he was now sure was behind him. Giving the game away too early was a good way to get bathed in fire or bitten somewhere important. If he wanted to survive, he needed to make the thing think its trap was still working.


    He delayed and paused, knowing the thing was drawing closer. It was an active fight not to turn and face it. Instead, he continued the [Chant], knowing that it would be complete soon. Clay crouched down, making himself a little smaller as he pretended to study the burnt remnants of a log.


    Then the [Chant] abruptly cloaked him in shadows, and Clay dove to the side. He spun as he moved, bringing his spear back around.


    The flame devil was indeed there, hard to see with its mottled skin and low profile. He still managed to catch its form as it reared up, its grey eyes locked on him despite the shadows. Its mouth snapped open, and a jet black tongue darted out to slam into Clay¡¯s left shoulder.


    He had just enough time to register the impact before the tongue retracted with all the force of an elder troll spider¡¯s web, yanking him towards the devil¡¯s maw. The monster¡¯s camouflage didn¡¯t shift at all; only the mouth changed, as its near-toothless rim abruptly began to glow with heat. Clay pictured the jaw closing on his arm, the heat melting through his armor, flesh, and then bone in a single brutal bite.


    Then his reflexes snapped into action. Clay had held onto his spear, and he snapped it into position with blurring speed. He grabbed the tongue with his right, and then pivoted to put his left side ahead of the right, with the spear extended out in his left hand at nearly its full length.


    In one motion, he went from a helpless meal to an approaching threat, and the devil simply didn¡¯t react quickly enough. The spear struck the roof of its mouth, and it didn¡¯t even have the chance to close it before the blade was in up to the crossguards. He caught sight of a glimmer of metal poking up through its skull, and then he planted his foot on its shoulder and shoved himself back. There was a sickening rip as a piece of the tongue came with him, but he shoved that thought aside.


    He skidded backwards a bit further into the burnt patch, his eyes already searching for other threats. In the Tanglewood, the mature spiders had nested together. If there were other devils here¡­


    Yet no other tongues struck, and he saw no glowing lights heralding their pitch-filled breath. The devil he¡¯d struck struggled, twitched, and then abruptly went slack. He saw the glow go out of its mouth, and a heartbeat later, the notification arrived.


    {Flame Devil slain! Soul increases by 30.}


    Clay ignored it for a moment, still focused on his surroundings. Yet as he waited, there were no other ambushes. He looked around, almost disappointed at the lack of initiative. Another two or three monsters would have made it nearly impossible to escape without some kind of plan. The spiders might have taken these things apart without a problem.


    He rolled his shoulder a little, feeling the joint click a little, and winced. Maybe not, after all. Besides, how mad could he be that they weren¡¯t coming at him in groups of four?


    Shaking his head, Clay looked around the grove, and then picked a direction. When he¡¯d looked over the valley, it had seemed like there was another burnt patch in that area. Perhaps he¡¯d find another devil to kill.


    By the time he came back to the house where the others were staying, the light was already beginning to fade from the sky. Anne was standing outside, her eyes worried. He finally dropped Soul¡¯s Shadow, and she broke into a grin. He waved back as she danced around and watched as she ducked into the front door to yell something at the ones still inside.


    She didn¡¯t wait for them to come out. Instead, she hopped the fence on the ramshackle building¡¯s front porch and strode across the snow towards him. ¡°So, did you find any of the big ones?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Yeah, I did. Got three of them, in fact.¡± Once he¡¯d caught on to their trick, Clay had simply found the next burnt patch and scouted around the edges. Both of the other devils had been hiding well outside the burnt section, clinging to the side of a tree trunk or sprawled in a snowdrift where an unaware adventurer would pass them by on the way to the bait. Neither one had lasted very long when he¡¯d turned their ambush back on them. ¡°How are you doing with the [Chants]?¡±


    Anne paused for a moment and then recited a very familiar set of words. Shadows crowded in around her, and in moments she was like a shifting piece of the gathering twilight. She released it a moment later and grinned. ¡°That one should come in handy, right? I¡¯m sure plenty of [Burglars] would have loved to have it.¡±


    ¡°Strictly for heroic purposes, right?¡± Clay gave her a half serious look, and she laughed.


    ¡°Oh sure. Well, that and the occasional prank¡ªbut only when it would be really funny.¡±


    Clay sighed. Better than nothing, he supposed. It wasn¡¯t like George and Ned had been any better once they¡¯d had the [Chants]. ¡°All right, let¡¯s get some rest. We¡¯ve got a long day tomorrow.¡± Anne nodded, and she headed back inside. He followed her and paused, looking back towards the north.


    One way or the other, the monsters were going to be driven back. He just hoped that whoever had unleashed them here wasn¡¯t already somewhere else, making the world just that much worse.


    The next few days followed a fairly predictable pattern.


    Each morning, Clay led the group out and into the valley. They killed the wretches along the way, and every day it seemed like they were driven just a little further back. Once they reached the valley, they tried to sweep it for slimes, wiping them out in whatever holes and hollows they were hiding in. They all quickly got used to clearing the things out; it took only two days for the team to finish reaching their second [Achievement], though it still left them well short of their next level.


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    Clay insisted on keeping them on task, however, helping them clear out more and more of the smaller monsters. He wanted to make sure that the wretches and small slimes were kept under control as they pushed further in, and the more they could kill, the better. It also gave the team the chance to practice their new [Chants]. They could all use the lower [Chants] with regular success by the end of that week, though the only one who was able to use a more advanced [Chant] was Natalie. The [Alchemist] was beyond enthusiastic when she convinced the Flame-tongued Song to work for her, though her companions quietly asked her to practice it outside after the first time she used it. Luckily, Lawrence had already mastered the Vanishing Ember [Chant] and managed to rescue most of the table.


    By the end of that week, Clay had already grown comfortable hunting the flame devils as well. He knew which trees were likely hiding spots near their burnt patches, he knew what kind of noises and tracks would lead them away into ambushes, and he knew what attacks they employed when they were faced with a direct fight. The handbook had not been wrong about their fire; rather than a simple blob of flaming pitch, they sent entire gouts of it streaming towards their target. Fortunately, their hide was still well short of impenetrable, and by the time the others persuaded him to let them start going after the larger lizards, he knew exactly how to prepare them.


    Surprisingly, it was Lawrence that killed the first one, using his original [Charm] to blind and distract it until he could smash it to pieces. Xavien took the next with repeated lightning bolts, while Anne snuck up on and executed the third. Jack took another by stealth, while Natalie killed another with a pre-positioned javelin that she called to her using the Cycle of Return. In a single day, they cleared a significant chunk of the forest of the things. It was amazing. Clay had not been able to stop grinning as they went back home.


    Then the next day they did it again. The next, they did it again, and each of them celebrated their ascent to the third level. They returned that day full of new abilities and powers, ready to push even further into the valley on the following morning.


    Which was when the snowstorm blew into Rodcliff and darkened the sky for nearly two days. For two days they were trapped in their house in town, peering out into the snow as the monsters grew and recovered. Several times Clay was tempted to head out into the cold anyway, trusting in his [Fortitude] to shield him from the cold. Yet if the snow and cold didn¡¯t get him, the hidden lizards and slimes probably would; seeing through their ambushes in the blizzard would be the next best thing to impossible.


    During their downtime, the adventurers trained, going back over the exercises that Orn and Taylor had drilled into them. Their [Stats] began to improve, and their skill with the [Chants] grew as well. Clay felt a flicker of pride when he considered how far they had already come in just a few days.


    He tried to ignore the fact that they¡¯d all gotten [Exterminator] as their [Experience], the same one that he¡¯d gotten at fourth level. It was probably just a strange kind of coincidence.


    Once the snow finally relented, they forged their way out into the forest again¡ªand almost immediately were swamped by flame wretches and small ironslimes. They ran into more of the monsters during the next four hours than they had in the two days before the storm¡ªand even more disturbingly, there were slimes on the town¡¯s side of the ridge. They¡¯d never shown up before the valley before.


    Clay grimaced as they finished clearing out their third batch of small ironslimes. ¡°I was afraid of this.¡±


    ¡°Of what, ironslimes?¡± Xavien shrugged as he zapped the last of the things with his lightning [Charm]. It exploded beautifully, and the [Oracle] grinned. ¡°I don¡¯t think we need to worry that much about them.¡±


    Natalie frowned. ¡°Why are there so many more of them, though? And how did they get so close to the town?¡±


    He paused. ¡°Back in the Tanglewood, we figured out that the spiders were reproducing in waves. Every five weeks, we were hit by a horde of spiderlings. I¡¯d have to spend almost an entire week clearing them out before I could get any further in towards the Lair.¡±


    ¡°So they might have just created a bunch more. We can still handle them easily enough, right?¡± Anne grimaced as she accidentally stepped in a pile of slime leavings. She paused to start the [Chant] of Pure Touch, while Lawrence answered.


    ¡°If we miss some, though, they¡¯ll get much closer to the town. It would be easy to miss one or two. Imagine how much damage a group of these would do inside of Rodcliff.¡± He frowned and leaned on his staff. ¡°It still doesn¡¯t explain why there are so many more slimes on this side of the ridge, though. Are they trying to come after us?¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°No.¡± He looked around. ¡°The slimes and the lizards fight, right? They¡¯ve been feeding on each other, at least a little bit.¡±


    Natalie smacked her forehead. ¡°And we¡¯ve been focused on killing the flame devils, which means there are fewer lizards to eat slimes.¡±


    Xavien grunted. ¡°So if we kill the lizards, the slimes escape. If we focus on the slimes, the lizards will break free. It seems we can¡¯t win.¡±


    ¡°Not unless we focus on both at once.¡± Clay looked around at them. ¡°We¡¯ll try to get the forest cleared again, and once we get back to the valley, you¡¯ll all start going after the flame devils again. This time, on your own.¡± He glanced north, feeling the itch to go after the larger creatures already. ¡°I¡¯ll try and find some of the bigger slimes and take them out. Try to balance things a little, so we don¡¯t start seeing large groups of either here.¡±


    Jack nodded, having finished his own [Chant] to clean himself and his knives. ¡°That makes sense. We¡¯ll need to know a lot more about them anyway, and you¡¯ve already got the [Achievement] reinforced for [Lizardsbane], right?¡± Clay nodded, and the [Knave] continued. ¡°We can take care of the small fry, at least once we do our sweeps. You go after the new creatures, and then come back and tell us how to do it too. Tomorrow, maybe things will be back to normal, and we can join you.¡±


    Clay hesitated. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    The others all nodded, and Jack made a shooing motion with one knife. ¡°Get going. We¡¯ll meet you back at the house tonight.¡±


    He hesitated another moment longer and then turned north. Behind him, he heard them set off again after yet another cluster of ironslimes. Explosions echoed through the woods a few minutes later, and he shook his head. Maybe he was worried over nothing.


    It still took him another hour to reach the valley. Between the new swarms of wretches and slimes and the thick cover of fallen snow, the journey had not been the most fun. If he hadn¡¯t had so many bonuses to his endurance, he might have been unable to reach it before midday. As it was, the sun was already close to the top of its arc when he looked down into the valley.


    He found himself looking at a very different place. Several of the burnt patches where his friends had killed flame devils seemed softer now, as if the snow had buried the remnants of those scars. In their place, however, there seemed to be a lot of ice. It hung from the branches on the trees, spread in glimmering waves across clearings.


    Clay thought back to what the handbook had said. It had called the next level of ironslime a large ironslime, and warned that the ground around them was wet. Had the water just frozen? If that was the case, he might be able to see where they had been, then. All he needed to do was go and see what the handbook had managed to leave out.


    Mindful of how badly his first encounter with the flame devils had gone, Clay took a moment to wrap himself in the Soul¡¯s Shadow. Then he went down into the valley to hunt the enemy once more.


    It did not take long to reach the first area where he suspected the ironslime was hiding.


    Unfortunately, it also didn¡¯t take long to realize that something else was very wrong.


    The slime wasn¡¯t hiding, as he¡¯d expected. It was simply sitting in a slightly deflated lump in the middle of a small clearing, as if it were sleeping. All around it, it looked as if the top snow had been scraped together and refrozen, leaving it covered in a thin layer of ice that glittered with a filmy substance. In warmer weather, Clay could imagine that it would have been a coating of some oily liquid. Frozen or not, he didn¡¯t have any particular interest in touching it.


    Clay studied the thing, watching for any sign that it had seen him. It had no eyes; how did the slimes even sense other beings, anyway? If he just walked past it, would it even know he had been there?


    Whether or not it was aware of him, though, Clay had no intention of leaving it be. He set aside his spear for the moment and drew out his shortbow.


    He¡¯d gone through about a quarter of the arrows at this point, but he still had plenty left. The Cycle of Return was remarkably good about helping him recover them, though it didn¡¯t always bring them back intact. The Captain of the [Guards] back in Rodcliff had already been scrounging around for more; apparently the threat of joining the adventurers in the valley had been more than enough to motivate his cooperation.


    Clay drew one of the arrows and sighted in on the ironslime. It still hadn¡¯t moved, not even when the wind blew across the clearing. He studied it for a moment longer, and then loosed.


    The arrow sped true. He watched it for a heartbeat, satisfied with the shot. He reached for his quiver and was already drawing out another arrow when the first hit.


    Then he stopped, blinking in surprise.


    He saw the arrow sink deep into the slime¡¯s flesh. There was a small spurt of steam as the tip pierced its hide. Then the slime shifted slightly, and the arrow was suddenly pulled into it. Clay¡¯s jaw dropped as the shaft suddenly grew indistinct and faded. Within moments the slime had eaten his arrow and then settled back into place as if nothing had happened. It didn¡¯t even have a mark where he¡¯d shot it.


    Clay looked down at his quiver and sighed. He released the Soul¡¯s Shadow and started the Canticle of Ice instead. The slime might be able to absorb a simple bowshot, but the Canticle had been able to kill elder troll spiders even before he¡¯d reached his current level. He was sure it would do plenty of damage to the thing; if he was honest, he wanted it to die outright. It ate his arrow. How else was he supposed to react?


    The slime seemed to shift as he began the Canticle, and it settled a bit lower into the earth. It almost seemed to be ducking or crouching, but it wouldn¡¯t do it any good. He pictured the ice spears tearing through the thing and smiled.


    His smile vanished when something punched out of the ground and wrapped around both of his legs.


    Clay looked down in horror at what had to be two sections of the ironslime. They weren¡¯t large, just the width of a snake, if a little thicker. The pressure of its grasp wasn¡¯t going to break any bones, but it had a very strong hold on him. His fingers went straight to the hilt of his Pell knife, immediately knowing he needed to hack the things off.


    Then the slime flexed, and he was suddenly pulled into the ground. He caught a flash of the slime¡¯s chemical scent and realized that the thing had softened the frozen ground somehow. It pulled him down until he was buried in the snow and dirt up to his waist, and Clay felt a brief moment of panic as he abandoned the Canticle. There was a crackle of shifting ice and rocks, and he looked up just in time to see the slime vanishing into a hole in the ground.


    He knew it was pulling the bulk of itself through the softened soil after him. The grip on his legs was already strengthening slightly, and when he tried to push against it, he couldn¡¯t get a good enough purchase on the ground to pull free. If it reached him, he¡¯d be crushed or swallowed, and neither sounded like a good way to die.


    Clay switched [Chants]. He began Pursuing Leap and grabbed his spear. With a half-frantic twist, he hurled it across the clearing, where the spearpoint was buried in the bark of a nearby tree. Another twist freed his knife enough to draw it. From that point, it was a race; would he finish the [Chant] first, or would the slime bring its bulk to bear on him first?


    In the end, he won. The grip was still tightening on his calves when the [Chant] took effect. He gritted his teeth as it yanked him out of the ground, dragging him back out of the hole as if someone had hitched an oxcart to him.


    Then, just as he was beginning to grin, the slime redoubled its efforts, and he was suddenly dangling in midair between the spear and the tendrils of the monster pulling at him.


    Clay grimaced as pain lanced through him. He kept ahold of the [Chant], and then bent to swipe at the tendrils with his knife. The heavy blade bit and cut straight through the thickening tendrils, and just as the bulk of the slime came lurching out of the uneven hole he¡¯d left in the ground, Clay went shooting free across the clearing.


    He twisted as he reached the spear, grabbing it with one hand and swinging around it for a moment. Behind him, the slime was already retracting into the hole. To his surprise, the bits of tendril that he¡¯d hacked free were also writhing around, as if they were struggling to rejoin the whole. One of them reached the main body and was reabsorbed as if nothing had happened.


    Clay¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he started a new [Chant]. This time it was the Drums of the Earth, and he focused on it as the slime continued its retreat back into the hole.


    He sheathed his knife and pulled himself up past the spear, just in case the slime was burrowing out towards him. In the end, he managed to get his aching body into one of the lower bows of the leafless branches, just in time to see a handful of tendrils poking from the ground around the base of the tree.


    Clearly, the thing hadn¡¯t given up, but where was the main body? It obviously had the ability to reach a long distance, but it probably wasn¡¯t all in the ground beneath the tree; he¡¯d have heard the ground being plowed up, the way he had with elder mantraps. Clay looked around, searching for movement.


    He spotted it a moment later, as the Drums of the Earth was drawing to a close. It was a barely perceptible bulge beneath some of the soil, just large enough to crack that odd crust of oily ice a little to the left of where he had been pulled under. Clay felt a sudden vicious satisfaction as he brought the [Chant] to a finish, letting the power of it fill him.


    Most of the time when he¡¯d used the [Chant], it was a diversion or a distraction. False footsteps, or a brief shake of the earth to disorient someone on the surface. This time, Clay focused all of the power of the spell into a single, brutal blow, focused directly around where the slime was hiding.


    The [Chant] struck with all the force of a giant¡¯s warhammer; the bulge abruptly flattened and then collapsed inwards. He felt something pushing back against the power of the [Chant] and he bore down on it with all of his strength. There was another bit of resistance, and then he heard a violent squishing noise that twisted in his guts. Fluid fountained up through the cracks in the ground, and the tendrils below him abruptly spasmed and deflated.


    As the resistance faded away, Clay saw the expected notification a moment later.


    {Large Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 40!}


    He relaxed and released the [Chant]. It had been effective, but the others probably couldn¡¯t match the same tactic. If he wanted them to be able to fight back against the things, he¡¯d need to find another way to kill them, something that they could all use.


    Fortunately, he had plenty of chances to practice.


    The sky was once again nearly dark when he made it back out of the valley.


    He was limping slightly; at least one of the slimes had gotten in a decent shot at his leg, but it was just a bad bruise, not a broken bone. At least, he was fairly confident that was the case.


    It had been worth it, anyway. After the second big slime, he¡¯d managed to figure out a better way to handle the creatures. Using Ballad of Air, he¡¯d yanked most of it off of the ground, which had revealed a central mass of something that had been vulnerable to his attacks. A well-placed arrow or ice spear had killed it easily at that point. The only problem would be reaching the core consistently, but he trusted the others would find their own ways of doing it.


    To his surprise, he ran into the others before he reached Rodcliff. They looked almost as battered, though the lot of them were still laughing and joking amongst themselves. ¡°Hey! How did it go on this side of the ridge?¡±


    Lawrence was the one who answered, looking jubilant. ¡°We got a lot of them! I think the town should be fairly safe again.¡±


    Xavien nodded, the [Oracle] looking fatigued. ¡°We had to have killed a few dozen of both wretches and slimes. A few more days and the forest should be mostly clear again. How did you fare in your hunt?¡±


    ¡°Got four large ironslimes. A couple more days and I¡¯ll have enough to lead you back there.¡±


    Jack grinned, looking around at the others. ¡°By that point, the forest should be almost clear here. You think we¡¯d be ready to handle them?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, though you have to be careful.¡± His leg twinged painfully as he stepped on something slippery beneath the snow. ¡°They have these arms that extend beneath the ground. If you aren¡¯t careful¡­¡±


    He continued to describe what he¡¯d found, even as they returned to Rodcliff, ready to rest before the hunt started again the next day.

 B2Ch16: Clearing the Valley, Part One

    {Large Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 20!}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Slimebane: 10% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 20% versus Small Ironslimes and Large Ironslimes.}


    {Commoner reaches Level 9!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 24!}


    {Experience gained (Leader: Gain Inspire Skill. Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading heroes. Allied heroes gain 10% bonus to all skills.)}


    {Experience gained (Stubborn: Fatigue lessened by 20%. Wounds heal 10% faster.)}


    Clay straightened up in surprise. He hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d even been close to the limit for leveling up; it had been so long that he¡¯d mostly just forgotten about it. The remains of the large ironslime continued to slump back beneath the ground; this one he¡¯d managed to yank out of the ground, using a combination of strength and Firm Step to bring its core to the surface. His nose still wrinkled from the putrid smell, but he just stepped back and brought up his [Gift] for the first time in what seemed like forever.


    [Clay Evergreen]


    [Class: Commoner] {Level 9} (All Stats have a maximum of 24)


    [Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]


    [Soul: 0/900]


    [Stats] {Might: 23} {Fortitude: 23} {Insight: 23} {Memory: 23} {Valor: 23} {Will: 23}


    [Experiences]


    {Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}


    {Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}


    {Slayer II: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    {Forrester: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a forested area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a forested area.}


    {Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill}


    {Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.)}


    {Exterminator: Gain double the bonus from all Bane Achievements.}


    {Determined: Fatigue lessened by 10%. Wounds heal 5% faster. Gain 10% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}


    {Defiant: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when facing an opponent of a higher level.}


    {Smallmage: Can chant minor Chants 10% faster. Gain 20% effectiveness for minor Chants.}


    {Valiant: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing multiple opponents.}


    {Warsinger: Gain Lyricist Skill. Can complete all Chants 20% faster.}


    {Mentor: Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading lower level heroes. Allied heroes gain 20% bonus to all skills.}


    {Unseen: Gain 20% to all attempts to hide. Gain 10% to all damage and skills while hiding.}


    {Banisher: Gain permanent access to the Chant of Garden¡¯s Peace. Gain 10% speed and effectiveness for all Chants.}


    {Seeker: Gain Ethereal Sense Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    {Leader: Gain Inspire Skill. Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading heroes. Allied heroes gain 10% bonus to all skills.}


    {Stubborn: Fatigue lessened by 20%. Wounds heal 10% faster.}


    [Achievements]


    {Spiderbane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 60% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, Mature Troll Spiders, Elder Troll Spiders, and Elder Mantrap Spiders.}


    {Corpsebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 10% versus Rotted Levies and Wretched Corporals.}


    {Lizardbane: 10% increase to all skills and damage against lizards. Bonus increases to 20% versus Flame Wretches and Flame Devils.}


    {Slimebane: 10% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 20% versus Small Ironslimes and Large Ironslimes.}


    {Paragon: All skills gain 10% effectiveness around fellow heroes.}


    It made for quite a bit of reading, at this point. He sighed over the first two experiences; it was becoming harder and harder to see how [Farmhand] was ever going to be relevant again. At the same time, the list of [Experiences] and [Achievements] was getting gratifyingly long.


    His newest [Experiences] almost immediately made him think back to his conversations with Master Taylor. He could clearly see how [Mentor] and [Leader] would line up, though he had no idea what the third of the set would be. [Determined] and [Stubborn] also seemed to match well; maybe there was a [Boneheaded] [Experience] that could give him a set? He smiled at his parents¡¯ probable reaction to that combination and shook his head.


    The others were still on the other side of the ridge, but Jack had already been reporting that they were running short on prey. Over the past three days, they had brutally slaughtered every wretch and slime on the other side of the ridge. It had gotten to the point where the others were talking about joining him in the valley. After all, they wanted to gain levels as well, and without fighting the higher ranked monsters, they wouldn¡¯t be able to.


    Clay considered the plan for a moment, and then nodded. He¡¯d already gotten as much information as he probably needed, and the town was going to be safe. Better to get them going on their own progress rather than allowing them to stall. He¡¯d ask them if they were ready once he got back.


    ¡°Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.¡± Natalie gave him a defiant glare.


    Lawrence sighed and looked at Clay apologetically. ¡°We had been¡­discussing how to bring things up with you, Sir Clay. I think we¡¯ve done all we can on our side of the ridge. We won¡¯t make much more progress unless we start chasing the monsters back into their own territory.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± Clay nodded. ¡°So I can help lead you in tomorrow. We¡¯ll need to move fast, but I think with my knowledge of where to strike, and your support, we should be able to make a large hole in their numbers.¡±


    ¡°As if you haven¡¯t already been decimating them.¡± Jack smiled. ¡°I¡¯m just shocked you haven¡¯t reached your next level by now, Sir Clay.¡±


    He smiled a little. ¡°Actually, I, uh, just did. Today, in fact.¡±


    The others looked at him a moment, and then they started shouting and crowding around him to shake his hand or slap him on the shoulder or back. Anne whacked him on the shoulder, grinning widely. ¡°So, what kind of abilities did you get? Anything good?¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t get [Charms] or [Feats] or anything, Just [Experiences].¡± He paused. ¡°One of them works like [Mentor], so don¡¯t be surprised if you find yourselves a little stronger than you usually are.¡±


    ¡°I doubt any of us will complain at all about that.¡± Xavien gave the others a rare grin. ¡°Will we be hunting both devils and larger ironslimes? Or will we focus on one or the other?¡±


    The question made Clay pause. ¡°There seems to be a lot more slimes than lizards at the moment, though that may change. Should we set a goal of two slimes and one devil a day? For each of you?¡±


    Natalie spoke up again, her voice careful. ¡°I have an idea that may make it easier to achieve that, actually.¡± When the others looked towards her, she pulled out a long roll of parchment and spread it on the nearest table. ¡°I¡¯ve been making a map of the valley. At least, I was until we restricted our movements to the near part of the forest.¡±


    Clay looked over and found that she had been painstakingly mapping out the area, including small marks that he assumed traced their patrols over the past few days. If the ¡®X¡¯ marks were kills, then they really had been very busy the previous few days.


    The [Alchemist] looked over the map for a moment before continuing. ¡°I think that if we set up a camp on the ridge here, then we can use it as a rest stop while we strike into the valley. Sir Clay, you can take us each out on patrol again, like we did with the wretches at first. While you are doing that, the rest of us can patrol together to make sure the smaller monsters don¡¯t pass us by, and so that we can make sure that we that areas where we¡¯ve removed the high level creatures remain clear. That will make it easier for us to reach the remaining monsters the next day.¡±


    As she spoke, she traced various areas in the valley. Her gestures made Clay think of some kind of military strategist plotting out a grand campaign. He supposed that was more or less what she was doing, of course, just against monsters rather than an invading army.


    ¡°With this rotation in place, we should be able to reach level four three days from now. We¡¯ll have the [Achievements] for both the larger ironslimes and the flame devils less than a week from now, at which point we can move to the next stage.¡±


    The others were all nodding, but Clay frowned. He looked around at all of them, slowly becoming aware of the fact that the others had been discussing strategy on their own. Feeling a little chagrined, he cleared his throat. ¡°The next stage, Syr Natalie?¡±


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    She paused, glancing up in surprise. Then her face grew red. ¡°Sorry, Clay. We¡¯ve just had a lot of time to talk about this while you¡¯ve been busy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve all been working hard, too. I haven¡¯t forgotten it.¡± Clay smiled, thinking back over his attempts to contain the swarms of spiderlings in the Tanglewood. ¡°Without your help, I would have been buried in wretches and smaller slimes for the past two weeks. Tell me what you all thought about how to push forward from here.¡±


    Natalie looked around at the others and then nodded. ¡°All right. Once we have leveled up and the lower level monsters are cleared out of the valley, we can start pushing forward towards the mines. Everything the town has told us suggests the Lairs are there, probably inside of the mines themselves.¡±


    Lawrence nodded. ¡°The miners were the first ones to report the monsters, and the first ones to disappear. A lot of them talked about lizards pouring out of the tunnels, so that¡¯s probably where we are going to find them.¡±


    Anne broke into the conversation, dancing in to tap the map beyond where the valley lay. ¡°So we figure that by the time we are all leveled up and have the [Achievements] reinforced, we can start sending you down into the mines to find the Lairs. You¡¯ll be a high enough level to handle the bigger beasts, and we can keep the smaller ones busy on the surface.¡±


    ¡°Not that we intend to leave everything to you, of course.¡± Xavien offered him a small smile. ¡°Once you find the thing, we¡¯ll join you for the final attack. That way, we won¡¯t be going in blind.¡±


    Jack nodded. ¡°Yeah, and the smaller creatures will be under control as well. While you are fighting the bigger ones, we can cut down on the others. It¡¯ll make it that much safer for the town, and that much cleaner, once we finally decide to go in for the kill.¡±


    Natalie tapped the parchment again, drawing Clay¡¯s attention back to her. ¡°Once we reach that stage, we can go in together, and you can kill the Guardians and destroy the Lairs themselves. We¡¯ll keep the rest of the creatures off of you while you accomplish that goal. Ideally, we¡¯d kill the lizards first, and then the slimes next.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. ¡°That¡­ would be really helpful, actually. The last Guardians were able to send a small army of the little ones out to fight intruders. It came out to be around fifty or sixty monsters in a group, and they could do it multiple times.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason to have a whole group of adventurers behind you when you try it, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± Anne grinned and looped an arm around his neck. ¡°We can do our best to help you out, and with your abilities, we should be able to more than stand up to whatever else they have going on down there. What do you think?¡±


    He turned the plan over in his mind, looking for flaws. The monsters could easily do something different and throw things off, but the reason it appealed so much to him was the fact that it would come together fast. With the others¡¯ help, he could be looking for the giant ironslimes and flame horrors within the next couple of weeks, and destroying Lairs a week after that, instead of trying to cut back on the creature population slowly over the next few months. By spring, the entire thing could be done, and he could take them back to the Guild victorious.


    Clay looked up and saw the others looking at him. There was a bit of anxiety on their faces, as if they were worried he¡¯d reject them. He wondered, suddenly, if they had taken his assignment to the near side of the ridge as a punishment of some kind, or a sign of mistrust. If so, they had been wrong, and he needed to let them know that fact.


    In fact, if anything, Clay felt nothing but admiration for them. They¡¯d come farther, faster than anyone in the Guild could have hoped. As it was, the only ones he would have trusted more to guard his back were the ones he¡¯d grown up with¡ªand even now it was an even race between them.


    ¡°It sounds good. Well thought out, at least.¡± He tried not to sound gruff, but his voice was still a little hoarse. ¡°You¡¯ve all done extremely well, and I think that with this plan, and your help, we¡¯ll be able to keep this town safe and wipe out these monsters long before spring comes.¡±


    ¡°As long as the weather holds out, anyway.¡± Anne paused as the wind suddenly howled outside, and then Jack and Xavien both pounced on her, playacting as if they were pummeling her. Lawrence laughed, and Natalie grinned. Clay just shook his head and then looked back at the map.


    Just a handful more weeks, and it would all be over.


    They set out for what Natalie had taken to calling their war camp the very next morning. Each of them carried enough supplies to set up a rest station for a day or two. None of them were foolish enough to actually camp out on the ridge¡ªnot until the nearest flame devils and large ironslimes had been driven back to the mines, at least¡ªbut it would still be a decent place to stay and rest between patrols until the daylight started to fade.


    There were very few of the lesser creatures about as they traveled up the mining path, and those that did show up were usually exterminated long before Clay could manage to raise his shortbow or throw his spear. His companions had apparently grown well practiced at destroying them, to the point where they were spotting the wretches and slimes almost before he could.


    Still, the tension increased as they climbed the ridge and looked out over the valley. Burnt thickets and glistening clearings covered the entire place, stretching from the distant hills to the ridge where they stood. Clay knew that some of them were already empty, thanks to his own efforts, but it was just as likely that some newer creatures had moved in to take them over.


    He looked back at them and nodded. ¡°All right. Natalie and Anne, you¡¯re at the camp. Jack and Xavien, you¡¯re on patrol. Lawrence, you¡¯re the first one with me.¡±


    They nodded, splitting off to their various duties. Natalie immediately started to add marks to her map, probably charting out the locations of possible enemies, while Anne accepted the packs of supplies from the others. Clay handed over his own pack with a grin. ¡°Take care and make sure a wretch doesn¡¯t light everything on fire.¡±


    ¡°Of course! I¡¯ll only steal the best bread, too.¡± She laughed and winked at him, and Clay rolled his eyes. Jack and Xavien had already set off into the forest; as the first patrol of the day, they¡¯d be looking to search the forest behind them to make sure there weren¡¯t any monsters that had hidden there. Lawrence was watching Clay, his staff in his hands and a nervous expression on his face.


    He gestured to the [Occultist]. ¡°Let¡¯s go, daylight¡¯s wasting.¡± Lawrence nodded, and they set off into the forest together. The monsters awaited them below.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say they are blind. More just limited.¡±


    They were making their way through the valley, leaving behind the stinking carcass of Lawrence¡¯s first large ironslime kill. The [Occultist] had surprised Clay by simply walking around the slime, seemingly ignoring the tendrils that were trying to burrow through the soggy ground towards him. Then he¡¯d made a gesture, and the slime had simply died, its core crushed by earthen tentacles beneath the ground. Clay hadn¡¯t even seen it happen; Lawrence had needed to show him and explain afterwards. Since then they¡¯d been talking about the [Occultist]¡¯s impressions of the monster during the time since.


    Clay frowned. ¡°So they do see?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Completely blind.¡± Lawrence grinned. ¡°I don¡¯t think they feel vibrations the way you were saying those spiders did back in the other Lair, either. It wouldn¡¯t work as well with the soft ground, right?¡±


    He felt his frown deepen a little. The [Occultist] had clearly been using his own unusual abilities to analyze the creature, but he was sharing the information in a way that made him think of Master Taylor¡ªas if it was something precious that had to be doled out a small amount at a time. ¡°So no vibrations, and no eyes. How did they always know I was there?¡±


    Lawrence tapped his nose. ¡°You¡¯re forgetting another sense.¡±


    ¡°They smell me?¡±


    The [Occultist] laughed at Clay¡¯s incredulous tone. ¡°Yep! At least, that¡¯s what I think.¡± He ducked below a tree trunk, habitually scanning their surroundings for threats as he moved past it. ¡°They probably have an excellent sense of smell, and if the wind is blowing just right, they¡¯ll probably sense you coming from leagues away. Gives them plenty of time to feel their way closer to where you¡¯ll be standing.¡±


    Clay thought over his encounters with the things. The observations appeared to fit well enough, though it still galled him that his use of Soul¡¯s Shadow apparently hadn¡¯t helped very much. If anything, the slimes had been slower to react when he hadn¡¯t been using the [Chant]. A thought occurred to him. ¡°Could they smell magic too?¡±


    Lawrence blinked, pausing for a moment. Then he shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t see why they couldn¡¯t. That¡¯d explain why it seemed to catch on a little faster when I was using the [Chant]. We can always test it a little on the next one.¡±


    It seemed like a decent idea. They did have at least another chance to test it once they reached the next slime.


    First, though, they were approaching a burnt grove where he was moderately certain a flame devil was hiding. Clay turned his attention to it, wondering which side of the grove the devil was hiding on. He¡¯d never found one inside the grove, so it had to be somewhere on the outside.


    The [Occultist] studied the grove as well, clearly thinking through the same problem. ¡°So let¡¯s see. If I wanted to ambush someone in the middle of that grove, where would I want to hide?¡±


    Clay glanced at him before turning fresh eyes on the grove. He almost answered, but held his tongue. Lawrence needed to be able to find these things by himself, especially if they would be hunting the devils on their own within the week.


    After a few more moments, Lawrence circled around the grove to the right. Clay followed, keeping his eyes on the trees and underbrush around the partially incinerated thicket. The [Occultist] stalked for a few minutes, pausing occasionally to stare at one trunk or another. Then he stopped and sighed, before glancing in Clay¡¯s direction. ¡°That one?¡±


    He followed Lawrence¡¯s nod and found the flame devil. It was hiding, head down, up against the trunk of a surviving tree. Both of its swiveling eyes were already fixed on them; frustratingly, the flame devils had always been difficult to fool or hide from, even when Soul¡¯s Shadow was active. ¡°Yeah, that one. You ready?¡±


    The [Occultist] nodded. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m ready.¡± He shifted his hands on his quarterstaff. Then he walked forward, making a quiet gesture.


    Clay followed, carefully standing to the side of the adventurer. If the flame devil sprayed fire pitch, they¡¯d both need to be able to dodge to avoid the liquid fire, and he didn¡¯t want them to be tripping over each other. Lawrence didn¡¯t appear to be thinking along those lines, however. The reason why became clear a moment later, as his very first [Charm] became active and the flame devil¡¯s head was engulfed by dark shadows and buzzing noise.


    For a moment, the devil seemed to freeze in shock. Then it let out a gigantic croak of rage, and began to scuttle forward across the snow. Claws flashed, and Clay could see the lights of its fire start to gather in its maw.


    Lawrence kept walking forward and made another quiet gesture. Stone tentacles abruptly tore out of the ground, wrapping around the flame devil¡¯s legs and pinning it in place. The devil fought against them for a moment, trying to rip its way free. Then it gave up and drew back, preparing to launch a stream of flame at its targets.


    Clay began the [Chant] of Vanishing Ember, but Lawrence just made another gesture, and more tentacles shot out of the ground. They wrapped around the devil¡¯s mouth, trapping it shut with a sudden crack. The devil¡¯s eyes seemed to bulge suddenly, and its camouflage abruptly dropped away. Its natural hide, soot-black and highlighted by fire that seemed to flicker between its scales, stood out against the backdrop of the snow it had been crossing.


    The stone tendrils that had trapped its legs began to flake and drop away, and the shadows faded from its face. It jerked one of its legs free and started to scrabble away at the tentacles that had grabbed hold of its head. Clay saw its bladelike claws catch and strike sparks, but the [Charm] held fast.


    Lawrence walked around to the opposite side of the devil¡¯s body. The monster¡¯s frantic jerking became more wild and desperate; the stone around its left leg started to fracture. Before it could pull another leg free, however, the [Occultist] raised the staff high over his head and brought it down.


    The blow crushed something in the devil¡¯s front left shoulder; Clay winced slightly as something crunched. Lawrence struck again and again, smashing more scales and the bones beneath them. Each strike was delivered with a brutal amount of force. It took six strikes before the devil finally lay still, but the thing had clearly been crippled by the second hit across its back.


    Lawrence eyed it for a moment and then stepped back. He glanced at Clay. ¡°I know, I know, it wasn¡¯t very sporting.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°I think the monsters don¡¯t particularly care about playing fair. We shouldn¡¯t either.¡± Then he felt compelled to add some criticism, though he felt reluctant to do so. ¡°There¡¯s no harm in hurrying it up, however. While this one was alone, that¡¯s not always a guarantee. Taking out one enemy quickly might help you survive fighting two or three at once.¡±


    The [Occultist] nodded, his face growing a bit red. ¡°Ah. Yeah, you¡¯re right.¡± Then he laughed. ¡°Serves me right for trying to show off.¡±


    Despite himself, Clay snorted. ¡°Just don¡¯t make a habit of it.¡± It had been an impressive show of Lawrence¡¯s abilities, but he would have preferred a bit more utility rather than just acting casual about executing a monster of the flame devil¡¯s rank. He shook his head, and they headed towards their next target, yet another large ironslime. So far, the day had gone well.

 B2Ch17: Clearing the Valley, Part Two

    ¡°You weren¡¯t wrong about this thing being a pain. Just can¡¯t take no for an answer, can it?¡±


    Clay watched, tense, as Anne weaved her way through the trio of tendrils stretching out to grab at her. She¡¯d taunted the ironslime out of its hole by standing just outside of its range and using the Soul¡¯s Shadow constantly. It had eventually decided to come for her, though it remained underground and relied on its tendrils to try to grab her.


    He¡¯d been tense as the ironslime had come for her, but she¡¯d surprised him easily enough. When the tendrils had broken through the soil, she¡¯d danced aside with an ease that almost mocked the thing¡¯s ability to grab her and rip her apart. Anne¡¯s sword had hacked through the first tendril and carved a wide slash in the second.


    The battle had continued from there, with Anne cutting piece after piece from the slime as it kept reaching for her. Clay had fought the urge to join in repeatedly, though it had been hard. It always seemed like she was on the edge of being grabbed and pulled under, but each time her sword cut another tendril apart, or she danced away yet again.


    She glanced back at him, a smile on her face. ¡°You¡¯re really uptight, you know that, right?¡±


    He glared at her as she ducked under yet another swiping tendril. ¡°I feel like you are not taking this seriously enough. It¡¯s not a game.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know.¡± Anne ducked again, and then slashed another rubbery arm off. She skipped away from the burst of fluid. ¡°I¡¯m just getting used to how it moves. The next one I¡¯ll be faster.¡±


    Clay grunted, folding his arms across his chest to avoid the growing need to dart forward to help cut the thing apart himself. ¡°How are you planning on getting to the core? You know it is reabsorbing some of the tendrils, right?¡±


    ¡°I see it.¡± Anne jumped back again, twisting out of the way to keep from being grabbed. She spoke in a low voice, and Clay¡¯s eyebrows went up as he recognized the [Chant] of Spontaneous Spark. He wondered what she was going to use it for; it wasn¡¯t like she had a torch on hand.


    Then the fluid coating her longsword began to burn, and he took an involuntary half step forward. She didn¡¯t glance backward again, but he thought he could sense her grin.


    Anne darted forward, her sword still burning in her hands. The tendrils seemed to hesitate, but they lashed out at her, regardless. She jerked to the side, avoiding two of the tendrils. When the third came close, she swung her sword through it.


    The tendril came apart in a sudden brilliant burst of flame, briefly concealing Anne behind a cloud of smoke. He saw the tendril reel backwards, still burning where it had been severed. Anne came out of the smoke still running, only this time she was headed straight for the next tendril. It barely had the time to react before she carved through another end, setting off another blast of smoke and flame. To his surprise, the last tendril started to try to withdraw, retreating back towards the main mass.


    Before it could manage, however, Anne stabbed straight through it and into the ground. Clay abruptly realized that she was still speaking the words of Spontaneous Spark again, and as she finished it, she set her fingers near the chemicals leaking from the wounded tendril. He saw the spark leap from her hands.


    As it started to burn, she abruptly yanked her sword free and started running back towards him. For once, she wasn¡¯t grinning as she sprinted, her face looking a little concerned.


    The reason why became clear a moment later. There was a whiff of smoke from the holes where the tendrils had disappeared. He heard something like an indrawn breath, as if from a giant set of lungs beneath the ground.


    Then the lump that marked the ironslime¡¯s position became a fountain of smoke, flame, and half-frozen soil. The whump of the blast reached him a moment later, along with the searing smell of burning slime. Clay got an unexpected mouthful of bad air and started coughing. Clumps of burning mud rained down around him, and he managed to choke out the words for Vanishing Ember to keep it from lighting more of the forest on fire.


    When it was finally over, he glared at Anne, who had ducked behind a nearby tree. She looked both triumphant and sheepish for a moment. Then she shrugged and spread her hands wide. ¡°Well, that was fun! Want to help me do it again?¡±


    Clay tried to maintain the glare, but he eventually started laughing. He threw up his hands and turned away. ¡°Can we just try it from a distance next time? You have some rags for your arrows, right?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah, but why would you¡­ oh!¡± She looked a bit more abashed. ¡°I guess that would be a pretty good idea. You could say it was worth a shot.¡±


    She paused long enough for him to groan and then started off in the direction of their next target. He followed, wondering if all of the adventurers he was going to work with that day were going to try to give him a heart attack. At least his next partner wasn¡¯t going to be nearly as bad.


    It took a few more moments for the smoke to clear. Clay carefully stepped to the side as a burning bit of mud streaked down at him. It landed with a grim smack, burning for a little while. He sighed and finished the [Chant] of Vanishing Ember a moment later, and the flames around him winked out. The moment he¡¯d seen what was happening, he¡¯d started the spell, knowing it would be necessary.


    He watched as Natalie staggered out of the cloud of smoke, her armor smoldering slightly. She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. Then she spat on the ground and grinned through a soot-streaked face. ¡°Impressive, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°It definitely made an impact.¡± Clay smiled a little. She¡¯d obviously been waiting for the chance to use the Flame-tongued Song in front of him, and the large ironslime had been an irresistible target. He¡¯d have to warn the others about the blast radius, just in case the next few had the same idea as Anne and Natalie had.


    The [Alchemist] had demonstrated the same speed and agility that Anne had. Unlike the [Burglar], she¡¯d closed to nearly point blank range nearly immediately and unleashed the fire of her offensive [Chant]. For a moment, it had seemed like the ironslime¡¯s hide would resist the fire; a quick application of one of her javelins had resolved the problem, and the detonation had happened only moments later.


    Fortunately, it seemed she hadn¡¯t hurt herself with the blast. He¡¯d been half-expecting her to be blind or on fire. As it was, the [Alchemist] seemed more invigorated than anything else. Perhaps she was a little too enthusiastic, actually.


    ¡°You know that the flame devils aren¡¯t going to be affected by fire very much, right?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Yep! Don¡¯t you worry, though. I have another plan for those.¡±


    The plan, apparently, was to just waltz into the burnt thicket while reciting the [Chant] for Firm Step. Clay had felt the hair raise on the back of his neck, but Natalie hadn¡¯t even flinched when the tongue struck her from behind. She just braced herself, in a way that seemed horribly familiar, and let the flame devil wrench itself forward with the force of its own pull.


    As the monster yanked itself forward, Natalie spun and raised both of her clubs, and brought them both down on the devil¡¯s head. The strikes seemed to hit far harder than they should; Natalie had the same [Might] as a level one [Commoner], and even with her practice and the additional bonuses he was giving her, it still shouldn¡¯t have been that impressive. When Natalie stepped back, the devil¡¯s skull had been more or less crushed by the impact. She didn¡¯t even look at it again as she pried the tongue off of her shoulder.


    Clay spoke before he could stop himself. ¡°Was that a [Feat] of some kind?¡±


    Natalie beamed at him. ¡°Yeah. My second one, actually. [Dual Strike] lets me deliver a really powerful hit as long as I¡¯m hitting with two weapons at once. I figured with everything else, I should be able to crack their skulls in a single hit as long as I¡¯m ready for them.¡±


    He nodded ruefully. ¡°Well done. Sorry, I keep forgetting that you adventurers have those kind of skills. The [Charms] are just a bit more obvious.¡±


    ¡°Well, I do have one of those. [Red Bolt].¡± She grinned. ¡°It¡¯s just not nearly as fun as the [Chants], though. Maybe it will be more useful in the future. For now, I¡¯ll just keep relying on [Chants], clubs, and javelins. Think it¡¯ll be enough for one more ironslime?¡±


    Clay nodded again, and her grin grew a bit wider. ¡°Oh, no more wise words of advice from Sir Clay? Still afraid I¡¯m going to blow myself up?¡±


    He raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°You¡¯re a grown woman, Syr Natalie. I¡¯m sure you can manage a little heat.¡± Clay shrugged. ¡°Just make sure not to get too burned. You¡¯re important to us, after all.¡±


    Strangely, Natalie¡¯s face grew a little red. She looked back down at the devil and paused. A speculative look came into her eye. ¡°You know, this devil hide might make for an interesting material. It has to be fireproof. Maybe we could use it for armor, or even just a shield of some kind¡­¡±


    She shook herself and shouldered her clubs. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s get moving. You still have two more of us to escort, and I still have to get back to camp and tell Lawrence he was right about that smell thing. Those blobs can definitely track us by scent; there has got to be some way we can use that to our advantage.¡±


    Bemused, Clay followed her. He wondered if she was going to start assigning them tasks to harvest monster pieces for her; he¡¯d heard of [Alchemists] experimenting with that sort of thing, though it had usually been followed by the adventurer normally getting blown up or poisoned by some experiment or another. Natalie seemed to have a better head on her shoulders.


    At least, he hoped so.


    ¡°Are you getting tired, Sir Clay?¡±


    Clay rolled his eyes and grunted. He was watching Xavien duel against a large ironslime, but it seemed like the adventurer wasn¡¯t quite taking the fight seriously. The [Oracle] had taken a very different approach to the battle, which fit with his abilities. Rather than engaging with the monster, he¡¯d used the Floating Step [Chant] to start skating around it, blasting it with his lightning [Charm]. It had attempted to flail back at him; the scorch marks left by the lightning didn¡¯t fade the same way the puncture wounds had. Perhaps it would have an effect at some point, but for now, it just seemed like the man was wasting energy.


    He still tried to sound encouraging. ¡°You know it¡¯ll catch you eventually, right?¡±


    Xavien frowned. ¡°Not likely, Sir Clay.¡± He dodged to the side as a tendril erupted from the earth. It lashed at him, but the [Oracle] had already moved far past it. ¡°The only way it will catch me is if it comes out of its hole.¡±


    Another tendril burst from the ground, and Xavien smacked it aside with his mace. He gave the ironslime another burst of lightning, as if to taunt it further. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m confident in my movements. Did you ever skate on the ice back in Pellsglade?¡±


    Clay smiled a little. ¡°No, not really. Too many chores on the farm, and no rivers or lakes big enough. Not like anyone wanted to wander off to find one, not with the monsters in the Tanglewood and Undead in the Sarlwood. Safer and easier to find our fun at home or in the Smallgroves.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Xavien dodged another tendril and smacked a second aside. The slime seemed to be getting more and more agitated. Another lightning burst seemed to provoke it even further. ¡°Back in Crownsguard they had a few smaller lakes nearby. No Dungeons or Lairs anywhere nearby, so we felt free to practice a bit. I always enjoyed it. The experience made winter¡­ bearable.¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The contrast between the conversation and the fight was so ridiculous that Clay began to chuckle to himself. ¡°Any other stories from home that you¡¯d like to share? Or do you think you could finish with that first?¡±


    Xavien paused long enough to grin at him¡ªand at that moment the slime erupted from its hole, trailing its tendrils behind it. Clay saw its core swirling around, obviously in a bid to keep Xavien from taking a clear shot at it. The [Oracle] saw it reaching out to engulf him and changed course to shoot straight towards it. Blinking in surprise, Clay straightened up in alarm. ¡°Sir Xavien¡ª¡±


    The [Oracle] dove into the slime¡¯s embrace. Just before it reached him, however, he made an unfamiliar gesture.


    Which is when he suddenly lit on fire.


    Clay jerked in surprise, but it wasn¡¯t him that had the biggest reaction. The ironslime had been about to engulf the [Oracle]. Now it pulled back in something that looked like terror, but Xavien didn¡¯t give it the chance to get away. He smashed into it with all the force of a flaming bolt, and Clay braced himself for another catastrophic burst of smoke and fire.


    Instead, the flames abruptly faded, leaving the slime scorched and reeling, but unexploded. Xavien stood with his hand against the ironslime, directly where the core was floating within it. He glanced at Clay, and then his lightning [Charm] activated, and the core shattered inside the slime.


    The monster collapsed in on itself immediately, with fluid gushing from rents on its skin that opened as it died. Xavien pushed himself back from the thing, skating backwards on Floating Step until he was safely out of range of the dead slime¡¯s revenge.


    Despite himself, Clay felt a little impressed. He¡¯d expected the [Oracle] to be a bit more of a heavy hitter, but he¡¯d relied on agility and cunning almost as much as Anne had. Clay realized, suddenly, that he didn¡¯t even know what the [Oracle]¡¯s spells did. He wondered if he planned on using another new one against the flame devils.


    As Xavien made his way around the dead slime, he seemed to be satisfied with his work. ¡°Well, how did I do?¡±


    Clay nodded grudgingly. ¡°You did well, but you need to not get overconfident. If there had been other enemies, or you had a time limit, then the situation might not have gone as well. Is there a reason you didn¡¯t head straight for the slime immediately?¡±


    Xavien grimaced. ¡°My [Flame of Honor] [Sigil] can only be used so many times a day. If the slime had moved its core when it saw me coming, I wouldn¡¯t have had a good shot.¡±


    It made sense. ¡°Next time, I¡¯d almost rather you fake an injury or taunt it out of the hole some other way. Other than that, well done.¡± The [Oracle] flushed at the praise, and Clay shifted a bit on his feet, uncomfortable at needing to give it. ¡°All right, let¡¯s go see how you do against a flame devil.¡±


    To his surprise, Xavien grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have nearly as many clever tricks for those, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°Lighting yourself on fire doesn¡¯t help as much with those, huh?¡±


    ¡°Not as such, I imagine.¡± Xavien fell into step beside him. He sighed. ¡°Sometimes I wonder how I, of all people, got caught up in all of this. I always believed I would be able to work in the Rectory, or perhaps in my father¡¯s store. I don¡¯t even know if I would have left Crownsguard if I hadn¡¯t been given this [Class] at my Choosing.¡±


    Clay glanced at the man and then focused back on the path that would take them to where a flame devil was likely hiding. This grove in particular seemed a little tricky; it had chosen to burn a spot in the middle of a cluster of rocks, which meant he couldn¡¯t just track down which tree it was using. Perhaps Xavien¡¯s mystery [Charm] would help reveal it. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know if I could say the same. If the Trickster hadn¡¯t set me on this path, I might still have found my way out of Pellsglade, I suppose. One way or the other.¡±


    Xavien laughed. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s true! The Trickster does have her ways, does she not?¡± He shook his head. ¡°At times, I wonder if it was her hand that set my path. Perhaps one day I¡¯ll know for sure.¡±


    He snorted at the [Oracle]¡¯s theatrics. ¡°Well, if she was, you¡¯ll be in good company, I¡¯d assume. She might have even had a good reason for it.¡± Xavien snorted derisively, and Clay chuckled at his clear skepticism.


    They walked along for a few minutes, with Xavien¡¯s chuckles fading away. Clay continued to study their surroundings, searching for signs of enemies. There were still occasional birds and other wildlife in the valley; the lizards and slimes hadn¡¯t killed them all yet. Their movements made him tense and pause every so often. Fortunately, it seemed like the monsters hadn¡¯t shifted positions very much in the past day or so, and even the packs of smaller creatures were fairly straightforward to avoid.


    When they reached the tangle of boulders, Clay motioned for Xavien to move ahead. The [Oracle] grimaced again, but he moved forward carefully. He heard Xavien muttering something under his breath, recognizing the [Chant] for Vanishing Ember. The choice made sense, especially considering Xavien¡¯s previous close call with a wretch¡¯s fire breath.


    Clay watched as the [Oracle] circled the rock pile. He didn¡¯t seem to intend to stride boldly into the burnt thicket the way Natalie had, and Clay had to admit he approved of the caution. It might have been somewhat hypocritical, given how he¡¯d lured the elder troll spiders back in the Tanglewood, but the troll spiders hadn¡¯t breathed fire. At least, that was how he justified his reluctance to copy her method.


    In the end, the [Oracle] spent an inordinate amount of time finding the creature, but he did find it. Once he had, he directed a burst of lightning at it before charging in, his mace and shield held ready. The flame devil apparently decided not to use its tongue; instead, its mouth glowed with lurid heat as it reared up, ready to spray the [Oracle] with fire.


    The stream lashed out at Xavien¡ªand was extinguished halfway through the air. Xavien ducked low behind his shield, letting the noxious fluid splash off it as he closed the distance. As the devil warbled in confusion, he roared in victory and smashed it upside the head with his mace.


    Unlike with Natalie, the creature wasn¡¯t immediately killed. It reared back, shaking its head, and he darted in to smash it again and again. When it snapped back at him, Xavien ducked low, keeping out of the reach of the glowing maw, and hit it yet again with the mace. The devil staggered, clearly beginning to move slower.


    Then it snapped at him again, and when he dodged a second time, it lashed out with one clawed hand. The claws swiped across Xavien¡¯s torso, and Clay sucked in a breath when one of the bladed talons struck through Xavien¡¯s armor and drew blood.


    The [Oracle] didn¡¯t hesitate over the wound, though. Instead, he roared and pressed the attack, bringing his mace down on its head again and again and again, until the devil fell. Xavien didn¡¯t let up, pummeling the thing until it lay still. Then, as he staggered backwards, he put a hand to his bleeding shoulder and muttered something else. There was a flash of green light, and Xavien sighed in relief.


    Clay walked over and pushed Xavien¡¯s hand aside to inspect things. The wound was gone, as if it had never existed. ¡°You can heal?¡±


    ¡°Yes, got the [Charm] for my second level.¡± Xavien gave him a tight smile. ¡°Fortunately, I haven¡¯t had that many opportunities to use it, but when I do¡­¡±


    Whistling softly, Clay straightened up. ¡°Remind me to take better care of you. My friend Syr Maribel saved my life with a [Charm] like that. Hopefully, we won¡¯t need it, but I¡¯m betting you¡¯ll be saving the rest of us with that quite a bit in the coming days.¡±


    The [Oracle] straightened up a little, and a solemn expression crossed his face. ¡°You can rely on me, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it.¡± He clapped Xavien on his other shoulder and then looked around. ¡°See, there¡¯re plenty of good reasons for the Trickster to have sent you along.¡±


    Xavien rolled his eyes. ¡°And next you¡¯ll be saying that Master Taylor was secretly the Sage in disguise. You¡¯ll give me far too big a head, Sir Clay. It won¡¯t fit my helmet.¡±


    Clay snorted, shaking his head. ¡°Oh please, Syr Taylor wears the wrong kind of spectacles, and I¡¯m just saying what we both know. Your contribution is important. Now let¡¯s go get you another ironslime kill.¡±


    ¡°Thank you Sir Clay, I¡­wait, what?¡±


    Clay laughed and turned to lead the way through the forest. It was turning out to be a wonderful day.


    Jack was moving far more carefully through the valley than the others had, and Clay couldn¡¯t entirely blame him.


    The [Knave] didn¡¯t have any of the long range options of the others; the most he¡¯d given in to the idea had been to arm himself with a sling and some stones that he apparently used to pick off wretches and slimes. His primary armament remained the two Pell knives that remained drawn in both of his hands, ready to be used at a moment¡¯s notice. His eyes scanned the trees and rocks around them with a cold, calculating manner that Clay could only approve of. Of all the members of his team, it seemed like Jack had learned the most in terms of hunting; he didn¡¯t even complain about being surrounded by trees anymore.


    As they approached the burnt grove, Jack glanced at Clay and nodded seriously. Clay paused, watching as the [Knave] stalked forward, obviously looking for the hidden flame devil nearby. He grimaced a little as Jack paused near the tree where the devil was waiting and then continued on apparently oblivious. Luckily, the [Knave] hadn¡¯t given the devil a clear angle to ambush him, but it had been a near thing.


    The creature had definitely seen Jack, too. Clay could see its eyes tracking the [Knave]¡¯s progress, swiveling carefully to keep him in sight. Jack made a small circle around the edge of the grove, getting closer to the burnt trees. A few more strides and he¡¯d be in the open enough for the lizard to strike at him.


    He nearly started forward to warn the man, but Jack paused again, just long enough to give Clay a shake of the head. Then he continued to move, his steps careful and calm.


    Clay frowned. He understood Jack¡¯s insistence on being independent, but he wasn¡¯t going to just sit and watch the man get killed. The flame devil could move much faster than an unaware adventurer could, especially one that didn¡¯t have [Valor] as a primary [Stat].


    Yet Jack wasn¡¯t in danger yet. He paused by yet another tree, gripping his daggers. Then, to Clay¡¯s shock, he sprinted out into the open and jumped, using a nearby stone as a springboard to catapult him into the air. The flame devil appeared just as surprised; its angular head even swiveled slightly, tracking the arc of Jack¡¯s leap.


    Then Jack¡¯s trajectory changed with sudden, telling sharpness. The [Knave] veered sharply towards the flame devil, shooting towards it like an arrow from a bow. Clay blinked as he recognized the effects of Pursuing Leap, and his eyes darted to where Jack had paused behind the devil¡¯s tree. Was that a slingstone lying there in the snow?


    By the time he looked back, Jack had struck the devil like a predator made of anger and knives. The flame devil just barely managed a shocked warble before the [Knave] ripped it apart. As it slid down the tree, Jack popped out from behind it and picked up the slingstone he¡¯d dropped. He was already chanting Pure Touch, and had finished it by the time he got back to where Clay was watching.


    Then he paused, glancing at Clay in surprise. ¡°Shall we get going?¡±


    Clay nodded numbly. It had been a devastatingly effective ambush, done with just a lower [Chant] and a bit of preparation. He wondered briefly if the [Knave] had even needed his bonuses to pull it off; the devil might have lasted a little longer against Jack alone, but probably not by much.


    Then he broke into a smile. A flicker of something like pride went through him. ¡°Well done! You have something like that planned for the ironslimes?¡±


    Jack hesitated. His usually serious, half-surly expression broke into a hesitant smile. ¡°Kind of. It might not work as well, but if it doesn¡¯t, I can always just hack the thing to death with these.¡± He gestured with his knives, both of which gleamed in the winter sun.


    It seemed like a fairly decent plan. ¡°All right, just as long as it doesn¡¯t involve fire.¡± Jack gave him a curious look, but he tried not to explain. He¡¯d seen enough explosions for one day.


    ¡°Well, that was¡­ interesting.¡±


    They were standing over the shriveled remnants of the large ironslime. Jack stood a short distance away, looking both pleased and ashamed of himself.


    Clay gave him a considering look. ¡°I don¡¯t think I ever expected to see Pure Touch used as an offensive spell before. Is your hand hurt?¡±


    Jack grimaced and flexed his left hand. ¡°Not very much. I think my [Fortitude] was high enough that the acid didn¡¯t sting too badly¡ªand it did work.¡±


    He sighed, but still nodded. The sight of the [Knave] cutting a hole in the ironslime¡¯s hide and then sticking his hand in had not been a pleasant one. It hadn¡¯t helped that Jack had practically yelped the last few words of Pure Touch, accompanied by the hissing from the slime¡¯s acid.


    Then the [Chant] had activated, and the spell had attempted to purify the monster from the inside. Fluid had abruptly fountained from the creature in a hundred different places, and it had been fairly easy for Jack to step forward to the hole and cut his way through to the helpless core.


    ¡°It did work¡­but I think in the end, Anne¡¯s idea with Spontaneous Spark was better.¡± Jack looked ready to argue, but Clay held up a hand to stop him. ¡°She might have set off an explosion, but it probably resulted in less damage than what you took. Besides, I saw how it sealed up around your wrist; if the [Chant] hadn¡¯t worked, you might have been missing fingers by now.¡±


    ¡°Better than blowing myself up.¡± Clay grinned at Jack¡¯s grumbles, and the [Knave] flexed his hand. He grimaced. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll give that a try with the next one.¡±


    Clay nodded, and they headed off into the valley again. Another big ironslime was up ahead, and the light was starting to fade fast.


    By the time they all reached Rodcliff, the all of them were exhausted and victorious.


    As the others had packed up their camp, Clay had gone out one last time, doing a quick sweep of the areas where they had been fighting. He¡¯d been able to clear out a few smaller slimes and some wretches that had crept in, but his main purpose had been to pick out their targets for the next day. It hadn¡¯t been that hard to find another batch of devils and large slimes for them to strike, though he had needed to resist the urge to just destroy them for himself.


    Captain Goodston was waiting for them when they reached the town. The man had been peering out into the woods, a handful of his fellow [Guards] with him. They had seemed tense, but they all nearly collapsed from relief when they saw the group of adventurers returning. Goodston himself stepped forward to help with their supplies, followed by the others.


    ¡°Sir Clay. It is good to see you are all safe.¡±


    For once, the man sounded mostly sincere. ¡°Thank you. Was there any trouble in town?¡±


    ¡°No, Sir.¡± Goodston looked a little uneasy. ¡°We were hearing loud¡­ noises from across the ridge, however. We didn¡¯t know if you had been ambushed.¡±


    The explosions. It was like the screams in the Tanglewood; the [Commoners] had heard them and not known what was happening. Clay winced a little. ¡°No, Captain. The work we¡¯re doing will be making quite a lot more noise than before, but we¡¯ll make sure that the town remains safe.¡±


    Goodston nodded slowly. ¡°That is good to hear, Sir.¡± He paused. ¡°A messenger arrived for you. From Crownsguard. He¡¯s waiting for you in the tavern.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Clay exchanged a look with the others. He hadn¡¯t expected any messengers to catch up with them from the Guild, at least not until the snows stopped being quite so regular. ¡°I¡¯ll go see him, then. Jack, get everyone settled back into the house. If you can, do a quick patrol of the woods nearby. We want to make absolutely sure nothing slipped past us.¡±


    Jack nodded, and the others went to work storing their gear back in the house. Clay turned back to Goodston. ¡°Please, lead the way, Captain.¡±

 B2Ch18: Letters From Home

    Clay hadn¡¯t been back inside the tavern since he¡¯d arrived. He hadn¡¯t really felt like it was the best place for him, not while things were still threatening the town. Until Rodcliff was safe, he would have felt like someone who was taking advantage of a rest that he didn¡¯t earn. The fact that he¡¯d regularly seen worried families taking shelter there had only increased his desire to stay back in the field, rather than wasting time in town.


    Now, however, he saw more signs of hope in the place. The miners were still sodden with drink, and there were still families huddled in corners, but the aura of utter hopelessness was gone. Their eyes seemed far less dull with despair, and some of the children were even starting to play with one another again. He grinned as he saw a pair of them dueling with sticks, one of them trying to hold a pair of them the way Jack held his knives.


    He''d barely taken a step into the room when the bartender caught sight of him. Clay had been expecting a scowl of suspicion or disappointment, but the man¡¯s face lit with immediate enthusiasm. Before Clay realized it, the bartender had nudged the nearest miners and raised a glass. ¡°To the Band of Ruffians and the Common Hero!¡±


    The reaction was as immediate as it was surprising. Clay blinked as half-drunk miners and shouting children answered the call with shouts of welcome. He froze for a second and then waved back at them. He¡¯d hoped that his grin didn¡¯t look too baffled, but the miners still laughed and made gruff jokes about it as they turned back to their drinks. At the very least, he supposed the nickname was better than the Rogue¡¯s Gallery; he¡¯d have to tell the others once he got back.


    Not everyone had joined in on the cheer. He would have been able to pick out the messenger almost immediately anyway, however. Where the other [Commoners] wore simple, plain clothing, often a little dirty or ragged, the messenger was wearing a fine cloak and sturdy boots. The man seemed to be immune to the rowdiness around him, and when he looked over to see Clay, his eyes flashed with casual interest rather than caution or respect.


    The messenger pushed back his stool before he could approach and walked over to meet him, extending a hand. ¡°Sir Clay, it is good to see you. My name is Eliot Marsen. The Guild Council sends their regards.¡±


    Though the words seemed perfectly reasonable and polite, there was a hint of haughtiness in the man¡¯s tone. Clay felt a hint of foreboding, but he still shook the man¡¯s hand, anyway. ¡°Welcome to Rodcliff. You have a message for me from the Council?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± Eliot¡¯s eyes shifted slightly, as if taking in the presence of Captain Goodston at Clay¡¯s side. ¡°Is there a place we can speak in private?¡±


    For a moment, Clay considered taking the man to their house at the edge of town, but something about the idea felt wrong. Instead, he decided on one of the other empty houses. ¡°Of course. Captain Goodston, would it be all right if I used the Falnrill home?¡±


    Goodston¡¯s eyes flickered. The Falnrills had been a family of three brothers living at the edge of town. They¡¯d disappeared early into the existence of the Lair, with two of the brothers going missing in the mines. The third had set out to find them and never returned. By all accounts, they had all been very good men. ¡°Yes, Sir Clay. Goodman Timan has been keeping an eye on it. I don¡¯t know if the fire¡¯s going, though.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll warm up quickly enough, Captain. Thank you.¡± Clay inclined his head, and then turned back to the messenger. Eliot seemed to be waiting with an indulgent air about him, as if he was being overly patient with someone. ¡°This way, Goodman Marsen.¡±


    A short walk through the snowridden streets of Rodcliff, and they reached the empty house. A pile of wood stood by the front door; Clay grabbed a few of the logs and spent a few moments arranging them in the empty fireplace. The messenger was stomping his feet and looking around with distaste; the humble table and chairs that the dead brothers had left behind didn¡¯t seem to fit his tastes.


    Spontaneous Spark lit the fire well enough, and the messenger blinked in surprise as the wood was set alight. He blinked at the flames as heat slowly filled the room, chasing winter¡¯s touch from the empty home.


    ¡°Again, Sir Clay, I am very glad that I have been able to find you. Many on the Council were concerned about your mission to Rodcliff. You¡¯ve been here for quite some time.¡±


    ¡°Only a few weeks, really.¡± Clay walked over to the table and took a seat in one of the old chairs. It creaked alarmingly as he tilted it back for a moment. Then he set it back on all four feet and studied the messenger, who had not joined him at the table. ¡°We¡¯ve been making plenty of progress. Another five or six weeks, and we should be done here, and ready to return to Crownsguard.¡±


    Eliot tilted his head to the side, frowning. ¡°I believe the Council expected your mission to be done much sooner than that, actually. In fact, I was told to anticipate meeting you on the road home.¡±


    Clay winced. ¡°We¡¯ve run into some¡­ complications. I can send you back with a report¡ª¡±


    ¡°Actually, I have another message to deliver once I am done here. I believe the Council would be more interested in hearing about your mission from you directly.¡± Eliot smiled. ¡°They¡¯ve asked you to return to Crownsguard as soon as you are able. With your team, of course.¡±


    He felt a burst of irritation as the messenger grinned at him. It took a moment of effort to control his voice. ¡°No.¡±


    Astonishment crossed the messenger¡¯s face. ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°There is a serious threat here that needs to be addressed, and I¡¯m not going to abandon it because the Council doesn¡¯t have enough information. If they want me to report on the situation, I will¡­ once the town is safe.¡±


    The tone in his voice must have broken through the messenger¡¯s confidence, because he began to look uncertain. ¡°Sir Clay, I know that the needs of the townsfolk are often pressing, but you¡¯ve already spent several weeks suppressing the Lair here¡ª¡±


    ¡°Lairs, not Lair. There¡¯s two of them.¡±


    His interruption appeared to bring the man¡¯s response to a sudden halt. ¡°What?¡±


    Clay smiled, though he doubted there was much friendliness in his expression. ¡°Yeah, two of them. Both brand new. I told you there were complications.¡±


    ¡°Th-that can¡¯t be possible! They aren¡¯t supposed to¡ª¡±


    He held up a hand, and the messenger cut off. ¡°It happens. Not often, but sometimes. The Council will know why.¡±


    The messenger looked at the door, as if expecting monsters to come through it at any moment. ¡°If there are two separate Lairs here, then the Guild will need to send another, higher ranked team! You can¡¯t be expected to¡ª¡±


    ¡°We have the situation under control.¡± Clay tried to sound soothing. ¡°We¡¯re going to have them pushed back nearly to the mines before the end of the week, and by then, my cadets will be at level four. We plan on hitting the Lairs and destroying them after that.¡±


    ¡°Your team? You¡¯re saying your team is still intact?¡± The messenger seemed almost as badly rattled by that fact as he was about the Lair. ¡°How many casualties have you had?¡±


    Clay frowned. ¡°Casualties? None. Well, aside from a few bumps and scrapes.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I can put together a letter to summarize things, but you¡¯ll have to deliver it to the Council directly. There are details I want to share only with them. Understand?¡±


    Eliot swallowed, his eyes still wide. ¡°Yes, Sir. I understand.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± The last thing he needed was for a messenger to take a peek and start talking to everyone about a possible Rogue in the area. Things were already going to be bad enough as it was. Then another idea occurred to him. ¡°Would you also be able to carry some letters for us? I¡¯m sure we¡¯d all like to write home, if we could.¡±


    The messenger jerked in surprise at the question, and he nodded. ¡°Yes, yes, of course. In fact, I was carrying a few letters intended for you as well.¡± He began rummaging around in his travelsack, eventually drawing out a sheaf of parchment. Some of the pages looked a little worn, as if they¡¯d been carried around for weeks.


    Clay stood up and accepted the letters. He ignored the temptation to look and see if his parents or Olivia had written. At the very least, he should bring them back to the others first.


    He looked around the small house. ¡°Rodcliff doesn¡¯t have anything like an inn, but I¡¯m sure that the Captain wouldn¡¯t mind if you stayed here.¡±


    Eliot paused, his face filling with confusion. ¡°What about Baron Rodcliff? Has he not been offering you support?¡±


    Clay felt a twinge of surprise and regret. Had the man not talked with anyone at all? ¡°Baron Rodcliff has been missing since before we arrived. He was last seen headed for the mines. We¡¯ve been looking, but¡­¡± He shook his head.


    The messenger stared at him for a long moment. Then he looked around at the empty room, as if seeing the empty chairs for the first time. ¡°Sir Clay, what has happened here?¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°Eliot, that¡¯s what I plan on finding out.¡±


    It turned out that there were letters for each member of his small force. Jack had gotten a letter from his sister, and Anne had one from her brothers. Both letters had been scratched out on the backs of parchment that had been posted in the slums somewhere, complete with official notices or announcements on the opposite side. Xavien had received at least four different letters, from members of his family and the local Rectors near his home. The refined handwriting could not have contrasted more with the scatchwork on the letters to his fellow residents of Crownsguard.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Natalie, on the other hand, had received a single letter that scrawled across several pages. Clay had stolen a single peek over her shoulder, and had discovered that her parents had written her, and had apparently tried to describe every single event that had happened in her home town since she¡¯d left. The [Alchemist] had a look of quiet longing on her face as she read; when she finished, she simply turned back to the beginning and started again.


    The last member of the team had actually received more letters than anyone else, though most of them had been sent on spare scraps of parchment that had been salvaged from letters he¡¯d apparently written to them. Lawrence shifted through them with an expression of awe on his face; he¡¯d never mentioned receiving word from home before, and the novelty of it seemed to have completely captured his attention.


    Clay left them to read their words and found an isolated corner to read his own mail. The Guild had sent along three different letters, and he didn¡¯t want to share the details with any of them.


    The first was from his own family. They had apparently received his own letter and had written back to him immediately. Sam had described the previous harvest, and how he¡¯d had to fix Clay¡¯s shoddy work on the roof of the farmhouse near the Tanglewood. His father didn¡¯t quite lecture him for failing to patch the roof well before the snow started to fall, but he came fairly close to it. He also expressed relief that he was receiving actual training for work as a hero, though he did ask when Clay would be returning home.


    Amelia Evergreen was far more obvious in her concerns. She repeatedly emphasized the need to be careful, to listen to the Council, and to come home as soon as he could. His mother also took the time to include a few bits of gossip from the rest of Pellsglade, from the continuing family bickering with the Calmfords, to an apparent conflict between Adam, the village¡¯s usual merchant, with some newcomer named Mira who was starting to muscle in on his territory.


    His siblings had even written something, at least as much as they could. Will had asked a half dozen questions about the Academy, Amy had talked about a bird she¡¯d nursed back to health, and Saphy had demanded that he come back and teach her magic, a request he was reasonably sure that her mother hadn¡¯t agreed to. Even Finn had managed a crude scrawl, telling him to come back home¡ªsomething that was surprisingly poignant, and set his heart aching for a while after he¡¯d read it.


    When he¡¯d finished reading the bedraggled letter from his family, he turned to the next letter. It was written on crisp, high-quality paper, the kind that only real nobility and rich merchants could afford. In a few terse words, the Council requested he present them with information about his mission, the behavior of the cadets under his command, and any other information of value. They also requested he present that information personally, leaving his cadets in place if needed.


    Clay snorted at the idea. He was sure that his friends could guard the town well enough without him, but he was just as sure that he wasn¡¯t going to waste nearly three months traveling through the snow to explain the situation when he could just destroy the Lairs and end it on his own. He¡¯d send them a report on what was happening and consider that good enough for now.


    It was ultimately the last letter that made him far more nervous. This one had multiple pages, complete with diagrams, and showed the signs of Olivia¡¯s handwriting.


    He had just started to read it when Anne looped an arm around him. ¡°Well, well! Is this the Novice that discovered the [Chants]? Did she send you anything else interesting?¡±


    For just a moment, Clay wanted to light the [Burglar] on fire. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I think it is just a personal letter.¡±


    ¡°You sure about that? Looks kinda interesting.¡±


    He glared at her, and Lawrence spoke up from where he was sitting. ¡°Let him be, Anne. He¡¯ll tell us if it¡¯ll be helpful.¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh, fine. Who can blame me for wanting to have a little fun?¡±


    As she wandered off, Clay noticed Natalie was glancing over at him, her eyes a little too interested. Did she really think Olivia had included another batch of [Chants] for her to learn?


    Shaking his head, he tried to start again.


    Her letter was fairly normal, by Clay¡¯s standards at least. She talked about what the Rector had been having her do, and about her work on the farm outside the Tanglewood. Of course, she also made a roundabout mention of training and practice that she was running through, which he imagined meant that she was trying to get ready for her own Choosing. It would only be another four or five months away by now, and he wondered for a moment if she¡¯d be given an adventuring [Class], or if she would really end up like him as a [Commoner].


    She also filled in some of the details about what was happening in Pellsglade. The spiders had been all but exterminated by the ¡®generation of heroes¡¯, which meant that animals were starting to return to the Tanglewood. There were hunters and foragers moving through it as well, and the Baron had needed to speak multiple times with the new visitors to the place. Apparently, rumors were floating around about a village of heroes, where even the [Commoners] could fight monsters, and people were flocking to the place seeking safety.


    Clay frowned as he read that. Pellsglade had always been a calm, quiet place¡ªaside from the occasional monster, of course. The idea that it might be growing and changing without him there was¡­ uncomfortable, to say the least. He shook his head and read on, hoping for better news.


    Olivia went from talking about the newcomers to mentioning a few facts that she had been able to dig up about the nearby Lairs and Dungeons. It sounded almost like she was trying to look for targets once he got back, and he flinched as he pictured the Guild¡¯s reaction to that idea. He was fairly certain they would take a dim view of him running around on his own, but then again, that was what he ultimately wanted to do. There had to be a way to convince the Guild that he could do better on his own, right?


    The end of the letter grew somewhat strange. Rather than her normal flowing script, Olivia changed into the phonetic shorthand that she¡¯d developed for translating the [Chants]. It took him a moment to make sure that she hadn¡¯t actually intended for it to be a [Chant]. Instead, it almost looked like she was trying to prevent others from reading what she had written.


    I¡¯ve missed having you here, Clay. Don¡¯t let them keep you trapped at the Academy forever. If they don¡¯t let you go soon, I¡¯m going to go through the Choosing early and come get you myself.


    He smirked at the thought of Olivia marching in and demanding that he be released. She¡¯d be lucky if Master Taylor ever let her escape.


    After that promise, she went on to describe her training in a bit more detail¡ªapparently, she had some sort of leverage on Adam to get more equipment, and she¡¯d been using her trips to the farm as an excuse to practice tracking in the Tanglewood¡ªand spoke a little about her plans once he returned. She had identified a Lair a few days away, one that had been culled recently, but was likely a good target for training, she thought. After that, they¡¯d find the [Chants] they needed as they traveled.


    He read and reread the words, searching for more signs of her motivations. Before, he would have just been happy to know that she still wanted to be a hero, but now he found himself questioning why. It was hard to get those doubts out of his head.


    In any case, she closed in more normal language, asking him to write her, and reminding him he¡¯d promised to let her know if things got dangerous. Clay winced as she mentioned that promise; it had been one of the first he¡¯d made her, and he¡­ hadn¡¯t exactly been keeping it lately.


    Fortunately, she¡¯d provided a few blank sheets of parchment to help him do better. Thoughtful of her, as always.


    He sat back from the letter, eyes not focused on anything in particular. How long had it been since he¡¯d been in Pellsglade now? Barely the length of a season, and it already seemed like a lifetime ago. How much longer would it feel by the time he finally made it home?


    Then he shook himself. No matter how long it took, he was going to get back there in time for her Choosing. He wanted to be there when his parents needed help, and when the Undead started to get active in the Sarlwood again. When Will and the others grew up, he wanted to see what [Classes] they were given. A part of him even wanted to see what changes his father had made to the shack the baron had given him near the Tanglewood, though he didn¡¯t look forward to the gentle ribbing his father was going to give him about his poor repair jobs.


    Who was he trying to fool? He wanted that, too.


    Determination filled him, and he searched for a quill to start writing back. Olivia had given him plenty of material to work with. Now all he had to do was condense everything down for them in a single night.


    Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t take that long to do.


    Early the next day, Clay collected the letters from the others and walked them over to where the messenger had been quartered. Eliot answered the door on the first knock. His haughty expression was now haggard and tired, as if he hadn¡¯t slept nearly well enough the night before. He did seem to perk up a little when he realized who was standing on the porch. ¡°Sir Clay? What do you need?¡±


    Clay handed over the sheaf of parchment that he and the others had filled. He smiled a little apologetically. ¡°If you could bring these back to Crownsguard and beyond, I¡¯d appreciate it. I wrote the letter for the Council on the back of their letter to me.¡± He tapped the carefully folded parchment. Natalie had even helped him melt a crude blob of wax over it the night before, hopefully sealing it until it was delivered. ¡°Please make sure they get it soon.¡±


    Eliot nodded. He swallowed. ¡°I was originally meant to deliver another message¡ªbut I believe you are correct. The Council will want to hear about this. Two Lairs!¡± He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve acted as their messenger many times, Sir Clay, but I¡¯ve never heard of such a thing.¡±


    ¡°Keep it to yourself, please.¡± He looked around. ¡°The last thing we need is for rumors to get around.¡±


    The messenger nodded. ¡°Yes, yes, you¡¯re right. My lips are sealed.¡± He took the letters and stepped back to find his travelsack. Clay winced a little as the man stuffed the parchment into the bag; he¡¯d been taught by his mother to have a little more respect for paper. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±


    ¡°No. I won¡¯t keep you; I just wanted to catch you before we left today.¡± Clay glanced to the north. The others would already be getting ready to head out; he¡¯d said he would meet them at the ridge. After all, they didn¡¯t exactly need his help to get that far. Lately, it seemed like they could even have started on clearing the valley without him too. He supposed that was the point.


    When he looked back, he found Eliot studying him. ¡°You¡¯re going out to fight again today? I thought you had already mounted an expedition yesterday.¡±


    ¡°We did, but the valley still hasn¡¯t been cleared. If we want to reach the mines by next week, we still have a ways to go.¡± He held out a hand. ¡°Thank you for your help, Goodman Marsen. Ride safely and tell the Council that we will be done soon.¡±


    Eliot nodded. He shook Clay¡¯s hand. ¡°Good fortune to you, Sir Clay. May the gods watch your path, for all our sakes.¡±


    Clay nodded and started off towards the ridge. The messenger closed the door behind him, and Clay started to jog. He didn¡¯t want to fall behind, after all.


    The next two days were filled with hunting in the valley. His Band of Ruffians continued to wipe out every large ironslime and flame devil they ran across, pushing the monsters further and further back. At least the town appeared to get more used to the explosions that accompanied the work; Captain Goodston still waited for them every evening, but he seemed less and less anxious each time they returned safely.


    Curiously, Eliot the messenger had apparently waited for them to come back that first day as well. Goodston had seemed surprised that the messenger had loitered for so long, but the man had still been headed south by midday, so Clay still figured he would make good time headed back towards the capital. Especially since he didn¡¯t have to carry gear or very many supplies. Hopefully, by the time the Council managed to send a response, there would already be one less Lair to worry about.


    By the end of the second day, the others returned to Rodcliff celebrating the fact that they¡¯d reached the fourth level. He¡¯d grinned along with them, trying to ignore the fact that every single one of them had gotten the [Valiant] [Experience], and had gone along with the idea to increase their efforts the next day.


    Unfortunately, the weather had not agreed with their plans. A snowstorm the next day forced them to remain indoors and wait. Clay had tried to put the delay to good use, convincing them to train and study to try to increase their newly grown [Stats]. Testing their new abilities had to wait until the next day, when the weather cleared enough for them to march out yet again.


    For another two days, they cut their way through wretches, devils, and ironslimes of various sizes. Natalie had them move their camp forward, going from the top of the ridge to partway into the valley, and then even further forward as the number of monsters continued to fall. When they returned at the end of the second day, the others were celebrating their advancements in both [Lizardbane] and [Slimebane]. Between those new bonuses, the increasing scarcity of the greater monsters, and the increased power of the adventurers¡¯ levels, they all quietly concluded that it was time to send Clay on ahead.


    It was time, at last, to start hunting in the mines.

 B2Ch19: Scouting the Mines

    Clay looked out over the mines of Rodcliff, and tried not to shiver.


    The others had broken off from him a short time before, veering out to continue their hunt for the monsters above ground. They seemed confident about their chances, and Clay had to agree. He¡¯d just watched them tear the things apart for nearly a week, and that was before they had been given all the benefits of their [Achievements]. He had asked them to slow down and stay together.


    They, on the other hand, had made him promise to call for help using Distant Whispers if he got into trouble. Not that he had any idea why they would think that was likely.


    The mines of Rodcliff were scattered across a handful of hills. Openings of the artificial caves sunk into the slopes in various spots, with the path the miners had taken to their work branching off to lead to each of them.


    There had been mining buildings set up near each cave, but the monsters had already reduced most of them to ashes or smashed them to pieces. Carts had been upended or crushed, with many showing signs of a frantic evacuation, even half buried in the snow.


    Clay chose a mine on the left side of the trail, one where the burnt wreckage was clustered the closest together. He had to guess that the flame wretches had poured out of that area first, taking the miners by surprise. It wasn¡¯t a guarantee that he would find the Lair buried in the depths of those tunnels, but it was a half decent bet.


    He reached the mine without much trouble; a handful of flame wretches tried to take a bite out of him, but it was a simple enough task to clear them out. Then he was facing the entrance to the mine.


    It was a plain opening that had been carved into the hill. The workers had braced the entrance with broad wooden beams, and the monsters had apparently failed to damage them. He saw fragments of pickaxes and shovels, tools of the mines that had been discarded and left behind. They left a trail of desperation that disappeared into the darkness further inside.


    Clay studied that hole with disdain. This time it wasn¡¯t going to be like fighting in the Tanglewood at all. There would be less room to maneuver. Any light inside the mine would have to come with him; monsters would have plenty of shadows to hide in. At the same time, any torch he carried would make him a clear, easy target for whatever monsters were waiting. He paused for a long moment, picturing a dozen flame horrors tucked away inside the depths of the shadows.


    Then he used the [Chant] of Spontaneous Spark to light the first of the four torches that he would carry with him and stepped into the mine. His enemies were ahead of him. Waiting would only give them more time¡ªand he had no intention of doing so at all.


    It did not take long for Clay to decide that he hated caves, mines, and any sort of tunnel.


    The stone walls of the tunnel around him seemed to close in as he made his way further into the mine. Stale air, seemingly full of ash and dust, clogged his lungs as he breathed. Outside, he¡¯d felt uncomfortable in the cold and damp, but he would have traded the dark and claustrophobic conditions for the ability to see clearly in a heartbeat.


    He paused as he reached a fork in the tunnel. There was an opening off to the right, while the main part of the mine continued further and deeper. Clay considered the branch for a moment, noting that it was both smaller and narrower than the main tunnel. Would the Lair be down such a small shaft, or would he find nothing but flame wretches in that direction?


    As he hesitated, Clay felt a small gust of air from the opening. It was hot, and carried a hint of sulfur in it, something that gave him pause. In the clear, cold air of the outside, he¡¯d never noticed the smell of the flame devils and wretches. Could the flame horrors¡¯ breath be giving them away here?


    He looked around and saw a half-broken sconce set into the wall nearby. Clay stepped over and slipped his current torch into it, leaving it dangling from the wall, the flames sending shadows shifting along the stone. A short pause had him light a second torch using the fires of the first, and then he turned to the narrower tunnel.


    Clay moved carefully, trying to catch sight of any flawed camouflage that would give away a hiding monster. It would be frustratingly hard, if the manual was accurate, but any kind of warning would be helpful. A healthy sense of paranoia had him checking the tunnel above and behind him as well, making sure that the horrors weren¡¯t copying the flame devils¡¯ trick of trying to strike from behind.


    A second gust of air brought more sulfur to his nostrils, and Clay resisted the urge to snort in response. His ethereal senses were starting to scream at him now, bringing him to a stop. He waved his torch back and forth, his eyes looking for any discrepancies in the tunnel ahead. There had to be one here. Even if it wasn¡¯t alone, he needed to start thinning their ranks in order to make sure the Lair could be destroyed.


    There was a glint of something as the light from the torch¡¯s flame danced across the rocks. It was like the shine from a piece of metal, and Clay paused for a moment. He frowned as he watched the spot, seeing a flicker of reddish light reflecting his torch. Had the miners forgotten some crystal or metal ore in the wall here? It seemed kind of sloppy of them to ignore it like that.


    His suspicions deepened quickly, but it seemed like just a jumble of fallen rocks. Surely the horror would not be able to emerge quickly, even to try to turn its head for a tongue strike. Moving at all would alert its prey as rubble fell away. How would it plan on attacking its targets if it was hidden beneath a half ton of stone?


    The light glinted again, and Clay felt a chill stir across his neck. He started the [Chant] of Vanishing Ember out of something close to instinct. If there was an ambush here, he¡¯d be able to react to almost everything but the fire breath; even at level nine, he would still burn if the thing caught him with that. Better to be prepared, and a little wounded by a claw, than burned to death.


    His caution paid off only a heartbeat later, as he took another step forward, and fire jetted towards him in a sudden spray.


    Clay¡¯s instincts threw him to the side, even as he knew that the spray was still going to hit him. Fire struck his left shoulder and stuck, burning away at the cloth part of his armor. He felt the heat and panic wash over him in a flood, but he forced himself to focus on the [Chant]. A half-heartbeat later, it activated, and the flaming pitch suddenly went out.


    Unfortunately, so did his torch.


    The darkness was sudden and startling. It wasn¡¯t the same as the dark of a night. Even with a new moon above, or during a storm, there was still some kind of light to navigate by.


    Here in the dark of the tunnel, it was as if light had been utterly forgotten. Clay froze for a moment, feeling completely disoriented and lost. He heard the horror start to stir, sending pebbles and small stones tumbling down the pile, and his instincts came in handy again as he tossed his useless torch further along the direction where he had dodged. It made a clattering sound along the stone ahead.


    The tumbling sound increased, and Clay tried not to breathe as he put both hands on the shaft of his spear. He listened, hoping his heartbeat wasn¡¯t as audible as he thought it was, and heard the horror finish unburying itself and stalking through the dark to investigate where he¡¯d gone. The click of its claws, the hiss of its breath, and the swish of its tail sent shivers along his spine. Sounds echoed oddly in the mine, bouncing off the walls in weird ways that made it hard to tell where things were in the dark.


    He took a step back, trying to move silently. As he did, he started to whisper the [Chant] of Heart¡¯s Light. It was not a [Chant] that he¡¯d often used; in the depths of the Tanglewood, having a simple light with him had not been all that particularly useful. The reverse of the [Chant] had usually been much, much more helpful. At least, until now.


    There was a snap of wood up ahead; something told him the horror had found his discarded torch. He took another careful step back, and his heart froze in his chest when his heel kicked a loose pebble. It clattered away into the dark, and he heard the horror hiss. Clay found it all too easy to imagine it twisting around, its eyes trying to fix on the source of the noise.


    Just a moment later, Heart¡¯s Light activated, and light flooded the mine once again. It was a wavering, unearthly glow that sprouted oddly from the back of his right hand; it made weird shadows and strange shifts in perspective.


    It also revealed the flame horror for the first time, in all its terrible glory.


    The thing resembled the smaller flame devils, with the same angular head and ever-swiveling eyes. It was larger, and the scales armoring its hide looked far, far tougher than those of its lesser kin. A ridge of hard spines crept along its spine, trailing off when it reached a long, thick tail. All four of its feet were webbed and tipped with gleaming, blade-sharp claws.


    It was the eyes that stuck out the most, however. They were glittering, gemlike things, catching the light with flickers that drew his attention. One of them immediately swiveled to fix on him, remaining steady and firm even as its head started to jerk around to face him.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Clay sprinted forward, not wanting to wait for the thing to come back around to face him. The eye tracked his progress, and to his shock a second spray of burning pitch shot out from it. It was spitting at him with its eyes now? He dodged it, feeling the heat as the stream went past him. Then he yelled in fury and charged straight at his opponent, bringing his spear up to strike.


    The flame horror had just barely managed to start opening its mouth when Clay hit it. His spearpoint sunk into the monster¡¯s neck, just behind the leathery horns of its head. Orn¡¯s handiwork proved its worth immediately, sinking in deep. He heard a hiss of pain as the blade went in up to the crossguards; the impact of the charge pushed the horror up and off balance.


    As it staggered backwards, Clay yanked the spear free to strike again. Pitch-black blood flowed from the wound¡ªand then abruptly ignited. The flame made Clay jerk with surprise, but iron-hard habits from training had him step in and stab a second time, catching the monster in the head. His spearpoint bit deep again, and the monster reeled back, hissing in rage.


    Again and again he struck, trying not to notice how close the flames were getting to him. The flame horror staggered and thrashed, trying to regain its balance and lash out at him. Clay jerked back as the thing¡¯s eye spat at him again, and then responded with a broad slash that carved a furrow through its hide that ripped out just short of the wildly swiveling eye. A leg lashed out, and he batted it aside with the heavily weighted butt of his spear.


    Then he lashed out with one more strike, stabbing deep into the horror¡¯s flank. This time, the horror half curled up around the hit, and the wounded eye flickered. Clay yanked his spear free and was forced to dance backwards to avoid a sudden flood of burning pitch. He let Heart¡¯s Light die and started the [Chant] for Vanishing Ember again.


    The words of the [Chant] quickly died on his lips. Instead of lashing out at him again, the horror only thrashed weakly, surrounded and backlit by a burning pool of its own blood. Its twitches slowed and grew weaker until it finally lay still.


    {Flame Horror slain! Soul increases by 60!}


    Clay let out a breath, the burning odor of the horror¡¯s death still hanging in the air. It could have gone better, but it definitely could have gone much, much worse.


    He looked around, using the [Chant] of Pure Touch to get rid of the pitch that was still stuck to his armor. His ethereal sense told him that the immediate area was clear, but that just meant he would need to push further into the mine to find what he was looking for. The burning remnants of the horror provided enough light to see, but the fire wasn¡¯t going to last forever.


    With a sigh, he drew out one of his remaining two torches. He bent to light it from the pool of fire and then braced himself.


    One down, at least nine to go.


    Clay crouched beside the narrow opening in the rock, his spear clutched in both hands. The horror tore through it a moment later, eyes intent on the torch floating a short distance away. He¡¯d suspended it with Ballad of Air, tossing it ahead of him while he dodged to the side.


    Before the horror realized he was there, Clay lunged at it. He drove the spear in up to the crossguards, smashing the horror against the opposite wall. It gargled in shock, and a shining eye began to swivel towards him.


    He slammed his right hand into the haft of the spear, ripping the spearblade back along the flank of the horror. Burning blood sprayed out in a wave, turning the narrow tunnel into a sea of fire. Clay tore out the spearblade, and then pivoted to see the horror painfully writhing in its own fiery blood.


    With another lunge, he extended the spear as far as it would go. He caught the creature in the neck, just behind its angular head. The lizard made a choking sound, and he twisted the spear to tear a wider hole.


    As he drew back, the lizard continued to thrash for a few moments more. Then it went still.


    {Flame Horror slain! Soul increases by 60!}


    It was his fourth kill of the day. He¡¯d found the thing hiding next to a wall, taking shelter beneath a batch of overturned mining carts. His feigned retreat had baited the thing out from its hiding spot easily; he¡¯d found that the things were incredibly aggressive.


    His second kill had been done from a distance; he¡¯d caught sight of another creature hiding beneath the rocks and had used his shortbow to put a pair of arrows directly into its eye. When it had staggered out from beneath its cover, Clay had closed the distance and impaled it with his spear. The thing hadn¡¯t even had the chance to defend itself, not that he pitied the repulsive creature.


    The third one had been hiding on the ceiling. It had spat at him with both eyes, and then fallen when he¡¯d responded with the Canticle of Ice. He¡¯d finished it as it lay thrashing in a pool of melting ice and burning blood.


    Now, as he stood back from the burning remnants of the fourth horror, Clay suddenly realized that he had no idea what time it was. He had pushed a decent distance into the mines and cleared at least three of the tunnel branches, but he still hadn¡¯t seen the Lair yet. Should he continue looking until he found it?


    Clay flashed back to the time he¡¯d intruded on the Lair in the Tanglewood. He pictured the wave of spiders chasing him, and shivered. He would probably be able to kill most of whatever the Guardian sent at him, but if the big lizard came too¡­


    He shook his head. Better to head back now and see how things had gone for the others. Another day wouldn¡¯t hurt their cause, and he needed to reevaluate his plans. Perhaps the [Chants] would have something new for him.


    ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡±


    He looked up to find Natalie hovering over him. ¡°Hm? Oh, nothing much yet.¡± Clay looked back down at the notes that he¡¯d been studying. Then he tapped one brief phrase, one that had so far refused to work with him. ¡°I think I¡¯m about to figure this one out, but I don¡¯t know what it does. All it says is that it is called the Words of Refrain.¡±


    Natalie frowned. She looked over his shoulder and shook her head. ¡°Your Novice friend didn¡¯t have any ideas?¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°No. Reading it out doesn¡¯t seem to do anything either. I think I can feel the magic take hold, but it doesn¡¯t bring any activation.¡±


    ¡°That is strange.¡± The [Alchemist] stepped back and tapped her lips. ¡°Have you tried the reverse?¡±


    He blinked and turned his attention back to the notes. ¡°That¡¯s a good point. Maybe I can¡­¡±


    Clay trailed off as he ran his eyes over the syllables. He frowned and went back to the start of the [Chant]. ¡°What?¡±


    Natalie peered over his shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Is it one of the dangerous ones?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­¡± He put a finger on both sides of the Refrain. Slowly, he counted off the syllables from both ends, until his fingers met in the middle. ¡°It¡¯s the same. In both directions.¡±


    She frowned. ¡°So it can¡¯t be reversed. I guess that means it can only do one thing? That seems like it isn¡¯t very useful.¡±


    Clay remained silent. His thoughts were going back to the discussion he¡¯d had with Syr Katherine. She¡¯d said that the [Chant] that could destroy Dungeons had no reverse. It had seemed impossible to him, but if it was possible with one like this¡­


    {Insight increased by 1! Memory increased by 1!}}


    He shook himself. The Refrain didn¡¯t seem like anything that would hold that kind of power, but obviously he was on the right track with how that more powerful [Chant] worked. At the very least the Refrain was firmly embedded in his mind now, for all the good it would do him. He recited it again for the last time, just to see if it had changed. Nothing happened, though he felt the magic activate yet again.


    Clay pushed the parchment aside, rubbing at his eyes. He¡¯d already come up with some ideas on how to use what he already had, but clearly there was no more he could do for the night.


    The others had done well with their hunts, though they had reported that the number of devils and large ironslimes were becoming scarce. It was hard to be disappointed about that fact; the fewer monsters that were wandering around the area, the easier it would be to put an end to their fight here.


    He had been about to stand up when Xavien came over and glared at him. ¡°Sir Clay, I¡¯ll admit that your prank was funny the first time, but enough is enough. I request that you stop using that [Chant] on me. I¡¯m trying to practice.¡±


    Clay frowned, glancing at Natalie. ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t been, Sir Xavien. Honest.¡±


    The [Orcale] shook his head. ¡°Sir Clay, you¡¯re the only one who knows the Gnat¡¯s Bite. It has to have been you.¡±


    Still frowning, Clay went back over the past few hours. He¡¯d used the Gnat¡¯s Bite on Xavien, true. It had been more of a demonstration to help prove the efficiency of Lawrence¡¯s first [Charm], but he¡¯d only done it once, and then assumed the lesson had been learnt. The only one with even the closest [Memory] to qualify for using it had been Natalie, but she hadn¡¯t bothered learning it yet. ¡°It¡¯s been happening still?¡±


    Xavien straightened up, his irritated expression calming slightly. ¡°Yes, Sir. Seems like every five minutes.¡±


    Clay exchanged another glance with Natalie. Then he carefully used the Words of Refrain again.


    The effect was obvious the moment the [Chant] became active. Xavien twitched, making as if to swat an invisible irritant hovering just beside his ear. ¡°Sir Clay! I must protest¡ª¡±


    Clay let go of the [Chant]. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Xavien. It looks like I might have been using something accidentally.¡±


    ¡°You did warn us about that.¡± Natalie seemed amused by the fact, and Clay gave her a rueful glance. He couldn¡¯t say much, though; she was right after all.


    Instead, he began the [Chant] for Soul¡¯s Shadow. It took the usual amount of time to complete, and then he was cloaked in shadows. Xavien and Natalie both stepped back, and Clay let go of the [Chant].


    Then he began the Words of Refrain. The comparatively short [Chant] was complete in what felt like a heartbeat, the words flowing out of him in a rush.


    The Soul¡¯s Shadow formed around him again. He looked down at his hand, eyes wide. When he looked up, the others were all watching him now.


    He released the [Chant] and then smiled. ¡°Well, that makes a bit more sense. It repeats whatever the last [Chant] was.¡±


    Natalie grinned. ¡°I bet that could really help with some of your longer ones. The Flame-tongued Song seems like it can take forever.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Yeah¡± He couldn¡¯t help but smirk, thinking of the next day. The horrors wouldn¡¯t know what hit them.


    Yet another horror slumped against the stone floor of the mine, pierced by half a dozen spears of ice.


    {Flame Horror slain! Soul increases by 30!}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Lizardbane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against lizards. Bonus increases to 30% versus Flame Wretches, Flame Devils, and Flame Horrors.}


    Clay stepped back and felt something close to disappointment. The horrors had been dropping like flies now. The Refrain made it just too easy to use the Canticle of Ice to impale them from afar, but his other tactics hadn¡¯t made things easier for the creatures. It turned out that the Gnat¡¯s Bite was a devastating distraction to them, which gave him more than enough of an opening to use his shortbow or spear. Half of the creatures hadn¡¯t even managed to leave the cover they were using for their ambushes.


    He stepped forward and prodded the thing with his spear. The spiders in the Tanglewood had at least started to set traps for him by the time he¡¯d gotten the [Achievements] for him. Then again, he¡¯d taken them out slowly, over the course of several days. It was only the second day of his invasion of the mines, and they were already being forced to fall back.


    Another three branches had been cleared of horrors. One of them had been the main mining shaft, which left only a single branch left. It curved off into the dark, but when Clay faced it, he could sense the power of several monsters waiting beyond it.


    It had to be the Lair. He paused in front of the entrance, wondering idly how many lizards were hiding in that single remaining tunnel. For a moment, he was tempted to start his assault now. Distant Whispers could summon the others, and they might be able to put an end to at least one of the Lairs immediately.


    In the end, he once again turned to leave. It was too hard to estimate how long he¡¯d been in the mines, and assaulting a Lair while tired was definitely not a good idea. He shivered a bit at the memory of the Broodmothers he¡¯d fought in the Tanglewood. Definitely better to face it fresh.

 B2Ch20: Escalation

    By the time that Clay and the others reached home, they were all tired and worn. The light had already been fading from the sky when they reached the lonely house where they were camping. Clay had been forced to hear a bit of grousing from the others about how hard it had been to find their prey that day, and he started to toy with the idea of taking them into the mines to at least give them some more Soul before they hit the Lair itself.


    The air was growing colder as they finally reached the house. He felt a flicker of gratitude as he saw smoke pouring out of the chimney; Captain Goodston had taken to assigning some of his [Guards] to visiting the place and lighting the hearth for them before they got home. It was a small gesture, but a more than welcome one as they stomped their way through the snow and the fading evening light.


    Clay paused beside the door as the others piled in. He heard Anne shouting a greeting to the [Guards] inside; tonight it was apparently Fred and Sam, two young [Commoners] who had joined the baron¡¯s armsmen just days before the Lairs had appeared. They were both young and inexperienced, barely able to wield the spears in their hands, but they were both friendly enough. He¡¯d even seen them warming up to Jack and Lawrence, despite their [Classes]. Again, not much, but still appreciated.


    As he entered and closed the door tight behind him, Clay looked around the house. It was a cursory examination; he didn¡¯t exactly expect an ambush to happen here, after all. ¡°Anything happen while we were out?¡±


    Fred answered with a shake of his head. ¡°No, Sir Clay. We kept a watch, but we didn¡¯t see any sign of the monsters. I think they¡¯re all still pushed back behind the ridge.¡±


    ¡°And good riddance to them.¡± Sam grimaced. He¡¯d lost friends who had gone with the baron, and Clay could tell he was still bitter about the misfortune that had befallen his home. ¡°Are you getting close to destroying them, Sir?¡±


    Clay glanced at the others. He¡¯d have preferred to discuss it when they were alone, but there wasn¡¯t that much of a reason to keep it a secret. ¡°Yes. I think we¡¯ll be able to hit at least one of the Lairs tomorrow. After that, we¡¯ll need only another week or so before we can hit the other one.¡±


    Relief showed on both [Guards¡¯] faces. ¡°Th-that¡¯s good to hear, Sir. We¡¯re all ready for this to end.¡±


    He nodded to Fred. ¡°We are too. Thank you for watching our supplies for us. Your support has kept us fighting.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d give you the shirt off my back if it meant every monster in those mines was dead.¡± Sam scowled, his face dark.


    Anne laughed, slinging an arm around the man. ¡°Don¡¯t make promises you can¡¯t keep, pal! After all, you never have paid us back after that last hand of knives and tables.¡±


    The [Guard] winced and shook his head. ¡°I still say you shouldn¡¯t have been able to make four kings with that last draw.¡±


    She reeled back in overdramatic horror; Natalie laughed, and Jack rolled his eyes. ¡°Why, Goodman Tarmill, are you accusing me of cheating? Why I would never stoop so low!¡±


    ¡°Not when you couldn¡¯t get caught.¡± Jack absorbed Anne¡¯s betrayed look and snorted. ¡°You don¡¯t owe us anything, Sam. Don¡¯t let her get to you.¡±


    Lawrence raised his hand. ¡°I disagree! She has to bother someone, so better him than me.¡±


    ¡°Truly, the mien of a hero.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut it, Xavien. You were the one who¡­¡±


    Clay shook his head and sighed as the team began to bicker among themselves. The words had no real sting, and they were more the gripes and complaints of people who had grown used to risking their lives together. He¡¯d have preferred a bit more focus from them, but they had fought hard today, to the point where he was starting to wonder if there were even any monsters left outside the mines.


    He thought over his plan for the following day as he shed his armor and weapons. There was only one real branch of the mines left, and if he took the whole team with him, he¡¯d be ready for whatever rush of monsters came at him from it. From there, he¡¯d just need to wipe out the small ones, figure out a way to destroy the Guardian, and then seal the Lair itself. The Soul they would all gain would put them well into the next levels; the last time he¡¯d destroyed a Lair, he¡¯d leveled up twice, as had all of his friends. If that happened again, he¡¯d actually probably outrank the Guardian of the second Lair, something that would hopefully make it that much easier.


    With a sigh of relief, he set down his spear and fell into his seat. The aches and pains of the day flickered across his weary body. He¡¯d sleep well once the [Guards] went home, and the watch was set. Then all he¡¯d need to do was¡­


    A bolt of realization swept through him as his ethereal senses began to clamor for attention. He went stiff as he realized what they were telling him. Monsters. Close. Too close.


    Natalie glanced at him with a frown. ¡°Clay, what¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re here! Arm yourself¡ª¡±


    His warning came just a fraction too late. Even as he reached for his spear and shortbow, the front of the house suddenly exploded in flame. He heard the crackle of flaming pitch slamming into the sturdy wood, fires eating deep into the material. One of the windows abruptly burst inwards as a stream of sticking flame washed through it and into the room.


    Half out of their armor, and with their guard down, the team spent precious seconds staring in shock. By some twist of fortune, the flames had missed most of the people in the room. Lawrence yelped as a patch on his sleeve caught alight, but most of them were unmarked.


    It wouldn¡¯t last. Clay grabbed his spear and headed for the door, already beginning the [Chant] of Vanishing Ember. The door shook as something smashed against it from the outside; he could hear the scrabbling of a devil¡¯s claws as they fought to withdraw and attack again.


    He didn¡¯t give them a chance. With a warshout, Clay kicked the door out of its frame and charged outwards. The cold bit at him as he entered the winter cold without his armor. A gust of frigid air pierced right through his shirtsleeves, despite the inferno of flame at his back.


    {Valor increases by 1!}


    Clay found himself in an apocalypse. There were flame wretches swarming all across the northern part of the town, their flaming spit already leaving the vacant buildings at the edge of Rodcliff ablaze. At least a dozen flame devils were slithering among them, belching more fire and snapping out their tongues at any passing creatures they found.


    Worst of all were the five flame horrors at their rear. He could see red light in their eyes, and their gargling bellows urged the rest of the horde forward. Clay grit his teeth at the sight. He couldn¡¯t just pull his team back and defend; there were too many monsters. They had to attack, to make sure that this horde was exterminated so that the monsters couldn¡¯t pull back. To show any hesitation would be to let the creatures try to pick off the [Commoners] as they fled south.


    So he didn¡¯t hesitate. Instead, he threw himself forward, still shouting into the bitter cold as his spear came around in a beautiful, lethal arc.


    The blade caught a pair of flame wretches in the act of leaping at him, cutting the life from them in brief bursts of blood. He caught a flame devil too, the one that had tried to batter the door down. His spear met it above its left front knee and chopped through in another spray of blood. Clay spun, smashing aside another leaping wretch before delivering a final crushing blow to the crippled devil¡¯s skull.


    As it fell twitching to the ground, Clay switched [Chants]. Extinguishing the fires would plunge the area into darkness. They needed to light to see, to fight. As much as it pained him, things would need to burn for that to happen. For now, the Canticle of Ice might skewer enough of the enemy to even the odds some.


    He continued his wild charge into their depths, cutting down enemies as he went. The lizards were coming around behind him; he could sense their intent to surround and destroy him. Clay snarled in defiance of their murderous, swiveling eyes. They might have caught him by surprise, but he¡¯d faced this before. They¡¯d regret ever facing him this night, if they managed to survive at all.


    There was a shadow to those words, however. The last time he¡¯d faced a horde, he¡¯d been at a lower level, true, but he¡¯d also been prepared. His feet had been firm on the ground of the Tanglewood, not half buried in the snows of this place, and he hadn¡¯t been exhausted from fighting all day either. Already, the temperature was slowing his movements, sending flashes of pain through his cheeks and fingers as the half-melted snow clung to his boots.


    Then lightning crackled behind him, and another difference made itself felt.


    All around him, the lizards abruptly fell back as his team charged into battle around him. He could almost see the power of [Mentor] and [Leader] settle over them. Their magic glowed brighter, their movements were quicker, and their blows broke the enemy into pieces.


    Jack charged in right at Clay¡¯s side, his knives claiming three different wretches in less than five steps. Anne danced through the lizards to his left, her sword slicing through a devil¡¯s hide with brutal finesse, even as she laughed at their attempts to set her alight.


    Nearby, Xavien charged into a cluster of wretches, scattering them with his shield and mace, even as he lashed out with his [Charms] among them. Lawrence was right behind him, sending tendrils of earth and clouds of darkness in all directions while he smashed monsters to the ground with his staff.


    For a moment, there was no sign of Natalie¡ªand then a javelin shot over Clay¡¯s head to punch through the skull of a devil ahead of him. It flopped to the ground, unused flames spilling into the snow. Clay grunted in satisfaction as he drove even further into the horde, his spear rending, crushing, and tearing as he tried to close with the horrors still lurking behind the rest.


    The lizards seemed to melt away behind him, but as he looked up, he saw the horrors inhaling as one. It occurred to him he¡¯d never actually seen them breathe fire; his fights against them had normally ended far too quickly, before they had the chance to use it. He noted, in a detached kind of way, that they all seemed to be focusing on him. Perhaps they had all come to Rodcliff specifically to track him. Had he really gotten that close to the Lair?


    Stolen novel; please report.


    The Canticle of Ice completed just as the horrors released their flames, the lesser monsters slithering out of the way as they sent five streams of devastation washing across the snow. He didn¡¯t bother to strike at them; a single strike wouldn¡¯t help if he was incinerated. Instead, he drove the ice spears into the ground just in front of him in a half circle, forming a frigid barrier between him and death.


    He saw it immediately began to melt, withering before the attack like dew before the sun. There wouldn¡¯t be much time before he was exposed to it again.


    So he began the Words of Refrain. The abbreviated [Chant] activated just as the first streamers of pitch began to slip past the barrier, and he drove another wave of ice into the ground to act as yet another barrier. Fatigue dragged at him, but he ignored it and began the Words of Refrain again. A wretch leapt at him, and he swatted it out of the air, turning slightly to deliver another pair of strikes with the blade to eliminate its companions. At this rate, he¡¯d have no chance to push forward, not if they stayed focused on him.


    Then a pair of javelins tore over his head, and he jerked in surprise as one of the horrors staggered, pierced through the legs. As it staggered, a second pair of javelins slammed into its skull, setting its swiveling eyes rolling. He heard Natalie call out one last shout, and a brilliant red bolt struck from the night sky to smash the thing flat.


    As their companion fell, Clay saw the horror¡¯s mouths snap shut. He thought he could sense a moment of confusion in their features, especially in the one that blinked as a slingstone struck it in the head. They backed away slightly, as if considering retreat for a moment.


    Then Jack leapt into the air, pulled towards them by Pursuing Leap. The [Knave]¡¯s knives glimmered in the firelight, and Clay could hear him roar with an exultant shout. He took a step forward, wanting to strike out at the horrors with another Canticle of Ice to claim one more.


    ¡°Clay, cover us!¡±


    He looked to the side and found Anne falling back. She was drawing back an arrow on her longbow, and both Xavien and Lawrence had their own magic gathering in their hands. Clay grimaced and unleashed his own [Chant] into the lizards just ahead of them. The glittering ice spears impaled a collection of devils and wretches that failed to get out of the way fast enough. Those who were left tried to scatter as he dove in among them, already ripping them to pieces with his spear.


    Clay caught flashes of Jack¡¯s fight through the smoke and monsters. The [Knave] was drawing blood with every slash, cutting through the thick hide of the horror as if it was nothing. It staggered, squirting flame from its eyes. Jack was ready; he dodged and spun, always staying close and always attacking.


    One of the other horrors turned, its mouth opening up. Its eyes were fixed on Jack, which meant it didn¡¯t even twitch when Anne¡¯s arrow struck it square in the eyesocket. The arrow hit harder than he¡¯d ever seen; he remembered the [Burglar] mentioning something about a [Feat] called [Decisive Shot]. As the horror collapsed, he had to admit the technique was well named.


    A second later, another of the horrors suddenly found itself speared through the jaw by Xavien¡¯s newest [Charm], something he called [Ice Pick}. The horror was lifted high in the air, dribbling gobs of flame. Bolts of lightning lashed out to strike it, even as the spike began to shrink and melt. He heard Xavien shout in triumph and risked a look back.


    Which meant he caught sight of the moment when a flame wretch spat fire directly into Lawrence¡¯s chest.


    The moment seemed to stretch out. He saw the pitch spread out along the [Occultist]¡¯s torso. Lawrence had been caught in his shirtsleeves, just like Clay. A wretch¡¯s fire breath would burn through the cloth and melt the skin beneath in a heartbeat. There was a flash of horror and recognition in Lawrence¡¯s face as the fire struck him, as if the man knew he was doomed.


    Then Lawrence smirked, and he dissolved into smoke, along with most of the bodies at his feet.


    Clay blinked, and the wretch squawked in surprise before Anne turned and picked it off with an arrow. Then she laughed and pointed, and Clay jerked around to stare at the horrors again.


    Lawrence was there, dashing in at a horror that was frantically trying to turn and face him. A gesture from the [Occultist] trapped its limbs in stone tentacles, another wrapped its mouth in chains of air and storm. Then he raised his staff and brought it down on the horror, striking it just behind the head, where spine met skull.


    The impact was brutal enough that even Clay winced. Lawrence struck it twice more in exactly the same spot before turning to engage the rest of the remaining lizards. Jack had finished with his target, tearing enough holes in its hide that it simply collapsed and burned in the snow. Xavien had killed his target as well; the horror collapsed in a twitching heap.


    Natalie unleashed another pair of red bolts of power, this time blasting across a half dozen wretches and devils. Anne began putting down the larger lizards one at a time, while Xavien sent stabs of lightning to pick off the wretches that were still squirming through the snow. The lizards were starting to scatter; with the core of their horde eviscerated, the wretches were fleeing. There couldn¡¯t have been more than a dozen or so, but in amongst the buildings of the town¡­


    Clay raised his voice over the sound of Jack slaughtering the last of the devils. ¡°Hunt down the wretches and put out the fires! Make sure that they can¡¯t get closer to the [Commoners]. Let¡¯s move!¡±


    Nearly an hour later, the team gathered again at the burnt-out shell of their former base.


    The fires hadn¡¯t consumed everything, but the entire front of the house was virtually a loss. Fred and Sam had moved most of their equipment to the back of the house, so all of their weapons and armor had been saved. Both [Guards] had survived, though they had been a little worse for the wear, still coughing smoke out of their lungs.


    Most of Rodcliff had survived the assault, though at least eight buildings had burned, some of them down to a pile of rubble. The [Commoners] had all survived, but half of them were terrified enough that Captain Goodston had needed to bar the road in order to keep them from setting out into the frozen night with their belongings on their backs.


    Now, when the last wretch had been hunted down and the last house fire extinguished, they gathered in the ruins and tried to catch their breath. The Captain was there as well, giving them worried looks. Clay tried to ignore the pain of the cold and the fatigue tearing through him. ¡°Anyone injured?¡±


    Xavien shook his head. ¡°A few got burned, but they are stable now. My [Charm] is out of uses, however.¡±


    ¡°Most of the houses were empty. Except for ours, of course.¡± Lawrence shook his head and shivered a little. ¡°Were they after us?¡±


    ¡°Seems likely. I must have gotten too close to the Lair.¡± Clay grimaced as he looked around at all the damage.


    Natalie coughed. ¡°I don¡¯t agree. It could have been because the valley and the forest are both relatively clear now. Both of slimes and lizards. A hunting party wouldn¡¯t run into opposition the way they would have before.¡±


    Jack scowled. ¡°So we might have to fight slimes next like this? That sounds¡­ unpleasant.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± Clay looked around the circle. ¡°I say we end the lizards tomorrow, as planned. Then we begin our assault on the slimes the day after. If we kill enough of them, they won¡¯t have the numbers to commit to something like this.¡±


    Anne had her arms wrapped around herself. Xavien had already healed at least one wound on her, from a wretch that had gotten a little too close. ¡°Are we going to hold up in a fight like that? We¡¯d have to get really lucky for that to work.¡±


    ¡°The [Burglar] speaks the truth, Sir Clay.¡± Captain Goodston shrugged. ¡°Even if you manage to purge most of the monsters, some might slip through to the town.¡±


    Clay thought it over for a moment. ¡°Not if we camp outside their mine entrance.¡± The others blinked in surprise, and he shrugged. ¡°It¡¯ll be for a couple of nights. We¡¯ll have plenty of firewood and supplies, and we¡¯ll put them under siege. Like we did with the ridge.¡±


    Xavien nodded slowly. ¡°It will be even more effective, since they will only have one exit. I agree.¡±


    ¡°Will we be able to hold off against a real assault, though?¡± Natalie shrugged as the others looked at her. ¡°The slimes have always been the tougher monsters, and we haven¡¯t worn them down like we have the lizards. If there had been ten horrors tonight, or fifteen¡­¡±


    A brief silence fell as they considered her words. Then Clay smiled. ¡°All the more reason to wipe out the first Lair, then. We¡¯ll all gain a few levels and be more than ready to keep fighting afterward.¡± He looked at Captain Goodston. ¡°Captain, do you have a place where we can sleep for the night?¡±


    The [Guard] snorted. ¡°One place? The rest of the town is practically trying to start up a lottery to decide where to keep you. For some reason, everyone in Rodcliff wants to have an adventurer nearby after tonight.¡±


    Jack snorted. ¡°Even a [Knave]?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re a long way past seeing that, Sir Jack.¡± Goodston smiled at the way Jack¡¯s expression betrayed astonishment. ¡°You¡¯re all out there fighting, and we got a good look at it tonight. Nobody¡¯s going to mutter about [Classes] or anything else while you¡¯re here. I promise you that.¡±


    The [Knave] seemed suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, and Anne cleared her throat. ¡°Ah, perhaps it¡¯d be better for us to stay in the tavern. That way, most people could feel safe?¡±


    ¡°A wise decision Syr Anne. I¡¯ll go get everything ready.¡± Goodston nodded to them and then turned to go. He paused for a moment, looking back. ¡°I know it¡¯s a fool thing to say, but even so¡­ be careful out there. We don¡¯t want you killed, brave fools.¡±


    Then the [Guard] walked away, his shoulders hunched against the cold. Clay watched him for a moment and then turned back to the others. ¡°He¡¯s right. Tomorrow¡¯s going to be dangerous. We¡¯ll set out a little later, since we know right where we¡¯re going, and we¡¯ll know what we¡¯re fighting. Get whatever gear you need and be ready. Tomorrow¡¯s the beginning of the end of our mission in Rodcliff.¡±


    They didn¡¯t leave Rodcliff until the sun had climbed high into the sky.


    Clay had been awake far earlier than most; his various [Experiences] meant he had far less need for sleep lately, and Sam Evergreen had taught him the value of an early start. It had given him plenty of time, at least, to obsessively check and recheck their supply of food, water, and ammunition for the journey ahead. He spent some time walking among the other [Commoners] while the others slept, trying to encourage them and reassure the fearful.


    It was surprising how many of them listened to him. Back in Pellsglade, he hadn¡¯t really been considered persuasive by any means. In Rodcliff, however, the townsfolk seemed to relax when he told them it would be over soon. Inwardly, he just hoped that he wasn¡¯t giving them false promises. Any fight was a risky one, and the prospect of facing another horde in the claustrophobic conditions wasn¡¯t something he was looking forward to.


    Whenever he was tempted to delay the attack, however, he caught sight of another burned building or a frightened child, and his resolve grew firm. However things were going to go, it was going to end that day.


    They made good time crossing through the forest. There were no wretches or slimes waiting for them, something that Clay considered a good sign. Hopefully, there wouldn¡¯t be any monsters close to Rodcliff yet. As they crossed the valley, they still didn¡¯t encounter anything until they were nearly to the mines, and even then it was only a bare handful of small ironslimes that died quickly and easily.


    Once they reached the mines, Clay had the others stack their supplies in the mouth of the shaft that led to the Lair. He had them check their equipment, making sure armor was secure and weapons were ready. As they each gave him a nod, he grinned. ¡°All right, there¡¯ll probably be about as many lizards here as there were last night. I¡¯m betting the Guardian called everything it could to defend the Lair, so be ready for anything.¡±


    Natalie nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll handle the lesser creatures, Sir Clay. Just worry about the Guardian.¡±


    He sucked in a deep breath of the cold air, and let it out. It didn¡¯t help dispel the memories of the last Guardian he¡¯d fought. ¡°Just take care of yourselves. No crazy risks or gambles.¡± Clay ended that sentence looking at Anne, who sighed and rolled her eyes. The others all chuckled, but he could sense their nervousness. ¡°We have more fights waiting for us in the other mine, and people waiting for us back home, so don¡¯t get yourselves badly wounded here. Once we finish with this Lair, we¡¯ll set up our camp outside the other mine and dig in for the night. Any questions?¡±


    Jack raised a hand. ¡°If I manage to kill the Guardian, do I get a statue made for me?¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°Maybe? You¡¯d have to ask the Captain, I guess. Just¡­ don¡¯t try for it out of nowhere. We don¡¯t have to work alone in there, and we¡¯re stronger together. Last night showed that better than anything.¡±


    He hesitated, and then continued. ¡°It¡¯s been a true honor. Now let¡¯s do what needs to be done.¡±


    The humor fell away from their faces, and their expressions were lethally serious as they nodded back. Clay took one last fresh breath and then turned to the mine. He could smell a distant hint of sulfur wafting from the depths. Setting his jaw, he began the descent towards the Lair.

 B2Ch21: Lizard Hunt

    It seemed to take no time at all to reach the tunnel he¡¯d marked as the source of the lizards. The scent of sulfur thickened in the air, and he heard the others muttering about it as they drew close. If that hadn¡¯t been enough of a clue, his ethereal senses began clamoring at him as they drew close. He paused, exchanging looks with the others.


    Xavien and Natalie had volunteered to carry the torches, freeing up the others. Clay knew he felt reassured with both hands on his spear. He led the way into the tunnel, watching every shadow shift. The tension built as they moved deeper into the mine, passing patches of burnt stone and broken mining tools.


    Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a wider part of the mine. Clay had encountered other, similar sections in the tunnels, spots where the miners had found multiple veins and had cleared out a massive amount of rock to give themselves room. There was light up ahead, and his stomach twisted as he realized the torches wouldn¡¯t be needed after all.


    They stepped out into a cavern lit by the unnatural, twisted light of the Lair itself. He saw it easily, tucked into a small impression in a far wall. Clay froze when he saw it, his mind flashing back to the tower in the Tanglewood. The terrible sense of wrongness was even worse this time, because he had the supposed benefit of his ethereal senses howling about the presence of something awful ahead of him. Every part of him wanted to run to it and begin the [Chant] to end it immediately.


    Then he focused on the rest of the room, and it became clear why it wasn¡¯t going to be quite that easy.


    The floor of the cavern was covered in the shattered, leathery carapaces of hatched eggs. They crunched and scraped as a small army of wretches shifted on their feet, their eyes alight with the glow of their Guardian¡¯s control. Over a dozen devils waited among them, their shifting eyes glowing just as brightly. Another five horrors waited as well, clinging to the ceiling, eyes already fixed on his group of heroes. At the edges of the cavern, he could see clusters of eggs that were still intact; many of them seemed ready to hatch and unleash a new wave of wretches into the world.


    Yet the biggest threat of all of them waited at the back of the horde. It was completely unlike any of the other lizards. Its sinuous body was thicker and wider than the others, and its snout was longer. There were teeth in its jaw, instead of the ridges of heated bone the others used, and the gleaming fangs looked sharp enough to slice through metal. The thing¡¯s hide shone in the wrong-light of the Lair¡¯s glow, as if it had been made of metal, with knobs that ran in two ridges from its head to the tip of its tail.


    Worst was its eyes. The thing didn¡¯t have the twitchy, swiveling eyes of the other lizards. This one had two jet-black eyes that glowed with a power all their own¡ªand they were fixed on Clay.


    His mouth suddenly felt dry, and Clay motioned for the others to wait. He recited the Words of Refrain, activating the [Chant] he¡¯d prepared as they were walking. A more combat focused person might have gone for an immediate attack spell.


    Instead, Clay used the Orison, and the [Gift] responded by telling him exactly what he faced.


    [Guardian Scaled Tyrant (Flame)]


    [Rank: 10, Type: Lizard, Status: Lord of the First Lost Mine Lair]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 14]


    [Instincts: Guardian, Creator, Commander, Eternal]


    A scaled tyrant didn¡¯t seem promising, but at least the name seemed to fit the creature. He watched it study him and wondered why the lizards hadn¡¯t charged already. What was it waiting for?


    Then he glanced at the tunnel around him, and realized something. The thing couldn¡¯t get out. It was too large for the tunnel; if his group retreated, it would have to claw its way through stone to reach them. It might not stop the thing forever, but the Guardians in Tanglewood had wanted to keep him from escaping. Was it trying to make sure they were trapped?


    He glanced up at the ceiling, and a hint of tactics slipped through to him from a memory of Master Taylor¡¯s lessons. ¡°We¡¯re going to charge. I think those horrors are going to cut around and get behind us. They want to keep us here.¡±


    Anne laughed softly. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a good thing we want to be here, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Clay grinned. ¡°Be ready for them to try to flank us. Destroy as many of the others as you can before it happens. It¡¯ll make it harder for the things to gain anything from it.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Jack¡¯s voice was cold and calm. ¡°You¡¯re going for the big one?¡±


    ¡°As quickly as I can, yeah. It¡¯s probably the only thing organizing them. Are you ready?¡±


    The others murmured and nodded. Clay nodded slowly. ¡°All right then. For Rodcliff!¡±


    He heard the others echo the warcry as he sped forward, already falling into the Canticle of Ice. The others were chanting as well, a clamor of voices that he tried not to let throw off his rhythm. They needed their first strikes to be powerful enough to knock the monsters back on their heels, or better yet, to blow through them entirely.


    The horde divided in front of them, with groups of wretches and devils splitting to swarm at them in different clusters. A part of him recognized what they were doing; each group was aimed at a single adventurer. It might have worked against an undisciplined charge, or against a group that wasn¡¯t able to cover for each other.


    Against the Ruffians, however, it was a disaster. Lightning lashed out to catch lizards midleap, while curls of stone tentacles ensnared the devils behind them. Monsters spat flame in response, only for the burning pitch to be snuffed as Natalie completed the [Chant] of Vanishing Ember. Anne¡¯s arrows began to pick off devils, and Jack whirled among the wretches, cutting them to pieces. If anything was clear, it was that the Guardian had underestimated the adventurers.


    Of course, its worst mistake had been to assume that Clay was only a little stronger than the rest.


    He hit the wretches in front of him like a wave of death. Clay barely even slowed as he tore through the creatures, his spear a flickering doom as he stabbed, slashed, and battered them away. The trio of devils didn¡¯t last much longer; he sidestepped a tongue meant to catch him and then lunged in to impale the offending creature. Another tried to bite his arm, only for him to draw his Pell knife and drive it up and into the flesh beneath its jaw. By the time the third one leapt over the twitching corpses of its friends, he had freed his spear, and hurled it straight into the thing¡¯s stomach.


    As it fell dead, he finally finished the Canticle of Ice, and used it to impale half a dozen more devils as they tried to assault his team. The adventurers might not have needed it, but the horrors had finally dropped from the ceiling to cut them off from escape, and he didn¡¯t want to risk them being overwhelmed.


    Then he stalked forward, beginning the Cycle of Return. A handful more wretches attempted to leap at him; his knife cut them to pieces without much trouble. His spear returned to his hand a moment later, and he found himself once again facing off against a Guardian.


    It charged him, launching itself forward with horrifying speed. Clay backpedaled slightly, lining up his spear to strike. Orn and his workers had done good work; even a horror¡¯s armored hide hadn¡¯t stood up to a good thrust from his new spear. All he needed to do was¡ª


    The tyrant lunged, and Clay stabbed out of pure instinct. He felt the impact vibrate through the spear shaft as the dark metal point met the armored scales¡­ and bounced off to the side. His attack left nothing but a tiny divot in the scales over its clublike nose.


    He was still recovering from his shock when the Guardian¡¯s maw opened wide. Clay¡¯s heart leapt into his throat as he realized he was looking down the throat of a mouth lined with countless glittering fangs. In one bite, the tyrant could easily rip him in half. It wouldn¡¯t have much trouble swallowing the part it had claimed, either.


    Clay threw himself backwards as the jaw snapped shut. He felt the wind from those fangs as he leaned back, just barely avoiding the bladelike teeth. Still operating on instinct, he lashed out again with the spear, and saw the tyrant¡¯s hide deflect it a second time. It responded by lunging forward a second time, its jaw once again opening wide.


    For a few frantic heartbeats, Clay found himself being driven back. The tyrant¡¯s maw continued to snap open and shut, each time trying to close on a hand, a leg, an arm, a head. Clay had no illusions about how long he would last in that bite, either. One chomp, and he¡¯d be bleeding out or already dead. His own counterattacks bounced off the scaly hide. The thing didn¡¯t even seem to notice the stabs.


    Then he swung the spear at the eyes of the monster, aiming for the one unarmored spot he could see. Aiming for the mouth would just be asking for the thing to eat his spear, after all, and there weren¡¯t any scales over the eyes at least.


    For the first time, the thing flinched backwards, and Clay saw his spear strike sparks from the scale just in front of the deep, dark eyeball. He regained his footing, just long enough for the tyrant to launch itself forward. Clay countered by hitting it in the snout, just to blunt its momentum. Then he struck at the thin flaps of hide that lined the back of its mouth, forcing it to wince backward again.


    His breath started to steady, and Clay forced himself to grin. The thing did have some weaknesses, if only small ones. As the tyrant came for him again, he found a familiar rhythm. In his mind¡¯s eye, he saw again the many duels he¡¯d fought with Orn. When the [Fighter] had chosen to use a spear, their contests had quickly become tests of reach and opportunities, attacks and retreats. Each strike had to be dodged or deflected aside in order to give an opening for a counterstrike. They¡¯d fought so many times that way, with Clay giving ground to the more experienced adventurer, always being pushed to the limits of his skills.


    The tyrant might not have had a spear, but its gaping, tooth-lined maw was just as dangerous. Yet Clay didn¡¯t give it any clear openings to exploit. Every lunge was countered by a dodge to the side, followed by a strike at the corners of its jaw or the darkness of its eyes. Again and again, the tyrant flinched aside or deflected the blows, but the defensive moves compromised its ability to close with him. It still pushed him back and around the cavern by sheer size and mass, but it was no longer a headlong chase.


    Clay struck at its left eye, just missing the target, and it turned to snap at his forearm. He pivoted and smashed the weighted end of his spear into its jaw, pushing the attack off course. It twisted in place, a surprising move given its bulk, and lashed at him with its tail. He was forced to catch the blow on the haft of his spear, and it drove him back across the stone. Fragments of discarded egg shells crackled and crunched beneath his feet.


    The sudden gap between them gave him the barest chance to glance in the direction of the rest of the team. They were still fighting, and his heart soared as he recognized that there were already far fewer of the lizards. At least two-thirds of the remaining devils were down; two of the horrors were dead as well, though there were still far too many wretches leaping about for his taste. He caught sight of Jack stabbing a pair of the smaller lizards at once, of Anne putting her sword into the eye of a horror, of Natalie battering one of the few remaining devils with her clubs¡­


    And then the tyrant was circling him, looking for an opening. He was forced to tear his eyes away and study his own foe, knowing that the thing would take advantage of even the slightest opening. It would only take one strike.


    Clay watched the thing move, looking for an opening. Now that he had seen it move and attack, he was starting to see the sense behind its shape. Its legs were short and squat, unlike their more bowlegged cousins, and lacked any kind of claws that he could see. They were thick with muscle, but it didn¡¯t need to crawl along the ceiling or cling to a wall. This thing was built to charge, to bite, and to consume.


    It lacked the swiveling eyes for much the same reason; all it needed to see was where its mouth was pointed, and anything else was pointless considering its hide. The armor protected it from magical attacks, so it had no need of a breath attack to even the odds. Its limbs gave it enough strength to charge, but it had no need to leap, just to bring its teeth into range. Perhaps it would be helpless if he lifted its bulk off the ground?


    His mind flying through the options available to him, Clay began to [Chant] the Ballad of Air. The tyrant seemed indifferent to his voice, darting to snap at him but retreating as he stabbed at it with a spear. They circled enough that Clay caught sight of Xavien smashing a wretch while healing Lawrence. The [Occultist] was smashing aside another wretch, even while he chained another horror by wrapping its legs in stone. He didn¡¯t see the others immediately, but it didn¡¯t look like any of them were dead yet. Always a good sign.


    The tyrant snapped at him again, and Clay poked at its snout again, striking sparks from the scales. It retreated a bit and seemed to grin at him. It clearly didn¡¯t see any urgency to their fight. If the others arrived, it would swallow them, too. After all, what could they do about it? Who would lodge a complaint?


    Clay bore down as he finished the Ballad of Air, reaching out with tendrils of air. He ignored his initial temptation to lift the thing; it was clearly an absolute behemoth that would defy his attempts. Instead, he wrapped the tyrant¡¯s mouth in invisible chains and charged in with a sudden yell. With its mouth imprisoned, it was going to be missing its main weapon and unable to dodge a strike at its eye. He¡¯d probably only be able to partially blind it, but even that much would force it off balance and make it vulnerable.


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    The tyrant twitched as it felt the air chain its maw shut. One jet-black eye seemed to study him as he closed, his spear held high to strike. Clay felt the tension in the spell increase as the tyrant tried to strain against it, but he put his training with Syr Katherine to good use and kept the creature bound.


    Then, just as he was about to strike, the tyrant¡¯s jaw snapped open, shredding the chains he¡¯d woven around it. Clay froze in shock, both from the sight of the tyrant regaining its freedom and the feeling of the [Chant]¡¯s failure scraping along his soul. The Guardian turned on him in that heartbeat of hesitation, its mouth already opened wide to close on him.


    Only Syr Katherine¡¯s relentless training gave him any chance at reacting at all. He lashed out with the spear, slamming it against the Guardian¡¯s jaw. The impact traveled up his arms and jarred his grip; to his horror, the spear went spinning from his arms and across the cavern. Desperate and still half-stunned, Clay leapt backwards and drew his knife. As he gave ground, he began the Cycle of Return and slashed wildly as the tyrant closed in.


    If it had been unimpressed by the spear, the Pell knife utterly failed to make the monster flinch backwards at all. The tyrant barely even slowed its charge as he struck it across the snout, and he nearly lost an arm when the teeth snapped shut on the bracer strapped to his forearm. His armor buckled immediately, with a chunk left in its teeth as he recoiled.


    Clay dodged to the side, as if to head for the spear himself. The tyrant surprised him by rolling to the side, bringing its maw to face him again. He caught sight of the thing¡¯s pale, scaled belly as it moved, barely long enough to register the difference between it and the rest of its hide.


    Then he was backing up again, slashing and cutting wildly to present at least some threat. The tyrant pursued, still intent on its prey.


    It was a wonderful relief when the Cycle of Return activated, and the spear shot back towards him. Clay leaped into the air, catching the weapon as he transferred the knife to his left. The tyrant tilted its head back to snap at him again, but he struck back with the longer weapon. He felt the impact travel up the weapon and used it to push himself out of danger.


    With his spear back in his hand, the tyrant became more cautious again. Clay backed away again, eyes narrowed.


    It was too strong to restrain; he doubted even Lawrence¡¯s tendrils could capture it. At the same time, it should have been using that rolling move before; there had been a couple of times when it would have caught him off guard. Had it only resorted to it once it felt comfortable? Once it knew it had less to risk?


    He examined its stance again, noting how low it was crouched on the ground. Was that by choice, or necessity? The scales had looked so different. Maybe they were softer than the ones elsewhere.


    If that was the case, how could he convince it to open itself again? It wasn¡¯t going to just rear back and let him gut it. In fact, now that he had the spear back, the Guardian was going to be far more careful than it had been before.


    He glanced down at the knife in his hand and grinned as an idea came back to him. Something similar had worked against the last Guardians, after all. Why not give it a shot?


    Quickly, Clay spoke the [Chant] of the Ballad of Air. The tyrant seemed to grin at him, as if amused about the spell. It was far less amused when he threw the knife at its eyeball, even as he reached out with the Ballad again.


    This time it snapped his bonds immediately, angling its head so the knife bounced off. It didn¡¯t seem to notice when Clay snagged the weapon with the one remaining tendril of air and hide it, point up, among the rocks and shells nearby.


    Then he began the Cycle of Return. He knew he saw recognition in the tyrant¡¯s eyes this time; it moved deliberately between him and the direction his fallen weapon had bounced towards. Clay grinned at it as he grew near the spell¡¯s completion.


    It was rather surprised when he leaped high and hurled his spear at it. The unexpected attack didn¡¯t keep it from twitching to the side, making the spear glance off its hide instead of claiming an eyeball. Clay called the spear back to him as he charged, launching into a frenzied attack against the monster. He began the Words of Refrain as he moved, trying to keep an eye on the glittering piece of metal below and behind the creature.


    For once, the tyrant actually gave ground. It was a bit off balance, and Clay used the extended reach to threaten its few weak points. When it tried to snap back at him, he smashed into it with the blunt end of the spear. He doubted it managed to do much actual damage, but it did convince the monster to back up and reconsider its approach.


    He kept up the attack, knowing that the tyrant was just biding its time. At some point, his balance would falter, or his stance would slip, and it would try to dart in and relieve him of a limb or three. For now, he had the satisfaction of making it back away for once, his spearpoint sparking from its hide and the weighted end slamming into its bones with the sound of ringing metal.


    Then he backed away, abandoning the attack. The tyrant hesitated, clearly still off balance. It must have expected him to continue the assault, pushing forward until misfortune cost him his momentum. He could see its desire to attack weighing against its suspicion of a trap.


    Unfortunately for it, the trap was already sprung. Clay slammed the blunt end of the spear into the rock below, using it as a pole to fling himself towards the roof of the mine. The tyrant¡¯s head moved upward, tracking his motion through the air. Its maw began to open eagerly; he couldn¡¯t dodge in midair, and it would be waiting for him when he fell.


    At least, it would have been if the Cycle of Return hadn¡¯t activated in that very moment.


    Clay felt the power of the [Chant] settle over him, and his knife tore itself free of the floor beneath the tyrant. He could almost feel it burrow into the thing from below, cutting through soft scales and thick muscle like a glittering spike of hate. The tyrant¡¯s eyes abruptly went very, very wide, and Clay gave it a wide grin from where he had reached the peak of his jump.


    The Guardian had only one possible reaction, and Clay was watching for it. It rolled, trying to present its belly to allow the knife to rip its way to him without passing through its body. True to form, the Pell knife shot out of the gash it had ripped in the tyrant¡¯s belly; silvery blood spilled from the hole and covered the length of the knife itself. Clay knew it had done damage, but probably not enough on its own.


    Which was why his spear lanced down like a lightning bolt, striking the thing just behind its long jaws.


    The spear went in up to the crossguards; Clay had hurled it with everything he had. He saw the tyrant jerk in response. Its enraged hiss became an agonized gargle, even as the knife returned to his hand.


    He felt a spike of panic as the creature continued to roll with even more energy. His imagination filled with the sight of his spear, his well-crafted weapon, snapping beneath the bulk of the monster.


    Instead, the weighted end of the spear seemed to be guided by some blessed fortune. It caught in a depression in the stone floor. The haft of the spear flexed slightly as the weight of the tyrant bore down on it¡ªand then it stopped. Just like it had caught some boar on its crossguards, it stayed braced against the ground, with the tyrant caught propped partially in the air. He landed just in front of the thing as it writhed and hissed, trying to free itself.


    Clay didn¡¯t give it a chance. He began the Words of Refrain one more time as he sprinted forward, the bloody knife in his hand. The tyrant tried to snap at him, but the spear in its throat stopped it from reaching him.


    Then he was in under the stubby legs and steel scales, the Pell knife heavy and sturdy in his hands. Clay struck deep, ducking beneath the haft of his own spear as he ran. Keeping the blade there, he tore his way back along the length of the creature, opening a terrible gash that streamed silver blood onto the stone and dirt beneath.


    The tyrant thrashed above him, and its tail whipped around as it tried to force its way past the spear. He saw the weapon flex again and called it to him as the [Chant] finished. As it ripped itself free, it tore a ragged hole in the thing¡¯s throat, spilling more blood. Clay caught it in one hand as he stepped back, letting the Guardian collapse back onto its feet with an earthshaking thud.


    Blood pooled in a silver wave beneath the Guardian as it struggled to turn and face him. He could see its legs shaking and knew that blood loss would continue to weaken it.


    All the same, he had no intention of allowing it a chance to recover. Clay sprinted towards it, dodging the frail snap of its jaws. His return strike put the point of his spear directly in one of its eyes.


    Once again, he buried it up to the crossguards, and this time he struck more than just muscle and bone. He saw the entire creature go stiff, as if it had suddenly turned to stone. Clay twisted and jerked the spear free, sending another spurt of silver across the stone.


    The Guardian stayed standing for another moment. Then it rolled over onto its side, its mouth gaping open as it went limp.


    {Guardian Scaled Tyrant slain! Soul increases by 100}


    He very nearly collapsed as the notification scrolled across his vision. Clay forced himself to stay standing, however, and turned to look back at the entrance to the cavern, half-fearing what he would see.


    Whatever malevolent force had controlled and united the lizards had shattered with the Guardian¡¯s death. Wretches were scattering everywhere; the single remaining horror turned to flee, only for Jack to tear into it. The rest of the adventurers were still standing, though they all seemed to be wavering on their feet.


    Clay grinned. Another place purged. He started towards the scattering creatures. He needed to make sure it was done, after all.


    In what seemed like no time at all, Clay returned to where the Curse itself was hovering. It was a brutal, unrelenting light searing through reality. He¡¯d sent the others to destroy the various eggs scattered throughout the room; the last thing any of them needed was for more wretches to break through the shells now.


    With the Guardian dead and its power broken, it looked as if it was starting to wither. Clay knew that it was going dormant, sleeping until it could regain power. He wasn¡¯t going to let it escape. Not now, when he could end it.


    As he approached, he noticed something had he hadn¡¯t seen before. Kneeling on the floor in front of the light was a figure. There was a pickaxe clutched in its hands; it seemed as if the body had been mummified somehow, preserved despite the lizards that had left traces of themselves throughout the rest of the cave. The eyesockets were empty, and the mouth gaped open in a horrified scream.


    Clay frowned as he looked at the body. It had to have been one of the miners, not some overconfident adventurer. How had they opened the Lair, though? It wasn¡¯t like¡­


    He followed the corpse¡¯s line of sight, and his heart froze. There, scrawled on the wall, was the [Chant] of the Poisoned Wish. It was instantly recognizable, despite the fact that it had been written in the common language rather than some ancient tongue or Olivia¡¯s phonetic scrawl. The thing tried to worm its way into his mind regardless, trying to force its way out of his mouth.


    The unexpected assault met his sheer determination and faltered. He gritted his teeth and turned away from the writing. ¡°Don¡¯t come over here! Any of you!¡±


    A few of the others looked over, but most of them just nodded and continued their task of destroying the eggs. Clay glanced back at them to make sure. Then he stepped over to the rock wall and began a [Chant] he hadn¡¯t used before. It was the reversed [Chant] of the True Ink. He called it the True Blotter, for lack of a better name, and the words flowed out of him easily. Within a few moments, the writing on the wall was obliterated, wiped away as if it had never existed.


    Clay stepped back and looked at the kneeling corpse. The miner would have had no chance to resist, not without even realizing what was happening. Whoever had written the [Chant] on the wall had known what they were doing. They had set a trap for the first person to notice the words, a trap that had killed the miner and whoever else had been nearby.


    He turned and looked at the Curse, studying its flickering, shapeless form. Anger filled him as he thought over all the fear and suffering the Rogue had caused, and he called the Garden¡¯s Peace to his mind. It was time to end at least this part of the problem. This suffering was going to be over.


    Forcing the anger from his mind, Clay began the [Chant]. It flowed out of him with increasing speed, despite how the light began to flare and writhe. He was ready for the Curse to resist, however; he¡¯d faced this same enemy before, and he was not afraid.


    Clay fought on, forcing syllable after syllable into the air around the [Chant]. He felt the spell pulsing in time with each word, countered by each lash of power from the heart of the Lair. The struggle was harsh, as it had been before, but he wasn¡¯t the same man he¡¯d been months before, in the Tanglewood. His friends were with him from the start, now, and the [Chant] was a part of him, not something desperately constructed from the scrawlings of a madman. Still, the thing fought him, and he gritted his teeth as a piece of the struggling energy lashed a furrow in the ground near his feet.


    Fatigue hovered in the back of his mind, but he pushed forwards, calling on everything he was and wished to be. The [Chant] would succeed. It had to succeed. Had it taken this long last time? What would happen if he failed? Had he underestimated the task, after all?


    He shoved aside those doubts and continued, knowing he was nearing the end. When the final arcane syllables left his tongue, he nearly collapsed in relief. The world seemed to go still around him. Darkness filled the cavern as the light retreated, its unnatural glare collapsing in on itself. Clay could feel the Curse itself howling at him, scrabbling at his soul as if it wished to tear a chunk of him away to carry off with it into the void.


    Then the shining strands of wrongness furled up on themselves, curling like a leaf thrown into a fire. It shriveled, fell into itself, and was gone, plunging the cavern into sudden, complete darkness.


    Clay let himself fall to his knees, gasping harshly. His exhaustion was nearly overwhelming, but he tried to force himself back up onto his feet. The others might need help; he could hear them muttering and shuffling in the dark.


    Then a torch flared to life, filling the empty chamber with flickering light. Another lit a moment later, and then another. Clay heard them coming to join him and turned to look back. He saw Lawrence looking at him with concern. ¡°Clay, are you all right?¡±


    He smiled and nodded. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I am. It just takes¡­ a lot.¡±


    ¡°Well at least it was worth it!¡± Anne was looking around, her eyes as wide as they could go. ¡°Anyone else just hit level six?¡±


    The others nodded. Jack helped Clay to his feet, even as he checked his own notifications through the [Gift].


    {Curse of First Lost Mine destroyed! Soul increases by 1000 for all nearby heroes}


    {Will increases by 1!}


    {Commoner reaches Level 10!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 25!}


    {Experience gained (Whisperer: Gain 10% bonus to minor Chants. Gain 10% bonus to the speed and effectiveness of all Chants.)}


    {Experience gained (Duelist: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing an enemy one on one.)}


    {Experience Defiant has gained power from destroying a Curse! Experience is now Defiant II: Gain 40% bonus to all skills when facing an opponent of a higher level.}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Combat Generalist: Gain Tactician Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all damage in combat.}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Warrior Poet: Gain 40% bonus to Lyricist Skill. Gain 10% bonus to the speed of all Chants.}


    Clay blinked, his eyes widening as he drank in the new details of his [Gift]. Apparently, his [Experiences] had finally combined to create new [Achievements] for him. Given what he had already been capable of doing with basic [Chants] before, he could only imagine what [Warrior Poet] would do. [Combat Generalist] and [Duelist] both seemed to be primed to help him in his next battles as well.


    Of course, the thing that caught his attention the most was the Lyricist skill. He¡¯d more or less ignored it when he¡¯d gotten it initially; he couldn¡¯t picture himself as some sort of wandering minstrel. At the same time, it appeared to be linked to the [Chants] in some way, though Syr Katherine hadn¡¯t mentioned it at all. Was it the skill that might allow him to learn how to create his own [Chants]? Or was he simply overthinking things?


    He shook off the questions and looked around the cave. ¡°All right, let¡¯s finish with these eggs and then get to our camp. The slimes won¡¯t have lizards to contain them anymore, so we need to make sure they don¡¯t flood the town.¡±


    The others started to laugh, and Xavien shook his head. ¡°No rest for the righteous, Sir Clay?¡±


    ¡°Not sure if anyone here counts for that anyway, Sir Xavien.¡± Clay gave him a crooked grin. ¡°We¡¯ve gotten some new abilities, but the job remains the same. Let¡¯s get to it.¡±

 B2Ch22: Slime Purge, Part One

    It did not take long to decide that camping in the cold was not a great situation.


    They had been able to construct a roaring fire to warm them, but the tents could only be so close without lighting on fire. Finding a spot that wasn¡¯t completely buried in snow, and that was still close enough to the mine, had also been difficult. Natalie had graciously cleared a spot using the Flame-tongued Song, but it had still left plenty of damp in the place at first. The chill wind and the clouds that threatened snow weren¡¯t exactly comforting, either.


    Fortunately, they had still had more than enough strength to set about taking care of the camp. Tents were set up, bedrolls and heavy blankets spread out, and firewood was gathered. Only a few small ironslimes poked their heads out at a handful of points, earning themselves a brutal eradication, but aside from that, the rest of the day had been filled with simple, straightforward chores.


    By the end of it, Clay had been mostly exhausted, though he¡¯d done his best to help prepare the meal they made from the rations they¡¯d brought from Rodcliff. The town hadn¡¯t had the most appetizing of food, but it still made a decent soup and bread to go along with it. At the very least, the heat of it chased away some of the cold.


    He¡¯d poked at the fire a little while the others finished their food¡ªhe had wolfed down his portion with all the table manners and grace of a hungry boar, in a way that his mother would have lectured him about later¡ªand thought about the plan for their start the next day.


    When the others had finished, he looked around at them. ¡°Well done today. We¡¯ve accomplished at least half of our mission here, and we only have one more Lair to go. It¡¯s going to be harder going forward, though. I¡¯m assuming that the giant ironslimes are far more dangerous than the horrors were, and we¡¯ll need to be ready for that.¡±


    Jack nodded, using his own stick to tease the fire a little. ¡°So some of us will need to stay close to the mine entrance and the camp, while the others assault the mine itself. Like we did with the ridge, right?¡±


    Xavien shifted slightly on the log he was using for a seat. ¡°A good enough plan. This time it might be even simpler, since we don¡¯t need to spend much time hunting down the smaller monsters.¡±


    ¡°They were getting pretty thin on the ground¡ªand now they can only come from one place.¡± Anne grinned. ¡°So. Who wants to go into the mine with Clay first? I don¡¯t mind the early shift.¡±


    Natalie rolled her eyes. ¡°Of course, the [Burglar] wants to be up before the sun. I can take the midday shift if you like.¡±


    Lawrence grunted. ¡°Dice for it? I always like to eat an early lunch and get my work in after.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait.¡± Clay held up a hand. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    They all looked at him with various amounts of surprise. Then Natalie answered him. ¡°Well, we want to hit as many of the slimes as we can, right? As quickly as possible, to keep them from trying to rush our camp or the town.¡±


    ¡°Especially if they are about to make a bunch of new ones.¡± Jack poked the fire again, and a half-burnt log collapsed in a shower of embers. ¡°The last thing we need is to get delayed by a couple hundred of small slimes.¡±


    The [Alchemist] continued as if she hadn¡¯t been interrupted. ¡°So that means you¡¯re going to need to spend even more time fighting than you did the last time you went into the mines. It also means you¡¯ll need to kill more quickly than you could last time.¡±


    ¡°Which means there is no way we¡¯re going to let you do it alone.¡± Lawrence smiled. ¡°One of us will go with you at a time, either to act as backup or as a decoy. We¡¯ll help you for a couple of hours at a time and make sure you get back to camp for a brief rest before you go again.¡±


    Anne leaned forward, her expression oddly serious. ¡°We can even start a little earlier, since we aren¡¯t exactly going to be relying on light, anyway. By the end of tomorrow, we might be able to kill all ten that we need to get your [Achievement] reinforced. Maybe even more than that, if they are grouped up together somewhere.¡± Then she laughed. ¡°It¡¯ll be fun!¡±


    ¡°It will be effective.¡± Natalie gave the [Burglar] a stern look, though she softened it a moment later with a grin. ¡°We are all level six now, even if we haven¡¯t had the chance to develop our [Stats] completely. The extra [Charms] and [Feats] could easily make the difference, especially since your [Experiences] will empower both of us during the journey.¡±


    ¡°The rest of us will stay at the entrance each time, ready to come help you should you need it, or to keep the slimes contained.¡± Xavien looked around, and they all nodded. ¡°Do you have any objections, Sir Clay?¡±


    Clay opened his mouth, ready to protest. He¡¯d need to look after them in the mines, after all, and he wasn¡¯t entirely sure that he¡¯d get as much out of it as they were thinking. Even with their help, the giant ironslimes were supposed to be something like a rank eight or so. He was two levels above that now; did they really think he needed their help?


    Then his muscles twinged, and his exhaustion dragged at him. Clay sighed. He let his shoulders slump. ¡°No. You¡¯re right. I¡¯ll need all the help I can get.¡± Then he looked up. ¡°But if we run into something, and I tell you to run, you run. Don¡¯t look back, don¡¯t wait for me. You get to the others, and you hold out against whatever comes. Understand?¡±


    They all nodded. He could tell they were all lying, but at least they weren¡¯t being open about their defiance. Clay sighed inwardly and wondered if he hadn¡¯t done too good of a job convincing them to make their own choices.


    Still, if he hadn¡¯t, they¡¯d all have probably been long dead by now. Hopefully, they¡¯d all survive this time as well.


    The air was crisp as he and Jack set out for the cave that morning.


    At first, he¡¯d thought that Anne would be the one to start the assault with him, but the [Knave] had persuaded the others that he would be a more observant partner for the initial run. Eventually, even Anne had agreed, and Jack had settled back onto his log with a satisfied smirk.


    Now, however, Jack was simply following after him, his eyes alert for any signs of danger. The [Knave] had agreed to be the one with the torch¡ªat least for the first part of their time together¡ªand he was peering ahead with a slightly worried expression as they made their way further in.


    Clay stretched out with his ethereal senses, hoping to find signs of their enemies. Nothing returned to him¡ªat least not yet. He sighed. ¡°So, are you regretting the early morning yet, Sir Jack?¡±


    Jack snorted. ¡°I¡¯ve had earlier mornings, Sir Clay. You poor farmers aren¡¯t the only ones with business before the sun rises.¡± Something dripped from an overhead beam, and he winced. ¡°Though I¡¯ll admit the cold was unpleasant.¡±


    He gave the [Knave] a skeptical look. ¡°Do you want to tell me why you¡¯re down here first, then? Not just to report back to the others first, because I think Lawrence or Natalie might have been just as good a choice.¡±


    To his surprise, Jack nodded quietly. ¡°Yeah, they might be. They¡¯d probably agree with you.¡± Then he paused, looking around for a moment. ¡°Those past two levels were the first time we all got different [Experiences]. Did you know that?¡±


    Clay paused. He shook his head. ¡°No. What did you end up getting?¡±


    ¡°[Ambusher] and [Smallmage].¡± He cracked a brief smile. ¡°I guess I put a bit too much effort into using those fool [Chants] you gave us. Now, even without much [Memory], I might have to put even more effort into using them.¡±


    He winced. It must have been frustrating. ¡°Sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be. I doubt many of my opponents will be expecting much magic from me. It¡¯ll make the looks on their faces that much sweeter.¡± Jack looked over the closest mine cart, as if expecting a slime to emerge from it. ¡°Besides, it wasn¡¯t just [Experiences]. I got [Sudden Strike] and [Vanguard Stance] as well, so I¡¯ll be even better leaping into trouble.¡±


    Clay grunted, picturing the man flinging himself even more eagerly into danger. ¡°Great.¡±


    Jack laughed. ¡°Oh, come on, I try to be smart about it. As smart as you can expect from me, at least.¡±


    He tried to ignore the implications there. ¡°So why come with me now?¡±


    ¡°If they break off our little group to send us on our own missions, we¡¯re going to need someone who can act as a scout. Someone who can do what you¡¯ve been doing.¡± Jack shrugged. ¡°That means I¡¯m going to need to learn how to move to stay quiet. How to look at things the way you do.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± It made sense, unfortunately. He looked back along the tunnel, where his senses had just started to warn him that something was headed their way. ¡°The problem with that is I¡¯m using some other abilities to help me. Something you¡¯re not going to be able to develop until well after level thirteen.¡±


    Jack blinked. ¡°Well, at the very least I can try to practice a little, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The danger from his ethereal senses was climbing rapidly. ¡°First, though, get ready. I think we might have our first monster of the day.¡±


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The [Knave] nodded and fell back, the light from the torch still flickering. Clay carefully stepped out of the direct line of sight to Jack, trying to keep his own shadow from interfering with things. He searched the rock ahead of them, looking for signs of movement. As he did so, he began to recite the Orison, hoping it would give him some idea of what they¡¯d be fighting.


    For a long moment, he didn¡¯t see anything. Then he realized that there was a glimmering bulk of wet flesh clustered on the ceiling. His heart caught in his throat as he recognized the sheer size of the thing; it could easily have swallowed a large ironslime whole without trying too hard. A single person would vanish without a problem.


    The Orison completed a moment later, and confirmed that he had found what they were looking for.


    [Giant Ironslime]


    [Rank: 8, Type: Slime, Status: Vassal of Second Lost Mine Lair]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 7]


    [Instincts: Patroller, Poisoner, Converter]


    Clay frowned and backed up a step. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure what a Converter was, but it didn¡¯t sound good. ¡°This thing¡¯s got poison too. It wasn¡¯t waiting in ambush, so it probably came looking for us.¡±


    ¡°Which means it will chase us if we run.¡± Jack raised his torch a little higher, and the slime retreated a little. ¡°It also means we might be able to set an ambush for the next one.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s important to know.¡± Clay watched as the surface of the slime seemed to flex and bend. ¡°It¡¯s important to watch how it moves for that to work. Also, how it responds to attacks, and almost as important as anything else, how it¡ª¡±


    As if to prove Clay¡¯s point, the slime flexed and clenched, and a sudden burst of projectiles sprayed out of it. Clay jumped backwards in alarm as a rain of stone daggers pelted the tunnel. He felt three of them bounce off of the plates in his armor; another rang off of his helmet. The impacts stung a little, but at least Orn had done a good job of convincing him of the benefits of having protection.


    Fortunately, Jack had not been the focus of the slime¡¯s attack. He¡¯d retreated, though not as quickly, and was watching the slime far more warily. ¡°Let me guess. How it attacks?¡±


    ¡°You got it.¡± Clay felt a flicker of grim humor as he stepped forward again. He watched the shape of the thing warily, anticipating another attack.


    The slime had advanced a little, though it stayed at the edge of the light cast by the torch. He frowned at it for a moment. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem to like the light, does it?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± Jack had started to move from side to side, still watching the thing just as carefully. He clearly didn¡¯t want to be hit by the next spray.


    Clay grinned. ¡°What does that mean to you?¡±


    The [Knave] chuckled. ¡°That it¡¯s just as ugly as I expected it to be?¡±


    He was about to respond when the slime abruptly contracted again, this time in a different way. Clay tensed, anticipating a new threat, and was rewarded exactly as he¡¯d expected. Instead of a broad spray of rock daggers, this time three long spears of stone shot towards him, sharp enough to cut through metal and moving so fast it would have been hard to track.


    Clay had been waiting for them, though. He stepped to one side to let one pass. Another he used his spear to deflect off course and then smashed the third into a nearby wall with the already battered bracer for his off hand. The projectiles clattered to the ground, and Clay let his grin grow a little wider. ¡°Those were pretty good shots. Now, what has all that told you, Jack?¡±


    The [Knave] swallowed a little. He clearly wasn¡¯t as confident he could have blocked or dodged the attack if it had been aimed his way. ¡°It changes attacks if its first try doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°True. Which means it¡¯s coming up with something new as we speak.¡± Clay nodded to himself as the blob shifted slightly. ¡°What else?¡±


    Jack grimaced. ¡°You have to watch it for incoming attacks, or you¡¯re going to get hit? It doesn¡¯t just attack blindly.¡±


    Clay nodded again. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s a key word there. Remember how the big slimes relied on smell?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°How does this one aim? And how does it know how to stay out of the light?¡± Clay waited until the [Knave] grunted in realization. ¡°If we¡¯d been using some kind of scent to conceal ourselves, or had stopped using Soul¡¯s Shadow because it seemed useless, we wouldn¡¯t be as effective against these enemies. It can see us as well as smell us.¡±


    ¡°And if it can see, it can be blinded or tricked.¡± Jack nodded slowly. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually really important. Might be why it hasn¡¯t tried to douse the light, too.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± The slime started to hunch up on itself again, and Clay felt a sudden certainty about something. ¡°Though you shouldn¡¯t rely on that. Get behind me.¡±


    Jack obeyed without question, just in time. Another spray of stone tracked the [Knave] as he moved, as the slime apparently gave up on the harder prey for the moment. Clay¡¯s spear blurred in his hands as he knocked stone daggers and spears aside. He took a handful more hits on his armor, but none of them pierced. One did stick in the fabric over his heart, but it failed to squeeze between two plates.


    At that point, Clay decided that the time for the lesson was over.


    He shifted his grip on the spear. ¡°All right. We aren¡¯t getting anywhere standing here, so we need to advance. Stay close to me. It¡¯ll probably change what it does once we get in close. Especially once it is in the light.¡±


    Jack murmured his agreement, and Clay charged. The slime began to recoil as the firelight washed over its bulk, but it didn¡¯t move fast enough. As light washed across it, Clay saw bits of the ceiling being torn from the rock above, dissolving and reforming inside of it. He immediately abandoned any plan he might have had to use Canticle of Ice on the thing; what if it simply absorbed and redirected the spears?


    Instead, he started the [Chant] of the Flame-tongued Song. If it was just as flammable as the lower ironslimes, then he¡¯d risk the chance of a vicious explosion to end the fight. He could afford to be a bit more experimental once he was the one laying an ambush.


    It was bigger than he¡¯d expected, even with the name. The slime was coiled along the roof for nearly the length of a house, and it was ripping off chunks of stone all along the surface it touched. What attack was it planning next?


    He sprinted forward, leaving Jack behind as he prepared to jump and strike. A quick slash would open it up and give the Flame-tongued Song something to set alight. All he needed to do was avoid some tendrils like what the big slimes used, and he¡¯d be fine.


    Clay leaped, his spear drawn back over his head. He had just started to bring it forward in a single sweeping arc when he saw the slime begin to flex and clench again.


    It was at that point that he realized the thing maybe didn¡¯t need to shoot its creations at him.


    A gigantic blade of sharpened stone shot out of the slime, something he barely avoided by turning his swing into a desperate block. The blow knocked him out of the air, sending him tumbling back towards the tunnel floor. His [Chant] fell away too; the hit had been hard enough to break his concentration.


    Clay pivoted and struck the floor with the weighted end of his spear, using it to change his trajectory slightly. His reward was for the next blade¡ªslightly longer and thinner, like a giant¡¯s rapier¡ªto scrape along his armor instead of impaling him. He knocked the third narrow blade aside with the haft of his spear and snarled up at the enemy.


    It hadn¡¯t just been the blade. Plates of stone had formed over the slime¡¯s skin like armor, though they were now flaking away as the slime continued to flex and move. Chips of stone rained down on him as he stared up at the thing; the blades it had pushed out at him wavered and started to withdraw back into the slime itself; the stone began to dissolve at the base.


    He made a quick decision. ¡°Sometimes you have to be able to think on your feet. Things almost never go how you¡¯d expect.¡±


    Clay rushed forward, trying not to feel proud of how calm and even his voice still was. His spear lashed out in three sharp blows, shattering the stone blades and dropping the fragments to the ground. He didn¡¯t know how quickly the ironslime could replenish its reserves, but he wasn¡¯t going to let it have anything for free.


    ¡°So whatever expectations the monster has, don¡¯t give it the chance to force you into doing what it wants. If it wants a running target, find a way to stay still. If it expects you to hide, attack. If it wants you to be paralyzed, move.¡± Clay looked up at the monster and smiled at it. ¡°Because at the end of the day, if we want the others to be safe, it needs to die, and you need to go home. Got it?¡±


    The slime clenched again, and Clay felt his smile grow. He dodged another thin blade and broke it. A second lashed out, and he snapped it like a stick. ¡°So watch what you can, learn every one of its tricks, and use them against it. Nothing else matters.¡±


    ¡°I hear you, Sir Clay.¡± The [Knave]¡¯s voice sounded somewhat subdued, but Clay couldn¡¯t spare him a glance now. The blades were coming faster and faster now, even as he kept snapping them. He fell into a kind of rhythm as he smashed them, his eyes fixed on his target. If he could keep the thing focused on him, it wouldn¡¯t go after Jack. All he needed was an opening, and maybe he could finish it.


    Then, almost on a whim, he started the [Chant] for the Drums of the Earth. It was probably a risky spell to use so far underground, but he wasn¡¯t planning on making any craters today. He just wanted to shake a bit of the ironslime loose, and see how that affected it.


    The [Chant] seemed to come together easily, a fact that he attributed to the comparison between speaking it and the effort to break the slime¡¯s weapons. When it activated, Clay used it to shake the ceiling of the tunnel where the slime was clinging, cracking the roof slightly where it clung to the rock.


    To his surprise, the reaction was immediate. The back half of the slime dropped away from the roof, tumbling away as if it had just lost traction. It clenched in apparent panic, shooting out a series of stone stilts to support itself before it could hit the ground. For a heartbeat, the onslaught of spears and blades came to a pause.


    Clay launched himself at the slime, aiming for the section that stretched between the part attached to the ceiling and the part on its improvised stilts. Rocklike armor started to form, but his speartip smashed straight through it and carved a thick cut in the rubbery flesh beneath. A noxious gush of fluid spilled out in a way, soaking his legs. Fumes filled the air, and Clay forced himself to hold his breath instead of sucking in a lungful of poison.


    Stepping forward, Clay swung the spear again, cutting deeper into the wound. Another slice slashed deeper, another deeper still. He could see the slime fighting to heal itself, but the continued attacks were cutting deeper than it could heal. The tension between the two separate parts made each slash that much more devastating, as the thing¡¯s own weight forced the gashes wider. More and more fluid washed out onto the stone below, and Clay smirked a little as he continued the assault. Deeper and deeper he cut, until he abruptly saw a glimpse of something familiar, the slime¡¯s core. With one final lunge, he put the tip of his spear straight through that wobbling orb.


    It cracked and a new dark fluid flooded the innards of the beast. Clay felt his eyes widen as it started to spark and fizz. The monster had one last surprise for him, it seemed.


    He turned and ran, heading as fast as he could for the spot where Jack waited, the torch still flickering in his hands. Clay nearly made the mistake of opening his mouth to yell; it would have given him the unenviable chance to breathe the poison soaked into his clothes. Fortunately, Jack seemed to read the panic on Clay¡¯s face, and he backpedaled back down the tunnel, even as the creature collapsed into itself.


    Then it exploded in a shower of poison.


    The force of it knocked him into Jack, tumbling them both to the ground. He heard Jack choking out the words for Pure Touch, despite the harsh air he¡¯d brought with him. Clay felt a brief moment of gratitude before the [Chant] purged the coating of poison that had splashed over them. Finally able to breathe, he sucked in a lungful of the stale, mine air, and coughed a little. There were still far too many fumes in the air, though he was able to force himself back up without being driven to his knees.


    In the meantime, the [Gift] had displayed several notifications.


    {Giant Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 80.}


    {Might increases by 1! Fortitude increases by 1!}


    When they had finished coughing, Clay looked at Jack and grinned. ¡°Well, that was one. Should we try to figure out how to do that a bit easier?¡±


    Jack gave him an incredulous look and then started to laugh. ¡°Sure. Why not? Might even try for one myself if we get the chance.¡±


    Clay let himself laugh along with the [Knave], and a few moments later, they set off down the tunnel again. They left the fragments of the exploded monster behind and forged their way deeper into the dark.

 B2Ch23: Slime Purge, Part Two

    ¡°So wait, you and Jack already killed three of those things?¡±


    Clay nodded, wishing that Anne would keep her voice down. She¡¯d been extremely excited to join him, but she didn¡¯t seem to have listened very much to what Jack had told the others about the experience. ¡°Yeah. I got two, Jack got one. We killed a few big ironslimes too; they seem to like to try to drop on us from behind or jump from a side tunnel.¡±


    Anne nodded; she seemed a little jittery, though it was hard to tell if it was from excitement or concern. ¡°How¡¯d he manage it? From what he was saying, the things are just giant sacks of armor and explosions.¡±


    ¡°We kind of turned it to our advantage.¡± Clay paused, peering ahead carefully. His senses were starting to raise an alarm about this particular tunnel. ¡°For the second one, he acted as bait, and I ambushed the thing when it came after him. After that, I got the thing¡¯s attention, and he hit it from behind.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°You¡¯re saying he managed to chop it apart with those little knives of his?¡±


    He gave her a look. ¡°No. He opened part of it with his knife, and used Spontaneous Spark to set it on fire. Said it didn¡¯t matter if it blew up cause it was going to, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Hard to argue with that.¡± She seemed to think the situation over, and sheathed her sword. A moment later, she¡¯d unlimbered her longbow, and had an arrow nocked. ¡°Did it really blow up that easily? Seems like it would put up a bit more of a fight, seeing as it¡¯s a higher rank and all.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call it easy. It took a couple of hits to really kill it.¡± The flames had only seared a portion of the ironslime each time, but the shock of the initial attack had loosened the slime¡¯s grip on the ceiling at least, bringing it down to Jack¡¯s level. It hadn¡¯t been as effective as his own ambush, but then again he¡¯d opened that fight by using Drums of the Earth to knock the thing from the ceiling completely.


    The monster had hit the rocks hard enough to stun it, and the delay had allowed him to close with the thing and finish it. Hopefully, the rest of the slimes wouldn¡¯t be so quick to adjust and adapt. Time would tell.


    He shook his head. ¡°Anyway, is there anything I can help you with? I know Jack wanted to learn a bit more about how to scout.¡±


    Anne glanced at him and then chuckled. ¡°He would, wouldn¡¯t he? Always trying to find how he can help out the best. I suppose I should learn a bit more from him.¡± She fell quiet for a short moment, still absently picking her way along the tunnel. ¡°Actually, there is something you could tell me about. If you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    She sounded remarkably uncertain, given that it was Anne. The [Burglar] was rarely anything but a gregarious extrovert, always ready with a laugh and a smile. ¡°Sure. What is it?¡±


    Despite his response, Anne seemed to hesitate a while longer. Then she shook her head and sighed. ¡°Once this mission is over, I¡¯m betting they¡¯ll send you away, just like Jack thinks they will.¡± Clay opened his mouth to object, and she made a calming motion. ¡°Not out of anything malicious; I just think that once you bring back a group of level sixes or higher instead of the group of level ones you left with, they are going to want to put you to use elsewhere. Either training more low levels, or hunting down new Lairs, or something else I can¡¯t think of. Which means our little group is going to be facing the next mission on its own.¡±


    Clay paused. Her logic made sense. The Council had already had some kind of plan for him in the spring, and he imagined it hadn¡¯t included him creating a new team of adventurers out of the Rogue¡¯s Gallery. They probably wouldn¡¯t complain about a group of veteran cadets showing up, either; he could imagine them sending Anne and other others out on another mission to cull a Lair on their own.


    It didn¡¯t mean he had to like it, though. He¡¯d been imagining getting the chance to introduce his friends from Pellsglade to the friends he¡¯d made at the Academy. The fact that he might get denied that opportunity seemed unfair somehow. Clay sighed. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right.¡±


    Anne nodded, her eyes going back to the tunnel ahead. ¡°So, Jack¡¯s going to be our scout. A lot of people might have expected me to be right up there with him. I¡¯m faster than he is, but he¡¯s a lot quieter in a lot of ways. Besides, I think we have a different problem.¡±


    Then she gave him a terrifyingly brilliant smile. ¡°I need to be louder. That way, whatever is coming after us comes after me, instead of the rest of the team. That¡¯s what I need.¡±


    Clay raised an eyebrow. ¡°Anne, I don¡¯t think that getting yourself hurt is going to do the rest of the team any good.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not aiming to be hurt. I¡¯m aiming to be a distraction.¡± Anne rolled her eyes. ¡°[Valor] and [Fortitude] are my primary [Stats], so dodging and taking the occasional hit won¡¯t be an issue¡ªand while they are coming after me, they aren¡¯t going to be taking Natalie apart in the middle of a [Chant], or Xavien while he¡¯s healing somebody, or Lawrence while he¡¯s doing something sneaky. I want to steal their attention until it¡¯s too late for them to stop the others from killing them.¡±


    He looked back at her for a moment longer, noting the utter seriousness in her eyes, and nodded slowly. ¡°What kind of [Experiences] did you get? For your last two levels, I mean.¡±


    She grinned at him. ¡°[Acrobat] and [Determined]. Means I can keep dodging better and longer than anyone else on the team. I got [Disarming Strike] for my newest [Feat], and [Evasive Steps] for my second [Style] too. If anyone in this bunch can stay alive playing bait, it¡¯s going to be me.¡±


    Clay felt almost compelled to agree. Then his senses gave him a flicker of warning from up ahead. ¡°All right. We¡¯ll give you some practice, then. First, let¡¯s try to have me kill a couple of these giant slimes¡ªone of them is on the way here now. For the third one, we¡¯ll see how well and how long you can dodge.¡±


    Anne bounced a little on her toes, her grin infectious. ¡°Got it, boss. Any hints for now?¡±


    He paused. ¡°Monsters aren¡¯t super complicated. They like targets that aren¡¯t paying attention, or who look like they are ready to run into a trap. Someone who is distracted is the first one on their dinner plate.¡± Then he paused. ¡°Of course, you should only be acting like you aren¡¯t paying attention. Understand?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I think I got it.¡± Anne nodded, and waved for him to back away. ¡°Go get into position. We¡¯ve got some monsters to taunt!¡±


    ¡°Wow, you weren¡¯t kidding about these spears! Think it¡¯ll ever run out?¡±


    Clay resisted the urge to tell Anne to pay attention; the way she kept evading the blades and spikes told him she was. The flippant way that she kept looking back at him was incredibly difficult to recognize as an act, though. Of course, that was the point, but still¡­


    ¡°I mean, you think it¡¯d get the picture and stop it eventually. How long have I been doing this, anyway?¡± The [Burglar] stepped to the side as another spike slammed down, nearly close enough to brush her armor. ¡°It¡¯s almost getting boring.¡±


    ¡°The monster doesn¡¯t understand speech, Anne. You don¡¯t need to make fun of it.¡±


    She laughed, spinning away from another blade. ¡°Yeah, but it does make this easier.¡± He watched as she snapped another blade with her sword; apparently [Disarming Strike] lent her a significant amount of strength when she was countering an enemy¡¯s weapons. Anne had already broken several of the blades, though she seemed to need a bit of a break between each attack.


    Clay smiled. ¡°Easy or not, you¡¯ve been at it for a while. You ready to finish things?¡±


    ¡°As ready as I¡¯ll ever be! If you¡¯re done being lazy, of course.¡±


    ¡°Get ready to pull back, then.¡± He started the Words of Refrain, having already used the Drums of Earth earlier. It finished quickly, and he focused on the ceiling. It shook obligingly, though he tried to keep the strength down. Having the whole mine cave in wasn¡¯t exactly helpful after all.


    Anne abruptly fell back, sheathing her sword and pulling out her bow. He thought he heard her muttering something as she moved, but Clay focused on what he needed to do to shake the thing to the floor so he could deal with it.


    The claws that had apparently held the slime on the ceiling cracked and broke. He saw the fluid bulk of the monster start to fall¡ªand then stop. Clay felt his eyes widen as he caught sight of spears extending from the slime to the ceiling. Had the slime somehow managed to catch itself? How had it known the shake was coming?


    He was still a little stunned about it when Anne opened fire.


    She shot three times in quick succession. He saw the first two arrows strike the bulk of the slime in the center, and then to the right. Both times, plates of rock rose to block the impacts; Clay could hear the shafts snap, a sound that echoed around the tunnel.


    Then she fired the third arrow, one that had been lit by Spontaneous Spark. It went left where the other arrows had gone right. This time, the rock plates were missing, and the flaming arrow drove deep into the ironslime¡¯s flesh. Clay saw the fluid inside start to fizzle and catch, and shielded his eyes.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    A heartbeat later, the front third of the slime seemed to explode in a wave of fire and smoke. He heard the slime¡¯s improvised braces keeping it on the ceiling snap, and the cave shook as the remainder of its bulk slammed into the ground. His nostrils stung as another wash of fluid spilled over the floor, some of it igniting in the remaining embers of the blast.


    Clay dropped his hand and stepped forward, ready to finish the thing, but Anne raised an eyebrow at him. She had put up her bow again, and drawn her sword, hefting one of their torches in her off hand.


    He winced and retreated to a minimum safe distance. Who was he to deny the [Burglar] her fun?


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t need any healing, Sir Clay?¡± The concern in Xavien¡¯s voice was clear, and Clay tried not to feel a little bitter about it.


    Even with his [Experiences] and higher [Stats], Clay was starting to feel the drain now that he was entering the third of his five shifts in the mines. When he¡¯d brought Anne out to the others, she had been practically skipping ahead of him, already bragging to the others about the [Stats] she¡¯d gained dodging ironslime spears. Clay had been half-surprised to step out into the sunlight and had felt nothing but gratitude as he¡¯d set down his gear for a handful of minutes.


    Unfortunately, a handful of minutes is all it had been before Xavien had come over, holding up a handful of rations in consolation. With a sigh and a stubborn reminder that it had been almost as much his idea as it had been theirs, he¡¯d led the [Oracle] back down into the mine. At least he¡¯d gained a point of [Will] just for continuing.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Xavien. Just a little tired.¡± Clay gave the man a weary smile. ¡°We¡¯ve already killed six of the giant ones, and about as many of the large slimes, too.¡±


    Xavien¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a significant number. Did you kill all of them?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No. Jack and Anne managed to get one a piece.¡±


    A determined look came into Xavien¡¯s eyes. ¡°Then I will make sure to help just as much, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay gave him a steady glance. ¡°It¡¯s not a competition, Sir Xavien.¡±


    The [Oracle] flushed in apparent embarrassment. ¡°Of course not, Sir Clay. I only meant¡­¡± He paused. ¡°I merely don¡¯t want to be the one to hold the rest of us back.¡±


    For a moment, Clay remembered the feeling he¡¯d had as the others had received their [Classes] and left him behind. ¡°I guess I can understand that. I don¡¯t think you will need to worry about it, though.¡± He glanced down a side tunnel, extending his senses in that direction. He¡¯d cleared the path there with Anne, but the slimes seemed to move around a lot more. Better to be sure they weren¡¯t going to get surrounded later on. ¡°None of you seem like you are further behind than the others. You¡¯ve all worked hard to get us this far.¡±


    Xavien held the torch a little higher. ¡°We¡¯ve had a good leader, Sir. Without you, I¡¯m sure we¡¯d all still have been trapped back in the Academy.¡±


    Clay shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°You would have found a way. You were staying strong before we met, and you would have made cadet by next year at least.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Xavien¡¯s voice was as skeptical as he¡¯d usually been, and Clay rolled his eyes a little. ¡°All the same, this has been an opportunity to actually do something, to make a difference. We¡¯re grateful you gave us the chance.¡±


    He snorted. ¡°You¡¯re all making it seem like I have one foot in the grave. The gods tell you something you haven¡¯t shared?¡±


    Xavien laughed, a rare booming sound that echoed through the tunnels. ¡°Regrettably, no. I haven¡¯t been blessed with hearing their will. Though I¡¯m sure that they remain committed to our cause.¡±


    ¡°As long as it amuses them, I¡¯m sure.¡± Clay paused beside another side tunnel, one that he hadn¡¯t explored before. His senses were complaining about something inside, enough that he ignored Xavien¡¯s startled noise of half-scandal, half-surprise. He glanced towards the ceiling, keeping an eye out for any signs of glistening material waiting for him. The monster didn¡¯t feel like it was approaching, which probably meant it was just a large ironslime, not a giant. It was starting to seem like the big ones used the smaller ones as tripwires or guards, in some cases. Maybe they just smelled the fluid left behind when they died.


    ¡°You seem to have very¡­ odd views about the gods, Sir Clay.¡± Xavien¡¯s voice had taken on a cautious quality. Had he spotted Clay¡¯s tension? ¡°Do you really feel like the Trickster has played that much of a part in your journey?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t help but snort again. Xavien was far more serious about the Rectory¡¯s doctrine than most, and he didn¡¯t mean to tweak the man¡¯s nose, but it was a bit too much for him to avoid. ¡°Well, she was the only one that talked to me during the Choosing. I¡¯m fairly sure she gave me my [Class] mostly as a way to bother the rest.¡± Clay started forward, keeping his eyes on the ceiling and along the edges of the floor. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯m not as reverent as the Rectory would want, but I feel a bit¡­ conflicted about the way she seems to be using me.¡±


    Clay paused, glancing backwards. He saw Xavien still standing where he had been, staring at him in apparent shock. ¡°Sir Xavien? You all right?¡±


    Xavien slowly shook himself and started forward again, his expression a bit dazed. ¡°You said the Trickster was the one who gave you your [Class]. She spoke to you?¡±


    He frowned. ¡°Well, yeah. During the Choosing. Isn¡¯t that how it works? The gods give us the [Classes] that they have picked out for us, and guide us forward?¡±


    The [Oracle] hesitated for a moment before he responded. ¡°I suspect that the experience most people have at their Choosing is a bit more¡­metaphorical than yours, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay blinked. He looked back, expecting a wry smirk or some hint that Xavien was joking, but the [Oracle] looked about as serious as a gravestone. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean you are the first person I¡¯ve ever met who actually talked to one of the gods during their Choosing.¡± Xavien was studying the tunnel ahead, but he glanced at Clay as if to reassure himself that the message was being received. ¡°It is¡­ extremely uncommon for someone, especially a [Commoner], to remember anything like that. Most people, myself included, only have a vague memory of being asked to make a choice. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Clay stared at him blankly, trying to process the information. He realized, with a numb kind of chagrin, that neither of his parents had ever mentioned seeing the gods or goddesses during their Choosing. The crude, inaccurate statues that he¡¯d seen in the village Shrine reappeared in his mind. He¡¯d thought they were off due to the quality of the craftsmanship. What if it had been simple unfamiliarity?


    Then he shook his head. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m remembering wrong, then. It¡¯s not like she gave me any particular grand quest or anything. I mean, she made me a [Commoner].¡±


    ¡°A [Commoner] who has already destroyed two Lairs, and is about to destroy a third.¡± Xavien seemed amused now, as if enjoying how unsteady Clay was feeling. ¡°One that managed to inspire our entire group of adventurers and turn them into a force for good. It would be an interesting coincidence, that same [Commoner] having a false memory of the Trickster, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    He grunted in response, turning back to the tunnel ahead. There was something further up ahead, and it suddenly seemed a lot more comfortable to go and deal with it than it did to continue the conversation. ¡°It was just a daydream or a side effect of the [Chant] the Rector used. Don¡¯t read anything into it.¡±


    The [Oracle] nodded, apparently struggling to fight back a smile. ¡°And you haven¡¯t had any similar¡­ dreams¡­ since then, have you? Just the one time?¡±


    Clay¡¯s mind flashed back, unwillingly, to the time he¡¯d seen the Trickster and the Sage arguing among themselves. Instead of answering, he quickened his step. ¡°There¡¯s a slime up ahead. If we are fast, maybe we can kill it and set up our first ambush. Let¡¯s focus on that for now.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Sir Clay. Whatever you say.¡± It took a terrible amount of effort to ignore the amusement in Xavien¡¯s voice. What was he so amused about, anyway? From the sounds of it, he should have been thinking that their entire mission was being led by a madman.


    Then again, as Clay thought over their entire war against the monsters in Rodcliff, maybe he already was.


    The giant ironslime shuddered as Xavien directed a brilliant ball of lightning directly into its core. For a moment, it looked like the slime would be able to hold it off with its stone armor, but the [Oracle]¡¯s newest [Charm] melted a hole straight through the stone, and through the flesh beneath it. Fire and smoke poured out of the wound, and the entire monster detonated a moment later. Its death shook the intersection where the battle had been taking place, and Xavien shouted in victory.


    Clay wished he was feeling quite as confident. He dodged another spear of stone, smashing it to pieces and deflecting a stone blade with his spear. The two giant ironslimes had attacked together, converging on the spot where he and the [Oracle] had killed a trio of large ironslimes. He¡¯d stunned the one coming from the direction of the main tunnel, but this one had crawled its way out of a side tunnel he hadn¡¯t noticed because of the way it had bent.


    So now he was fighting a monster that seemed intent on hiding inside of that same side tunnel, all while stabbing out at him with a series of spikes. It lashed out at him again, and Clay dodged, snapping one blade and deflecting the other into the ground.


    ¡°Sir Clay! How can I help?¡±


    He glanced back to see Xavien running out of the smoke, his armor only mildly stained with soot. The [Oracle] looked calm and determined, a fact that Clay put down to having already finished his opponent. ¡°Get ready to block for a moment. I need to get in close!¡±


    Xavien nodded and hooked his mace back to his belt. The man scooped the torch from the floor where he had dropped it and brought his shield around in a guard position. Clay nodded and started the Flame-tongued Song. If he could collapse the side tunnel, it might force the slime out from where it was hiding. It could also force the thing to retreat, though, which didn¡¯t sound like a good idea.


    Better to just make sure that the thing was as close to dead as he could make it.


    The slime continued to lash out, and Xavien grunted as the first spike slammed into his shield. He wasn¡¯t knocked backwards, which was good, but those kinds of hits would be hard for an [Oracle] to take for long. Clay needed to move quickly.


    Dodging the next two spikes, Clay sprinted towards the side tunnel. It was a tiny space, one he would only be able to enter if he crawled in headfirst. The idea of doing so sounded awful, given that there would be a very large, very angry slime waiting for him. Fortunately, the thing was still filling the entrance anyway, sending spike after spike out at them.


    As he finished the Song, Clay ducked another spike and drove the point of his spear into the mass of the ironslime. It tore a gaping hole in its hide, cutting through the armor that it attempted to form over its hide. With fluid gushing from the wound, it retracted a little, as if trying to retreat.


    Clay breathed fire directly into the tunnel, catching the ironslime directly on the wound. There was an immediate burst of smoke and fire, one that nearly singed his eyebrows, but the force of his [Chant] kept shoving all the flame and heat and fumes further into the side tunnel. He heard a second explosion further into the side passage, followed by another. By the time the third blast cracked a part of the mine¡¯s wall, a notification finally appeared in his vision.


    {Giant Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 80.}


    {Commoner reaches Level 11!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 26!}


    {Experience gained (Relentless: Fatigue lessened by 15%. Gain 15% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.)}


    {Experience gained (Guide: Gain Mapping Skill. Gain 20% bonus to Analysis and Track Skills. Movement speed increases by 10%.)}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Unyielding Spirit: Fatigue lessens by 5%. Wounds heal 10% faster. Gain 10% damage resistance.}


    He blinked in surprise. Another level, already? After his time at the Academy, he¡¯d forgotten how quickly things could advance. The new [Achievement] seemed like it would be extremely useful; he was already starting to feel less tired. Being able to map things a bit more clearly was also going to be helpful in the underground maze of the mines as well.


    Feeling a bit more cheerful, Clay turned back to Xavien, who was studying the cracks in the tunnel wall. The [Oracle] glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Not bad for a mere [Commoner] with¡­ interesting dreams.¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°Come on. We need to find at least one more of those things.¡± The [Oracle] nodded, and they made their way even deeper into the mines.

 B2Ch24: Slime Purge, Part Three

    By the time he¡¯d killed his seventh giant ironslime, Clay was beginning to feel an almost continuous ache throughout most of his body. He¡¯d gone back to the camp and changed Xavien out for Natalie, who had been eager to begin her run. At the very least, he¡¯d been able to persuade her to hold off for long enough to let him devour a bit of lunch, but shortly after that, he was back below the earth, searching for the remaining monsters.


    It didn¡¯t help that the monsters seemed to be pulling back from their side tunnels. If he had to guess, he assumed they were realizing that they were being picked off, and either withdrawing or grouping up to patrol together. Either way, it was taking longer to find the enemy, and they seemed to be more reluctant to fall into an ambush.


    Not that Natalie seemed to be discouraged about it at all.


    ¡°Well, that seemed like it went exceptionally well! Xavien said you gained another level too. Are your [Experiences] helping?¡±


    ¡°So far, yeah.¡± He tried not to sound worn out and irritated. The [Alchemist] had been more than willing to act as bait, waiting with her torch as the giant ironslime had closed in on her. He¡¯d knocked the thing from its perch on the ceiling with the Drums, and then cut it to pieces while it struggled on the floor. ¡°Do you want to try killing the next one?¡±


    Natalie grinned. ¡°I¡¯d love to. My new [Charm] should make it interesting.¡± When he gave her a curious look, her smile grew wider. ¡°It¡¯s called [Reveal Weakness]. When I used it on the slime, I could see its core and its eyes.¡±


    ¡°You could see its eyes?¡± Clay felt impressed despite himself. It sounded like something even more useful than the Orison, in its own way. ¡°That could be really useful.¡±


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d agree.¡± Her smile turned a little smug. ¡°And that¡¯s not all. I¡¯ve been studying quite a bit while you¡¯ve been in here. I¡¯ve already gained a bit of [Memory]. And since I¡¯m at level six¡­¡±


    ¡°Your maximum [Memory] is higher than mine.¡± He grunted sourly. ¡°You planning on learning some [Chants] that I haven¡¯t figured out yet?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m planning on sharing whatever I find out with you later.¡± She laughed, and Clay tried to look on the bright side. If the [Alchemist] was able to figure out some of the [Chants] before him, it would make it easier for him to find ones that worked. At the very least, it would save him some of the work.


    At worst, she might stumble into something terrible without him being able to warn her.


    He tried to sound more encouraging than resentful. ¡°Just be careful. Some of the [Chants] might be dangerous. Tell me if you think you¡¯ve found something risky before you try it.¡±


    Natalie¡¯s good humor lessened a little, and she nodded. ¡°The¡­ bad [Chant]. That one isn¡¯t listed in the notes, right? I¡¯m not going to run across it while I¡¯m trying to learn?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°No. I wouldn¡¯t leave that anywhere that anyone could find it. Neither should you, if you do happen to find it. Until you are level thirteen at least, you need to avoid it and destroy whatever copies you find. Understand?¡±


    She nodded again. ¡°I will.¡± For a moment, she glanced back along the tunnel. ¡°It is really that bad?¡±


    ¡°Even with everything I know about it, the thing still tries to take control of me.¡± He fixed her with a steady stare. ¡°[Will] isn¡¯t exactly your primary [Stat]. Even with a good [Memory]¡ªmaybe especially with a good [Memory]¡ªyou¡¯re going to need to be careful.¡±


    Natalie appeared to grow a little more sober, as if realizing the scale of what she was getting herself into. Clay watched her a moment longer to make sure the message landed and then broke into a smile. ¡°All that said, if you do happen to find something interesting, let me know. I can¡¯t just let you guys get ahead of me on things, after all.¡±


    The [Alchemist] snorted, and he turned back to the tunnel they had been following. He wasn¡¯t sensing all that much coming from that direction, but it would pay to check and make sure. Then they could make their way back up the tunnel and¡ª


    His thoughts cut off. Despite his expectations, his senses were sounding off, but they weren¡¯t warning him about something coming from the tunnel ahead. Instead, they were telling him that something was coming up behind them. Fast.


    Clay turned around. ¡°Get ready. I think we¡¯ve got another one coming. Maybe more?¡±


    She spun around the torch casting odd lights across the tunnel walls. ¡°How? We already cleared the tunnel behind us. How did they know to come here instead of going out of the mines?¡±


    ¡°They must have smelled the one we just put down. Or maybe they picked up our torch, or our tracks somehow.¡± He set himself in the middle of the tunnel, keeping his spear ready. ¡°We probably aren¡¯t going to be able to surprise them very easily. Especially not unless we try to hide in that mess back there.¡±


    Natalie glanced at the pool of noxious fluid covering the tunnel behind them. The fumes alone would probably have choked both of them. ¡°Right.¡±


    Clay heard the monsters now and caught a glimpse of shining flesh scraping its way along the rock. Either it was a bigger slime than even the giants he¡¯d already faced, or there were two of them out there. ¡°Look for an opening. I¡¯m going to try to keep them both busy.¡±


    ¡°Both?¡±


    ¡°Just keep your eyes open!¡± Clay stepped forward, and started the [Chant] of the Flame-tongued Song. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d get the chance to burn either of the things, but he didn¡¯t want to miss the opening if it appeared in front of him.


    It didn¡¯t look like the monsters intended to give him that kind of free attack, however. One of them was fixed to the ceiling, while the other had slunk along the floor. Both had the same glimmering dark shapes as giant ironslimes. Clay felt a sudden chill as he realized he¡¯d need to hold off two of the things while protecting Natalie. There was no other choice; it wasn¡¯t like there was any other place to retreat to.


    The slimes seemed to hesitate at the edge of the torchlight. Then they both began to contract, clearly preparing to launch their opening attacks.


    Clay charged before they could, closing the distance to the slimes in a handful of blurring steps. He ignored his burning muscles and dragging fatigue. It didn¡¯t matter that his feet felt like they were being pulled through mud, or that the air was foul with chemicals and dust. His friend was counting on him, and Rodcliff was counting on all of them. The monsters would need to die.


    Unfortunately, they seemed to disagree. Both slimes erupted in a shower of projectiles that seemed to fill the tunnel. Clay pushed himself to sweep his spear in a defensive pattern that swept half a dozen of them from the tunnel air; at least half a dozen more bounced from his helmet and armor. At least one nearly hit him in the face, drawing blood along his left cheek, while another clipped his leg, just barely nicking it where it wasn¡¯t completely protected by armor.


    Natalie had fallen back behind him, and he heard her starting her own [Chant] behind him. To his mild amusement, she¡¯d also chosen the Flame-tongued Song. He hoped she remembered that he was still in front of her before she unleashed it.


    Clay rushed forward, hoping to gut at least one of the creatures before they could regather themselves for the next attack. If he could do enough damage, one might retreat, or collapse and leave him with only a single opponent. It was a thin hope, but one that he had to cling to.


    The chance for a quick resolution was dashed a moment later, as both slimes sprouted a small forest of blades and spikes. Clay was forced to throw himself into a frenzy of deflections and dodges. He smashed some of the stone weapons, but more and more often, he was forced to contort himself to avoid the others, mostly pushing the attacks aside instead of managing to break them.


    He lost himself to the effort of staying alive, weaving his way through the forest of stone edges that were being thrown at him. Even as he pushed himself forward, the slimes kept their distance. They steadily withdrew along the tunnel as he got closer, preventing him from getting within a spear¡¯s length of their glistening hides. Clay finished the Flame-tongued Song, and even its scorching heat failed to do more than force them to roll back slightly, shielding themselves with the stone armor that they extruded from their skin.


    Then they used a new trick, and Clay realized he was really in trouble. Along with the spikes, they began to spit out the stone daggers that they had used at a distance. They were faster than the spikes, and even if they glanced off his armor, all it would take was one in the right place and he¡¯d been dead or crippled¡ªlikely to die shortly after. He was forced to stop advancing, and even began falling back as they continued to add more and more projectiles to the mix of attacks that he was being forced to deal with.


    Clay felt desperation start to set in. He didn¡¯t have far to retreat before he would be pushed into the corpse of the dead ironslime, or worse yet, the blank rock walls at the end of the tunnel. How far could he retreat before he was on unsteady ground? How much more could he retreat before Natalie would be put at risk by the blades? How much longer could he even keep moving with his exhausted muscles and burning lungs?


    He stubbornly put aside the doubts and bore down into the effort of staying alive. Despite his best efforts, he was still giving ground, step by grudging step. The momentum was still turning against him, even as he searched his mind for an option to get him and Natalie out of the trap.


    Then, behind him, he heard Natalie complete the Flame-tongued Song. He risked a desperate glance backward, hoping the [Alchemist] wasn¡¯t about to bake him alive in an attempt to help him.


    To his surprise, she wasn¡¯t even looking in his direction, however. Instead, she was sucking in a breath at the edge of the pool of fluid that the dead ironslime had left behind. Clay¡¯s eyes widened as he realized what Natalie must have been planning, and he abruptly turned his attention back to the slimes in front of him. They had taken advantage of his distraction to move forward, their attention focused on him and their sides already clenching to sprout new weapons.


    Instead of facing them, however, Clay jumped hard to the side, leaving them a clear view of the tunnel ahead. The slimes hesitated, as if taken off guard.


    A heartbeat later, light flared all throughout the tunnel as the [Alchemist] lit the remains of their fellow ironslime ablaze, detonating the shattered corpse in a flash of flame and smoke.


    Clay only caught the dull reflection of that light, bouncing from the unsettling hide of the ironslimes ahead of him, but it still made him flinch and squint against its harshness. The slimes apparently caught far more of it wherever they kept their eyes. They recoiled and made an odd shrieking gurgle, their attacks abruptly falling away.


    In that moment, Clay charged again. Even as the light faded, he advanced and spoke the Words of Refrain. He ducked low under the half-blinded blades of the slime on the roof, aiming his charge at the one still crouched on the floor. It had reacted on reflex, shielding itself with a double layered plate of stone that covered its face.


    Clay summoned every bit of strength he could muster and swung his spear as hard as he could. The spearblade seemed to cut the very air itself as it became an arc of death sweeping towards the ironslime¡¯s bulk. It met the stone with a colossal, crushing sound. For a moment, between heartbeats, it seemed to have been stopped dead.


    Then the stone plate shattered, and Clay¡¯s spear tore a ragged hole in the slime beneath it. Fluid sprayed from the wound, and Clay forced himself to continue finishing the Words of Refrain despite the acrid smell filling the air. He had no time to wait, and when the Flame-tongued Song activated a few moments later, it was all worth it.


    The wounded ironslime shriveled and burned as he poured new fire into it. He saw it trying to retreat, and pushed forward, keeping the stream of fire centered on the gushing fluids from its wound. More and more of it burned and bubbled, with parts of it bursting like festering sores that released more fire and smoke. Those parts of it that hadn¡¯t caught fire shuddered and collapsed, even as the spell ran dry.


    {Giant Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 40.}


    {Valor increases by 1! Might increases by 1!}


    Clay found himself choking and coughing in the smoke, backing away from a tunnel half-full of the burning remnants of one ironslime. Behind him, he could still feel the heat of the blaze that Natalie had started. The air was so foul that his eyes were watering as he reeled back and deflected a stone spear from the slime above. He staggered, clumsily managing to avoid one spear and deflect another.


    It wasn¡¯t going to last. He couldn¡¯t breathe well enough, and could barely see, despite the firelight around him. The slime above was already recovering from the blindness afflicting it, and even if it couldn¡¯t see him clearly in the smoke, it would still just be able to collapse on top of him to crush him. Only the possible threat of his spear piercing its hide probably had kept it from doing it already. His only hope was to do enough damage so that Natalie could finish it off and maybe drag him back to camp.


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    Then he saw Natalie running towards him, her feet pounding the stone. She had dropped her torch, and her expression was shrouded in darkness and smoke. Was she using another [Chant]? Why wasn¡¯t she staying at range, the way he¡¯d expected her to?


    Clay took a step towards her, hoping to at least shield her from whatever mad idea she was clinging to. It was then that a spear smashed into his shoulder, punching into the plate that covered that part of his flesh. The attack didn¡¯t quite penetrate the armor, but it did drive him to his knees, the butt of his spear ringing on the floor of the mine.


    Natalie¡¯s hand closed on the haft of his spear¡ªand then she completed the [Chant] of Vanishing Ember.


    The fire throughout the tunnel abruptly went dark. Every spark, ember, or burning pile went out at once, plunging the tunnel into sudden blackness so complete that Clay couldn¡¯t even see Natalie¡¯s face anymore. He felt her yank his spear out of his numbed fingers and stifled the urge to yell at her. They¡¯d never figured out if the slimes could hear, as well as smell and see, but with the smoke in the air and the fires out, maybe they had a chance to sneak away?


    Instead, Natalie appeared to have another idea. He heard her murmur something and sensed a hint of magic.


    Then there was a rush like she¡¯d hurled something at the roof. A heartbeat later, she jumped into him, knocking them both down. He was surprised enough that he actually let her knock him down, and heard her start the [Chant] for Pure Touch. His eyes widened as he realized why she would and started the [Chant] as well. At least he¡¯d finish it faster than she would.


    He heard the slime detonate above them a moment later, spraying its fluid everywhere in a wave of noxious filth. Clay choked out the last of Pure Touch and felt the fumes and poisons retreat, leaving both of them coughing and breathing hard in a small area that had been cleared of contamination. When he managed to [Chant] Heart¡¯s Light a moment later, it revealed that they were surrounded by the dead corpses of all three giant ironslimes, coating every part of the nearby rock. His spear was a short distance away, the dead remnants of an ironslime core impaled on it.


    Natalie pushed herself up and laughed weakly. ¡°Turns out [Reveal Weakness] still works in the dark. Useful, huh?¡±


    Clay gave her an unsteady look. Then he started laughing. ¡°I would say so, Natalie. I would say so.¡±


    The afternoon was already growing late when Clay led Lawrence into the mines.


    It seemed like the [Occultist] had been more than willing to wait patiently for his turn. He¡¯d even given Clay a bit more extra time to rest and relax, saying that since he and Natalie had returned early, there wasn¡¯t any reason to rush into the next run through the mines. Clay had been vaguely grateful, taking the chance to rest and make some minor repairs to his armor.


    Then they went back below the earth, once again surrounding himself with rock and danger.


    {Will increases by 1!}


    He grinned for a second, amused that the [Gift] had seen fit to reward him for his foolishness. His muscles and joints weren¡¯t quite as admiring; they ached with each step, though he seemed to be recovering a little as they crept through the tunnels. Lawrence seemed content to stay quiet as they made their way deeper, his eyes intent on the darkness as the torchlight continued to reveal more of the path ahead.


    Clay led him to the last branch in the tunnels, the one spot where he and the others hadn¡¯t already searched through and cleared things. Down one side was the Lair; he could sense it easily, now that he knew how it showed up in his ethereal senses. The other was another side tunnel; he could tell that there were some slimes there, but the alarms it raised inside him were nothing compared to the Lair itself.


    They¡¯d need to clear the side tunnel before they even thought about the other path; the last thing they needed was for the slimes to flank them during the assault the next day. Besides, he still needed another two giant ironslime kills to reach the next level of [Slimebane], and Lawrence probably wanted at least one kill for himself as well¡­


    He glanced at the [Occultist] as he led them down the side passage. ¡°So, anything you¡¯re looking to learn in preparation for tomorrow?¡±


    Lawrence blinked and looked at him, as if surprised he was willing to talk about something that wasn¡¯t the immediate task in front of them. Perhaps knowing that he was so close to the Lair was unnerving the man. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The others seemed like they all had questions, either about things I could show them how to do in the future, or things I¡¯d learned. I was just wondering if you had any.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Lawrence smiled a little. ¡°I guess that makes sense. There¡¯s a bit of a divide amongst us at the moment.¡±


    They continued forward in quiet for a while longer, as if Lawrence needed the delay to put his thoughts in order. ¡°Jack wants to be our scout going forward, so we won¡¯t have to rely on you to do it, and Anne really wants to make sure that the monsters are attacking her instead of anyone else in case you aren¡¯t there to guard us. Xavien was saying something about you having some kind of destiny, one he means to support, and Natalie can¡¯t stop talking about the ways she¡¯s learned how to use [Chants], and how much more you could teach her. Half of them are getting ready to work without you, while the other two don¡¯t want to admit it might happen.¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°That makes sense, yeah. Which side do you fall on?¡±


    Lawrence coughed, as if clearing his throat. ¡°Honestly, neither. I know the Guild might decide to separate us, but there¡¯s nothing I can do about that. I do appreciate everything you¡¯ve done, but I don¡¯t think I need to rely on you too heavily going forward. Part of what you¡¯ve done is teach me what I can be going forward, after all.¡±


    He looked back at the [Occultist]. ¡°What would that be?¡±


    ¡°A friend. A hero. Someone who stands between danger and the rest of our people.¡± Lawrence laughed softly as they made their way forward, picking over the scattered stones left by a crushed minecart. ¡°All things that I wanted to be for a very long time, since I received my [Class]. You helped me earn those things, both for me and for the people I cared about. Thank you.¡±


    Clay felt his face heat slightly. ¡°You¡¯d have gotten there, eventually.¡±


    Lawrence chuckled again. ¡°So you say. Part of your charm, I suppose.¡± They made their way around another corner, and Clay tried to strain his senses, looking for any sign of a threat. ¡°The truth is, we needed someone to help us look past what everyone already expected of us. You did that for us and got us here. Refusing to recognize that would be a bit foolish, I think.¡±


    The mild rebuke actually reminded Clay of his father for a moment, though Sam Evergreen likely would have put the words in a far more definite phrase. ¡°I¡­ guess you¡¯re right about the fact that I helped, but you were all good people before I got to you. All you needed was a chance, and you haven¡¯t ever let me down.¡±


    ¡°Nor will we. Not today, and not tomorrow.¡± Lawrence¡¯s voice was surprisingly firm on the words, and then he glanced behind them. ¡°In any case, I suppose my main question is going to be what you are going to do after this?¡±


    Clay blinked. He looked back at Lawrence, who was studying him closely. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Lawrence gestured to the mine around them. ¡°Once a team comes back from a mission this¡­ extensive, they usually get at least some time to rest. Perhaps even the chance to return home, or go on a journey. The Council may even reward you with an actual journeyman or peer rank. What do you plan to do once that happens?¡±


    The question baffled Clay for a moment, and he turned back to the darkness ahead. For a moment, it seemed even more foreboding than he¡¯d expected. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not entirely sure.¡±


    Rocks shifted as Lawrence planted his quarterstaff and leaned on it. The [Occultist] grinned. ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    ¡°Well, I should probably visit Pellsglade. My parents and siblings would want to hear how it¡¯s all gone.¡± He thought for another moment and grimaced a little. ¡°I¡¯ve also made some¡­ promises. Things I mean to keep.¡±


    ¡°That does sound important. Perhaps something to do with the famed Olivia Shrinekept?¡± Clay blinked and saw a knowing look on the [Occultist]¡¯s face. ¡°Natalie has mentioned her frequently, as has Master Taylor. We owe her almost as much as you do. If you¡¯ve promised her something, then I can see how you would not want to fail her.¡±


    Clay shrugged. When he spoke, he was trying not to sound too defensive. ¡°She just wanted me to be there after her Choosing. To maybe help her a little.¡±


    ¡°Understandable.¡± The man sounded far too reasonable. It was infuriating, somehow. ¡°After that, what next?¡±


    It was a calm, perfectly rational question; it was also a question that Clay had very little answer to.


    On the one hand, he could just stay in Pellsglade. As a [Commoner] he didn¡¯t need to go out risking his life, not once he¡¯d finally gotten free of the Academy and the Guild. Baron Pellsglade wouldn¡¯t complain about having him around to keep an eye on the Dungeon in the Sarlwood, even if he couldn¡¯t kill the thing completely. His parents would probably be absurdly grateful for the change, actually.


    Of course, he could also simply settle into the adventurer¡¯s lifestyle. His abilities were strong enough that any team from the Guild would likely enjoy having him around, especially given that he could help them destroy Lairs rather than simply culling their monster populations. Clay could easily imagine himself wandering the land, breaking the Curses that had tormented people for so long. He pictured himself basking in fame and adulation for all the people he¡¯d helped.


    At the same time, he couldn¡¯t picture doing anything like that. He remembered the words that had been scrawled on the wall of the mine, remembered the houses of Rodcliff on fire and the worn expressions the [Commoners] had been wearing on the day they¡¯d arrived. Someone had caused that despair, and the deaths along with it. Letting them continue seemed¡­ wrong, on a level that made the Curses they¡¯d scattered around the place pale by comparison.


    He couldn¡¯t let that person continue doing it, couldn¡¯t let them spread Curses throughout the land. Once he¡¯d kept his promises and dealt with whatever the Council wanted, Clay was going to track them down and stop them, no matter what¡ªand once he¡¯d finished with that, he could search out the [Chant] that could destroy Dungeons, and set about removing those as well.


    When he turned to Lawrence to say so, however, his senses began to scream at him. The monsters were coming, and once again they had cut them off. Clay turned around, his spear in his hands and his heart pounding in his throat. ¡°They¡¯re behind us.¡±


    Lawrence paused. ¡°I see. Maybe they put a few of the large slimes back there to lure us in for a trap. Clever.¡±


    ¡°They have been getting more and more aggressive all day.¡± Clay felt his hands tighten instinctively on the spear. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to avoid them, so we¡¯re going to have to blast through. Are you going to be all right?¡±


    To his surprise, the [Occultist] just snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯m not a tactician like Natalie or a warrior mage like Xavien, but I have found my own little niche thanks to your example.¡±


    Despite his tension, Clay glanced over at him. Lawrence looked calm and confident. Almost eager, in a way. ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡±


    Lawrence grinned, a wide smile that seemed to take up his entire face. ¡°Why, I¡¯m the group¡¯s trickster. I¡¯d think someone who claims her as a patron would have figured that out by now.¡±


    Clay opened his mouth to ask a question, only to pause. He heard scraping ahead, and his heart leapt into his throat as he recognized the bulky forms of at least three giant ironslimes, all flowing towards him. One clung to the roof, while the other two were halfway up the walls on either side. Aside from a small space on the floor that a child would have had a hard time crawling through, the entire tunnel seemed to be blocked off by the slimes.


    He grimaced. ¡°All right, here they come.¡±


    ¡°Great! Looks like they are all together.¡± Lawrence stepped around him, handing him the torch. Clay felt his eyebrows climb as the [Occultist] fixed his eyes on the incoming monsters. ¡°Start that flame [Chant] of yours and follow me. Get ready to brace yourself for the explosions.¡±


    Then, before Clay could stop him, Lawrence charged forward, his quarterstaff held tightly in his hands. Clay stared after him in shock and then rushed up the tunnel in his wake. Had the [Occultist] gone insane? What was he doing? Despite his confusion, he started the Flame-tongued Song, wanting to at least have some way to respond when things went south.


    Fortunately, Lawrence was talking as he ran. ¡°I got two new techniques from the last Lair. A [Sigil] called [Mirrors] and a [Charm] called [Invisible Ward]. Both defensive, but both pretty useful. You¡¯ll see.¡±


    Clay was still trying to figure out what those spells could do when Lawrence put on an extra burst of speed. Ahead of him, Clay could see the slimes coming to a stop in the tunnel ahead. Their bulk glimmered in the torchlight; the things didn¡¯t seem to see the need to retreat, not with three of them together. Their faces began to ripple and shift, obviously gathering clusters of spikes and blades to impale the heroes that were daring to charge them.


    Lawrence didn¡¯t seem to see it, or didn¡¯t care if he did. The [Occultist] just charged in, his staff held high, as if he was planning on just battering the things into submission. The stance left him completely open to attack, almost like he was daring the slimes to strike him.


    The slimes sprouted a thicket of spears, and Clay¡¯s stomach clenched as he saw it converge on Lawrence¡¯s gut.


    Lawrence, however, laughed in triumph. The air rippled in a disc in front of him, as if it was disturbed by something that was just out of sight. Clay saw the forest of spears strike the ripple¡ªand completely vanish.


    The air rippled near the slimes ahead of them in the tunnel, in the narrow space beneath them. Clay jerked in shock as the slimes¡¯ own spears tore out of the second ripple. He saw them tear through the bulk of the two lower slimes, gouging holes in their unprotected flesh and spilling fluid from the wounds. Some of the spears extended so far through their bulk that they reached the monster hanging from the ceiling, digging into its rubbery hide as well. In an instant, the two lower slimes were fully impaled, and the third was pinned to them.


    Fluid splashed from a dozen gaping wounds as Lawrence made a sharp gesture with his hand. The ripple disappeared, and the stone spears snapped in half as the portals cut off. Clay could see the slimes starting to digest the weapons that had pinned them to each other, but Lawrence didn¡¯t give them the chance to finish. He watched as the [Occultist] reached out and called a new [Charm], one that seemed half-familiar at this point.


    Stone tentacles tore their way out of the ceiling and into the unprotected flesh of the upper slime. They burrowed through the already damaged monster like an invasive parasite, piercing the center of it. Clay saw something dark and well-protected impaled by at least two of the tentacles, and heard Lawrence shout to him. ¡°Get behind me! Is that [Chant] ready?¡±


    Clay couldn¡¯t respond before he heard the fizzing sound of the giant ironslime self-destructing. He put himself right behind the [Occultist], hoping that [Invisible Ward] was up to the task. The other two slimes were thrashing, worsening their own wounds as they frantically tried to escape the death of their companion.


    They didn¡¯t quite make it. The slime on the ceiling self-destructed in a single catastrophic burst of noxious fluids. Its two companions were smashed into the floor of the tunnel, still bleeding even more of the unnatural ichor. To Clay¡¯s relief, though, an invisible barrier of air kept the force of the blast from hitting them. Lawrence grunted under the strain of it, but he¡¯d kept the impact at bay.


    Which meant the only thing left to do was to step out from behind the [Occultist] and unleash the Flame-tongued Song. Clay saw the remaining ironslimes still thrashing weakly, but they were heavily wounded; Lawrence probably could have killed them himself, but the adventurer simply gestured for Clay to finish them.


    He nodded in gratitude and unleashed the flame. It washed over the two surviving ironslimes, igniting both their own bleeding wounds and the spattered remains of their fellow monster. More detonations followed as both of the monsters were steadily incinerated by the concentrated stream of fire.


    {Giant Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 40.}


    {Giant Ironslime slain! Soul increases by 40.}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Slimebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 30% versus Small Ironslimes, Large Ironslimes, and Giant Ironslimes.}


    When all remnants of the slimes had been burnt from the tunnel, Clay took a step back and sighed in satisfaction. He looked back at Lawrence. ¡°Thank you, Sir Lawrence.¡±


    The [Occultist] shrugged, scratching at the back of his head. His grin was almost shy. ¡°It was my pleasure, Sir Clay. Any time.¡±


    Clay nodded, looking back at the charred remains. Then he laughed. ¡°So, a trickster, huh? Seems like you hit pretty hard for one of those.¡±


    Lawrence grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll be keeping the others on their toes, that¡¯s for sure.¡± He glanced at the tunnel behind. ¡°Should we stay? Find more?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Clay shook his head, the fatigue still dragging at him. ¡°I think that we¡¯ve already pushed them to their limits for now. If the slimes only had as many giants as the other Lair had horrors, then they already won¡¯t be able to launch a raid against Rodcliff without leaving their Guardian isolated. Let them group up in the Lair, and we can crush them all at once tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Once we¡¯ve all slept. Of course.¡± Lawrence nodded easily, and he stepped over to take the torch back from Clay. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving, then, before they get any other ideas.¡±

 B2Ch25: Final Slime

    Rest was easy to come by after they returned.


    Even the anxiety over the assault the next day couldn¡¯t keep Clay awake once the others took the watch. He fell into a deep and dreamless sleep for nearly the entire night; when Lawrence woke him to take his watch, he felt incredibly refreshed. The bite of the winter cold seemed harsh on his skin, but he didn¡¯t even mind the lack of a sunrise.


    The sky was cloaked in clouds now; his farmer¡¯s life told him that snow was going to happen within the next few hours, maybe before lunch. It might be the last big storm of the winter, but that wouldn¡¯t make it any more pleasant to get caught in. Better to be underground before it started.


    For the moment, however, he wasn¡¯t in any hurry. The past few weeks had been full of unrelenting pressure and hard work, but Clay had felt free in ways that mocked his time at the Academy. He¡¯d been doing what he knew he needed to do. Now that it was almost over, and that Rodcliff was almost safe, he was almost sorry to see it done. Almost.


    All of which meant that once he returned to Pellsglade, he was going to be leaving to put a stop to whatever plot had started here. He¡¯d hunt down whoever was creating Lairs, find a way to stop them, and from there try to find whatever he could on the Eternal Seal. There had to be something, somewhere, that would give him a clue. Some fragment that had survived the ancient wars and the passage of time. Perhaps the Trickster would even give him a nudge in the right direction, assuming she wasn¡¯t messing something else up.


    Clay snorted, amused by his own blasphemy, and turned his thoughts to the struggle ahead of him. There would be slimes waiting for him, along with the Guardian. He wouldn¡¯t be able to rely on the bonuses from [Defiant] to save him like he had with the scaled tyrant, but hopefully the rest of his [Experiences] would make up for the difference. The damage reduction from [Unyielding] alone would do wonders, as long as he didn¡¯t let himself get hit too hard.


    The others started to wake behind him, and Clay looked over as the camp stirred to life. It would be time to go soon. He brushed himself off and stood.


    It was time to finish the mission.


    Clay paused at the mouth of the tunnel, his ethereal senses clamoring in his skull. He looked around at the others, taking in their serious expressions. ¡°Well, here we are again.¡±


    A rough chuckle ran through them, though Xavien and Natalie both just rolled their eyes. Anne gave him a broad grin while Jack just nodded seriously. Lawrence kept his eyes fixed on the tunnel, as if expecting the enemy to make an appearance after all.


    He continued in a low voice. ¡°It¡¯s going to be like last time, but harder. You¡¯ve all fought those giant ironslimes; I¡¯m betting there¡¯s another bunch of them just waiting for us to show up. Plenty of the smaller ones will be there as well, along with whatever Guardian the Lair has. We still don¡¯t know anything about what that can do, and we¡¯ll need to wipe them all out if we want this to end.¡±


    Clay paused, and he looked down the tunnel. ¡°We can¡¯t let them stop us. This Lair is the last thing that threatens Rodcliff, and if it survives, then the town is dead. The monsters are too close, and without the lizards keeping them in balance, they¡¯ll swarm the place. Everyone there will need to run, or they¡¯ll be dead.¡±


    He looked back at them, seeing the recognition of the stakes in their eyes. ¡°So when we move in there, be careful. Be brave, but don¡¯t risk yourselves too far. I want heroes, living ones, by the end of this fight. We¡¯ll leave the dying to them.¡±


    ¡°Move fast, hit hard, and help each other, and we¡¯ll all get through this.¡± Clay looked around one last time, mentally bracing himself for the combat ahead. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He turned and led them into the tunnel, watching for signs of opportunistic ambushers as they approached the Lair itself. After a short walk, he started to see the same unnatural light of the Curse itself flickering over the stones ahead, and steeled himself for whatever was waiting for him.


    The mine once again opened up into another broader junction, one where the Curse itself sat close to the back. Where the first Lair had been littered with the leathery husks of dead eggshells, this one had scattered pools of deep, clear fluid, obviously etched into the floor. Clay identified them as spawning pools almost immediately, and just as clearly, they seemed to be close to bursting; he thought he could see the cores of the would-be ironslimes shifting within the deeper pools, already showing signs of life.


    Those monsters were not alone, however. Dozens of small ironslimes were nestled in every crevice of the cave, with some even hanging from the higher parts of the ceiling. All of them seemed to ripple briefly as the team reached the mouth of the Lair, as if they were sensing their role in the fight to come. Larger ironslimes were scattered across the breadth of the Lair, their bodies half-buried in stone that seemed almost mushy from their digestive juices. Five giant ironslimes were clustered together in a group in the very center of the ceiling, their dark bulks already clenching and preparing to spray at the intruders.


    Clay, however, focused only on what had to be the Guardian. A single slime stood apart from the others, lumped into the middle of the cavern below the giants. It was easily larger than any of them, though its clear skin revealed layers of glistening ooze within. The core was impossible to see against that background glow, and it seemed to shift excitedly as he stepped forward.


    Fortunately, he¡¯d already used the Orison. The Words of Refrain made it easy to use the [Chant] on the newest monster.


    [Guardian Ur-Slime (Iron)]


    [Rank: 10, Type: Slime, Status: Lord of the Second Lost Mine Lair]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 8]


    [Instincts: Guardian, Creator, Commander, Eternal]


    It wasn¡¯t much information to go on, though the very name of the ur-slime did not encourage Clay to face it. At the very least, he had confirmed that it was the actual Guardian, and not some clone or ironslime pretender. He¡¯d actually been a bit worried about the ironslimes somehow managing to hide their Guardian among their shifting forms¡ªafter all, who could tell two slimes apart, aside from size.


    Fortunately, the shining slime wasn¡¯t trying to hide. Instead, it drew itself up, and the air seemed to fill with a cloud of scents that Clay couldn¡¯t even begin to identify.


    Then it launched itself forward, and the entire cave seemed to flow in at them, as if the very stone itself was a river coming to meet them.


    Clay crouched and started moving, his spear held in his hands and the Flame-tongued Song on his lips. He didn¡¯t know if it would be useful against the Guardian itself, but it would make it that much easier to forge a path through the lesser monsters, at the very least. The others charged around him, their voices a mixture of [Chants], [Charms], and warcries that echoed through the stone chamber. It was a curious contrast to the silence of their opponents, who threw themselves forward with nothing more than scraping sounds to announce themselves.


    The first of the slimes reached Clay, and he lashed out with his spear immediately. Small slimes died and exploded in clouds of dispersed fluids, quickly filling the air with toxic fumes. Overhead, the larger ones clenched, and Clay was forced to dodge and deflect as a rain of stone spears came down. He heard Lawrence calling on his [Invisible Ward], while the others dodged and blocked as best they could.


    A heartbeat later, one of the giant ironslimes froze. As it began to shiver, Clay caught sight of a cluster of stone tentacles crushing its core, and mentally congratulated the [Occultist] for scoring the first of the larger kills. When it exploded a moment later, raining poison and fleshy chunks in all directions, it knocked at least two of its companions from the ceiling. One of them fell directly onto a spike of ice that Xavien had called forth; the other was hit by an arrow that looked like it could have punched through an oak tree. Neither exploded, but it was clear they weren¡¯t going to be pulling themselves back up anytime soon.


    Clay turned his attention back to his own charge and found a cluster of big ironslimes blocking the way. They had moved under the stone, and were reaching for him with their tendrils. He slashed and hacked and cut, carving off pieces of them with ease as he pushed his way through their clutches. More fluid and poison filled the air; it was already starting to get hard to breathe.


    Then he completed the Flame-tongued Song, and he filled the air with fire. The ironslimes burned, their severed fragments withering and bursting. They withdrew their bodies back under the floor in a panic, though rivulets of flame chased them under the ground. Clay saw them run and suppressed the urge to track them down and finish them. He had bigger prey to worry about now.


    The ur-slime rolled forward, its formidable bulk shining almost as much as the guttering fires or the shining Curse behind it. Clay stepped forward, his spear held tightly in his hands. He willed it to expose himself, to lash out at him and leave itself vulnerable.


    Instead, the ur-slime simply rolled forward and tried to crush him beneath its bulk. Clay was forced to dodge aside at the last moment, its glistening bulk nearly catching his feet beneath it as it went by. Clay hit the ground, rolled, and killed a pair of small ironslimes as he stood up. He watched as the ur-slime¡¯s momentum came to a stop, and the thing came back at him, still moving with impressive speed.


    This time, Clay didn¡¯t wait for an attack. He charged in and hacked at the ur-slime, stepping out of the direct path of its charge. The speartip caught the flesh of the Guardian and bit into it, gouging out a furrow that would have left a brutal, gushing wound in any of the ironslimes.


    The ur-slime, however, simply sealed the wound. It came to a stop near Clay, towering over him. He felt a hint of fear at its size and apparent lack of concern for his weapons.


    Then it seemed to explode, reaching out with three different pseudopods to grasp him.


    Clay threw himself backwards, lashing out with his spear in a series of stabs meant to fend off the questing tendrils of slime. His spearblade bit deep once, twice, three times, four¡­ The slime didn¡¯t seem to notice or care. Each impact made the individual pseudopod tremble and retreat slightly, but the slime itself simply continued to chase after him, sprouting more and more shining limbs to reach for him.


    Frantic, Clay began to recite the Words of Refrain. The thing hadn¡¯t shown any aversion to fire, but it might convince it to back away a little. The [Chant] completed in mere moments, and he breathed flame straight into the middle of the monster that was chasing him.


    To his surprise and relief, the ur-slime¡¯s response was immediate. It recoiled, its many arms retreating as the fire crisped its shining skin.


    Then it began to glow red, the color leaching into it from the place where the flame had been burning through it. As Clay let the [Chant] die, the entire ur-slime radiated a cherry-red aura, as if it had transformed into metal heated in the forge. He could feel the heat from it, the air seeming to bake and distort around it.


    He took a cautious step backward, wary of a trick. The ur-slime pulsed, as if it had exhaled a breath of hot air, a rush of heat that sapped the moisture from the atmosphere.


    Then a portion of the ur-slime seemed to bulge out, and Clay crouched, ready to spring aside. He expected a stone blade, like the ironslimes used, or perhaps another lashing arm of slime.


    What he got instead was a portion of the ur-slime suddenly breaking free. It plopped with a sizzling sound onto the bare rock, and Clay backed up slightly. His eyes darted from the smaller blob to the larger slime, and he saw another half dozen blobs forming all around it. Despite himself, he took another step back.


    Then the smaller blob jumped straight at him, hurtling directly at his face as if it had no self-preservation at all. Clay reacted on instinct as much as anything else; his spear came up and stabbed, meeting the blob halfway. He saw the blade pierce the thing¡¯s hide. It deformed slightly around the speartip, as if it was resisting the wound.


    A half-heartbeat later, the world went white as the blob exploded.


    Clay was thrown across the cavern, his armor sizzling from the fireball. He tumbled slightly, striking an outcropping of rock as he spun. The ringing in his head cleared enough for him to ball up as he rolled, and once his momentum had slowed, he lurched to his feet.


    His vision cleared quickly enough that he saw the ur-slime rolling at him again, this time trailed by half a dozen red, glowing blobs. Clay grit his teeth as he recognized the problem; he started the Canticle of Ice a moment later. He struck at the ur-slime as he dodged aside again, but his spear seemed to leave no more impression than it had before. When the rest of the blobs came for him, he danced aside, darting a look at the others to see how things were going for them.


    He caught sight of them surrounded by dozens of small ironslimes who were trying to bury them under the weight of numbers. It didn¡¯t seem to be going well for the monsters, however; waves of fire, lightning, and stone ripped the small creatures apart, while the larger ones were melting away. Clay could only see one giant ironslime left, and there were barely half a dozen large ones still surviving. If he could hold out for long enough¡­


    The ur-slime came for him again, its arms reaching and grasping, and he was forced to refocus. He kept the arms from grappling him with a series of frantic stabs and hacks, only to see the smaller ones circling around to come at him from behind.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He snarled and dodged as one of them jumped for him. Clay felt the heat of it searing the edge of his hair as it went by, but he didn¡¯t dare strike it. If the explosion had knocked him towards the slime instead of away from it¡­


    Clay kept moving, kept dodging grasping arms and evading the glowing blobs, even as he reached the end of the Canticle. He doubted that hitting the ur-slime would do much good. In fact, magic seemed to empower the thing, so best to avoid it and eliminate its minions first.


    He ducked beneath another glowing blob, batted an arm away, and jumped backwards out of reach. The Canticle answered his call, and spears of ice formed, lashing out at the glowing blobs. They detonated in a wave of concussions that shook the floor beneath his feet. All but one of the blobs died.


    His eyes widened. The one that had survived had been shielded¡ªby one of the ur-slime¡¯s graspers. A spear of ice had penetrated the thing¡¯s thick flesh, and it slowly dissolved as a white glow spread through the ur-slime. He could already see new buds forming across its surface, all glowing with that same white light.


    Clay grunted. Clearly, the thing wanted to be hit by magic. Yet he couldn¡¯t just rush in, not with all the little minions running around. Physical attacks didn¡¯t seem to do much, but perhaps he just needed to hit it a little harder.


    Still, before anything else, he needed a clear battlefield. Clay put aside his spear for the moment and took out his shortbow.


    The weapon hadn¡¯t seen much use in the past few days, mostly because of the hides and defenses of the creatures he¡¯d been fighting. Now, however, he had targets worth shooting. As the blobs came rushing towards him again, Clay backpedaled calmly and drew an arrow back.


    His first shot caught the red blob, the one that still had some kind of flame magic stored in it. It exploded in a wash of flame, something that made the others shy away from it. Clay grinned and fired another four times, picking off the ice-white blobs that were budding from the ur-slime. They popped and exploded just as easily, sprouting thickets of frozen spikes each time. One of them even burst while it was still attached to the ur-slime, and the Guardian shook with apparent rage at the loss of its minion.


    Clay paused dramatically, and then picked off the last two in quick succession as they came around the ur-slime¡¯s bulk. They exploded in showers of ice, and he smirked at the Guardian. He didn¡¯t know if the thing could see, but it still seemed to be able to feel the loss of its little friends. A little taunting was not a bad thing.


    He stowed the shortbow and recovered his spear as the ur-slime lurched forward. The ice-white glow was already fading from its flesh, but it still reached for him with limbs thick enough to cover his entire torso. Clay responded by hacking away at them, trying to batter them away while he thought about what he was facing.


    Magic was obviously ineffective, though he wondered if he could eventually wear it down by convincing it to bud the little explosive blobs and then destroying them. He could only imagine it would come up with some other way to surprise him, though. Hacking and slashing at the thing didn¡¯t seem to have almost any effect; its hide simply shrugged off the blows, and any cuts that made it through the hide seemed to seal almost immediately. The limbs were too thick for him to sever in a single strike, too. How was he supposed to kill this thing?


    His mind flashed back through the battle. Magic had harmed it a little, but not enough. The flames had barely scorched it, and when the spear of ice had punched through it, the thing¡ª


    Clay paused and ducked beneath another grasper. The ice spear had gotten through the skin, even if it had been absorbed afterward. It probably wasn¡¯t the ice. Had it been the type of attack? Could it be weaker to thrusts than slashes? The arrows had popped its minions easily. Could similar attacks work better on the ur-slime itself?


    He smashed a grasper aside, then knocked a second one out of his way. Then Clay stepped forward, his breath coming short in his throat, and stabbed directly into the bulk of the creature.


    The hide of the Guardian deformed slightly, as the thing¡¯s skin resisted the point of his spear.


    Then the spearpoint penetrated, and a greenish fluid sprayed from the wound. It hissed and fizzled on the stone, eating through the rock, and Clay yanked his spear back. A flick of the spear rid the weapon of the monster¡¯s acidic ichor. It recoiled, a trickle of green running from the narrow wound.


    {Insight increases by 1!}


    Clay smiled.


    He charged, even as the ur-slime lashed out with a wave of graspers. Clay ran gleefully into the monster¡¯s reach, batting tendrils aside or deflecting them with his spear. His spearpoint became a blur as he closed with the creature and then slipped in past its guard. Three lightning-fast stabs punched through the ur-slime¡¯s hide, and each time it jerked backwards, leaving a wound to smoke and hiss as green ichor leaked from the hole.


    His charge came to a sudden stop as a grasper wrapped around his leg. Clay grunted as it squeezed; he could almost feel his bones grinding together. In response, he stabbed the thing a fourth time, punching the blade in up to the crossguards, and then yanked out his Pell knife. The heavy blade punched through the tendril¡¯s skin easily as he stabbed it once, twice, three times. As the strength went out of the grasper, Clay yanked his way free and pulled his spear out to renew the attack.


    The Guardian was in retreat now, flailing with its limbs to try to keep him from following it. Clay followed it doggedly, stabbing it again and again in a frenzy. Acid sizzled and hissed, occasionally burning on his armor or skin. He kept using the [Chant] of Pure Touch to clear it away as he advanced, always continuing to attack.


    Finally, with its hide pockmarked by bleeding stab wounds, the ur-slime heaved itself backwards. Clay dashed in, hoping for a chance to strike something vital enough to kill the creature.


    Then it seemed to explode in seven different directions¡ªone of which was launched directly at his face.


    Clay reacted on instinct again. His spear met the incoming mass of slime with unerring accuracy and speed. It exploded a moment later, washing over him in a flood of acid. He staggered backwards, swiping at his face as the stuff burned; he completed Pure Touch a moment later, and the acid vanished, driven away by the [Chant].


    He opened his eyes and realized that the ur-slime had actually scattered itself, dividing into smaller creatures that were now starting to surround him. Against another foe, it might have worked; against Clay, it seemed to smack of desperation.


    Clay unlimbered his bow again and put an arrow into the closest of the slime fragments. It shuddered around the wound, and he put a second arrow into it before it could escape. The fragment exploded in a shower of acid.


    He heard a squelching sound behind him and leapt forward. When he turned, he saw a pair of slime fragments slamming into the ground behind him, their graspers falling just short of him. Clay put a pair of arrows into one and smashed the second one aside; it joined its comrades in death a moment later.


    Four down. He looked around for the other three and found two headed for the others were fighting. His eyes widened for a moment as he took in the magic that they were flinging around. If they hit a fragment with the wrong spell¡­


    He fought down his own worries and centered himself. His bow came up, and he fired arrow after arrow. Two arrows claimed one fragment. A third hit the other. It managed to lurch out of the way of the fourth shot, but the fifth caught it just as it was leaping towards Xavien. The [Oracle] yelped as the acid splashed near his boot, but Clay was already turning away.


    Where had the last fragment gone? The Guardian wasn¡¯t going to just abandon the Lair. It couldn¡¯t. Whatever its self-preservation instincts might have been, it had to protect the Curse. If he tried to purge the place without killing it, the thing would find some way to attack him.


    Of course, that also meant he knew exactly what he could do to draw it out.


    Clay headed for the shining light of the Curse. The Guardian would know that he could destroy the Curse; they always seemed to be aware of his ability to do that, at least. It wouldn¡¯t let him finish the [Chant], but would it try to interrupt him, or to stop him from even starting?


    The question was answered a moment later, as he stepped over a narrow lip of rock and the ground seemed to explode with slime.


    It wasn¡¯t just the slime fragment; the five large ironslimes that had fled from him before were there as well, flinging themselves at him with tendrils extended. The ferocity of the attack would have taken him aback if he hadn¡¯t already been expecting it. True, he hadn¡¯t expected that many arms to be reaching for him, but he¡¯d anticipated something to interrupt his charge.


    His spear became a blur again as he smashed and hacked at the slimes. Rubbery flesh tore and noxious fumes filled the air as he drove the five ironslimes away from him. The ur-slime¡¯s final remnant, however, ducked beneath his spear and leaped for his face, already extending a grasper to cover his head.


    Clay ducked out of the way, his hand yanking the knife from his belt and driving it into the mass of the ur-slime. The heavy knife punctured its flesh easily, and acid washed over his forearm as he shoved the slime fragment up and back. It thrashed at him, partially engulfing his arm. Clay grunted and wrenched the knife back and forth, twisting the blade deeper into the ur-slime.


    The fragment twisted and fell away. Acid spattered from the wound as it hit the ground and started to move away. He could see the ironslimes gathering themselves for another assault.


    Before they could attack, he threw his spear at the ur-slime and impaled it. The blade of the spear tore through it and struck stone, burying the well-forged weapon in the mine¡¯s floor. For a moment, all seemed to go still.


    Then the ur-slime¡¯s final fragment exploded, showering the area with acid.


    {Guardian Ur-Slime slain! Soul increases by 100}


    Clay winced and finished the Words of Refrain, purging himself of the stinging fluid, and then turned on the ironslimes. He found them writhing, still covered in the acid of their forebearer¡¯s death. They seemed uncertain, as if suddenly wanting to flee.


    He didn¡¯t give them the chance. Clay began the Flame-tongued Song and leaped forward, his knife still clutched in his hand. The Pell knife tore jagged holes in their already weakened hide even as they shuddered and tried to withdraw. Their attacks seemed to bounce off his armor harmlessly, barely more than he would have felt from a blow while he wrestled back on the farm.


    Then he activated the [Chant] and bathed them in fire. All five ironslimes died in a wash of flame.


    Panting from exertion, Clay turned to search for more monsters, only to see the others already jogging towards him. They looked a little battered, but most of them were smiling. There was no sign of any other monsters in the mine; if any of the ironslimes had survived, they had run for it.


    He smiled at them. ¡°Well done. The pools are probably where the ironslimes are coming from, so let¡¯s make sure we burn every single one of them. I don¡¯t want a single slime to come out of them.¡±


    The others nodded, and they spread out with torches in their hands and the [Chant] for Spontaneous Spark on their lips. Clay watched them for a moment and then turned towards the Curse itself.


    It hovered, just as the other two had, its unnatural glow filling the air. Just as before, the terrible wrongness of its presence made it hard to focus on anything else.


    There was another corpse kneeling in front of it, though it was dressed differently than the last one had been. The figure wore armor and had a sword at its feet. He frowned, stepping closer. Its clothing seemed richer, more well-made than any miner or overseer could wear. A dull realization settled over him as he recognized the symbol on its chest.


    It was Baron Rodcliff, the [Noble] that had vanished before he and his friends had arrived. A grim suspicion stole through him, but he rejected the idea immediately. The baron had been a low level [Noble]; if he had been the Rogue that had written the [Chant] on the wall of the last mine, he would have died there instead of the miner. Whoever the Rogue had been, they had somehow condemned Baron Rodcliff to the same fate as that miner.


    He pictured it in his mind. The baron and his [Guards] had somehow fought their way to this mine and taken shelter. Then, as they had fortified the entrance and set a watch, they had spread out through the cave, making sure that nothing was waiting in the darkness to ambush them. Baron Rodcliff had searched along with his [Guards], and once he reached this place¡­


    Clay turned his head to follow the dead baron¡¯s vision, and there he found it. The same deadly [Chant] scrawled across the wall in the same jagged marks. It had been a second trap, and a second level [Noble] had not had a single chance to resist. It would have burrowed through his mind and seized control of his tongue before the baron had even realized what was happening. He and all of his [Guards] had likely died in moments, while the new Lair had fed from their last breaths.


    He felt a flicker of anger from that image and recommitted himself to finding the Rogue responsible.


    Then his gaze drifted lower, and he felt a bolt of terror as he recognized Lawrence standing in front of the [Chant].


    For a heartbeat, Clay was frozen in place. The [Occultist] was staring up at the [Chant], his eyes wide. Lawrence¡¯s mouth was clamped shut; Clay could see a dribble of blood leak from a spot where the man had literally bitten down on his lip. Both his hands were clenched tight; his quarterstaff had rolled away to the side from where he¡¯d dropped it.


    Clay was by the man¡¯s side in three quick strides, the [Chant] of the True Blotter already spilling from his lips. If there was one benefit, it was that the [Chant] of the Poisoned Wish was a long one, and Lawrence was obviously fighting it. He reached the wall a moment later, and a few rushed words later, the scrawled text vanished from the wall, erased from existence.


    He heard Lawrence groan in relief and turned to see him falling to his knees. The [Occultist] began to gasp for air, as if he¡¯d been holding his breath underwater. Perhaps he had literally been holding his breath, worried that the words would come out.


    Clay was by his side a moment later, putting both his hands on the [Occultist]¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Lawrence. Sir Lawrence, are you all right?¡±


    Lawrence nodded, still heaving and sucking in air. ¡°Y-yeah. I-I¡¯m f-fine.¡± The [Occultist] shook his head, shivering as if he had been drenched in ice. ¡°F-finish it.¡±


    He paused for a few moments more, fear clawing through his mind. If the [Chant] had taken hold somehow¡­


    Then he glanced up at the Curse, which had started the slow process of retreating. It would be safe from him if it managed to go dormant. Then some other fool would have to deal with it in the years down the road.


    He hadn¡¯t let it happen last time. It wasn¡¯t going to happen this time either. Anger and rage tore through him as he stared up at the breach in reality and began the Garden¡¯s Peace.


    It fought him, as the others had before. The light of the Curse flared and struggled, wisps of the thing trailing from it and lashing at the stone surrounding it. Frustration and stubbornness helped him to bear down against the pressure; the words of the [Chant] spilled out phrase by phrase, line by line. He could sense the spell building the walls around the Curse, containing it, compressing it. The light intensified, nearly becoming a blinding glare. Clay ignored it and continued sealing the wound in the world with each and every syllable.


    Once again, it seemed to take forever, but the image of Lawrence almost dying to the [Chant] and the fate of Baron Rodcliff gave him more than enough motivation to see it through. Even the fatigue and pain didn¡¯t slow him as he reached the climax of the [Chant]. He shouted those last words, hammering them into the Curse as if he was nailing it to the wall behind it.


    In response, the Curse began its final collapse. As before, the thing lashed out at him, an unearthly scream that shivered through his soul. It was too little, too late. He watched as shadows gathered around it, the eerie light fading from the world. Then, all at once, the Curse seemed to fall away into nothingness.


    This time, the others had torches in their hands. Instead of darkness, the loss of the Curse¡¯s harsh light left only flickering firelight behind. Shadows danced on the walls in front of him, and Clay slowly slumped to his knees. He leaned back and tilted his head to stare at the ceiling.


    {Curse of Second Lost Mine destroyed! Soul increases by 1000 for all nearby heroes}


    {Will increases by 1! Fortitude increases by 1!}


    {Commoner reaches Level 12!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 27!}


    {Experience gained (Tunneler: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of an underground area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in an underground area.)}


    {Experience gained (Champion: Gain 20% bonus to all skills and damage when facing a Guardian.)}


    {Experience Exterminator has gained power from destroying a Curse! Experience is now Exterminator II: Gain triple the bonus from all Bane Achievements.}


    The notifications from the [Gift] brought out an explosive sigh. Another Lair purged, another Curse destroyed. He¡¯d reached another level, and his companions had advanced by one level, maybe even two. Rodcliff was safe now; there would be no more monsters, beyond the handful that were still roaming the woods north of town. It would be the kind of threat that even a low level [Noble] could handle once a replacement reached them in the spring. For now, the [Guards] could just have the other [Commoners] hunker down and wait. He could even have his team stay for an extra handful of days to track down any that stayed close to the mines instead of scattering to the wind.


    Either way, the mission was done. No more monsters, no more overwhelming threats. It was time to return to the town and let them know it was over.


    He smiled. For some reason, he could already picture the celebration.

 B2Ch26: The Return

    It was a beautiful morning, on the very edge of spring.


    Even in a city as big as Crownsguard, the air seemed to be full of life and warmth. While he wouldn¡¯t have described the air as completely comfortable, it was already sunny enough to start melting the snow from the roofs of the buildings. The earliest birds were already returning; he could have sworn that he had seen a redjay sitting in a tree, chirping away for all it was worth.


    All in all, it was a wonderful beginning to a season full of life, and one that Clay would have enjoyed spending outside, to better get a feel for the coming season. It was a habit that Sam Evergreen had always followed, and Clay had always trusted his father¡¯s instincts. The [Farmer] had always mourned the fools who would spend the bright days indoors, wasting opportunities to really enjoy life. Clay himself had never wanted to join the number of those who would be so blind.


    Alas.


    ¡°The Council of the Crownsguard Charter of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild will now come to order.¡± Sir Evan looked around at the other members of the Council. His eyes met Clay¡¯s, and they shared a brief moment of mutual fatigue. Evan¡¯s lips twitched, as if the Guildmaster had been forced to suppress a smile. ¡°Sir Clay, will you please step forward?¡±


    Clay did so. The eyes of the various Councilors were fixed on him. The attention of the Ruffians were locked onto him as well; he half suspected that they were staring at him so that they wouldn¡¯t have to stare at the Council. None of them had been in quite enough trouble to get dragged into the Council room before. Luckily, he¡¯d fixed that.


    ¡°Sir Clay, roughly fourteen weeks ago, you left with a team of adventurers to cull the Lair at Rodcliff. Your mission was expected to last six to eight weeks. After that amount of time, a messenger was dispatched to summon you back to Crownsguard. You¡­ declined the request of this Council, and stayed an additional three weeks. You also redirected the Council¡¯s messenger in order to tell us that the resident [Noble] was absent, that there were two Lairs instead of one, and that more information would be given when you returned.¡±


    Sir Evan¡¯s voice had grown firmer with each sentence until it seemed like he was pronouncing judgement on them already. The Guildmaster let the final words ring in the air for another moment. Then he leaned back and folded his arms on the desk in front of him. The silence lasted for another few moments, as Clay continued to wait.


    Then Sir Evan gestured with one hand. ¡°Now you have returned. Please report on the results of your mission.¡±


    Clay drew in a breath. Then he began.


    ¡°First, Sir Evan, allow me to apologize for the additional delay in our return. The Captain of the [Guards] in Rodcliff requested for us to stay for some additional time, at least until we could be completely sure that there were no monsters near the town. With Baron Rodcliff dead and his replacement still en route, we agreed. Bad weather caught us on the roads too, so it was rough work getting here. I think we lost another week with the snow and mud.¡±


    The Guildmaster shrugged. ¡°Such delays are understandable. All the same, you might not have suffered them if you had come to us when you were¡­ requested to do so.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°That is true, Sir, but if we had come, then Rodcliff would likely have been destroyed. Between the death of their [Noble] and attacks from two separate Lairs¡ª¡±


    Sir Bartholomew broke in at this point, his eyebrows arched. ¡°You continue to maintain that there were two Lairs, then? Not just one?¡±


    He blinked. ¡°Yes, Sir. There were two separate Lairs, likely created by the actions of a Rogue.¡±


    The statement brought a brief silence to the room as Clay waited for a response. Sir Richard was the next to speak, his voice typically unruffled. ¡°A Rogue would have to be involved, for two separate Lairs to be formed so close together. Was that the reason you suspected it?¡±


    ¡°At first, Sir Richard.¡± Clay shook his head, his jaw clenching as he remembered Baron Rodcliff and the miner, both staring at the writing on the wall. ¡°I confirmed it when we destroyed the Lairs. Whoever the Rogue was, they wrote the Poisoned Wish on the walls of two of the mines, then left them for others to read.¡±


    The members of the Council suddenly grew pale, and he could understand why. Sir Mark was the first to respond. ¡°And we have no idea where the Rogue went?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t, Sir. The writing had been on the walls for some time, and the survivors in Rodcliff were unable to tell us about any strangers.¡± Clay looked from Sir Mark to the Guildmaster. ¡°During the week when we stayed in Rodcliff, we searched the remaining mines. There was at least one more place where the [Chant] was written. I erased all three.¡±


    The Guildmaster inclined his head. ¡°Well done, Sir Clay. Well done indeed.¡±


    Syr Marissa spoke up next, her voice cold. ¡°You said you could find no sign of the Rogue?¡±


    ¡°No, Syr. Whoever they were, they did not stick around. Either they heard we were coming, or decided to leave after the first Lair was created.¡± Clay saw her frown and sighed. ¡°I wish we could have caught them, but the world isn¡¯t perfect, Syr.¡±


    ¡°I suppose not.¡± Syr Alia leaned forward, her eyes intent. ¡°You said that both Lairs were suppressed?¡±


    ¡°Destroyed, Syr Alia.¡± Clay gestured back to the others. ¡°My team and I killed both Guardians and banished their Curses. Unless something else changes, Rodcliff should now be safe.¡±


    Sir Mark snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there were any other witnesses to both of these Lairs? Just to make sure your account is not doubted.¡±


    Before Clay could respond, Jack stepped forward. ¡°We were all present at each Lair, Sir Mark. We would be more than happy to testify about their destruction.¡±


    Syr Marissa coughed into her hand. ¡°You brought a team of level one adventurers with you to fight a Lair? A¡­ bold choice, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t level one by the time we tried it, Syr Marissa.¡± Xavien¡¯s calm voice provoked a raised eyebrow from the Councilor, but he continued in an even tone. ¡°Sir Clay was careful to train us well for the task. By the time we hit the Lairs, we were ready.¡±


    Anne snorted. ¡°As ready as any of us could ever be, honestly. Those Guardian things were terrifying. I was just happy we only had to deal with the horrors and giant ironslimes, honestly.¡±


    The Guildmaster gave the cadets a stern look. ¡°You are certain you wish to stand with this man? His reluctance to return when the Council called was not¡­ considered wise.¡±


    Natalie was the one who answered. ¡°He made the right choice, Guildmaster. What else could we have done, just left the town to the lizards and the slimes?¡±


    Lawrence spoke up before the Council could respond to the question. ¡°He¡¯s right about the writing, by the way. I saw it. Someone put it on the wall, long before any of us got there.¡± He shivered and looked pale. ¡°I gained three points of [Will] just by fighting the thing when it tried to take control, and I still wouldn¡¯t want to see it ever again. Especially after what it did to Baron Rodcliff and that poor miner.¡±


    Sir Bartholomew rapped softly on his desk. ¡°It occurs to me that we are discussing matters that are highly sensitive in front of cadets. Might we ask them to leave?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be pretty hard to conceal anything from them now, Master Archivist. They were there in the Lairs. If they saw the writing, they can figure out what it means.¡± Syr Marissa hadn¡¯t always been the best friend to him, but Clay had to agree with her. Just in case they hadn¡¯t put it together, though, he¡¯d carefully explained it to them that first night after the second Lair. When they searched the rest of the mines, he didn¡¯t want anyone else almost ending up like the baron had.


    ¡°I agree, Syr Marissa. Besides, if we ask for witnesses, we should not complain when they speak up.¡± Sir Richard¡¯s voice carried a hint of rebuke, and Sir Bartholomew went a bit red and sat back with a huff. The dark-eyed man turned back to Clay. ¡°So. Both Lairs are destroyed. I imagine that you have gained some measure of strength, have you not?¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Clay nodded. ¡°I am now at level twelve, Sir Richard. My cadets were able to reach level eight as well.¡±


    Sir Mark jerked in surprise. ¡°Wait. They are all at level eight?¡±


    ¡°Yes Sir.¡± He winced slightly. ¡°Though they may have [Experiences] that are not normal for Academy students, they were more than capable of helping me to finish the mission. We just required enough time to make sure that the town was purged completely.¡±


    Syr Marissa looked stunned. ¡°But, they left at level one. Level one.¡± She looked at the others for support.


    Clay frowned. ¡°Well, yes. They gained plenty of Soul by fighting the monsters outside the Lairs and pushing them back. It may have taken a bit more time initially, but they still profited from gaining [Lizardbane] and [Slimebane] before we made our assaults. Otherwise, I would have needed to go in alone.¡±


    The Guildmaster cleared his throat. ¡°It is considered fairly normal for high leveled adventurers to go in by themselves, Sir Clay. Especially when escorting lower level cadets.¡±


    He frowned in response. ¡°That would have been especially risky, even if there had only been one Lair. If the Guardian had managed to kill me, what would the rest of the team have done?¡±


    The Councilors glanced at each other; Clay thought he heard Sir Mark mutter an oath under his breath. When Sir Richard answered, his voice was dry enough to make Clay wince. ¡°The situation you describe is not uncommon, Sir Clay, especially when the situation is unexpectedly dangerous. Your style of leadership is somewhat less frequent among journeymen below level thirteen.¡±


    Clay opened his mouth to respond and then paused. Below level thirteen, no adventurer would have a chance of destroying a Lair. The best they could hope for would be to kill the Guardians and force the Curse to hibernate for a while. Put that way, a direct assault might make quite a bit of sense. Force the Lair to go dormant, and then trust the local [Noble] to keep things under control.


    A part of him recognized the logic, but the rest of him rejected it. Better to have done with the whole thing than to draw it out. Besides, how were the new cadets supposed to level up without anyone guiding them through the process? If he had come back with five level four cadets, how ready would they be for their next mission?


    Before he could voice his opinion, however, Syr Alia spoke up next. ¡°It seems you have done an excellent job training them, Sir Clay. Have they grown into their new levels yet?¡±


    Clay winced. ¡°They have not reached the limits of their [Stats], but they have already¡­¡±


    ¡°Then I am sure they can be helped to do so. There will probably be many here at the Academy who will be¡­ excited to be reacquainted with them.¡±


    Her cool voice might have made the others wince at one point, but this time, they simply met her gaze and nodded. Natalie grinned widely. ¡°We¡¯ll be sure to learn what we can from them, Syr Alia. After all, Sir Clay has taught us just about everything he knows.¡±


    The Guildmaster raised an eyebrow, and Clay felt a sudden stab of panic. ¡°Not everything, Guildmaster. Obviously, they aren¡¯t ready for certain¡­ [Chants]¡­¡±


    He trailed off as he realized that he might have said a bit too much. Syr Marissa gave him a stern look. ¡°Certain [Chants], Sir Clay? Am I to understand that you have been teaching them other [Chants] that you deemed appropriate?¡±


    Clay braced himself and tried not to picture an enraged Syr Katherine descending on him later. ¡°Yes, Syr Marissa, that is correct.¡±


    Bartholomew frowned. ¡°[Chants], due to their nature, are dangerous to learn. It has been the position of the Academy to restrict such knowledge to those of journeyman rank and higher.¡±


    Xavien was the one who answered. ¡°At some times, the gods send those who need to overturn the established way of doing things. Especially the Trickster.¡±


    Most of the Council seemed to roll their eyes at the statement. Syr Alia, however, gave the [Oracle] a sharp look. ¡°You aren¡¯t suggesting that the Trickster has taken a direct interest in us, are you, Sir Xavien?¡±


    Clay glared at the man, but he simply shrugged. ¡°I can only point to the result. Those [Chants] helped us become better adventurers, and the one of us that encountered a dangerous [Chant] was able to resist it instead of dying the way Baron Rodcliff did. I cannot imagine the Trickster would be less than pleased with the result.¡±


    Syr Alia settled back into her seat, seemingly a little more uncertain than she had been. Sir Bartholomew grimaced. ¡°Nevertheless, it has been the wisdom of the Council that has guided the Guild in this matter. Are we to allow an acting journeyman to change things on a whim? Such decisions must be taken carefully, or they might bring disaster.¡±


    Lawrence broke in before anyone else could respond. His voice held little of the dispassionate reason that Xavien seemed to rely on. ¡°I know what I faced in that Lair, Sir Bartholomew, and I know what prepared me to survive it. It was not your wisdom that saved me.¡±


    The Master Archivist flushed again, this time in anger. Sir Mark, however, broke out laughing. ¡°Well! And once this one was as meek as a mouse!¡± He laughed again and slapped the table in front of him. ¡°If nothing else, Sir Clay, you¡¯ve given us a group of warriors full of fire.¡±


    Natalie grinned. ¡°Fuller than you know, Sir Mark. Give us another chance to prove ourselves, and we will not disappoint you.¡±


    Sir Richard met her eyes and nodded. ¡°You may be given the chance, Cadet. Once you have been adequately prepared, of course.¡±


    The response seemed to sober the [Alchemist] a little, and the Guildmaster cleared his throat again. ¡°Regardless of the criticism we may have of Sir Clay¡¯s techniques, I believe we can all agree that his overall decisions in this matter were acceptable. Are there any dissenters?¡±


    Syr Alia appeared about to raise her hand, but she glanced at Xavien and fell silent with a troubled look. Sir Mark shrugged elaborately, while Sir Richard remained quiet and inscrutable. The Master Archivist looked ready to bite through wood, but he settled for scowling a hole through his desk. Syr Marissa rolled her eyes and sighed.


    ¡°Then I believe we can set aside any motions of censure, particularly considering their victories.¡± Sir Evan raised an eyebrow at Clay as he continued. ¡°That said, Sir Clay, in the future, I hope you will consider requests from the Guild with a bit more urgency. After all, there might be missions that require your attention that you may not know about.¡±


    Clay, not trusting himself to answer out loud, merely inclined his head. A hint of amusement flashed through Evan¡¯s eyes¡ªas if the Guildmaster recognized his intransigence, whether or not Clay had said it out loud¡ªbut the older adventurer did not say anything about it.


    ¡°In any case, I think we can commend Sir Clay and his cadets for their performance in the field.¡± He looked down at the desk, and smiled. ¡°In fact, I believe we can consider your promotion to a journeyman of the Guild an official one. Congratulations, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay nodded, though he felt a little unhappy at only reaching journeyman. He¡¯d killed three Lairs at this point. What would he need to do to reach peer and finally gain some measure of independence?


    ¡°In that case, I believe we can be finished here.¡± Sir Evan looked around with a weary expression. ¡°Sir Clay, you and your warriors are dismissed. You will have a handful of weeks to rest and be evaluated. Those who wish to advance in rank may take the necessary tests to do so. You are also to complete a training course to bring your [Stats] to an acceptable level. After that, we may have a new mission for you.¡±


    Clay bowed, as did the others. They filed out of the Council room, and into the rest of the building. He hung back from the others, thinking over his options.


    Whatever the next mission was, it probably involved Pellsglade somehow. Given what Master Taylor had mentioned to him, the Council had some plans for him, probably involving Olivia. The only option he had was to figure out a way to get out from under them before they had him locked into their own ideas. The easiest idea would be to reach peer rank within the Guild, but how was he going to manage that without going out on another mission in the field?


    Someone coughed lightly behind him, and Clay nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned and found Sir Richard standing behind him, an amused expression on his face. The Councilor nodded easily to him. ¡°Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°Sir Richard.¡± Clay couldn¡¯t help narrowing his eyes. The Councilor had clearly followed him out, but why? ¡°Is there something I can do to help you?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps?¡± The Councilor gave him a slight smile. ¡°You mentioned that you had reached level twelve. Have you received the reinforcement for [Paragon]?¡±


    Clay blinked. ¡°No. I¡­ didn¡¯t realize that was a possibility, yet.¡±


    Sir Richard¡¯s smile grew slightly. ¡°I thought not.¡± He walked past Clay and gestured for him to follow him. ¡°You are aware that most adventurers aren¡¯t able to have that [Achievement] until level thirteen, and even then, it is considered something only the most dedicated aspire to.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told, Sir Richard.¡± Uncertain where the man was headed with the information, Clay trailed along at his side. A glance backwards told him that none of the other Councilors were following.


    ¡°In fact, [Paragon] is something of a symbol of status for the Guild. An adventurer is only capable of reinforcing it at level twenty-eight, of course, so it is considered an even higher mark of rank.¡± Richard glanced at him, a quick shift of his eyes. ¡°In fact, it is one of the qualifications to join the Council. Even those who aren¡¯t members of the Council are automatically considered peers within the Guild itself, regardless of the Council¡¯s choices.¡±


    Clay stared at the man, to the point that he actually missed a step and stumbled. When he recovered, his mouth felt a little dry. ¡°And how does it get reinforced?¡±


    ¡°All of your [Stats] must be at least twenty-five.¡± Richard didn¡¯t even look at him. ¡°A difficult task for most, of course, but those with the right motivation¡­¡±


    The Councilor trailed off, and Clay caught the edge of a grin. He fought to keep a similar smile from his own face. Every [Stat] but [Memory] was already there. Which meant the only thing between him and becoming a peer of the Guild was a few days of hard studying¡­ ¡°Thank you, Councilor.¡±


    ¡°Syr Katherine trusts you, Sir Clay. So do Armsman Orn and Master Taylor, and you¡¯ve won the confidence of the people you led into danger.¡± Sir Richard eyed him for a moment. ¡°For now, I consider that a vote in your favor. Make sure I do not regret this decision.¡±


    Clay bowed. ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±


    He waited until the Councilor had turned a corner and vanished. Then he jumped as high as he could in the air and pumped his fist. Clay tried to ignore the fact that he¡¯d almost smashed into the ceiling and focused on the rising exhilaration in his chest.


    Whatever the Council might have been planning, he¡¯d be ready for it¡ªand when he returned to Pellsglade, he¡¯d be able to keep his promises after all. After that¡­ well, hopefully, the rest of the Guild could just keep up with him.


    Still smiling, Clay walked out into the warm spring day, with a bright future ahead of him.

 B3Ch1: A Heros Welcome

    Clay watched his opponent shift her feet in front of him. His spear was heavy in his hands, and he adjusted his grip on the shaft. They¡¯d already been fighting for nearly half an hour now, and neither of them showed any sign of slowing down. He grimaced slightly; his opponent was supposed to have a much lower [Fortitude] than him, so how was she still doing so well?


    She shifted on her feet, and he forced those thoughts aside. He thought she was supposed to have lower [Valor] as well, but she was moving so fast that¡ª


    He barely managed to complete the thought when she moved. She crossed the distance between them in an eyeblink, her sword lashing out at his head. Clay reacted immediately, turning his spear to deflect the attack even as he pivoted painfully to the side. It was still almost not enough; he felt the wind of the thrust pass his cheek, and the impact on his spear haft seemed like it should have shattered it.


    At the same time, Clay grinned. She¡¯d finally made a mistake. He leaned in and shoved, knocking his opponent backwards. Impossible speed notwithstanding, he still had the edge on [Might], and he heard her grunt as he batted her halfway across the clearing. Before she could recover, he dashed in, his spear held so that it was aimed straight at her face.


    Which was when Syr Katherine turned to look at him and smiled. Clay¡¯s eyes widened as she let go of her sword hilt with one hand and pointed at him. The [Calculator] didn¡¯t say anything; she¡¯d been quiet since they started the bout, and he¡¯d learned the hard way that her [Charms] no longer required anything like a spoken trigger. Her palm glowed with magic, and Clay threw himself to the side just in time.


    A spear of ice erupted from Syr Katherine¡¯s hand, missing Clay by mere inches. He spun in time to see her once again falling into a crouch. She was going to lunge at him again, and he was still off balance from the [Charm]. Clay gritted his teeth and tried to brace himself, or at least get his footing before¡ª


    It was too late. Another eyeblink, and Syr Katherine had flashed past him, her practice blade smacking against his shoulder. It wasn¡¯t a hard hit; in fact, it was abnormally weak for someone moving that fast. Clay still rubbed at it with a grimace. ¡°A good hit, Syr.¡±


    Syr Katherine turned back to him and nodded. Her brown eyes had a certain kind of satisfaction in them as she stepped back. ¡°Thank you, Sir Clay. You are improving.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡± He shook his head ruefully. ¡°What did you call that [Feat] again? It seems incredibly fast.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the [Brave Strike] [Feat], I believe.¡± Master Taylor sounded bored. She was sitting off to the side of the sparring area, flipping idly through a book she¡¯d brought from Crownsguard. ¡°That¡¯s not how she¡¯s moving that fast, however.¡±


    Syr Katherine looked over at her fellow adventurer and raised an eyebrow. Taylor rolled her eyes. ¡°Did you really expect me to not figure it out?¡±


    Clay looked back and forth between them. They hadn¡¯t been the most cordial of traveling companions on the journey from Crownsguard, and he still wasn¡¯t sure how to walk the balance between them without offending one or the other. ¡°Is it some kind of secret?¡±


    Taylor opened her mouth, but Syr Katherine spoke first, her voice cool. ¡°Not precisely, though I¡¯m surprised you learned of it, Master Taylor. It doesn¡¯t seem like it would be your area of expertise.¡±


    ¡°Until recently, you¡¯d have been correct. Since I ran across some of them recently, however¡­¡± Taylor grinned at Clay. ¡°It¡¯s called an Exchange [Chant]. It allows a hero to shift some of the benefits of one [Stat] to another temporarily. In this case Syr Katherine was moving some of her [Might] to her [Valor]. That, combined with the natural speed and strength of [Brave Strike], allows her to reach the speed you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Clay blinked. He thought back over the past few clashes with Katherine and nodded slowly. ¡°That seems¡­ extremely useful.¡±


    Syr Katherine remained silent, but Taylor just shrugged. ¡°I suppose so, though it does have some weaknesses outside of a friendly spar. It can give you the chance to surprise someone, though. For example¡­¡±


    The scholar began muttering something under her breath, and Clay strained to hear the words. They sounded a little familiar somehow, though he couldn¡¯t say whether it was because he¡¯d heard them before, or because they carried the familiar cadence of a [Chant]. It ended before he made up his mind, and the slender woman leaned over to pick up a rock in one hand.


    Then she clenched her fist and the stone shattered, leaving her to shake the fragments out of her palm. Clay blinked in surprise. It was the kind of thing he¡¯d have expected Orn to do. Speaking of which¡­


    He looked over at where the Armsman was sitting, watching them from where he sat on a log. The [Fighter] turned armorer seemed disinterested in the magic, however. Instead, he looked at Clay and shook his head. ¡°You need to watch your spacing, Sir Clay. No matter how fast she is, you have the advantage in reach. I know I helped you learn how to use it.¡±


    The rebuke was delivered in an even enough voice, but Orn was clearly still ill at ease. Clay felt a brief moment of guilt over the fact that the Armsman was here at all. When the Council had decided to send him back to Pellsglade, they had also sent him with some minders. Orn, Taylor, and Syr Katherine were all technically absolved from adventuring duties, thanks to injuries or service rendered. Now they were all headed back into danger just to make sure he didn¡¯t get up to anything the Council wouldn¡¯t like.


    Clay nodded and set himself. This time, he noticed Syr Katherine saying something quietly, under her breath. He waited until it finished, and this time he could almost see the change settle over her. It was as if her sword suddenly took a bit more effort to move, but each movement was far, far quicker.


    As Clay watched her, he moved his hands further back on the spear haft, leaving more of the weapon extended out into the space between them. Syr Katherine¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, and her feet shifted. Clay suppressed a grin as he waited for her to charge again.


    When she did, Clay reacted with an attack instead of a block. He leaned forward and struck at her, aiming to stab her straight in the chest. Syr Katherine struck at his spear, aiming to smack her blade across his fingers, but Clay just pulled back enough that her blade struck the haft instead of his hand. She still had to break off her attack to avoid the spearpoint, and before she could change tactics, Clay pressed the attack. He moved forward, batting aside her practice blade and stabbing repeatedly.


    He drove Katherine backwards across the small clearing, trying not to allow her enough distance to use one of her [Charms] on him. She didn¡¯t have as many of those as she had [Feats], but the ones she had used before were dangerous enough.


    Clay swung hard at her midsection and was rewarded by a grunt as she blocked it. Her [Chant] was broken by the sound, and as her speed abandoned her, Clay darted in to finish the job. He choked up on the spear haft, and then stepped in close, bringing the spearpoint up towards her ribs.


    At that moment, Syr Katherine¡¯s eyes hardened, and one of her hands abruptly shot out and grabbed his spear. For just a moment, he found she had stopped his forward momentum cold. It didn¡¯t last long, but it still gave her the chance to bring her own blade up and under his spear to catch him across the gut.


    The blow landed quite a bit harder than her first hit had. Clay staggered a bit and then rubbed the spot where the hit had landed. He¡¯d still felt it through the practice armor, but he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d bruise at all. This time.


    Taylor frowned, her book temporarily forgotten. ¡°The [Weapon Catch] [Feat]? Not something I would have expected from you, Syr Katherine.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. ¡°Very few people do. When employed at the right moment, however¡­¡±


    The other adventurer nodded. ¡°Yes. I see your point.¡± Then she looked over at the rest of the camp, where the others were moving around and packing their things to go. ¡°As much as it has been enlightening to watch this form of training, I do believe that the others are ready to leave.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded, and Clay let out a breath of relief. The Council hadn¡¯t been the only one to send people to keep an eye on Clay. King John had apparently wanted to have information on the ¡®Commoner Hero¡¯ as well. He¡¯d insisted on sending along a small escort of his personal [Guards] to accompany Clay and his teachers on their way.


    The soldiers had maintained a professional distance from him and the adventurers, but Clay often felt like they were watching him out of the corners of their eyes as they went about their journey. He thought he recognized a couple from his time doing patrols back in Crownsguard, and they had waved to him and exchanged a few words, but mostly they just watched and followed. It was more than a little unnerving, and just one more reminder of how glad he would be to put the politics of Crownsguard and the Academy behind him.


    Shaking his head, Clay took a moment to check his [Gift]. He¡¯d trained hard at the Academy after he returned from Rodcliff, but occasionally after one of Syr Katherine¡¯s spars, it took a bit more to remember how far he¡¯d come.


    [Clay Evergreen]


    [Class: Commoner] {Level 12} (All Stats have a maximum of 27)


    [Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]


    [Soul: 250/1200]


    [Stats] {Might: 27} {Fortitude: 27} {Insight: 27} {Memory: 27} {Valor: 27} {Will: 27}


    [Experiences]


    {Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}


    {Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}


    {Slayer II: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    {Forrester: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a forested area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a forested area.}


    {Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill}


    {Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.)}


    {Exterminator II: Gain triple the bonus from all Bane Achievements.}


    {Determined: Fatigue lessened by 10%. Wounds heal 5% faster. Gain 10% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}


    {Defiant II: Gain 40% bonus to all skills when facing an opponent of a higher level.}


    {Smallmage: Can chant minor Chants 10% faster. Gain 20% effectiveness for minor Chants.}


    {Valiant: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing multiple opponents.}


    {Warsinger: Gain Lyricist Skill. Can complete all Chants 20% faster.}


    {Mentor: Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading lower level heroes. Allied heroes gain 20% bonus to all skills.}


    {Unseen: Gain 20% to all attempts to hide. Gain 10% to all damage and skills while hiding.}


    {Banisher: Gain permanent access to the Chant of Garden¡¯s Peace. Gain 10% speed and effectiveness for all Chants.}


    {Seeker: Gain Ethereal Sense Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    {Leader: Gain Inspire Skill. Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading heroes. Allied heroes gain 10% bonus to all skills.}


    {Stubborn: Fatigue lessened by 20%. Wounds heal 10% faster.}


    {Whisperer: Gain 10% bonus to minor Chants. Gain 10% bonus to the speed and effectiveness of all Chants.}


    {Duelist: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing an enemy one on one.}


    {Relentless: Fatigue lessened by 15%. Gain 15% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}


    {Guide: Gain Mapping Skill. Gain 20% bonus to Analysis and Track Skills. Movement speed increases by 10%.}


    {Tunneler: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of an underground area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in an underground area.}


    {Champion: Gain 20% bonus to all skills and damage when facing a Guardian.}


    [Achievements]


    {Spiderbane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 60% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, Mature Troll Spiders, Elder Troll Spiders, and Elder Mantrap Spiders.}


    {Corpsebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 10% versus Rotted Levies and Wretched Corporals.}


    {Lizardbane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against lizards. Bonus increases to 30% versus Flame Wretches, Flame Devils, and Flame Horrors.}


    {Slimebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 30% versus Small Ironslimes, Large Ironslimes, and Giant Ironslimes.}


    {Paragon: All skills gain 20% effectiveness around fellow heroes.}


    {Combat Generalist: Gain Tactician Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all damage in combat.}


    {Warrior Poet: Gain 40% bonus to Lyricist Skill. Gain 10% bonus to the speed of all Chants.}


    {Unyielding Spirit: Fatigue lessens by 5%. Wounds heal 10% faster. Gain 10% damage resistance.}


    The list of [Experiences] and [Achievements] was gratifyingly long, but he obviously had a way to go before he could begin to match his instructors. At the very least, their mission would help with that goal, as well as getting him further from the Council.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Luckily, their journey would come to an end sooner rather than later. Pellsglade was close; if they pushed their pace, they could be there just after lunch. Clay realized he was grinning from ear to ear as he went with the others to pack up their own supplies. It was going to be good to return home.


    Just a short time later, Clay was counting the steps until he could see his family¡¯s farm.


    It was a wonderful spring day. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Clay Evergreen was on his way home. All was right with the world.


    He¡¯d been picking out landmarks that were achingly familiar for the past hour, places he¡¯d half-expected to never see again. There was the hill he¡¯d chased a badger down, tripping and going head over heels into a thornbush. On the other side of the road was the patch of woods where he and Enessa and Charles had practiced wrestling one another, imagining themselves to be future heroes. He wondered where his friends were now, and if they were safe.


    When he saw the old oak tree, standing like a lone sentinel at the bend in the road, he knew they were almost there. Sure enough, as their cluster of travelers swung around the bend, the Evergreen family farm came into view.


    Just the sight of the old fence brought back a rush of emotions. In his mind¡¯s eye, he could see himself sitting on that fence with his father, staring out into the evening together. He saw himself riding the cart into town for his Choosing, not so long ago, yet somehow an eternity in the past. It was hard to restrain the grin that spread across his face as he strode down the road, suddenly not caring very much at all about how he was outpacing the [Guards] and their entourage.


    When he drew closer, however, Clay frowned. The fields were fine¡ªit looked like Sam and the others had already been hard at work preparing the early spring crop, which was growing nicely¡ªbut the house and the surrounding land were empty and quiet. He couldn¡¯t see any movement among the wheat, or noise from the rest of the farm, except for the barn. It was as if his family had suddenly vanished at some point.


    He glanced at the others and shrugged. Then he walked over and jumped the fence, trotting towards the closed door of his family home.


    More memories rushed through him as he approached the old, time-worn door. They hadn¡¯t locked the thing, so all he needed to do was push it open to see what was inside.


    There was no one home. Will and Amy weren¡¯t bickering over some small trifle, Saphy wasn¡¯t pouting in the corner over a lack of attention, and Finn wasn¡¯t toddling about making mischief. His mother wasn¡¯t shepherding the whole chaotic mess through the day, and his father wasn¡¯t relaxing for a moment from his labors. No one was there.


    It wasn¡¯t abandoned, however. The place had been consistently cleaned. In fact, now that he looked closer, it was almost suspiciously clean. Amelia Evergreen had never been a sloppy person, but there was a reason that she was a [Scribe] and not a [Cleaner]. Yet try as he might, he couldn¡¯t find a speck of dust or a single thing out of place.


    As he stood there, frowning, he caught sight of a folded piece of parchment set out on the table. He walked over to it, careful to not trail any dirt in from the road. His mother wouldn¡¯t appreciate him ruining her hard work, after all.


    He picked up the page and saw his mother¡¯s handwriting on it. The sight of her familiar, tightly organized scrawl brought another smile to his face, at least until he started to read.


    Son,


    We heard you were coming today, and the baron has decided to make a bit of an event of it. Don¡¯t take it too hard; with his son gone, the man could use something to celebrate, and you¡¯ve done plenty that deserves it from what we¡¯ve heard.


    Come down to the village center, near the Choosing stone, and bring whatever poor companions you¡¯ve managed to drag along with you. We¡¯ll all be excited to meet them, and hear about how difficult you¡¯ve been making their lives.


    We love you, son, and cannot wait to see you again. Welcome home.


    There was no signature, but there didn¡¯t need to be one. Clay chuckled to himself, tucking the note away so that he could keep it. There was something about distance and travel that made him appreciate the memories of home all that much more, and he had learned to hold on to those reminders for when this calm, peaceful place seemed so very far away.


    He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Syr Katherine stepping through the doorway. She looked around, her cool gaze sweeping over the humble furnishings with an arched eyebrow. Clay cleared his throat, and she returned her attention to him. ¡°Your family is not here?¡±


    ¡°No. Turns out they knew we were coming today, so they¡¯ve gotten things ready in the village.¡± Clay shook his head and sighed. ¡°I hope you like village festivals.¡±


    Syr Katherine made a face. ¡°I¡­suppose we will endure it. At least the baron will be able to show us to our accommodations afterwards?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°He¡¯s there too, from the sounds of it.¡±


    ¡°Then let us be off. We do not have so much time.¡± She paused long enough to give the house another slow look. ¡°You have a very good home, Sir Clay. I hope you continue to do it much honor.¡±


    Before he could respond, the [Calculator] was already gone, striding back to where the others were waiting on the road. Clay looked after her for a moment, and then down at where her boots had left a clump of dirt on the otherwise-spotless floor.


    He stared for a moment and then grabbed a broom from beside the door. Hero or not, there were some things that no Evergreen would ever let slide. It wouldn¡¯t even take that long, regardless.


    The music reached Clay¡¯s ears long before they reached the village. It was just as terrible as he remembered.


    His people really did try, honestly. Pellsglade had a deep and lasting musical tradition, where anyone who could cobble together an instrument played during every festival they could attend. Unfortunately, Pellsglade had just as deep a tradition of being supremely awful at playing any kind of music. He could see Orn trying to hold back a laugh, while Taylor shook her head in clear disgust.


    Laughter was also quite traditional, however, and those sounds brought more of a smile to Clay¡¯s face as they drew closer. It seemed like the entire village was gathered, eating and drinking and belting out something that approached a musical tone. He remembered the celebration after the Tanglewood was pacified and heard echoes of that same festival in this fresh happiness.


    Yet it was clear the village was not entirely the same one that he had left. Pellsglade remained small, of course. It was really barely any more than a cluster of shops and houses that had coincidentally gathered around a handful of roads. The village Shrine rose on one side, easily the biggest building in the village proper, with the baron¡¯s manor some distance away and tucked out of sight behind a nearby hill. After the massive size of Crownsguard, it almost seemed like even more of a humble backwater by comparison.


    Now, however, there were far more buildings here than Clay remembered, and there were still more being constructed. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of an entire cluster of tents that had been set up to the west of the town, in a field that had once been left fallow and unattended. Those definitely hadn¡¯t been there the last time he had seen the place, and he wasn¡¯t sure he enjoyed seeing it now. He remembered that the letters from home had mentioned newcomers to the village, but he hadn¡¯t expected so many to camp out near his home.


    He couldn¡¯t say he liked it, though it was hard to say why. Maybe he just didn¡¯t like the fact that Pellsglade had changed while he was gone. In his mind, it had stayed the same isolated place he¡¯d always known, even while others were telling him otherwise.


    Clay shook his head and looked around the milling crowds for people he could recognize. His family had to be there somewhere, and he wanted to¡ª


    ¡°He¡¯s here! He¡¯s here!¡±


    The shout made him blink, and it echoed rapidly through the crowd. Music that had been crashing along just fine suddenly fell even more to pieces before going silent, and more and more of the mob of people were staring at him. He glanced at the other adventurers and saw amused smiles on their faces. Taylor made a gentle encouraging motion, and Clay sighed.


    He strode forward, hoping it wouldn¡¯t be too bad this time. The bards and minstrels in Crownsguard had been bad enough; he hadn¡¯t ever wanted people to sing songs about him or tell stories. Facing the same thing here, in his home, was a nightmare he hadn¡¯t expected. Didn¡¯t they remember who he was?


    His worries dissipated a moment later as he heard someone yell his name. He looked over and saw Saphy slip between two people he didn¡¯t recognize and then tear off running towards him. Clay¡¯s worries fell away, and he crouched down for his little sister to run right into his arms at full speed. The impact probably would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn¡¯t had his [Fortitude] right at his maximum; as it was, he just grunted and grinned as Saphy¡¯s arms went tight around him.


    ¡°You¡¯re finally home! Did you fight more monsters on the way back? How many times did you see the King?¡±


    Clay laughed as the stream of questions continued. He was a little distracted when Amy arrived a moment later, followed closely by Will, who¡¯d been slowed down by having Finn on his shoulders. He drew the whole lot of them into a hug, squeezing carefully to keep from hurting them, even as they yelled and shouted and asked him question after question without waiting for an answer.


    He was still trying to answer as much as he could when his parents arrived, their eyes worried and satisfied and proud all at once. Sam looked like he¡¯d done his best to clean himself after working in the fields, and he hugged Clay tighter than Clay had expected from a mere [Farmer]. Amelia seemed to give him a quick inspection, as if looking for wounds or signs of neglect, and perhaps imagining them if they weren¡¯t present. They joined in the group hug, even as the rest of Pellsglade crowded in around them.


    Clay barely even saw the crowd, however. His attention was only on the knot of family wrapped around him; everything else was just a distant blur. He was back, and his family was safe. What else mattered?


    It took a while for things to calm down, and by the time they did, Clay found himself at a table filled with food. His family had crowded in around him, almost like a protective shield against the curious onlookers. Most of the people understood; those newcomers who didn¡¯t were gently encouraged to move on for now.


    The only exceptions were the adventurers and Baron Pellsglade, though they were still on the outskirts of the Evergreen family circle. Orn was tucking into the food with enthusiasm, while Taylor just seemed amused at the festival in general. Syr Katherine was eating quietly, her cool gaze evaluating their surroundings.


    Clay, for his part, had enough to do between eating the food in front of him and answering questions about what he¡¯d been doing for the past few months. Apparently, having written to them just hadn¡¯t been enough; Will and the others had demanded he rehearse the whole of the mission to Rodcliff, along with his training and the Melees he had participated in. He was careful with his answers, of course¡ªhe doubted his teachers would be happy about any mention of what he¡¯d learned about [Chants], as well as the Rogue that had started things in Rodcliff¡ªbut he explained everything that he could.


    As his explanations wound down, his father grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him affectionately. Sam Evergreen¡¯s expression was full of pride, mingled with hope. ¡°Well, son, you¡¯ve done well. We¡¯ve missed you around here, but we¡¯re proud of you. We all are.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Dad.¡± He took the opportunity to stuff another bite of bread into his mouth, which gave his father the chance to turn his attention to Syr Katherine.


    ¡°I understand you¡¯re here to help with the Dungeon near Sarlsboro?¡±


    His father¡¯s voice went a little flat at the end of the question. He had never been able to speak about the place where his family had lived¡ªand died¡ªwithout feeling flickers of grief. Syr Katherine nodded solemnly, her eyes intent.


    ¡°Yes. Sir Clay is the Guild¡¯s newest peer, and the Council has determined that he should receive some experience with some of the Guild¡¯s more dangerous work.¡±


    Baron Pellsglade frowned; he¡¯d had a vaguely distracted expression for most of the conversation, except when Clay had mentioned running into Charles at the Academy. ¡°I had thought that my son and his companions had driven the Undead back while they were here. Did the Guild not find their work acceptable?¡±


    Orn was the one to answer, waving the gauntlet that had replaced his hand. ¡°They did a respectable job with cutting back some of the outside forces, but the problem is deeper inside, I¡¯m afraid. Your son and his party would not have been able to solve it without putting themselves at extreme risk.¡±


    Sam¡¯s expression grew shadowed with worry. ¡°You¡¯re saying it will be dangerous?¡±


    Syr Katherine looked at him calmly. ¡°There is always danger in what we do, Goodman Evergreen. The Guild has, however, sent a capable group of adventurers to guide him through the experience. You can trust us.¡±


    His father sat back in his seat, seemingly reassured for the moment. The look he gave Clay, however, suggested his parents were going to be speaking with him about it when they had the chance. Clay swallowed the bite he¡¯d been chewing and gave Sam a smile that he hoped would seem comforting.


    While he did that, however, Taylor spoke up from where she had once again taken out a book, her food long since finished. ¡°You really should have more confidence in Sir Clay, actually. He has shown an admirable ability to persevere in adverse circumstances. He¡¯ll be an incredible asset to the Guild and the Kingdom in the future.¡±


    Sam gave the [Artifactor] a cynical look, but it was his mother who spoke first. ¡°I think I would find it more comfortable if you considered him a friend and an ally, rather than an asset, Syr Taylor.¡±


    Taylor blinked and looked up from her book. ¡°Ah, yes. Of course. I misspoke.¡± She waved a negligent hand as if to dismiss the concern. ¡°I only meant to reassure you that from what I saw while we instructed Sir Clay, he has been more than capable of dealing with anything we¡¯ll encounter inside the Dungeon.¡±


    Amelia nodded, though her eyes remained far too sharp for Clay¡¯s tastes. ¡°Yes. Your instruction. Where you ¡®took care¡¯ of some of the notes my son had made.¡± She smiled, and every single one of Clay¡¯s memories from his well-disciplined childhood came roaring back. He broke out into a cold sweat. ¡°As a [Scribe], I¡¯ve been looking forward to discussing that with you, Syr Taylor.¡±


    The [Artifactor] blinked, and her eyes darted to Syr Katherine. ¡°I, ah, look forward to that conversation as well, Goodwoman Evergreen.¡±


    Clay coughed lightly. He suspected nothing could be further from the truth, and a glance at his father told him that Sam felt likewise. Even his siblings were hiding horrified or amused expressions, all except for Finn, who was more interested in the food in front of him.


    Orn appeared to be restraining his own grin as well, though Clay could still hear the amusement in his voice as he came back into the conversation. ¡°Well, while you are discussing the Academy, I must confess I have my own reasons for coming here. Where is David?¡±


    Baron Pellsglade seemed mystified. ¡°The [Smith]?¡±


    ¡°Indeed!¡± Orn spread his arms. ¡°I have appreciated plenty of his work at the Academy already, and I would love to have the chance to compare notes! Do you think he would allow me the chance to watch him work?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that can be arranged.¡± The baron seemed a bit off balance at the prospect of a high-level adventurer exchanging tips with the village [Smith], but he pushed through it. ¡°At the moment, I¡¯m not sure where he is, but I can arrange for you to speak with him tomorrow. I imagine you plan to head south early?¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. ¡°We do. The sooner that we can engage the Dungeon, the better.¡±


    The baron seemed far more comfortable now, and he smiled. ¡°Then it will be my privilege to offer you accommodations for the night, as well as supplies for your camp. Although, I will admit that providing the same for the King¡¯s men will leave me short of rooms.¡± He glanced at Clay, and his smile grew a little more sincere. ¡°Although I suppose you already have a place to stay, Sir Clay. Your farm is still doing well, in case you were wondering.¡±


    Clay snorted, though he couldn¡¯t keep from grinning as well. ¡°So I¡¯ve heard. Thank you for helping my family maintain the place.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? After all, I gave it to you.¡± The Baron poked at his food again, spearing a piece of meat with his fork. ¡°Though you certainly put it to better use than I had expected. Do you think you will stay long once your time in the Dungeon is done?¡±


    He glanced at the adventurers before he answered. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure. I have some promises to keep, but once that is done, I¡¯ll probably try to help out wherever I can.¡±


    His parents exchanged a brief look, and the Baron smiled. ¡°I would have expected nothing less, Sir Clay.¡±


    Taylor cleared her throat, still attempting to avoid looking in his mother¡¯s direction. ¡°There is someone that I would like to speak with as well, before we leave. Is Olivia Shrinekept here?¡±


    This time, the Baron and his parents all exchanged a quick look. The Baron was the one who answered, his voice unusually cautious. ¡°The Novice had a¡­ disagreement with Rector Semmons about whether she should attend today¡¯s festivities. He felt her time would be better spent preparing for her Choosing.¡±


    Syr Katherine raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    Amelia nodded. ¡°The Rector has been¡­ firm with Olivia lately. He feels like she should avoid certain activities, and is worried that she will jeopardize herself if he isn¡¯t careful with her.¡±


    Clay frowned. It didn¡¯t sound like the Olivia he knew. ¡°Like what?¡±


    Sam coughed into his hand. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh. ¡°I believe he mentioned something about getting herself nearly eaten by spiders, son.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Clay grimaced. Before he¡¯d left, the Rector had developed a habit of giving him dirty looks. Semmons hadn¡¯t quite blamed him for Olivia being dragged into the Tanglewood, but he clearly felt that a particular [Commoner] shared a good portion of the blame. Distance had obviously failed to convince him to reconsider his opinions. ¡°That sounds a little¡­ harsh.¡±


    Baron Pellsglade shook his head. ¡°I advised the Rector that it will do him no good to try to control the [Youth]. The gods choose our destinies however they care to.¡± It was a convenient bit of advice, given how desperately the Baron had wanted his son to become a [Noble] and stay at home where he¡¯d be safe. If he had the chance, he would definitely have wrangled things into place for Charles to return home as soon as he could, whatever destiny the gods had planned.


    Sam nodded along with the baron, though he snuck a quick smile in Clay¡¯s direction. ¡°I suppose so, my lord. At the very least, he only has another handful of weeks to worry about it. Her Choosing will resolve things, I hope.¡±


    Clay very carefully did not look at the adventurers who had come with him. He was aware, if the others weren¡¯t, that half of Syr Katherine and the others¡¯ mission from the Guild was to be present for the Choosing and make sure that a particular Olivia Shrinekept didn¡¯t cause any trouble the way he had. Given the way she was already fighting the Rector, he doubted they were going to find much success in their attempt.


    Taylor¡¯s thoughts seemed to follow in the same pattern. ¡°Perhaps I could visit her at the Shrine, then.¡±


    The Baron shook his head firmly. ¡°I believe the Rector would find the presence of any adventurers unwelcome at the moment. Until the Choosing is done, at least.¡± Before Clay could even ask, the Baron gave him a steady look that told him he was included in the same category. Taylor grimaced and went back to her book with an elaborate sigh. He thought he could hear her muttering something about disagreeable farmwives and unreasonable Rectors.


    He turned back to his food and ate another bite, hoping that Olivia was doing fine. He¡¯d just have to arrange for a chance to see her at some point, before the Choosing. After everything that she¡¯d done for him, he owed her at least that much.

 B3Ch2: A Busy Night

    The festival continued fairly late into the evening. By the time the villagers began to break up and head back to their homes, the sun was already beginning to lower towards the horizon. His family had said their farewells, each of them giving him a hug before heading back home on the cart. Dasher was once again defying his own name by moving at a slow walk, but the mule still pulled the cart loaded with his entire family easily enough, and Clay waved until they were out of sight.


    Syr Katherine had given him an evaluating look. ¡°You¡¯re sure you will not join us at the manor, Sir Clay?¡±


    Clay shrugged. It wasn¡¯t exactly a problem for him to spend the night on the floor of the Baron¡¯s home, but he wanted a bed, and he did want to see the farm. It had been the place where he¡¯d started his first campaign against the monsters of the world; there was something poetic about visiting again before he fought the creatures in Sarlsboro. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the morning, Syr Katherine.¡±


    She studied him for a moment longer before she nodded in response. He could almost hear her making plans to hunt him down if he didn¡¯t show up at the manor on time. ¡°I will see you then, Sir Clay.¡±


    As she rejoined the others that were headed to the Baron¡¯s home, Clay turned and found another familiar face waiting for him, wearing a longsuffering expression. ¡°Did you draw the short end of the stick this time, Herb?¡±


    The [Guard] grinned at him, his unhappy expression falling away easily. ¡°I guess so, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay wagged a finger at him. ¡°Don¡¯t you start. We¡¯ve known each other too long for that.¡±


    Herbert¡¯s grin grew as he gestured for Clay to follow him. ¡°Good. To be honest, I was probably going to slip up, anyway.¡± They started walking together along the road north, headed back along a too-familiar path. ¡°From the sounds of it, they¡¯ve been keeping you busy out there.¡±


    Clay thought over the frantic past few months. ¡°They definitely have. It¡¯s good to be home.¡± He stretched. ¡°Things are still all right here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, as good as they can be.¡± Herb made a face. ¡°There¡¯s far too many newcomers, from what I¡¯ve been seeing. Too many people coming here for the chance to look through the Tanglewood. We¡¯ve had to drive off at least one group who wanted to start up a bandit camp. Luckily, the Baron caught wind of that and put a stop to it easily enough.¡±


    Incredulous, Clay turned to look at him. The entire time he¡¯d lived in Pellsglade, there had never been that kind of trouble before. He started to like the disorganized tents even less. ¡°You¡¯re serious? Why would they do that?¡±


    Herb¡¯s expression grew a little grim. ¡°A lot of the people who are coming here are looking for safe harbor. Some of them lived near dangerous Lairs, or were on the border with enemy soldiers staring at them. They heard that this place is safe, that it¡¯s protected, and they want to have some of that.¡±


    Clay nodded. His family had told him as much in their letters, after all.


    ¡°Unfortunately, some people apparently see those crowds of people coming here, and figure that they are easy pickings for thieves and worse. Either that, or they think a place that¡¯s safe from monsters might also be safe from lawkeepers. There¡¯s even a few that came here thinking to be the next ¡®Commoner Hero¡¯, as if they¡¯d ever get lucky enough to pull off what you did on their own.¡±


    The comment nearly brought Clay up short. For some reason, he hadn¡¯t expected any other [Commoners] to try to do what he¡¯d done. If they did¡­ ¡°Have any of them gotten themselves killed?¡±


    Herb shook his head. ¡°Not yet.¡± He glanced behind them. ¡°Charles and the rest cleared out the Tanglewood extremely well. I doubt any of the spiders managed to get away, so the fools can¡¯t go hunting for them there. Any that head in the direction of Sarlsboro quickly think the better of it. Most people are sane enough not to want to face the Undead alone.¡±


    Clay gave him a brief grin. ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly alone doing that, either.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t I know it.¡± Herb shook his head. ¡°Of course, we¡¯ve tried not to let them figure that out. The last thing that Novice needs is for a bunch of would-be heroes harassing her for help.¡±


    That image made Clay grimace. ¡°Good point.¡± He fell silent for a few moments, walking along the road. ¡°You don¡¯t think that they¡¯ll try to follow us to Sarlsboro, do you?¡±


    ¡°With official adventurers here? No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± Herb grinned. ¡°You might not have noticed, but there were a few of them that tried to get close to you already. That woman with the sword? She just gave them a look each time. Sent them on their way, just that easily.¡±


    Apparently Syr Katherine had already been a big help, but Clay couldn¡¯t help but feel like that wasn¡¯t the answer he needed. ¡°Have any of them been bothering my family? They didn¡¯t mention it, but¡ª¡±


    Herb shook his head a second time. ¡°A few of them might have been thinking about it, but then we heard about that mess you made out of the criminals in Crownsguard. What did they call themselves, the Skull and Bones Gang?¡± He grinned at Clay. ¡°Apparently, they thought twice about messing with your loved ones after that. The Baron has us swing by every so often, just to make sure.¡±


    Clay let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding. ¡°All right. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± Herb grinned and gave him a little nudge. ¡°And try not to be gone for so long, all right? Life was just a little too boring without you spicing things up.¡±


    They reached the old farmhouse a short while later.


    When Clay had left it, the place had still been a half-wrecked shack, barely able to keep any water out and surrounded by recently cleared fields. He¡¯d just been putting up the fence when the Guild had summoned him to Crownsguard, and he¡¯d half expected the weeds to have reclaimed at least part of it.


    He should have known better. It was immediately clear that Sam Evergreen had spent some time on the place. The roof that had given him so much trouble had been completely replaced, along with the door and most of the stones of the well. Instead of weeds and half-grown trees, he saw a neatly cared for plot of beets and other small crops. His father had often followed that practice when planting a new field, saying he liked to find out what kind of crops would grow the best in the fresh soil.


    Clay stood for a moment, smiling at the care and attention that had been poured into the place. Then he said goodnight to Herb, who ambled off back towards Pellsglade. Alone for the first time in a long while, Clay went up to his own front door and opened it.


    The rickety furniture that he¡¯d been using was mostly gone. Instead of a bedroll, someone had put in a small bed with a feather mattress that looked incredibly enticing. His old, worn table was still there, but someone had done a few repairs to it and placed some new stools beneath it for visitors. Many of the floorboards had been replaced as well, and part of the rafters had been covered with wooden planks to form a loft. Fresh wood was laid next to the fireplace, and the entire place had been swept just as clean as his parents¡¯ house had been when he arrived.


    He spent a moment shaking his head over the love and effort that cleanliness represented, and then he closed the door and locked it. The journey had been long, and he wasn¡¯t about to waste his chance to sleep in a fresh bed with no adventurers watching his every move.


    After all, he had plenty of work ahead of him in the coming days, and he suspected it would be his last restful night for a very long time.


    ¡°I STILL DON¡¯T KNOW WHY WE ARE MEETING LIKE THIS. YOU WANTED HIM TO BE A COMMONER. HE IS ONE!¡±


    The voice jolted through Clay¡¯s soul in a way that was at once friendly and aggravating at the same time. When Clay opened his eyes, he found himself suspended in the featureless, light-filled void that had become increasingly, almost depressingly, familiar.


    He sighed. So much for a restful night¡¯s sleep.


    Then he looked around, expecting to see yet another sign of the Trickster¡¯s presence. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time he had been pulled into a vision like this one, and he didn¡¯t have much hope that it would be the last. Clay still wasn¡¯t entirely sure whether it was a dream or something more. All he knew was that it usually left him with more questions than answers.


    When he found her, it didn¡¯t seem like this time would be the exception. The Trickster once again looked like she had been molded from golden metal, a statue of a woman wearing crude furs and covered in rough scars. Her presence was overwhelming, to say the least, but it wasn¡¯t her that froze Clay in sudden alarm.


    It was the other six who stood with her.


    He¡¯d seen them all during his Choosing, but he hadn¡¯t really recognized them. They certainly hadn¡¯t spoken to him; only the Trickster had addressed him directly. She had pulled him into a meeting with another of the gods, the one known as the Sage, and hearing a second goddess¡¯ voice had nearly driven him to collapse. What would happen with all seven?


    Clay didn¡¯t have much time to worry about it, however. Even as he started to try to retreat, a bold-looking man with a broadsword strapped to his back stepped forward. He glowed with an emerald light and moved with a sober confidence that spoke of a seasoned warrior.


    ¡°Thou Knowest The Reason For This Meeting, Trickster. Thy Meddling Hast Interfered With The World In Ways Unacceptable.¡±


    The Honored¡¯s voice crashed into Clay with a physical impact. It was not as blunt as the Trickster¡¯s, but it still made Clay¡¯s vision double for a moment. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but before he could, he saw a woman with a strange crossbow step forward. Her figure glowed with red light, reflecting in the spectacles she wore. Clay had just enough time to identify her as the Sage before she spoke in a voice that echoed and whispered through his mind.


    ¡°Your words are not unjustified, Honored, but these paths are not unknown to us. They were taken before. Why should they not be tried again?¡±


    Glowing eyes wide, the Honored turned to face her. ¡°Thou¡¯rt Taking Her Part, Sage? We Had All Agreed To This Course.¡±


    The Sage shook her head. ¡°Minds can be changed. The results of her experiment have been¡­ persuasive.¡±


    Another of them stepped forward, a massive person swathed in armor that completely hid them from view. Their eyes glowed with orange light, as if they were banked forgefires. Clay was still blinking away his confusion when the being that could only be the Maker spoke. ¡°I would hear your reasoning, Sage. As you said, we have tried this course before. It ended in disaster.¡±


    The Trickster folded her arms and glared. ¡°WHAT? DO I NOT GET TO DEFEND MY OWN DECISIONS? I¡¯M THE ONE WHO STARTED IT AFTER ALL.¡±


    With a tilt of the head, the Maker turned to face her. Somehow, even without a facial expression, they seemed amused. ¡°It is hard to forget this, Trickster. Yet you have a habit of gambling recklessly where caution would be better. Was this a strategy, or were you simply bored?¡±


    ¡°CAN¡¯T IT BE BOTH?¡± The other gods¡¯ stances seemed to shift in a way that suggested impatience, and the Trickster spread her arms wide in clear exasperation. ¡°FINE. I SAW AN OPPORTUNITY. I TOOK IT. IT¡¯S WORKING. YOU¡¯RE WELCOME.¡±


    The Maker tilted his head in the other direction. ¡°A few small successes do not prove the overall pattern.¡±


    ¡°But they do suggest a trend that can be explored. As she said, an opportunity that can be used to our advantage.¡± The Sage shrugged. ¡°I will not say that I have approved of all her actions, but so far, we have little to complain about.¡±


    ¡°Her Plan Hath Set In Motion Conditions That Could Turn To War!¡± Anger and frustration laced through the Honored¡¯s words, clear even with the pounding pressure that filled them. ¡°Further, It Began With A Deception!¡±


    The Trickster rolled her eyes, and the Honored continued. ¡°When Thou Stolest Him From The River Of Souls, Thy Claim Was To Give Him A Second Chance At Happiness, But Now We See Thou Hast Planned Another Scheme Entirely! Thou¡¯rt Using Him As A Sacrificial Pawn For Thy Amusement.¡±


    The Trickster shrugged. ¡°HE HASN¡¯T COMPLAINED SO FAR.¡± Then she smiled. ¡°OF COURSE, YOU COULD ALWAYS JUST ASK HIM.¡±


    For a moment, the assembled deities froze in place. Then, as one, they turned to stare at Clay.


    He stared back at them, waiting for the chance to recover. Then, once his vision was restored and he could breathe again, he shrugged. ¡°Well. Nice to meet you all again.¡±


    There was silence in response. Then the Maker spoke up again. ¡°He should not be here. It is a breach of protocol.¡±


    The Trickster grinned. ¡°SOUNDS PERFECT TO ME.¡±


    ¡°What Hast Thou Done?¡± The Honored sounded more resigned now than angry. He shook his head. ¡°Worry Not, Clay. I Shall Return Thee To Thy Rest.¡±


    Clay blinked. A part of him wanted to take the option and return to something approaching a normal night¡¯s rest. Instead, however, he folded his arms. ¡°Hold on. You were talking about me, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    The gods looked at one another. It was the Maker who answered. ¡°You are correct.¡±


    ¡°Then I would like to stay.¡± Clay didn¡¯t quite glare at the God of Duty and Craftsmanship, but he did give the Maker a firm look. ¡°After all, this affects me, right? Why shouldn¡¯t I get to hear it?¡±


    There was another silence between the gods, and then the Sage spoke. ¡°It was felt that allowing people to remember us directly would lead to more divergence in terms of their choices. Our presence could negatively affect your ability to choose your own paths, as well as provoking resentment.¡±


    Clay looked at her. ¡°Is that why you all turned away from me during my Choosing? So I could make my own path?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The Maker looked at the Trickster. ¡°Yet one of us has breached our protocols and influenced your choices. It must be determined what should be done to correct the situation.¡±


    He felt a tremor of nervousness run through him, but it was quickly swallowed by anger. ¡°And how are you going to correct it?¡±


    The Sage¡¯s voice was almost gentle now. ¡°You weren¡¯t meant to have a life of danger and pain, Clay. When we permitted the Trickster to¡­ recover you, we believed she meant to give you another chance at a peaceful life. One unburdened by the weight of the world.¡±


    With a grunt of agreement, the Honored nodded. ¡°Thy Path Was To Be One Of Peace. We Secured Her Agreement That Thou Wouldst Be Made A Commoner And Kept Safe By Good Friends.¡±


    Clay looked back at the Trickster, who shrugged. He snorted. ¡°You tricked them, didn¡¯t you? You knew I was going to try to fight monsters anyway, especially if my friends were adventurers. And you let me remember the Choosing just to make sure.¡±


    Her smile glittered like a drawn blade. ¡°I KNEW WHO I STOLE FROM THE STREAM OF SOULS. YOU WERE EVERYTHING WE NEEDED. ALL I HAD TO DO WAS PUT YOU IN THE RIGHT PLACE, AND YOU¡¯D DO THE REST ON YOUR OWN.¡±


    ¡°Still, why not just tell me outright if you knew I would do it?¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°Why make it a game?¡±


    The Trickster laughed. ¡°BECAUSE I¡¯M THE TRICKSTER! BESIDES, I¡¯VE FOUND SPITE TO BE A MUCH BETTER MOTIVATOR FOR MOST.¡± She looked at him again, and her expression grew more serious. ¡°IF I HAD TOLD YOU DIRECTLY, YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN CONFIDENT. THIS WAY, YOU KNEW YOU FOUGHT YOUR DESTINY, AND THAT MADE YOU CAUTIOUS WHERE BOLDNESS WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU. I COULD NOT RISK MY CHANCE.¡±


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    He stared at her, thinking back to those early days in the Tanglewood. Grudgingly, he nodded. ¡°Thank you, then. I hope I haven¡¯t disappointed.¡±


    She smirked. ¡°YOU STILL HAVE A WAYS TO GO¡­ BUT YOU BEGIN WELL.¡±


    The Honored spoke up again. ¡°Thou Shouldst Not Have Begun At All! This Course Was Not The One Determined For Thee.¡±


    Clay turned back to face the god. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you think I should be doing. I¡¯m doing this now, and unless you try to stop me, I¡¯m going to keep doing it. Who are you to make this decision for me, anyway?¡±


    One of the figures from the circle disappeared. Just as quickly, they reappeared in front of him, close enough that Clay took a step back.


    The man wore a golden crown, and he had eyes that glowed with crackling blue energy. There was a sword at his side, but it seemed almost like a side thought compared to the strength in his frame. He looked down at Clay with a solemn expression.


    Then his hands moved, forming a series of shapes. Clay frowned, and opened his mouth, but another voice spoke before he could.


    ¡°He Says That You Do Not Know The Sacrifices That Will Be Required Of You. That You Should Have Been Given A Chance To Rest In Your Eternal Journey, Not To Be Forced Into A Fight For Your Existence. He Says That You Have Been Robbed Of Your True Destiny, And That It Cannot Continue.¡±


    Clay blinked at the voice, feeling it weave and twist through him like a summer breeze. He turned and saw one of the others walking towards him, her eyes glowing white and dressed in a robe of shimmering azure. Her smile seemed to brighten the void, and his heart hurt to see it.


    ¡°I Am The Companion, And I Share With You The Words Of The Giver. We Would Not Punish You, Clay, Only Return You To Your Chosen Path.¡±


    The Giver. Supposedly the god that had spoken the world into being, and the highest of the seven here. Clay looked back at him, seeing determination and weariness on that shining face. What kind of dream was this? Had his experiences simply driven him insane?


    Then he shook his head. ¡°No. I won¡¯t go back on what I¡¯ve done. You can pretend to choose a path for me, but this is the one I will walk. With or without your help.¡±


    For what seemed like an eternity, the Giver stared down at him, still studying him for any sign of weakness. Then his hands moved again, and the Companion spoke.


    ¡°So Be It. We Shall Decide What We Shall Do. It Will Be A Vote. Who Stands In Support Of The Trickster¡¯s Plan?¡±


    The goddess herself snorted¡ªa curiously powerful sound¡ªand raised her hand. ¡°I DO. OBVIOUSLY.¡±


    If he wasn¡¯t mistaken, the Companion rolled her eyes. ¡°And Who Stands Against It?¡±


    The Honored raised his hand. ¡°I Mean Thee No Insult, Clay Evergreen, But This Course Is Not Thy Path.¡±


    Clay grunted, but the Companion didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Sage? What Is Your Choice?¡±


    The Sage looked from Clay to the Companion. Then she nodded and adjusted her spectacles. ¡°Her plan may be ill-started, but it has given one of my own a chance to recover themselves. Further, it represents our greatest chance of success. Without it¡­¡± She shook her head. ¡°Our chances grow smaller by the day. I support her.¡±


    With another nod, the Companion turned to the Maker. ¡°And You?¡±


    The Maker bowed their head for a long moment. Then they spoke. ¡°The war the Honored spoke of is a risk we cannot afford. The last time we tried this course, it nearly ended everything. Better we continue to buy time, and find a better way forward. I stand opposed.¡±


    Two against two. Not the most promising result so far. Clay looked back at the Giver, who was still staring down at him. The god paused for a long while. Then his hands moved.


    ¡°The Giver Says He Would Not Have Given In To The Trickster Had He Known Her Intent. The Responsibility To Solve The Problem Lies With Us, Not With You. He Bids You Take Your Rest. The Giver Stands Opposed.¡±


    Clay grimaced. He looked down at his feet, wondering exactly how they planned to stop him. Legends said that the [Gift] itself came from the gods. Could they simply reach out and take its power from him? Would they make him forget his plans and bend him to their will? Or would he simply never wake?


    Before he could find out, however, the Companion spoke again. ¡°For Myself, I Find No Fault In What The Young Hero Has Done. I Know, As We All Once Did, That Occasionally One Must Challenge The State Of The World To Save It. I Stand With The Trickster.¡±


    The gods paused. Then the Honored groaned and put a hand to his head, while the Trickster laughed, a sound that beat at Clay¡¯s soul. For his part, the Giver stared at the Companion. His hands flashed through more of his curious gestures.


    She seemed unmoved at whatever he had said, however; if anything, she gave him a stern look. ¡°I Have Not Twisted Your Words, Husband, And I Retain My Own. I Have Always Had An Understanding With The Trickster¡ªAnd I See Potential Here Yet.¡±


    For a moment, the gods and goddesses stared at one another, as if they would resolve the situation by simple force of will. Then, a new voice whispered across the void, making Clay¡¯s eyes go wide. It sounded as if every nightmare he¡¯d ever suffered through had been melted down and distilled into each sibilant word, and it took everything in him not to cringe back from it.


    ¡°I stand with her as well.¡±


    The gods turned to face the last of them, the one who had remained quiet during the discussion. He was cloaked in grey mist, and a scythe was resting across one shoulder. His eyes glowed purple, and he returned the stares of his equals with no sign of intimidation. Clay felt his breath catch in his throat as he recognized which god had stood for him.


    The Grim. The Ending. The Master of Night.


    When the Giver¡¯s hands moved, the Grim turned to look at him with undiminished haughtiness. ¡°Why? You dare ask why?¡±


    The Grim stalked forward, the light of the void glimmering on his scythe. ¡°I stand for her because our children were not meant to hide from the dark. They were meant to conquer it. To hunt those creatures that would dare invade our world, and drive them out. And they. Are. Losing.¡±


    He stepped back from the Giver, and swept his gaze across all of them, defiant and enraged. ¡°I will not suffer their slow defeat. It is unacceptable. I forbid it. They will triumph, or they will spit their hatred in the faces of their foes with their last breath. This I swear.¡±


    Then he turned and looked straight at Clay with an expression that would have shaken a Guardian. ¡°And I will send you my chosen to aid you. Go, and do. Not. Fail.¡±


    Clay snapped awake. The echoes of the Grim¡¯s words were still roiling through his soul as he lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.


    The darkness in his home was just barely lessened by the light filtering through his closed windows. He¡¯d long ago extinguished the fire in the fireplace; he¡¯d used the [Chant] of Vanishing Embers, so there hadn¡¯t been any remnant of the flames left behind. Heart¡¯s Light had given him enough light to reach the bed, and then he¡¯d gone straight to sleep.


    He let his breathing steady, wondering what he¡¯d just seen. His protests to Xavien sounded even more foolish now; the [Oracle] had been convinced they weren¡¯t just dreams, and Clay was starting to feel like he was being forced to accept the truth. Yet if they were actual visions, what was he supposed to do with them? It wasn¡¯t like they were giving him any more information than he already had, and they happened so infrequently¡­


    His thoughts trailed off as something moved in the shadows of his home. It looked human-shaped, but not every monster was a spider. Clay went still, trying to pick out the details as it came closer. He¡¯d left the spear by the door, but he had his knife next to him. If it reached for him, he could have the heavy blade against its neck in a single sharp movement. The fight would be over before it knew what was happening.


    Clay wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the knife and waited. The figure reached out to him, and he prepared to strike.


    ¡°Cl-¡±


    He grabbed the thing¡¯s wrist and drew his knife in the same motion. Clay had already started to bring the blade flashing down when a hint of moonlight swept across the figure¡¯s face. His own frantic reaction just barely brought the knife to a halt as he recognized who he had grabbed.


    ¡°Olivia?¡±


    Clay recited the [Chant] for the Refrain, and a heartbeat later, Heart¡¯s Light lit the room.


    Olivia was there, looking at him with wide eyes. She was dressed in her travel robes, and her hair had been drawn back into a ponytail. Her green eyes had gone wide, staring down at him, and they flicked to the side to look at the knife he held in his other hand.


    Then she looked back at him and smiled. ¡°Welcome home, Clay.¡±


    ¡°I have to say, it¡¯s not the worst welcome I¡¯ve been given.¡± Olivia was still smiling at him, though she hid it behind a cup of water that she drank. ¡°Still, I thought you would have been a bit happier to see me.¡±


    Clay grimaced. He turned from where he was poking another log into the fireplace and pulled out his chair to sit on. ¡°I already said I was sorry, didn¡¯t I? Besides, what were you thinking, waking me up in the middle of the night?¡±


    Olivia quirked an eyebrow at him. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you to be so jumpy, honestly. Isn¡¯t a fine hero like yourself supposed to be full of [Valor] and courage?¡±


    ¡°Courage doesn¡¯t help if a big lizard tries to set you on fire. Better to have quick reflexes and good aim.¡± Clay shook his head and then paused. ¡°Wait. I almost stabbed you. Who gave you a worse welcome than that?¡±


    She smiled at him, looking around at his home instead of answering his question. ¡°So, how do you like what we¡¯ve done with the farm? We finally got the roof fixed, at the very least.¡±


    Part of him wanted to insist on pressing her for an answer, but it seemed like she didn¡¯t want to tell him yet anyway. Besides, he had more pressing questions he¡¯d need to ask first. ¡°It looks really nice. You helped my family with it?¡±


    ¡°When I could.¡± Olivia frowned a little, looking at the flames as they crackled in the fireplace. ¡°The Rector did not like me coming here, though I managed to talk him into it eventually. It helped that your mother asked for my help.¡±


    ¡°She did?¡± Clay frowned. Amelia hadn¡¯t mentioned that fact in her letters. ¡°I¡¯m glad you got what you needed.¡±


    Olivia nodded. ¡°So far, at least.¡± She glanced at him and then looked back at the fire. Her cheeks grew a little red. ¡°I heard you were back, but the Rector¡­¡±


    Clay grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s just worried about you.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been so infuriating! Like he can keep me from leaving just by locking me away in the shrine until I am grey-haired and wobbling when I walk.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I had to sneak my way past him tonight, or else he would have kept me inside until long after you left.¡±


    He winced. ¡°To be fair, I did almost get you killed.¡±


    Olivia glowered at the fire, her face tight with frustration. ¡°You didn¡¯t though. That was the adventurers. You were the one who saved me.¡±


    Clay looked away; he felt a little heat on his cheeks. ¡°I was just doing what needed to be done.¡±


    ¡°As you should be.¡± She sighed. ¡°If only all adventurers shared your view of things.¡±


    He grunted in agreement, and they settled into a comfortable silence, watching the fire burn. As he looked into the flames, Clay thought over his time at the Academy, and the conflicts he¡¯d had with the Council. ¡°You¡¯re right. I just don¡¯t understand what they¡¯re doing. It seems like they could be doing so much more.¡±


    Olivia nodded slowly. ¡°They could, but they won¡¯t.¡± He looked at her, and she returned his gaze with a small, bitter smile. ¡°I know that better than anyone.¡±


    Another silence fell, and Clay remembered the most important question he had for her. It was the one that Taylor had brought up back in her office all that time ago. He mentally braced himself and spoke. ¡°Olivia, why do you want magic so badly? You don¡¯t seem like you want to be an adventurer, or even that you like them all that much. So why do you care so much about the tools they use?¡±


    Her eyes widened slightly. Then she looked away, her lips twisting slightly in mimicry of a smile. ¡°You don¡¯t think I want to be a hero as much as you do, Clay?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I never asked.¡± She looked back at him with an incredulous expression, and Clay laughed, spreading his arms wide. ¡°Look, I know that sometimes I can get a bit obsessed about things. Being a hero is the one thing I¡¯ve always wanted to be. I want to make the world safer for everyone, and to keep the monsters from ever threatening Pellsglade ever again.¡±


    Then he paused. ¡°But it seems like I never got around to asking what you wanted. I¡¯m sorry about that, but I¡¯m asking now.¡±


    She stared at him for a long moment. Then she turned away, looking at the fire. It took her a while to speak again; Clay just waited and watched.


    When she spoke, her voice was cold, almost detached. ¡°Have you ever heard of a place called Zelton?¡±


    Clay frowned. ¡°No. At least, not until now.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason you should have. It wasn¡¯t a very important place.¡± Olivia picked at the table between them, scratching at the worn wood with a fingernail. ¡°It was a quiet place, kind of like here. A few farms, lots of hunting, a handful of craftsmen. Even a Shrine, one even smaller than this one.¡±


    She fell silent for another moment. ¡°It was on the border between King John¡¯s lands and the ones that belong to the Kingdom of Merarbor. You¡¯ve heard of them, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly. Merarbor wasn¡¯t exactly on friendly terms with Crownsguard; there had been plenty of rumors about skirmishes on the border, and some had been predicting a bigger fight at any moment. The Honored¡¯s worries about war whispered through his mind, and before he could dismiss them, she continued.


    ¡°There was one other thing that set Zelton apart, too. Years ago, there had been a Lair that had been suppressed by the Guild. It had gone dormant, and even though the people in the village knew about it and avoided the forest where it was, the monsters didn¡¯t return. Not for a long time.¡±


    She drew her legs up onto her chair and wrapped her arms around them, still staring at the fire. ¡°Most people were more worried about the border with Merarbor, and the fighting against Terrasfen. The Lair was such a small thing, like a child¡¯s tale. The adventurers had been able to stop it before; why worry about it now?¡±


    Olivia shook her head. ¡°Then, one day, the Lair came back, and so did the monsters. The baron and baroness were able to keep them contained in the forest; they were both fairly good at fighting them, though they weren¡¯t Guild-trained. As the Lair grew in strength, they sent word to Crownsguard, calling for aid. Then we waited.¡±


    Clay blinked, noting the change in pronouns. She glanced at him and then went back to staring into the fire. It was a few more moments before she spoke again. ¡°We waited, as the monsters grew stronger. There was news about border conflicts with Merarbor at the same time, and the response was just to hold steady. The adventurers would come when they could, and the Lair would be defeated again.¡±


    Olivia shook her head, and her fists clenched in her robes. ¡°They never came. I remember how the hope faded from our eyes as the weeks went on. The [Nobles] fought as hard as they could, but eventually¡­¡±


    She paused for a long moment and then sighed. ¡°One night they just didn¡¯t come back. The following day, the people started to pack up to leave, but it was too late. The monsters were there, and Zelton burned.¡±


    When she looked at Clay this time, her green eyes might as well have been made from chipped emeralds. ¡°At the time, the Rectors told me I was fortunate to escape. Even though I was the last one left from Zelton, I should be grateful that the monsters hadn¡¯t gotten me. It was a sign of favor to have survived such a tragedy.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t until later that I overheard someone talking about it. They said it was fortunate that the adventurers hadn¡¯t come. With the King fighting in the north, his border with Merarbor had been undefended. Without the new Lair, he might have needed to spare soldiers to guard Zelton. Now? The monsters protected the place, and he could focus elsewhere.¡±


    Clay¡¯s eyes widened as a grim realization tore through him. ¡°You¡¯re saying¡ª¡±


    Olivia looked at him, and he broke off. Her eyes burned with anger and long-stale pain. ¡°I¡¯m saying the games some adventurers play aren¡¯t always to our benefit. I can¡¯t say it was the actual reason. Perhaps the Guild was willing, but the King forbade them. The Guild could have run short of adventurers or faced unexpected casualties elsewhere. It could even have been the baroness¡¯ fault; they could have ordered her to empty the village, and she refused. It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    She looked away again. ¡°All I know is that my home burned because they weren¡¯t there. Those monsters have been in my dreams every day since then. And now?¡±


    Olivia smiled. ¡°Now I know I can do it. No matter what the gods decide, I can still go back to that place and kill the things that destroyed my home, and erase the Curse that spawned them. After that, every time it is too ¡®inconvenient¡¯ for the Guild to step in, I will be there to show them how it should be done.¡±


    Clay sat back in his seat, studying her. There wasn¡¯t any sign of deception in her posture. He didn¡¯t know if she could fake that kind of pain, but it felt real¡ªand besides, she had entrusted him with a lot. Hadn¡¯t she earned some trust in return?


    He nodded and looked away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I had to know.¡±


    Olivia shifted in the corner of his eye. ¡°You had to make sure I wasn¡¯t some crazy Rogue in the making, right?¡±


    There was a moment of hesitation. Then he sighed. ¡°Yeah.¡± When he looked back at her, she was staring at him again. Her expression didn¡¯t have any accusation or hurt. She was just watching him. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would be, but I had to be sure. I couldn¡¯t tell you in the letters, but¡­¡±


    ¡°The two Lairs in Rodcliff. Somebody put them there, didn¡¯t they?¡± Olivia waited until he nodded, and then she sighed. ¡°I understand. Those adventurers with you, they aren¡¯t just here for you, are they?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°The fact that you know about [Chants] means that they are almost as worried about you as they are about me. I¡¯m pretty sure they are planning on dragging you back to Crownsguard as soon as they can after the Choosing.¡±


    Olivia snorted. She looked back at the fire and smiled. ¡°Well, I already have a plan in place for that, so don¡¯t worry.¡± He shifted in his seat, and she looked at him. ¡°You are planning on helping me, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Yeah, I am.¡± Then he met her eyes. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean they are wrong, though. [Chants] can be dangerous. You¡¯re going to have to be as careful as I am with them, or you¡¯ll make something worse than Zelton happen.¡±


    Her expression grew serious. ¡°I know.¡± Then she rolled her eyes, a strange motion for her. ¡°Though I will point out that I¡¯m not the one who keeps losing their notes. You¡¯re on what, your fourth set by now?¡±


    Clay blinked. He grinned. ¡°Oh, come on, I still have the third set. It¡¯s not my fault so many people are so excited about using the things.¡±


    ¡°Well, at least you¡¯ve kept ahold of them then.¡± She smiled back at him as well. ¡°I actually did make another set for you, just in case. In fact¡­¡±


    Olivia pushed her chair back and stood up on it, reaching for the boards of the loft. She fumbled around up there for a moment, and then came back down with a sheaf of parchment in her hands. ¡°I figured out that at least some of the versions I gave you weren¡¯t correct. These should have some corrections.¡±


    Clay felt his eyebrows shoot up. ¡°Really? How many of them?¡±


    She paused for a moment. ¡°I¡¯d say at least eight or so. You¡¯ll have to take a look and see.¡±


    He reached over to his own set of notes and pulled them out. ¡°I took notes on what some of the ones I figured out did, plus a few that I learned from Syr Katherine¡ªshe¡¯s the adventurer in charge of the [Chants] at the Academy¡ªso you can copy those over while I go over the new ones. The biggest one I figured out was¡­¡±


    It was at least an hour later when Olivia left, carrying some bits of parchment away with new notes scrawled on them. Rather than leaving by the door, however, she asked Clay to boost her to the loft, so that she could use a small door built into the back side of the house. When he raised his eyebrows, she had turned bright red and admitted that she¡¯d been using the top part of his house to hide things from the Rector.


    Clay had lifted her up¡ªa much easier task than he¡¯d expected¡ªand then poked his head up over the edge to see what was up there. He saw a batch of parchment, a bundle of clothes and other traveling necessities¡­ and one last object, propped up next to the small square door.


    Olivia paused beside the door, placing a finger on it. ¡°It took a lot of convincing to get David to make this for me. Even then, I had to buy it from Adam. The Rector¡­ wouldn¡¯t have approved.¡±


    ¡°I imagine not.¡± It was a weapon, that much was instantly clear. There was a short pole, not quite as long as the one for the haft of his spear. On the end, instead of the flared spearpoint of his boar spear, there was a long, curved blade that tapered to a point. The angle of it made him doubt it would ever really be used for a thrust or a stab. Instead, it looked like someone would have to use it mostly to chop at a foe, almost like¡­


    Like using a scythe. Clay blinked. ¡°What is it?¡±


    Olivia shrugged. ¡°Adam called it a war scythe. I guess it kind of looks like a regular scythe if you tilted the blade vertically, right?¡± She smiled at the weapon with fondness. ¡°I¡¯ve tried practicing with it on the weeds around here. Probably not the same as Academy training, but still¡­¡±


    She shook her head and looked back at him. ¡°Be sure to be ready to leave once the Choosing is over. Those adventurers aren¡¯t going to want me to put my skills to use, so we¡¯ll have to move quickly.¡±


    Clay nodded and watched as she slipped through the door and vanished into the night. He turned back to the war scythe, examining its vicious-looking blade for a moment longer.


    Then he stepped back down off the stool and tried to get back to sleep. No matter how strange the night had been, there was work to be done the following morning¡ªand the last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of his precious time thinking over his dreams and how they could relate to the woman he¡¯d promised to help.

 B3Ch3: Sarlsboro

    The next day dawned bright and early. Too bright and too early, if anyone had asked Clay, but no one really had.


    He¡¯d been up early, feeling a bit worn from his lack of a restful sleep. His fatigue had made it a bit difficult for him to get ready and head south towards the baron¡¯s manor, but he supposed it had been worth it to see Olivia.


    Of course, he hoped the next time they met, she wouldn¡¯t have to sneak into his house under the cover of darkness. Time would tell.


    Syr Katherine and the others were waiting for him outside the baron¡¯s manor. The Baron himself was also there, speaking in low tones with the adventurers. When Clay arrived, Baron Pellsglade smiled broadly and gestured to a pack at his feet.


    ¡°Welcome, Sir Clay! I was just telling your companions that I had prepared packages of supplies for you. I also gave you maps of the terrain surrounding Sarlsboro. Charles and the others double checked the information, so you should be able to avoid getting lost.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, my lord.¡± Clay bowed and then picked up the pack. It weighed a decent amount, but with his newly increased [Might] and [Fortitude], it seemed like he could handle it well enough. He looked at Syr Katherine. ¡°Are we ready to go?¡±


    The [Calculator] nodded. ¡°Yes, Sir Clay. Let us go.¡± She glanced at the others and then started off on the road heading south. Clay followed along in her wake, with Taylor and Orn stepping along beside him. He noticed that the Armsman was cheerful as he walked along, a massive war hammer slung over one shoulder, while the [Artifactor] was grumbling something under her breath that sounded distinctly unhappy.


    Deciding that Master Taylor might need a bit more time to herself, Clay turned to Orn. ¡°So! Did you manage to meet with David?¡±


    Orn smiled, his teeth flashing white against the dark backdrop of his beard. ¡°I did! It was an enlightening conversation. He is a true craftsman, you should know. You and your companions have all been very lucky to have had his handiwork at your disposal.¡±


    Clay nodded. David¡¯s spear and other work had been the main reason he¡¯d survived the Tanglewood, and he had no intention of forgetting that fact. Guild-wrought weapons might be nice, but he had a feeling that a Pellsglade-forged tool was always going to hold its own, no matter the situation. ¡°Absolutely. Did Adam meet with you as well?¡±


    The Armsman blinked. He nodded slowly. ¡°In fact, he did. The man was very¡­ strange, to be honest. He seemed insistent that I would need a fresh pair of boots.¡± Orn shrugged. ¡°I told him my current pair were fine, but he was rather dogged. In the end, I bought them anyway. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.¡±


    Clay bit his lip. It sounded like Adam was the same as ever, though he was a little surprised the merchant was willing to try his old tricks with an actual adventurer from Crownsguard. Maybe his rivalry with the new merchant was really making him desperate. He made a note to himself that he needed to visit the old goat, just to see what kind of wares Adam would try to foist on him afterwards.


    Taylor looked over at them and sighed. ¡°Well, at least your ambitions were met, Sir Orn. I, however, found myself unable to convince a simple village Rector that my intentions were kind. I don¡¯t suppose you had any more success than I did, Sir Clay?¡±


    The question nearly made Clay wince. He shook his head. ¡°I haven¡¯t had the chance to talk with the Rector, Syr Taylor. I don¡¯t think he¡¯d listen to me either, though.¡±


    ¡°Likely not.¡± She shook her head. The staff that she carried swung a little with the motion. ¡°Foolish man. As if the gods were going to be persuaded to change their minds just by his bone-headed choices.¡±


    She started to grumble to herself again, and Clay exchanged a knowing look with Orn. The Armsman shrugged elaborately, and then they turned back to the road. There was plenty of travel ahead of them.


    The road south was seldom used these days, and for good reason. With the threat of the Dungeon¡¯s Undead crowding the Sarlwood and the lands beyond, attempting to push through the area was as certain a death as could be believed. No one was willing to maintain a road that led straight into the jaws of destruction, and so it wasn¡¯t long before they ran across fallen trees or places where the dirt path had been washed out by storms.


    Of course, such blockages didn¡¯t last for long. Orn cleared them away with a contemptuous ease, smashing the rocks to pieces and shoving tree trunks out of their way. Even the washed out portions didn¡¯t offer much resistance; the [Fighter] was more than strong enough to leap the gap with Taylor clinging on for dear life.


    Clay didn¡¯t have to suffer that indignity, thanks to the [Chant] of Floating Step. Syr Katherine used the same one to skate across the ruined portions of the road as well, somehow making it look much more graceful than he did.


    Syr Katherine led them to abandon the road shortly after the third such gap; by that point, it had become clear that the road was no more viable than forging their way through the undergrowth. Orn took the lead a short while later, his armored form wading through the brush and flattening it for the ones that followed behind.


    As the [Fighter] cleared the way, Clay walked beside Syr Katherine. He glanced at her and found her studying their surroundings with interest. A question drifted to the top of his mind. ¡°Syr Katherine, what is our plan here?¡±


    The [Calculator] looked at him. ¡°It is our goal to familiarize you with the way most Guild adventurers handle missions of this type. The Council felt it would be wise, after they reviewed your reports on the Lairs at Rodcliff.¡±


    Clay winced slightly. He had spent several weeks destroying those two Lairs, far more time than the Council had expected him to use. ¡°You mean we¡¯re going to head straight into the Dungeon immediately.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. Her eyebrow arched. ¡°That is the case, yes.¡± She looked around as Orn knocked down a small tree. How were they all making so much noise? ¡°Of course, we¡¯ll need to find a suitable place to establish our camp, first, but once we have, we¡¯ll endeavor to breach the Dungeon and cull some of its strength.¡±


    It sounded straightforward enough. Too straightforward, in fact. ¡°How do we do that?¡±


    Taylor spoke up from behind him. ¡°Have you forgotten our lessons so soon, Sir Clay? How disappointing.¡±


    When Clay gave her a half-hearted glare, she just grinned at him. He sighed. ¡°I know the basic theory. The Dungeons have Guardians, just like Lairs. The more Guardians we kill, the less a Dungeon grows and the fewer monsters they can produce.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. ¡°That is correct.¡±


    ¡°So, do we know what kind of monsters we¡¯re facing here? Aside from the Undead levies and corporals, I mean.¡± It seemed like a fairly straightforward question, but the others simply looked at each other for a moment. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible for an adventurer to be familiar with every kind of monster, Sir Clay.¡± Taylor sounded far less smug now. If anything, her earlier grumpiness had returned. ¡°Especially since such knowledge is only occasionally useful, anyway.¡±


    Clay shook his head. As fragmented and incomplete as it had been, knowing the kinds of spiders, lizards, and slimes he would encounter had been extremely helpful when he was facing a Lair. Why would Dungeons be any less important?


    He heard Orn chuckling ahead of him. ¡°Don¡¯t fret, young hero! You have three veteran adventurers to help see you through it. We¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The [Fighter]¡¯s confidence didn¡¯t really help soothe Clay¡¯s worries. He¡¯d seen too many ambushes by simple monsters nearly kill a supposedly higher-level adventurer; even he had been caught a time or two when he¡¯d been overconfident. Just walking into the Dungeon blind seemed like a great way to end up dead.


    Syr Katherine glanced at him. She spoke in a low voice. ¡°Not every adventurer enjoys the luxury of time, Sir Clay. Remember, the resources of the Guild are stretched thin. Every week you spend facing one threat might mean you miss the chance to stop another. After all, why do you think the Guild could only afford to send us with you to this place? Even in our case, we are only to stay here until we accomplish our goal. Then we must return to the Guild, in order to greet and train the next group of adventurers arriving in Crownsguard.¡±


    Clay knew the reasoning was sincere, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel that a little preparation went a long way. He shook his head. ¡°You say that there aren¡¯t enough adventurers, but how many have died fighting this way? How many more would reach levels where they could seal Lairs rather than driving them into hiding, if they went in better prepared? There¡¯s only so long that the Guild can keep fighting this way. Eventually, there will be one disaster too many, and then¡­¡±


    He shook his head again. Syr Katherine didn¡¯t respond immediately, and when he glanced at her face, she seemed to be thinking. Had she actually agreed with him, or was she just looking for the best way to point out the foolishness in his answers?


    Before she responded, however, Taylor spoke up behind him. ¡°Perhaps once we make camp, you can look through your own notes about the Undead in this area. After all, you¡¯ve fought with them before, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Clay looked back and nodded. ¡°Yeah. They were just rank two monsters, though. Undead corporals leading a small group of undead levies. Nothing we¡¯d probably need to worry about.¡±


    Taylor smiled. ¡°Then I¡¯m sure the rest of the monsters in this area are similar. All the same, we should keep a close watch. No matter what Lord Frensfeld did here, the Dungeon has already had plenty of time to recover¡ªand we¡¯ll be inside its territory all too soon.¡±


    On that matter, Clay felt he could agree. The group lapsed back into silence as they pushed further through the wilderness, heading towards the land of the Undead.


    It took another three days to reach a site that Syr Katherine decided they could use as a camp. It was only a simple clearing in the middle of the woods, but the maps put them just a short walk from the destroyed village of Sarlsboro, and she thought it would remain far enough away from the Dungeon to remain mostly safe.


    They made camp, which mostly consisted of cooking a brief lunch, and then hiding their supplies. Syr Katherine had them each tie their supply packs to a cord and then hang them over a nearby branch. It was no guarantee that monsters or animals wouldn¡¯t still get it, but at the very least, the supplies would be better protected than they would be on the ground.


    As they worked, Clay couldn¡¯t help but worry about the silence around them. There were no animals, just as there hadn¡¯t been in the Tanglewood. The corruption of the Dungeon had swept through this place multiple times over the years; what creatures were they even protecting their supplies from? He was fairly sure that the Undead weren¡¯t going to try to nibble on his travel rations, but he supposed it was better to be safe than sorry.


    Once the supplies were secure, the adventurers settled into their equipment and made their final checks. Syr Katherine motioned for Clay to join her. She spoke in a calm voice, her voice cool and prepared. ¡°Sir Clay, this will be your first experience in a Dungeon, so remain close to me and pay attention to my orders. My job is to bring all of us out safely, and also to cull the Dungeon. If we cannot do the first, we will not be able to do the second, and if I have to, I¡¯ll sacrifice the second goal to preserve the first one. Understand?¡±


    Clay nodded, and she continued. ¡°When we enter the Dungeon, there is often an¡­ effect¡­ created by the Curse inside. Be prepared for it to be unpleasant and do not panic. We will not stay there long, and I have planned to take at least a day between entries in order to avoid having it become too severe. If you feel overwhelmed or in danger at any time, you must tell me.¡±


    He nodded again, feeling a creeping sense of dread. Syr Katherine glanced at the others and then checked the hilt of her sword. ¡°Then let¡¯s go. The Dungeon is waiting.¡±


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The others nodded, and they set out towards the south, headed through the silent wilderness towards the mission that they had been tasked with since the beginning.


    Sarlsboro had always been a place of memories and tragedy for Clay. His father had been born there, as had all the generations of his family as far back as they could remember. The Evergreens had been a Sarlsboro clan, one of the long-standing pillars of the community. They¡¯d served as [Guards], advised the local nobility, and spread through the relationships of the place like roots through the soil. Sam Evergreen had often spoken of the family farm there, and of the network of uncles, aunts, cousins, and other relations that Clay had never known.


    When Clay first laid eyes on the place, however, it quickly became clear that he would find no connection there. The entire village was a slowly decaying ruin. Once, it looked to have been two or even three times as large as Pellsglade, even with the newly arrived people. Now, the workshops and merchant houses were nothing but piles of rubble. Farmhouses stood vacant; even the village Shrine had been left a half-burnt shell.


    Yet despite the desolation, the most disturbing thing was that none of it was overgrown. There were no creeping vines, no trees springing up in the middle of fields. It wasn¡¯t like his old farm, something being slowly reclaimed by nature and swallowed by weeds and thornbushes. Instead, only grey soil and brown grass of some kind surrounded the abandoned buildings. The occasional trees were black and twisted versions of their natural brethren further north, and not a single leaf decorated their bare branches.


    He watched as the brown vegetation waved softly in a breeze that he doubted would ever reach him. A glance backward told him the others had noted the unnatural state of the place, but they were focusing on their own tasks. Quietly rebuking himself, he turned his attention back to their surroundings.


    Syr Katherine quickly led them to skirt around the dead village, keeping to the forest rather than stepping into those fields of decay. Clay couldn¡¯t tell whether she was avoiding monsters or trying to bypass some sort of trap, but he had to agree with her that trying to pass through the place seemed¡­ unwise.


    As they reached the southern edge of the village, the green trees around them began to wither as well, slowly being replaced by the same blackened branches and brown weeds. Clay tried to step around them when he could. Even brushing up against them felt wrong; the papery feel of the grass whispered as he touched it, and the bark of the trees was glossy and sickeningly smooth. It was hard not to shudder each time it happened.


    Then, just as they reached what looked like a road heading south, Clay paused. His ethereal senses began clamoring for his attention, alerting him to something even more unnatural than he¡¯d been experiencing so far. He noted the others had also stopped, looking at him, and he tried to keep his voice low. ¡°Monsters are close. That direction, I think.¡±


    He pointed south and west of their position, at a spot he couldn¡¯t see through the unnatural trees. Syr Katherine peered in that direction and then looked back at him. ¡°Your senses, Sir Clay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He shifted his grip on his spear. Why weren¡¯t they getting into position? ¡°Don¡¯t know how many or what they are, but something is on its way. We should¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sir Orn, guard our flank. We¡¯re going to continue moving, and I don¡¯t want to be interrupted.¡± Syr Katherine waited until the Armsman had nodded and then turned back to Clay. ¡°If you sense any more, let me know immediately. Especially if they are directly ahead. We cannot afford to be distracted or slowed down.¡±


    Clay stared at her in astonishment. Orn moved out to their left, and then they continued down the road. He couldn¡¯t help but glance back at the monsters he knew were trailing them now. Were they just going to ignore the threat? Doing that in the Tanglewood, or even in Rodcliff, would probably have gotten him killed. What kind of madness had he signed up for?


    His senses were growing more and more flooded with enemies as they walked. A second group of monsters was now keeping pace with them to the east, and another was to the south and west again. The original group had swung around to trail after them from the south. Clay was starting to feel like a fox that had put itself right in the middle of some [Noble]¡¯s hunting party, with enemies on all sides.


    Each time he pointed out a new threat, however, Syr Katherine simply adjusted their course to avoid it, and continued forward. She had assigned Taylor to watch their eastern flank, at least, and she was keeping a wary eye on the road ahead, but Clay couldn¡¯t help but feel like she wasn¡¯t taking things seriously enough. How long was she going to ignore¡ª


    His thoughts cut off as three more groups entered his range. All three of them were coming at them from straight ahead, and all of a sudden, they were approaching his companions at speed. ¡°They¡¯re coming. We¡¯re going to be surrounded!¡±


    Syr Katherine simply nodded. ¡°Form a circle. We¡¯ll take them here, and then keep moving.¡±


    The others took up their positions with a clear lack of anxiety. Clay felt himself breathing quicker as he stepped into the circle, with Orn to his left and Syr Katherine on his right. Taylor was behind him, her curious staff held in her hands. What were they doing? It was like they wanted to¡ª


    There was movement in the trees, and his thoughts broke off as the Undead arrived.


    They were silent, save for the noises they made brushing through the paper-grass and the soft sounds of their bones sliding against armor and weaponry. He saw dozens of levies staggering along in a horde, their makeshift weaponry clutched in unfeeling hands. Behind them, he could see the indistinct forms of the corporals, their halberds poking up over the heads of the mob that they shepherded forward.


    They were not, however, alone. As Clay watched, other forms were stalking through the forest, low to the ground and ethereal lights dancing in their eyes. He felt a burst of shock as he recognized a small pack of Undead hounds, all creeping along at the flanks of the levies. Were these another Undead monster on their own, or did they have masters too?


    The corpse dogs weren¡¯t the only newcomers, either. Along the road to his right and left, he saw skeletal horses being ridden by spear-wielding riders. They seemed almost indistinct as they approached; thick mist gathered around them, shrouding their arrival. Levies crowded the ground in front of them, and they waited without advancing, filthy banners tied to their speartips flapping in the breeze.


    As the Undead gathered around them, they came to an abrupt halt. For a long moment, they simply stared at the circle of heroes, as if studying them for the coming battle.


    Beside Clay, Syr Katherine spoke in a low voice. ¡°Lesson one. Monsters in lower level Lairs have a tendency to eat one another, competing for resources as the Curse grows. In higher level Lairs, and in Dungeons, such competition disappears. Instead, the monsters will cooperate.¡±


    Clay spared a moment to glance at her. She sounded like she was discussing the weather, not looking at a small army of the Undead. When he caught sight of her expression, however, she was just studying the enemy crowding along the road with mild distaste. Orn didn¡¯t seem all that worried, either.


    ¡°Lesson two. On an approach to a Dungeon, conserve your resources when you encounter lower level threats. [Feats] and [Charms] have a daily limit. [Styles] and [Sigils] last longer, but they can still be expended. Even arrows and other weapons can run out. You will need them for later. Use [Chants] where possible. Do not waste strength.¡±


    Clay blinked and turned back to the monsters. They were leaning forward, preparing to charge. Her advice was well-timed, even if most of it didn¡¯t really apply to him. His [Experiences] didn¡¯t have an expiration attached to them, and the only magic he could even use were [Chants]. Then again, it explained a lot about how the Ruffians had fought, and why they¡¯d been so interested in using [Chants] during their long patrols around Rodcliff. Baron Pellsglade and the other heroes from home had been just as enthusiastic to put them to use, even when they had access to the power of an adventurer.


    Those thoughts faded as he heard Syr Katherine begin a [Chant] under her breath. Taylor began one as well behind him, and to his left, Orn sighed and started what sounded like the Canticle of Ice. Clay blinked in surprise; he hadn¡¯t expected the [Fighter] to use any magic at all, but Orn was at least a level seventeen adventurer. His [Stats] were more than high enough to allow him to use the same magic that Clay had mastered in the Tanglewood.


    Clay began the Canticle as well, belatedly catching up to his teachers. His various bonuses aided him as he prepared, and he continued to watch the Undead gathering ahead of him. Killing the levies was useless, but if he could strike at the back ranks¡­


    He made it about halfway through the [Chant] before the Undead charged. They flowed forward in a wave of snarling corpse dogs, thundering hooves, and staggering bones. Clay set himself, still continuing his [Chant], and wondering if he¡¯d even be able to finish it before they were all overwhelmed.


    The first to reach him were the dogs. Two of them leaped at him, snarling and snapping. He swung his spear, hoping to push them away and gain time to finish the [Chant].


    They both shattered, tumbling backwards in a shower of bones and rotten flesh.


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    He blinked, temporarily stunned by their lack of strength. Were they just some kind of distraction?


    Beside him, Orn moved. The Armsman stepped forward, his hammer clenched in one large fist. A mob of levies and hounds raced in towards him, their teeth and weapons outstretched.


    Then the [Fighter] swung his weapon, and nearly a dozen Undead went flying backwards. Not a single one within the reach of his arm survived; even those just outside the range of the swing staggered slightly as the wind from its passing knocked them off balance. Clay felt his eyes widen, and his mind shot back to those times when he had sparred with the man. Had Orn really been holding back that much? Or was something else going on?


    He turned back as the levies closed in, their weapons reaching for him. They were moving so slowly now, but he didn¡¯t give them the chance to speed up. With quick, efficient swings and stabs, he began knocking the Undead back and down.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Clay frowned. Why was this so easy? It was like they weren¡¯t even trying. Had one of the others used a spell to slow them down? A pair of levies rushed in together, a pitchfork and a club clenched in their bony hands. He retaliated with a broad swing, not as strong as Orn¡¯s, but just as effective.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    As he struck, he heard an unearthly whistle stretch through the trees. The bones of the hounds he had put down began to shiver and reassemble themselves. They were just like the levies, then, only tools for the real monsters in the back.


    He looked up and saw them, tucked in behind some of those unnervingly smooth trunks. They wore cloaks that were ragged and falling apart, and their eyes were hollow. Each one had a bow in their hands, and they were fitting bone-white arrows to the strings. Part of him wanted to call a warning to his fellow adventurers, but it would have broken the [Chant]. Instead, he pushed harder, hoping to finish before they could fire.


    He managed it just as they loosed, sending a flurry of ice spears back at them even as they shot. With so many targets, Clay decided to divide his shots and hope that he took as many of the monsters down as he could. He¡¯d never used magic against the Undead before, and didn¡¯t know if they would have some kind of resistance. There was only one real way to find out.


    The arrows showered down on Clay and his companions¡­and seemed completely ineffectual. Some of them missed cleanly, while another struck his armor and bounced off. In return, three of the archers fell, along with an equal number of corporals, as his ice spears found their marks.


    {Wretched Corporal slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Condemned Forager slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Wretched Corporal slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Condemned Forager slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Condemned Forager slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Wretched Corporal slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    The bones of the hounds and levies at his feet abruptly went still, and about half their companions that were still standing tumbled to the ground as well. He heard the adventurers still finishing their own [Chants] and took the time to shout at them. ¡°Aim for the ones in the back! They control the dogs and the mob.¡±


    Without waiting to see if they answered, he started the Refrain [Chant]. He¡¯d gotten most of the targets in front of him, but if he could finish the rest and then help the others, maybe they would still get out of the fight without any casualties.


    Then he heard Syr Katherine complete her [Chant] and glanced to the side to see its effect. He froze as twelve different ice spears formed above her head before lancing out towards the distant targets in front of her. Corporals twitched and died as they were impaled; the archers tumbled to the ground in droves. Even the Undead on horseback collapsed, their skeletal mounts becoming nothing but a pile of bones.


    Behind him, the earth trembled as Taylor completed her own [Chant]. A glance backward saw entire groups of Undead being swallowed by the earth. The Undead levies that had been facing her collapsed, and the scholarly woman shook her head in disappointment at the apparent lack of challenge. A heartbeat after that, Orn¡¯s [Chant] sent a handful more ice spears into the forest, skewering the last handful of corporals lurking there.


    In a matter of moments, the Undead were practically swept from existence. Only a handful of the mounted Undead were still standing on the left, and Orn stepped forward with a grin to face them. They charged across the road, spears ready to strike.


    The Armsman moved with brutal precision, smashing horses and riders alike with three sharp swings. Only one of the riders avoided instant destruction by swerving away from the [Fighter] and heading back into the forest.


    Clay completed the Refrain a moment later and sent his ice spears after it. He struck it half a dozen times and watched as it fell.


    {Skeletal Rider slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    That quickly, the battle was over. There were still a few levies staggering about on Taylor¡¯s side of the circle, and the [Artifactor] swatted them aside with an almost petulant motion before walking into the forest to kill the corporals that they were attached to. Orn looked around for more riders to kill and shook his head as he found nothing.


    An arrow bounced off the Armsman¡¯s plate armor, and Orn grunted in annoyance. He looked over to see one of the archers still standing. ¡°Missed one. Sorry.¡±


    As Clay watched, the [Fighter] bent down and picked up a small, fist-sized stone. Then he reared back and threw it, hurling it with enough force that it seemed to crack the air. The archer¡¯s head shattered a moment later, and it dropped to the ground.


    Syr Katherine nodded as Taylor finished off the last corporal and then turned to Clay. ¡°Lesson three. A well-trained companion is worth their weight in gold. Do not forget that you are not alone in your fight, and do not take someone who is unprepared into battle.¡±


    He nodded, still a little stunned by how quickly it had all ended. It was one thing to know that his teachers were impressive in the Academy; it was another to see the clear difference in their skills on the battlefield. Even just seeing how his own abilities had changed made the Undead that had once paralyzed him with fear seem almost unimportant. Was this how the adventurers saw all the lower-level threats?


    Before he could say anything more, Syr Katherine turned back along the road. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving. The Dungeon is still ahead of us, and we don¡¯t want them to have enough time to send more lower-level threats against us. The quicker we move, the faster we can finish our real business.¡±


    They set off down the path again, leaving the corpse-strewn battlefield behind them.

 B3Ch4: Clearing a Path

    The Undead found them again, only a short distance from the first battle. Once again, Syr Katherine kept them moving forward, ignoring the groups of monsters that trailed in their wake or shadowed them from the sides. She didn¡¯t stop until they were once again surrounded, and once again, they only paused long enough to annihilate the enemy before moving on.


    It seemed like his companions were even faster the second time. Even with the Refrain, Clay only managed to kill a group of corporals, and a pair of the riders. The third time he got three of the archers, and almost nothing else. The others smashed and crushed their way through the Undead as if they were barely even there.


    As their march continued, however, the land around them only grew worse in its corruption. More and more of the too-smooth trees were present, along with patches of brown grass. Snarls of bone-white undergrowth appeared as well, a kind of twisted, pale thornbush that stood out against the grey soil and black trees in a way that unsettled him. There was something else, too, a hint of a kind of howling wind that brushed against Clay¡¯s ethereal senses, always coming from the south.


    It was a short while after the thornbushes began to appear when Clay began sensing another group of Undead chasing them. This group felt different, however. There didn¡¯t seem to be as many of them, but they were hesitating less, as if their lack of numbers didn¡¯t matter.


    When he informed Syr Katherine, she simply nodded. ¡°Lesson four, the closer one gets to the entrance of a Dungeon, the higher the level of monsters you will encounter, just like with a Lair. Anticipate greater resistance as you get closer, especially just in front of the entrance.¡±


    Clay nodded, feeling a bit of foreboding hang in the air afterwards. A few moments later, Syr Katherine once again called for a circle and waited for the Undead to launch their assault.


    The enemy did not disappoint her.


    He watched as the Undead arrived out of the forest, stepping around the thornbushes and trees as they gathered. This time, their weapons and armor were different. Usually, the levies had an eclectic mix of farm tools and improvised weapons, with only rags to serve as protection. Now, they all wielded halberds and wore the same helmet and gambeson combination that the corporals used.


    Clay¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°These aren¡¯t corporals.¡±


    Taylor chuckled behind him. ¡°A good catch, Sir Clay. Likely these are the next rank of monsters.¡±


    A dim realization washed over him as he searched the enemy ranks. ¡°Where are the ones in charge? I don¡¯t see them.¡±


    The others paused, and Clay shook his head as a pack of hounds gathered at the Undead host¡¯s feet. There were a few more than there had been before, and he couldn¡¯t see any of the archers, either. Worse, when he looked back and forth along the road, all he saw was a wave of dark fog that concealed anything inside it. If the riders were there, they were completely invisible.


    Taylor responded a moment later. ¡°Looks like they get a bit more clever about hiding within their ranks. Seems inconvenient.¡±


    Orn shrugged. ¡°As long as they are still corporeal, we should be fine. Just keep steady.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. ¡°Prepare your [Chants]. We need to finish this one quickly and move ahead.¡±


    The adventurers began to mutter to themselves. Clay¡¯s mind was racing. Each time he¡¯d faced a higher-level monster, he¡¯d needed to adapt his tactics. Simply continuing to do the same thing had almost never worked, and even with his companions¡¯ stunning level of power, he didn¡¯t think it would make that much more of a difference here.


    Clearly, the Undead had a weakness before. Killing the leader made their hordes fall to pieces. Now they had covered it by concealing the leaders somehow, which meant they needed to adapt in order to buy themselves time to find the real targets.


    He knew the riders could see through the fog just fine. These creatures most likely could see heat, the same way the corporals and levies could in the Sarlwood, so a little obscuring mist wasn¡¯t going to change anything. The archers weren¡¯t using mist, though. Had they simply stayed back and sent the hounds ahead?


    Then a shadow passed over his head. He looked up, confused.


    High up in the sky, there were half a dozen birds circling them. Buzzards, maybe, looking to scavenge a corpse.


    Except he hadn¡¯t seen a single hint of wildlife in hours. When he narrowed his eyes, staring upwards, the wings seemed thin and skeletal. As if the birds were already dead.


    Realization burst over him, and Clay grimaced. He spoke quietly. ¡°As soon as they charge, we have to move. Don¡¯t stay in one place. Charge them if you have to!¡±


    There was no answer as they continued their [Chants]. Clay crouched down a little lower and began a [Chant] of his own. Instead of the Refrain to call on the Canticle of Ice again, this time he chose the Ballad of Air.


    He¡¯d just about completed it when the Undead moved. The fog rolled forward, and the hounds leaped. A rattling chorus followed them all as the rest of the Undead charged towards the adventurers caught between them.


    Clay reacted instantly. He charged the nearest group of levies, his feet pounding across the lifeless dirt of the road. Out of the corners of his eyes, he was gratified to see Orn and Syr Katherine sprint forward as well, though he couldn¡¯t see what Taylor was doing.


    He crossed the distance between him and the enemy in moments. The hounds reached him first, and his spear lashed out in a quick succession of blows.


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    As the shattered hounds tumbled away, he saw the halberds come down, presenting him with a wall of spearpoints. He swung and hacked at them, but only really managed to keep the levies at bay.


    Behind him, falling from an otherwise clear sky, a rain of bone-white arrows pattered into the dirt of the road, right where he and his companions had been standing. Clay allowed himself a grunt as he realized he¡¯d been right. The archers were using the dead birds as scouts of a sort, and firing from a distance. If they lost those, however¡­


    The Ballad of Air completed, and Clay lashed out with tendrils of wind. He divided them immediately, sending some along the road in both directions, and reaching up with the rest. He saw the fog roll back from the Undead riders as they charged; Clay imagined he could see the shock in their faces as their clouds of concealment were dispelled.


    Then Syr Katherine¡¯s [Chant] completed, and a rain of ice took all four of the ones on the south end of the road. Orn slammed into the other four coming in the opposite direction, his hammer lashing out in quick succession.


    As the riders died, Clay backed up and strained himself, wrapping thin tendrils around each Undead bird. They tumbled from the sky, crashing into the unnatural forest a moment later.


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    With the archers blinded, Clay switched [Chants]. This time he called on the Flame-Tongued Song, hoping he¡¯d be able to complete it before the wall of halberds closed in on him.


    As he backpedaled, lances of ice crashed into the line of levies, disrupting their formation. Orn laughed as a handful of the Undead dropped, and then Clay knocked aside one halberd, slipped past another two, and was inside their formation in heartbeats.


    The smell of the Undead¡ªthe dry, rotten smell of corpse-dust¡ªassaulted his nostrils as he pressed in close. He felt the first flickerings of the paralyzing gaze the corporals had used, but his [Will] was too high for them to overcome as he tore through their ranks. Clay lashed out and struck, stabbing here, smashing with the counterweight there, and always pressing in closer so that their too-long weapons couldn¡¯t stop him.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Wretched Sargent slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Clay grimaced as he confirmed another of his suspicions. The leaders were hiding among their minions now, and the only way to wipe them out would be to kill the whole lot. Unfortunately, the Undead were already giving up on their nice, tidy formation and spreading out so that he couldn¡¯t keep ripping them apart at close range.


    It was too later, though. He¡¯d finally finished the Flame-Tongued Song. Clay opened his mouth and spewed fire across the remaining levies, sweeping the incredible heat across them even as they tried to flee. Corpse soldiers burst into flame, their armor failing to save them as the heat and fire consumed their rotten flesh. Undead monsters fell to the grey soil, their forms burning as they died.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Wretched Sargent slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    The last two of the Undead were staggering away, halberds pointed in his direction. They were still doing so when Orn arrived and smashed the both of them out of existence.


    ¡°Well done, young hero! Shall we go take care of the archers, then? I believe that Syr Katherine and Syr Taylor are already after the ones on their side.¡±


    A glance backwards told him that Orn was right. The levies on the far side of the road were already down, and the riders on the road were nothing more than collapsed bodies. Syr Katherine and Taylor were both gone; he thought he saw a flicker of motion in the trees.


    He nodded, and they both ran into the forest. Orn forged ahead, occasionally smashing aside smaller thornbushes as they went. The pale things crackled and snapped like they were made of glass or some delicate stone, making Clay wince as he thought of accidentally getting snarled in them. Clay tried to put aside those painful thoughts and focused on the [Chant] for the Cycle of Return.


    His senses directed him to a small patch of the paper-grass a short distance from the road. Orn had been about to charge in, when Clay came to a stop. The [Fighter] continued forward a few steps, and then turned, his expression perplexed beneath his helmet visor. ¡°Sir Clay?¡±


    As if they shared the same mind, three archers rose from the grass, arrows already nocked on their bowstrings. Clay saw them start to draw and immediately hurled his spear at the closest one. It took the Undead thing in the chest, knocking it backwards and into the grass.


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    Even as Clay continued the [Chant], he dove to the side. One of the archers tracked him, while the other aimed at Orn. The [Fighter]¡¯s eyes had gone wide as Clay¡¯s spear had gone past him. He started to turn back to face the field, his hammer in his fist.


    The archers loosed. Clay flinched as the arrow came at him, and it rang off the brim of his helmet. He smelled a hint of corpse dust as it ricocheted off into the forest. Then he hit the ground and rolled, already finishing the [Chant] and recalling his spear to him.


    Orn had caught the arrow in the neck. The gorget of his armor deflected it out and away from his throat; he heard the [Fighter] grunt in apparent surprise, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.


    As the archers realized their targets were not hurt, they turned to run. Whistles split the air, and Clay could hear the rattling of the corpse dogs behind them. He came back to his feet, his boots crunching in the grass, and caught his spear out of the air.


    He threw it again and caught a second archer in the back. It flopped over, and Clay ran to finish it. The thing had taken the spearpoint in the shoulder, and was still struggling to rise when he sank his Pell knife into the back of its neck.


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    Then he looked up. The third archer had stopped. An arrow was on its bowstring, and it was already drawing it back to fire. He felt a burst of panic as he recognized its target and knew it would hit him this time.


    Orn¡¯s hammer arrived a half-second later, smashing the Undead aside as if it had been hit by a falling boulder. One moment it was there, the next it was spread across half the clearing.


    Clay stared at where it had been for another moment, and then let out a breath he hadn¡¯t known he was holding. He looked back at Orn, who grinned at him. ¡°Mind your surroundings, young hero! Not one of Syr Katherine¡¯s lessons, I imagine, but a good one nonetheless.¡±


    He nodded easily and then retrieved his spear. The other presences that he had sensed were gone as well, which meant that Syr Katherine and Taylor were probably finished. Clay turned to head back to the road, and quietly hoped that the Undead had no more surprises for them today.


    They hit another ambush from the mid-ranked Undead another distance down the road. The fight went much the same, with the adventurers clearing out the enemy with surprising effectiveness. Clay had recited the Ballad of Air long before they reached the ambush, however, and had used the Refrain to clear out the birds and the fog almost immediately. It allowed Orn to get to work far more quickly and prevented the first rain of arrows.


    Clay had darted in to face the levies again, but by the time Orn appeared, he¡¯d only managed to kill one sergeant. The [Fighter] had cleared the others out, and Clay had turned to see one of the riders rising from the ground. Its mount had collapsed, having taken the brunt of Syr Katherine¡¯s attack.


    Clay had backed away from the carnage of Orn¡¯s attack and taken aim. A moment later, his spear caught the rider in the head, and it fell.


    {Skeletal Scout slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    Katherine and Orn were already gone, sprinting out into the woods in pursuit of the archers. Taylor was still there, deflecting the stabs and strikes of a pair of levies.


    Clay started towards her, but she glanced in his direction and shook her head. One of the Undead stepped forward and swung at her. She caught the polearm with her staff, snapping the head off of it. Then she spun and broke the corpse¡¯s knee, nearly knocking it to the ground.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The other Undead lunged towards her, attempting to skewer her, but the [Artifactor] turned the thrust aside and shoved it back. It attacked again, only to be pushed back a second time. Taylor looked from the still armed Undead to the one that was on the ground behind her.


    Then she shook her head, sighed, and smashed her staff back into the downed Undead¡¯s skull. Both corpses dropped immediately. Taylor spent another moment studying them and then looked up at Clay. ¡°Your pardon, Sir Clay. I was just trying to see if there were any discernable differences between the sergeants and the minions, but¡­¡±


    She shrugged, and Clay nodded. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to tell, either. At least, not this quickly.¡± He felt one of the archers vanish, and turned to look in the direction where it had been. ¡°Should we go after them?¡±


    Taylor shook her head. ¡°Better to rest when we can. I trust that they will be able to finish things. Go collect your spear, and then be ready to advance.¡± The scholar grinned. ¡°I believe we are nearly to the hard part of the mission, after all.¡±


    Her smile forced a shiver through Clay¡¯s spine, but he did as she asked. Another of the archers vanished as he did, followed by another two in quick succession¡ªand he wondered what exactly adventurers like these would consider difficult.


    The forest grew thicker as they forged ahead, and the ethereal wind strengthened. It was howling in his mind as Syr Katherine called for a brief halt. Clay could no longer sense the monsters that had been hunting them, but there was something up ahead¡­


    He shook his head to clear it as Syr Katherine spoke. ¡°Lesson five, Sir Clay. The entrance to a Dungeon is always guarded by the highest-level monsters available. If you would expect them to be near the center of a Lair, expect them here as well.¡± She paused and shook her head. ¡°The entrance of the Dungeon is more like a border, the place between our world and the world of the Dungeon. Your senses may have picked up on it already.¡±


    Clay grimaced. ¡°So that¡¯s what that is? It seems¡­ foul.¡±


    ¡°It is only going to get worse.¡± Syr Katherine shook her head. ¡°Despite the increase in difficulty, we will still attempt to conserve our abilities. Do not utilize anything that you cannot replace later on, and once we have destroyed the monsters between us and the entrance, we will immediately enter the Dungeon. Staying outside will only attract more¡­ attention than we need.¡±


    They all nodded, and Syr Katherine smiled. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s begin.¡±


    A few minutes later, with the unreal wind whispering constantly in his mind, Clay approached the entrance to the Dungeon with the others.


    The Undead were waiting for them.


    Clay couldn¡¯t see any of them, but his senses were clamoring for attention as he examined the unbroken wall of fog that lay across the forest and the road between him and the source of the wind. Above the fog, there were about two dozen birds slowly circling. He didn¡¯t know how many archers that meant were inside the wall, but he knew it was more than he¡¯d like. The fog wasn¡¯t a normal color either. It looked almost green or yellow as it swirled around its hosts, and he doubted that meant anything good either.


    As they stood before that wall of fog, Taylor coughed into her hand. ¡°The mist looks poisonous, does it not?¡±


    Orn grinned at her. ¡°Afraid of a little toxic air, Master Taylor?¡±


    She sniffed and turned away. ¡°Of course not, though I am concerned about those of us with more delicate constitutions.¡±


    Syr Katherine raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°I believe I will be fine, Syr Taylor.¡± She looked at Clay. ¡°Sir Clay?¡±


    He looked back at the cloud. The obvious response would be to use Ballad of Air to push back the mist and then let the others attack. It would leave him without as much to defend himself, but at the very least, it would allow them to break through the enemy that much faster.


    Then he paused. The last time they had faced the enemy, the monsters had come up with a way to defend themselves. Was there any guarantee that they hadn¡¯t done the same kind of thing now?


    When Clay finally answered, he spoke cautiously. ¡°Is there any way we can force them to come out towards us? I feel like if we rush in there, they¡¯ll be ready for us.¡±


    Syr Katherine tilted her head slightly. ¡°We cannot afford to delay much, Sir Clay. We¡¯ll just have to risk it.¡±


    He nodded and tried to swallow a growing feeling of dread. They¡¯d just have to make the most of it.


    ¡°If it helps, young hero, I volunteer to cast the Ballad.¡± Orn smiled. ¡°That should free the rest of you up to do what needs to be done.¡±


    Clay nodded in agreement and made a decision. He was tired of running in without any idea of what they were facing. As the others made the preparations for the charge, he started to whisper the words for the Orison of Soul. Maybe when the mist rolled back, he¡¯d be able to catch sight of the enemy after all.


    Moments later, as the Ballad swept out and drove the clouds of poison back, Clay rushed forward with the others. Syr Katherine was already saying the words for the Canticle of Ice, while Taylor was using whatever strange earth-based [Chant] she had been using.


    Clay, on the other hand, was using the Refrain to cast the Orison. He¡¯d rob himself of an immediate strike, but at least he¡¯d have the chance to spot any weaknesses in their foe.


    As they approached, the wind drove the fog back. Arrows shot out of the mist, but Orn managed to nudge them off course easily enough. He saw one arrow bounce off of Orn¡¯s plate, and another nearly strike Syr Katherine, but by and large they weathered the first contact with the hidden Undead.


    Packs of corpse dogs suddenly shot out of the mist, howling and snapping as they charged. Clay and Orn stepped forward to meet them, smashing and crushing them as they came. He heard screeching in the sky as the circling corpse birds dove towards them, only to be met by Syr Katherine¡¯s ice; impaled Undead avians rained from the sky and crashed into the barren soil.


    Behind the dogs, more figures stepped forward out of the mist. Clay felt his breath catch as he caught sight of their thicker armor and visored helmets. Each one carried a halberd, except for a single member of each group that carried a massive axe and shield. The bigger one stood nearly a head taller than the others, and Clay immediately targeted it with the Orison.


    [Wretched Marshal]


    [Rank: 8, Type: Undead, Status: Vassal of The Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 23]


    [Instincts: Reviver, Terrifier, Master, Possessor]


    Something told him that whatever Possessor meant, he was not going to enjoy finding out. When the thing¡¯s gaze swept across him, he felt his heart seize for a moment. Its fearful gaze was obviously much, much stronger than the lower ranked versions he¡¯d already fought.


    Clay gritted his teeth and charged forwards, willing himself to reach the foe. They made a small spear wall, obviously hoping to catch him as he ran. Another group moved to flank him and Orn, only to have the ground tremble beneath them. He heard Taylor¡¯s birdlike laugh echo through the air as the dirt suddenly rose up and swallowed one of the groups, grinding the Undead to dust.


    He was reciting the Refrain as he ran, fully aware that the rest of the Undead weren¡¯t going to allow him to attack without any interference. Sure enough, more arrows sprouted from within the fog, though Orn¡¯s wind still sent them spinning away from him.


    When he reached the formation of levies, Clay jerked to a stop and hurled his spear as hard as he could. The marshal ducked down behind its shield, but he hadn¡¯t been aiming for it. Instead, the spear took one of the levies square in the chest. It punched through the armor and toppled it over backwards. Its halberd tangled with the others that had been standing shoulder to shoulder with it, opening a brief hole in their formation.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Even as the levy fell, the marshal¡¯s eyes glowed. Clay didn¡¯t focus on it, and forced himself to duck past the lethal axe heads and spearpoints of the halberds, drawing his Pell knife as he closed the distance. One of the levies reached for him, and he grabbed it by the wrist and yanked. His knife took it in the throat a moment later.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    As the second one fell, the first was already standing back up. Clay ducked a swipe from a third and stabbed it in the face. He grabbed the spear haft with his other hand and shoved the still-impaled levy back into its master. As it rebounded off the marshal¡¯s shield, Clay reached past its clutching fingers and buried the Pell knife in its half-rotten neck.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    They were already standing back up, and the final levy was backing away to gain space, but Clay had an opening to strike at the marshal itself now. He threw his knife, and it ducked back behind its shield, protecting its face.


    For that moment, it couldn¡¯t see what he was doing. Clay grinned.


    He ducked right, knocking the levy¡¯s halberd away, and then pivoted. The weighted end of his spear swept in low, smashing into the marshal¡¯s armored shin with a resounding crack. Impact alone caved in the marshal¡¯s armor, and its leg went out from underneath it.


    As it went down on one knee, Clay stepped in close and choked up on his spear. Its shield came down, and Clay slipped the point of his spear past it. A single brutal thrust caught the marshal between the bottom of its helmet and the top of its chestplate, crunching its way through the bone and rotted sinew beneath. Clay wrenched the spear back and forth for good measure. There was no way the thing could survive the hit.


    The marshal went limp and began decaying to dust. Clay jerked his spear free¡ªand twitched in surprise as a crackle of power snapped from the decaying marshal to the last standing levy. It shivered as the bolt of magic took it in the chest.


    Then it began to grow taller. The halberd in its hands shrank, and a shield formed out of its off-hand. Clay looked from it to the ones still rising from the ground. He snarled and swung a blow that knocked those three levies back down and then stepped forward to strike out at the newly forming marshal in front of him.


    It blocked his first thrust with a jerk of the shield, and before Clay could strike a second time, he heard a rumble of hooves behind him. A quick glance behind him told him that figures were emerging from the mist, trailing poisonous fog behind it.


    He finished the Refrain and caught one of them as they charged straight towards him. Both it and its mount were heavily armored; the helmet glowed with the light of its eyes, and it carried a lance far longer than the other riders he¡¯d encountered so far. The Orison didn¡¯t carry much more encouraging news, either.


    [Skeletal Lancer]


    [Rank: 8, Type: Undead, Status: Vassal of The Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 17]


    [Instincts: Reviver, Unmoored, Concealer, Poisoner]


    Instead of staying near the reborn marshal and its levies, Clay ran towards the oncoming lancer. He heard the levies charging in his wake, obviously hoping to trap him between threats. The lancer lowered its lance, aiming straight for his head.


    In that moment, Clay abandoned the Orison and spoke a new [Chant]. The Pursuing Leap seemed like an odd choice, but he¡¯d seen the glimmer of his knife in the dirt nearby, and he needed to change the tide of battle quickly.


    He just barely managed to finish the [Chant] before the distance closed. It yanked him sharply to the side, faster than the lancer could react. It tried to pivot, but Clay let go of the [Chant] almost immediately, letting him pass by the lethal point of the lance. Then he swung his spear as hard as he could in a flat arc meant to catch the mount¡¯s legs.


    There was a sound like shattering branches, and the Undead horse abruptly pitched forward. The lancer on its back was hurtled into the air, flying like a boulder into the ranks of the levies. It tumbled through their ranks in a tangle of snapping bones and tearing fabric, with its lance jerking away from its fingers.


    Clay pivoted hard, heading straight for the piled Undead. He could see the marshal barging forward to support its fallen comrades, but Clay didn¡¯t give them the time to recover. The lancer was still regaining its feet, mist hissing from the rents in its armor, when Clay struck it from behind. His spear slammed it back into the dirt, and Clay delivered another two quick blows before he jumped back.


    {Skeletal Lancer slain! Soul increases by 80}


    {Weary Mount slain!}


    The marshal was there moments later, with a pack of snarling hounds at his sides. Clay smashed the dogs to pieces and then ducked a vicious slash from the marshal. He smashed it in the side with the weighted end of his spear, sending it staggering across its own fallen levies. While it was still struggling to balance, Clay slashed it across the forearm, knocking its axe away. Then he jumped and brought the spearpoint down on its head, punching through the visor.


    Once again, the marshal went limp and crumpled. As it started to turn to dust, Clay snarled and launched himself at the fallen levies around it. As the magic leapt from one levy to the next, he stabbed and thrust into them, killing them each in turn as the marshal sought to take their bodies for itself.


    When he had raised the spear over the last one, however, a plummeting hawk struck him in the face. Clay shouted and swept it away from him as it tried to claw at his eyes. He got enough distance to smash it aside with his spear haft, sending it spiraling away from him.


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    Clay backed away as a second bird dove in at him. He batted it aside and then saw the hounds rising again. Beyond them was the marshal, fully formed and rising from the dust of its fallen brethren. Past that, Clay could see Orn tearing his way through another horde of levies, smashing them to pieces. There was a dead pair of lancers partway to where Syr Katherine and Taylor were standing, riddled with spears of ice; a third one was attempting to strike at the [Calculator] now, while Taylor prepared another [Chant].


    It suddenly occurred to him that with the lancers down, Orn might not see the reason to continue the Ballad. At exactly the same moment, he realized that the only wind he heard now was howling in his ethereal senses.


    Clay dove to the side, already starting the Orison. Arrows shot through the space where he¡¯d been standing; the marshal had to pause and lift its shield to prevent itself from being struck. Clay glanced back in the other direction and saw the poisonous mist beginning to fade, no longer being fed by the lancers that had given it off.


    In the middle of that fading mist stood four figures. Even as the air cleared, they remained indistinct, as if they were slightly out of focus. He saw them lift their bows again, and once again tried to dodge. Bone-white arrows filled the air, spraying in all directions as the archers tried to pick off the heroes attacking them.


    Clay was hit at least twice this time. One arrow shattered itself on his armor, striking a plate right over his heart. The other caught in the fabric near his throat, punching through the thick linen like a needle through cloth. He felt cold seeping from where the shaft touched his skin through the shirt.


    He grunted and then spun as another hound launched itself at his back. Clay smashed it aside and impaled a second one as it jumped at him. As the hounds fell, he could already see the life start to return to their twitching bones.


    Then the marshal was there, slashing away at him with its axe. Clay backed up, dodging and twisting to avoid the cuts. He glanced away as the Orison finally finished catching sight of one of the archers.


    [Condemned Marksman]


    [Rank: 8, Type: Undead, Status: Vassal of The Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 21]


    [Instincts: Linked Unlife, Archer, Master, Vanisher]


    It explained the blur to their forms, at least. They didn¡¯t seem to be able to disappear completely, to his relief, though it seemed like they were hard to keep track of.


    The marshal stepped forward again, slashing at him. Clay countered with a thrust, and the Undead blocked with its shield. He caught sight of the dogs rising again, together with the birds he¡¯d killed, and grimaced.


    His knife was still glittering in the dirt. Clay narrowed his eyes¡­ and then smiled.


    He began the Cycle of Return, the common [Chant] taking form in a blur of speed. Arrows whistled behind him, and Clay jerked to the side to avoid most of them; another arrow glanced off a plate on the back of his shoulder, but at least it didn¡¯t penetrate. The marshal continued to wade in, its eyes alight with malice. Fear tried to clutch at Clay¡¯s heart, but he shoved it aside and focused.


    When the marshal tried to use its shield as a battering ram, Clay slammed the butt of his spear into the surface of the shield. He rode the impact and launched himself up and to the side, dodging another flurry of arrows that kept the marshal¡¯s head down. At the same time, his [Chant] finished, and he pulled his knife towards him.


    The broad, heavy blade of the Pell knife slammed straight into the marshal¡¯s back. It staggered forward as the knife burrowed its way into the thing, carving its way through armor, decayed muscle, and crumbling bone. As Clay landed, he pivoted and hurled his spear. It shot through the air towards one of the archers, catching it as it had glanced down to pull an arrow from its quiver.


    Clay saw the point of it slam home, right between the glowing pits that marked its eyes. The archer¡¯s head snapped back, presenting the haft of the spear to the sky like some bare banner pole. Then it crumpled to the ground, the bow falling from its once-again lifeless hands.


    {Condemned Marksman slain! Soul increases by 80}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    Half the remaining dogs and birds collapsed into piles of nothing. Those that remained snarled and started for them. The marshal, however, only took one more staggering step before the point of Clay¡¯s knife punctured the front of its breastplate.


    Then it fell to its knees, the light fading from its eyes. Its flesh turned to dust and ran out from every gap in its armor.


    {Wretched Marshal slain! Soul increases by 80}


    Clay let the [Chant] lapse and turned to where his spear was fixed in the fallen archer¡¯s skull. He started the Refrain, only to realize, belatedly, that the remaining three archers had turned their attention to him. Their forms became nearly impossible to see, blurring in and out of his vision as they began to draw back their next shots. He tensed, hoping to be ready to jump away before they managed it.


    Then Orn was there, smashing one of them to pieces with a swing of his hammer. The other two jerked in surprise, bringing their attention back to the Armsman, only for the ground beneath their feet to open up and swallow them whole. Both of them vanished into the grinding depths created by Taylor¡¯s [Chant], and their remaining minions fell to pieces a heartbeat later.


    Clay completed the [Chant] and called his spear to him, but when he turned around, the last of the Undead had been destroyed already. Taylor and Syr Katherine were walking down the road towards him and Orn, the last of the lancers already crumpled in their wake. He looked around, seeing the final traces of the poisonous fog beginning to dissipate, and heaved a sigh of relief.


    Then he looked past the spot where the Undead had been waiting.


    There, in the middle of the road, was an archway. It seemed like a normal arch made of stone, but the world around it seemed to shimmer and twist. The air writhed in time to the howl of the wind in his ethereal senses, and when he blinked, Clay felt the horrifying conviction that the arch was somehow closer than it had been before.


    Within the archway was a hallway made of stone. There was no sun that he could see, just darkness and a corridor that whispered doom. He shivered and nearly took a step back.


    Then Syr Katherine stepped up beside him. She plucked the arrow from his armor and snapped it casually. ¡°You will want to retrieve your knife, Sir Clay.¡± Her gaze turned to the archway, and she paused. ¡°You will need it. Soon.¡±


    ¡°Lesson six.¡± Syr Katherine was studying Clay with a sharp-eyed gaze, apparently looking for signs of weakness. ¡°Every Dungeon contains a Curse, one far more powerful than any Lair. It does not just bring monsters into the world. It twists the world to allow the invasion of an outside realm, an infringement on our reality¡ªand when we invade it in response, it inflicts a Malus on us.¡±


    The others were all studying the archway, and for the first time, Clay could see hesitation and reluctance on their faces. Orn looked like he was trying to distract himself, while Taylor stared at the gateway as if it had disappointed her somehow.


    Clay looked back at Syr Katherine. ¡°What does a Malus do?¡±


    Syr Katherine grimaced. ¡°It¡­ varies by the Dungeon. The only thing that is consistent is that a Malus is a severe disadvantage to adventurers inside a Dungeon, it increases the longer an adventurer remains inside the Dungeon, and it persists for a time when we leave it. Our assault today will likely only last a handful of hours, but we will need to take an entire day to recover from it, at the very least.¡±


    It sounded like an incredibly unpleasant experience, even if he was ignoring the howl coming from the arch. Clay nodded slowly. ¡°What are we going to do while we are in there?¡±


    For a moment, Syr Katherine continued to study him. Then she gave him a small smile. ¡°Our goal is to reduce the strength of the Dungeon. We can do so by either attempting to assault the Curse itself, or by destroying the Guardians that it uses to produce monsters. We¡¯ll be doing the latter rather than the former.¡±


    Clay frowned. ¡°Why?¡±


    Taylor gave a bark of laughter and shook her head. ¡°Because this Dungeon is an extremely well-developed place, unfortunately, and we lack the power to even get close to the Curse at its heart. If we tried, I¡¯m sure the people in Pellsglade would write a lot of very sad songs about us when we failed to come back.¡±


    Orn sighed. ¡°Taylor, don¡¯t chide the young hero. He didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Well, he should.¡± The [Artifactor] sighed. ¡°We¡¯re doing the bare minimum, Sir Clay, because anything else will likely get us killed. We¡¯ll be looking for Guardians inside the Dungeon and killing as many as possible.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. ¡°Each Guardian we kill will take the Dungeon time to regenerate. Perhaps as much as a year for each of them.¡±


    ¡°So fewer Guardians means fewer monsters.¡± Clay looked back at the arch. ¡°How many will we kill?¡±


    ¡°The more the merrier, young hero.¡± Orn grinned, though some of his humor seemed to have drained away.


    Taylor nodded, though she remained silent. Syr Katherine waited for a moment, as if seeing if the others had anything else to offer. When no one else spoke, she nodded. ¡°Then let¡¯s move forward. Our mission is here.¡±


    She stepped forward, and the others hefted their weapons and followed. The Dungeon was waiting.

 B3Ch5: The Dungeon

    The moment Clay stepped through the archway, he knew something was wrong.


    It was like he¡¯d forced himself into a pool of oily filth. Each breath seemed to be clouded with the stench of death. Grey dust floated into the air with every step along the darkened floor, and the howling wind in his mind increased to a continual dull roar against his ethereal senses. Worse, it was as if something had struck out at his Soul directly. He stumbled, and he was not alone; the adventurers seemed just as uncomfortable.


    A heartbeat later, his [Gift] explained exactly what had happened.


    {Malus received from the Curse of the Legion of the Unliving! All Stats decreased by 2 for 24 hours.}


    His eyes widened in shock. Syr Katherine had warned him, but to lose that much of his strength in a single instant¡­


    Before he could say anything, Syr Katherine shook her head. ¡°A [Stat] penalty. Unfortunate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say.¡± Orn shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve lost access to most of my [Chants]. My time here might be limited.¡±


    Taylor snorted. ¡°You¡¯re not alone, [Fighter]. Another hour or two and I¡¯ll be slower and weaker than a [Farmer]. Syr Katherine?¡±


    ¡°We continue.¡± Syr Katherine shook her head. The fingers on her right were clenched around her sword; her left hand was opening and closing, as if trying to grow used to their lessened strength. ¡°Stay alert. The Dungeon will know we are here.¡±


    The others nodded, and Syr Katherine once again took the lead. Clay followed in their wake, his footsteps still stirring the dust below his feet. Somehow, it had all gotten so much worse.


    It didn¡¯t take long for Clay to decide that he hated being in this new world.


    They had lit torches to illuminate the corridor they started in, but they had left the darkness behind soon enough. The hallway had led them to a door, and when they had opened it, they found themselves in a gigantic field enclosed by stone walls. It looked like a massive courtyard or a prison of some kind, with distant figures patrolling along the walls.


    The field was not empty. Instead, with the exception of a handful of grey stone pathways, just about every inch was dominated by a crop of red, waving grain. It was unlike any plant Clay had ever seen. At first glance, the stuff resembled wheat, but looking closer revealed it had some kind of pulsing vine that wrapped around the stalk of the plant and up to the fruit at the top. A smell like rust and copper wafted from the grain at the top of each stalk; the stench covered the whole field like a haze.


    There were skeletal workers walking along the rows of plants, carrying sacks full of white dust that they spread among the roots of the plants. Chains clinked softly on their wrists and ankles as they moved. They seemed utterly unconscious of the adventurers, not even glancing in their direction as they trudged between the rows.


    Clay watched the nearest of them as it passed by, his spear clenched in his hands. The others seemed much less worried, though they did stay quiet and still while it passed. He opened his mouth to ask a question, and Taylor raised a finger to her lips. Only when the thing had vanished into the crops did she finally speak.


    ¡°Many Dungeons have creatures that aren¡¯t hostile. They don¡¯t give any Soul for being destroyed, and interfering with them might alert the other forces of the Dungeon to the fact that we are here.¡±


    He nodded slowly. Then he started to recite the Orison, hoping to confirm what she had said. It completed a moment later, when another of the skeletons meandered by.


    [Chained Serf]


    [Rank: 0, Type: Undead, Status: Denizen of The Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 0]


    [Instincts: Sower]


    Clay grimaced. Taylor had been right; a rank zero monster wouldn¡¯t give him anything for killing it. It still felt wrong to just let the creatures wander by, tending their repulsive crops.


    He glanced up into the sky of this strange place and felt a shiver of terror work its way through him. There was a sun there, but it was unlike anything Clay had ever seen. The orb was pure blackness, surrounded by a fragile, shimmering halo of white light that hurt to look at. It stained the rest of the sky a pale orange, and there weren¡¯t any signs of clouds to be seen.


    Syr Katherine motioned for them to move forward, and Clay stalked forward along one of the stone paths, following in her footsteps. He could see some of the serfs making their dull way through the crops, but none of them seemed to notice the passage of the heroes in their midst.


    They reached a doorway in the far wall, and Syr Katherine opened it to reveal another grim corridor. She motioned them through and closed the door behind them. Once again, they made their way through the dark until they reached a new doorway.


    This time, it opened to reveal some sort of storeroom. It was piled high with crates and weapons; the scent of the red harvest was thick in the air. They walked through the room, searching for any sign of threat, and then found a new corridor waiting for them.


    As they stalked down each hallway, Clay felt the wind howling worse and worse in his mind. It made it hard to sense anything else; even the chained serfs they sometimes encountered seemed invisible to his ethereal warnings. They found another field of red, followed by a room filled with neglected, rusted smithing tools. All of them seemed to be empty, except for the terrible light filtering through the windows from the glowering sky.


    Clay was starting to wonder if they would ever find anything when they reached the next room.


    The room was an intersection of hallways, stretching in five different directions. At the center of them, there was an Undead, and Clay could tell at a glance that it was no serf.


    It wore a suit of armor that covered it completely and stood about as tall as Orn. The Undead was armed with a giant sword in one hand and an equally large shield in the other. Clay could see dark mist rising from the joints of its armor as it moved, and a bolt of fear swept through him as it turned to face the group of adventurers.


    Orn stepped forward, his war hammer clenched in his fist. ¡°I¡¯ll take this one. It seems more my style.¡±


    Syr Katherine frowned at him. ¡°We should strike it together. There¡¯s no point¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve had a serious fight, Syr Katherine.¡± Orn¡¯s voice grew deeper. ¡°The rest of you can continue forward, if you must, but I will take this creature and destroy it.¡±


    She hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. ¡°So be it. We will only step in if you are put at a disadvantage.¡±


    Orn nodded, and then he stepped forward. The hammer swung easily in his grip as he approached the enemy.


    Clay was whispering the Refrain to himself, hoping to get a glimpse of it before Orn destroyed it. After all, there was a chance they would run into more of these things.


    When the [Chant] activated, moments later, Clay felt his eyes widen.


    [Death Knight]


    [Rank: 15, Type: Undead, Status: Noble of the Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 15]


    [Instincts: Armor, Resistant, Drainer, Deathmark, Corruptor, Challenger]


    It was the strongest monster he had ever seen, and the list of its traits made him wonder if Orn had bitten off more than the Armsman could chew.


    Then Orn stepped forward and swung his hammer, harder and faster than Clay had ever seen him move.


    The knight brought its shield up, and the impact rang off the stone of the hallways, echoing along the corridors. To Clay¡¯s surprise, the knight actually slid backwards a short distance. He thought he could detect a hint of shock in its posture as it regained its footing.


    It roared, the heat of its rage even whispering along Clay¡¯s ethereal senses. A heartbeat later, it lunged at Orn, the gigantic sword flashing out. Orn swatted the blade aside with his replacement hand; the runes of the false gauntlet shone and sparked. Then he punched the knight in the face, knocking it backwards before he struck at its shield a second time.


    This time, the knight slammed back into a nearby wall. The stone cracked a little with the impact, and the knight shook itself as it stepped away from the spot. It roared again and then charged, its shield held like a battering ram.


    The [Fighter] watched it come. Then he took his hammer in both hands and raised it over his head.


    Orn¡¯s hammer fell like a star from heaven. It smashed into the knight¡¯s shield and sent the Undead reeling backwards. The shield itself was bent and half-ruined; Clay thought he could see the arm that had carried it bent in a sickening direction.


    Yet the knight was not done. Its gaze snapped back to Orn, and it hissed in hatred. Wisps of dark smoke began to stream into its mouth, under the visor. Clay¡¯s eyes widened as he realized it was coming from Orn. A moment later, the metal of the knight¡¯s arm began to straighten and repair itself; its shield also started to untwist itself.


    The Armsman shook his head. He looked from the smoke to the knight and grunted. Clay heard the knight give off a dry laugh, the sound filled with malice and contempt.


    Orn stepped forward, and the knight moved to circle him. It was still drawing something from the [Fighter], and it seemed content to keep the distance while it did. When Orn moved to close the gap, it slashed and stabbed at him, obviously hoping to draw things out. Clay started to move forward, to strike at the knight¡¯s back, but Taylor turned and raised an eyebrow at him.


    While he paused, Orn finally made a move. The [Fighter] launched himself across the stone floor and swung his hammer in a flat arc. In response, the knight started to guard itself with a shield again, obviously confident that it could stop the man¡¯s attack.


    Metal rang on metal again, and the knight staggered backwards. Before it could set itself again, Orn followed after it, striking in the opposite direction. His hammer moved like a rotating weight, smashing from the left and then the right, then the left again. Blow after blow struck the knight, driving it backwards.


    It tried to guard itself until the shield was battered into uselessness. When it struck back, Orn smashed the sword from its hand. Then the blows started to get through, smashing into the knight¡¯s shoulder, hip, ribs¡­


    Blow after blow came crushing down, until the knight fell to its knees. It was still draining something from Orn, still trying to repair itself. Yet it had run out of time. Orn raised his hammer in both hands again, his grip tightening on the haft.


    Then he brought it down. The knight¡¯s helmet shattered like an egg under a stone. What was left of the knight¡¯s battered form slumped backwards and crumbled.


    Orn looked back with a smile. There was sweat sliding down his face, and he was breathing hard, but his features were still lit by an expression of triumph. ¡°There, now. I did not take so long, did I?¡±


    Syr Katherine sighed. ¡°Well done, Sir Orn.¡± She walked into the intersection and examined the branching corridors. ¡°This way. We still have to find the Guardians.¡±


    Clay followed them as they left, but he couldn¡¯t help but glance at the decaying knight as they passed it. How long would it be before he was going to be able to deal with something like that?


    They wandered through three more corridors and two more rooms before they found the next challenge.


    It was waiting for them in a small tower. A series of statues had been carved into the walls, showing various skeletons in the middle of lifting their arms. Without faces, Clay couldn¡¯t tell if they were meant to be praising something, screaming in horror, or begging, but they left him unsettled.


    The figure that stood between all of them wasn¡¯t any better. It was unnervingly slender and shrouded by a thin, tattered robe. Even though it was at least a head taller than Orn, it couldn¡¯t have weighed more than Syr Katherine, even if it still had all its flesh. A staff of carved bone was clutched in its hands, and a dark mask sat over its face.


    Part of him wanted to retreat rather than face the thing, but Taylor stepped forward with a much put-upon sigh. ¡°I suppose I shall have to demonstrate my talents now as well. I wouldn¡¯t have our newest peer thinking that the work of an adventurer is all brawn and no thought.¡±


    Orn snorted, but he still moved aside to let Taylor pass. Syr Katherine¡¯s expression was pinched with irritation, but she simply folded her arms as the [Artifactor] strode forward to confront the thing.


    A moment whispering the Refrain gave Clay his own perspective on what the scholar was about to face.


    [Corrupted Priest]


    [Rank: 15, Type: Undead, Status: Noble of the Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 12]


    [Instincts: Summoner, Sidereal, Terror, Wraith, Sorcerer, Unmoored]


    Taylor approached with a casual air, though Clay thought he could detect hints of magic crawling up along her clothing and staff. She looked up at the looming creature, her expression unworried. ¡°Sir Clay, remember to take into account that some beings are beyond simple weaponry.¡±


    As she spoke, the Undead priest lashed out at her. Its bone white staff struck at Taylor¡¯s head, but the [Artifactor] had already moved in response. Her own staff met the priest¡¯s, and there was a flash of green light. Taylor grimaced and shook her head as it struck out again, blocking it with another swing of her own. The priest reared back and delivered a brutal overhand strike, but Taylor caught it on the middle of her own staff, stopping it cold.


    The priest hissed something in a language that made Clay blink and shiver. A quartet of glowing skulls, bone wreathed in green fire, took shape over the priest¡¯s shoulders. Taylor looked up at them, her eyebrows quirking upward in surprise.


    Then the skulls darted forward, slamming into Taylor and exploding. Green fire washed across the stone floor, and Clay had to step back as it nearly reached his own feet. Orn stirred slightly, and then subsided as the fire began to fade.


    In the center of the burning blaze, utterly unharmed, Taylor was still looking up at the priest. Her skin had turned grey, as if it were made of iron, and it didn¡¯t seem to have a single mark on it. ¡°A [Sigil] can often be used for defense, you know. It can be handy when an enemy relies on magic to do its work.¡±


    Taylor moved, stepping to the side and letting the priest¡¯s staff slide away from her. The priest backpedaled, gliding away from her across the floor, and the [Artifactor] sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed that, creature. Hovering above the floor is a neat trick, but it won¡¯t save you.¡±


    The priest hissed again, and a whirling wheel of light coalesced above its head. It hurt to look at, like the Dungeon¡¯s terrible sun, but Taylor ignored it. She stepped forward and swung her staff at the thing¡¯s midsection. This time, it was the priest who blocked, and the chamber lit with green light once again.


    A gesture sent the whirling light at Taylor¡¯s head, but the [Artifactor] stepped back and caught it on the end of her staff. She whirled it around and sent it back at the robed figure, accompanied by a derisive snort. The priest shrieked in rage as its own magic struck it, burning away at the fabric that was draped over its frame. Another gesture banished the light and left the creature surrounded by smoke and ash.


    It shook itself, obviously regathering its strength, but before it could do anything else, Taylor darted in close. A swing of the staff smashed one of its legs. The priest thrust its own staff back at her, and Taylor simply grabbed it with one hand. She ignored the fire that lashed at her from the pale weapon while she brought back her own staff and brought it down on the thing¡¯s arm with a crack of shattered bone.


    The priest shrieked a second time and lost its grip on the staff. Taylor tossed it aside and smashed the creature another handful of times. Each time, there was a snap of shattered bone, and the priest withdrew a little more.


    Then, as Taylor drew back for a final strike at its head, the priest looked up¡ªand vanished.


    The [Artifactor] paused. ¡°Troublesome.¡± She sighed again, and her voice took on a familiar, lecturing tone. ¡°At times, a creature of this level can manipulate both time and space. They often use such tricks in desperation, for they carry some risks. For example¡­¡±


    Taylor spun, her staff suddenly wreathed in crystal. She stabbed it down and into the space over the staff, just as the priest reappeared. It paused, impaled by Taylor¡¯s own staff, and turned slowly to look up at the [Artifactor], who smiled. ¡°If you know where they are going, you can turn the tables on them easily. Like so.¡±


    She twisted her hands on the staff, and it blazed with sudden violent light. When it faded, the priest had collapsed in a pile of ash that swiftly melted away into the floor. Taylor watched it a few more moments and then huffed. ¡°Well then. Shall we continue?¡±


    Their journey continued down the next hallway and into an open field. This courtyard, unlike the others, appeared to have been left fallow. The tilled grey earth was left barren, and no serfs were tending to the red plants here. Syr Katherine paused at the doorway for a moment, and then motioned for them to head towards another door on the left side of the courtyard. Orn had once again taken point, striding along with a smile still on his face.


    The smile vanished when Syr Katherine abruptly spoke in a low, firm voice. ¡°Stop. Do not move.¡±


    Everyone froze in place. The absolute conviction of her order was unmistakable. She continued in a low voice. ¡°Sir Orn, there¡¯s a trap beneath your right foot. It may trigger if you move.¡±


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    The Armsman grunted in response. Clay heard Master Taylor sigh behind him. ¡°Are the rest of us caught as well, Syr Katherine?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe so, but there are more traps. It will be best if you stay still.¡± Syr Katherine¡¯s voice was cold, and when Clay glanced at her, she was looking around the courtyard, her eyes narrow. ¡°The traps are arranged to inhibit movement. The pattern is clear after a moment, but there are some that appear to have no real trigger. It suggests that the trapper is nearby¡­¡±


    Her gaze paused on a spot on the battlement of the wall in front of them. ¡°There. Wait here one moment. I will not be long.¡±


    She burst into a run, dodging back and forth around invisible obstacles. Clay turned to look in the same direction that she had been looking, searching for any sign of a threat. Had the [Calculator] been affected by a spell somehow? Perhaps it had been her that had stepped in¡ª


    There was a flash, followed quickly by the crack of something splitting the air at high speed. Syr Katherine moved with incredible agility, dodging to the side, and something slammed into the grey dirt where she had been standing. A figure stood up from where it had been crouched on the wall, a ripple of magic falling away from it as it worked the catch on a strange kind of crossbow held in its arms.


    Clay recited the Refrain as Syr Katherine closed in on it, watching as it prepared for the next shot.


    [Putrid Saboteur]


    [Rank: 15, Type: Undead, Status: Noble of the Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 8]


    [Instincts: Trapper, Gunner, Invisible, Marksman, Evader, Self-Destruct]


    It drew the crossbow to its shoulder again, and a second flash made Clay jerk. He couldn¡¯t even see the shape of the projectile as it sped towards Syr Katherine, but the [Calculator] dodged it with apparent ease. She weaved closer to the wall, still running hard as the saboteur dropped its crossbow and drew out two smaller versions.


    His heart leapt into his throat as the [Calculator] abruptly leapt into the air. Syr Katherine jumped higher than he¡¯d ever seen, easily clearing the wall and coming down towards the Undead. In response, the saboteur raised its weapons and fired. He saw a pair of flashes that gave off the same sharp cracks.


    Syr Katherine responded immediately, gesturing in front of her as she fell. A rippling shield of air formed in front of her, just in time to divert the speeding projectiles. She landed on the wall unharmed and continued her wild charge, her sword already in her hand.


    The saboteur took another two steps back and then made a curious gesture with one hand. Explosions suddenly rocked the wall as it apparently detonated some magical trap; Clay took an involuntary step forward as angry, red fire raged along the battlement.


    As if satisfied with its work, the saboteur turned back to the courtyard. It bent to pick up its larger weapon; Clay realized that it meant to attack them from the wall, or force them to step into its traps. Either way, it seemed supremely confident in its victory.


    It might still have thought itself the victor when Syr Katherine descended on it from above, having jumped over the blasts. She landed, rolled, and crossed the remaining distance in a single, lightning-fast motion. Her blade flashed as she swung it, and the edge sang with the speed of her strike.


    Impossibly, the saboteur still dodged it. The Undead leapt backwards, and the sword¡¯s edge only caught the front of its light armor. Fabric and metal plates were torn away, but the creature still hissed in rage at her.


    At least, it did until Syr Katherine leveled a hand at it and unleashed her magic. A sudden lance of ice erupted from her palm, and Clay grinned to see her using the [Charm] on somebody else for once. The saboteur practically bent itself in half evading the spell, leaning so far backwards that Clay could have sworn he heard the spine snap.


    It didn¡¯t help the creature evade her next strike, a low cut that caught it in the leg. As the Undead staggered, still reaching for its weapons, Katherine stepped closer in again, and grabbed the monster by the front of its torn armor. There was another flash of magic, and the creature froze in place, now covered in frost.


    Syr Katherine shoved it aside, as if she was throwing away a piece of trash. The saboteur toppled from the wall. It shattered when it landed, breaking into a dozen smaller pieces. Then those pieces exploded, shattering what was left still further and scattering sharpened fragments across the nearby area.


    Clay watched in appreciation as she let herself down from the wall, moving a lot more slowly this time. She waved to them when her feet were back on the grey dirt. ¡°The traps have dissipated. You are safe to move.¡±


    Orn and Taylor looked at each other, and then at Clay. He shrugged, and they started towards the door again. Clay didn¡¯t know if they were going to face something more difficult than that on this journey, but at the very least, Syr Katherine seemed capable of handling the situation. Her expression was still impatient and strained as they joined her, however, and there was no mistaking the urgency in her voice as she spoke.


    ¡°We must hurry. We can¡¯t have much more time before¡ª¡±


    The [Gift] shuddered within him as a brutal impact struck at Clay¡¯s very being. He staggered and saw similar reactions from the adventurers around him.


    {Malus Refreshed and Reinforced! All Stats decreased by 4 for 24 hours.}


    Clay looked up and saw Syr Katherine go solemn. She looked at the others, and then at him. ¡°Lesson seven, Sir Clay. Do not spend too much time in a Dungeon¡ªor you may never find a way out.¡±


    With that warning in the forefront of his mind, Clay followed them into the next corridor. He was starting to think he had made a severe mistake coming to this place.


    Their journey was untroubled for a time as they passed through corridors and fields. No more terrible enemies made an appearance, and none of the serfs appeared to take notice of their passage.


    Eventually, they reached another open field, only this time, it was clear that it had been left untilled for a reason. Two small towers had been constructed in the middle of the field, each built around a set of massive wheels with spokes poking out of the sides. A tremendous number of serfs were chained to each protruding spoke, their hands secured to it as they trudged in a continuous circle. Each tower was connected to an axle that extended from it to another building, where there was a continual grinding sound.


    Clay felt a numb sense of horror as he watched the creatures continue to power the machine. What kind of place was this? As he watched, one of the serfs abruptly fell. Their body was dragged along by the chains, until the rest of the serfs trampled it under their feet, eventually crushing it into pieces.


    For a moment, the dangling chains just continued to hang from the wheel. Then there was a flash of dark light, and the serf reassembled itself to begin its work anew.


    Syr Katherine nodded. ¡°A Guardian must be nearby. Otherwise, the serfs would be staying dead.¡± Her eyes fixed on the building where the axles were turning. ¡°It must be in there. Let¡¯s move.¡±


    The adventurers nodded, and they crept together across the field, sticking to the shadows along the wall. They needn¡¯t have bothered. From what Clay could see, the serfs didn¡¯t seem to care for anything other than their unceasing walk around the tower, and none of them so much as turned their heads to look outside the towers as he and his companions drew close to the building.


    It seemed like a fairly unimpressive place, made of blank stone with no windows. The only entry point that Clay could see was a single door made of the same slippery wood they had encountered outside the Dungeon. His ethereal senses did manage to pick up something inside, however, and he paused as they reached the place.


    Taylor noticed his hesitation and whispered quietly. ¡°Sir Clay, do you sense something?¡±


    The others looked back at him, and he nodded. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s definitely something in there. It¡¯s too hard to tell what, though.¡±


    Syr Katherine looked back at the door, her face set in a determined expression. ¡°Then we proceed. Sir Orn, the door if you please.¡±


    Orn nodded and stepped forward, his hammer ready to smash the wood to pieces. He reared back with his weapon¡­ and then paused. With a sudden expression of realization, he reached out and pulled the unlocked door open. Taylor rolled her eyes and walked through, followed by Syr Katherine. Clay was next, as Orn gestured for him to pass through.


    Inside, the building appeared to be one single room filled with turning wheels and rumbling machinery. It almost looked like some kind of mill; the air was filled with a fine dust that clogged his nostrils almost immediately. A group of serfs were laboring away alongside the grinding stones and whirling wheels; he watched as one of them dumped a crate of bones into the chute that led into the machinery, while another was carefully filling a sack with the dust that was spilling out of the other end. The entire building was full of sacks, stacked high against the walls as proof of the serfs¡¯ work.


    They were not the only ones in the room, however. Standing at the far end of the room, in front of another door that led further into the Dungeon, was a group of Undead.


    There was a knight there, its eyes watching the toiling serfs with apparent satisfaction. A saboteur was present as well, its weapon ready to fire as it paced back and forth. A priest loomed over both of the others, its pale staff clutched tightly in its hands and its attention on a staggering serf clutching a full bag of ground dust.


    Those three weren¡¯t the only outsiders, however, and the others were what drew Clay¡¯s attention. A group of Undead stood in a small circle, all carrying short, broad blades and tall shields. They were utterly motionless as they stood there, as if frozen in place. Within that circle, carrying a pole with banners hanging from it, was another Undead. It wore armor that was slightly more ornate than the others, and instead of a weapon, it held a trumpet of some kind in its free hand.


    Clay was already reciting the Refrain as the others crouched behind the nearest pile of bags. He heard Taylor whispering to Syr Katherine. ¡°Fighting in here will be a disadvantage. Three of them at once, plus the Guardian?¡±


    Syr Katherine spoke calmly. ¡°We have no choice. If a Guardian is here, we need to destroy it. Such opportunities do not come lightly.¡±


    Orn grumbled something under his breath. ¡°I¡¯m not complaining about a fight, but with the Malus¡­¡±


    ¡°Waiting will only make things worse. Better to commit than to hesitate and lose the chance.¡±


    As they whispered, Clay felt the [Chant] complete. He locked onto the Undead with the banner and blinked as new information filled him.


    [Guardian Cruel Centurion (Riders)]


    [Rank: 10, Type: Undead, Status: Lord of the Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 3]


    [Instincts: Guardian, Creator, Commander, Eternal]


    Clay paused. ¡°The one in the back is the Guardian.¡±


    Taylor nodded, her face tense. ¡°You might have surmised that from the fact that the others are protecting it, Sir Clay.¡±


    Orn nudged her. ¡°Don¡¯t mock the young hero. He¡¯s doing his best.¡±


    Instead of answering, Clay shifted his attention to the line in front of the Guardian and began the [Chant] again. A moment later it was done.


    [Undying Legionnaire]


    [Rank: 0, Type: Undead, Status: Vassal of the Legion of the Unliving]


    [Type Kills: 0, Deaths Caused: 0]


    [Instincts: Puppet, Formation, Sacrificial]


    He shifted in place, realizing what the centurion¡¯s likely strategy would be. It would throw the legionnaires into battle as a distraction and stay at the back. All he needed to do would be to push past them, and he¡¯d be able to cut it down.


    As he opened his mouth to say so, Syr Katherine and the others apparently finished their whispered argument. She looked at him and nodded. ¡°Sir Clay, support us as we move in. Strike if and when you see an opening, but do not risk yourself.¡±


    Clay blinked. ¡°Syr Katherine, if I can just get to the Guardian¡ª¡±


    ¡°The others will defend it, Sir Clay. With the Malus, we¡¯re all much more vulnerable.¡± She shook her head. ¡°We move together, and we can destroy them. Now, to arms.¡±


    Before he could argue, she stood up from behind their cover, along with the others. The Undead noticed them immediately, tensing and readying their weapons as the adventurers charged across the room towards them.


    He had nearly finished rising to join them when the centurion placed its trumpet to its lipless jaw and somehow blew it.


    The note reverberated through the room, echoing and howling off the walls. Clay felt himself cringe before the violence of the thing, and he saw the lights of the Undead¡¯s eyes suddenly flare red. He felt a grim sense of recognition as he realized it had just seized control of the others. However hard the Undead had fought before, they would be much worse now.


    His suspicions were confirmed a heartbeat later as Orn, his hammer cocked back and ready to strike, suddenly froze in place. Skeletal hands reached up to clutch at his legs, and across the room, the saboteur gave a hissing laugh as it raised its weapon. There was a flash as it fired, and Orn grunted as the projectile struck sparks from his shoulder.


    Syr Katherine responded immediately, leaping across the room in a blur of motion. Unfortunately, the priest lurched forward and blocked her attack, intercepting her sword short of the saboteur. The [Calculator] barely had time to channel her shield in the air before the priest unleashed a green bolt of lightning that hurled her back. Trailing smoke, Syr Katherine rolled back to her feet as the priest stalked in after her.


    Master Taylor charged in to help her, but the knight lunged between them. The [Artifactor] swung at it, but the knight swatted the attack aside with terrifying ease. Its return strike bounced off of Taylor¡¯s iron-hard skin, but the [Artifactor] still staggered backwards. The knight followed after, hissing, and black smoke began to leak from Taylor¡¯s body and drift towards it.


    Just that quickly, the situation had gone from bad to worse. Clay¡¯s eyes went from the battle of his teachers to the centurion, which was regarding them with baleful hate. If he could kill it, maybe the others would be weakened or disorganized enough for them to win. At the very least, those legionnaires wouldn¡¯t make things worse.


    He set aside his spear for the moment and drew out his bow, beginning the [Chant] for the Canticle of Ice as well. By the time he drew the shaft to his cheek, however, the centurion had already seen him. It glared in his direction, the banner still clutched in its hand. The legionnaires surrounding it moved, forming a double line as they marched forward.


    Grimacing, Clay loosed. The arrow flew straight and true, easily passing over the heads of the legionnaires defending the Guardian. He¡¯d aimed it well; it flew straight for the spot between its burning eyes.


    Yet the Guardian just shifted its stance just slightly and rang the bannerpole against the stone floor. A shimmer of distortion rippled through the air, and Clay¡¯s arrow bounced away as if it had struck a solid wall. The centurion¡¯s head tilted to the side; Clay could have sworn the skull leered at him with contempt.


    Then the thing raised its trumpet a second time, and a second long note blew through the room.


    Clay stepped back, eyes wide, as more legionnaires stepped out of the wall behind the Guardian. His heart hammered in his chest as he realized the things weren¡¯t just appearing from that direction, either. On both sides, and from the wall behind him, more were emerging, their eyes glowing red and their swords drawn.


    Desperate for solutions, he completed the Canticle and grimaced as only four spears of ice formed. He sent them hurtling across the room at the legionnaires. Four of them crumpled, their shields pierced and their armor ruined. A heartbeat later, they faded into nothing as blue fire consumed them, and their companions stepped in to fill the gap they had left behind.


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    The centurion, for its part, simply seemed to drink in that blue fire. An unearthly light began to fill its armor, and the flames of its own eyes grew hotter. Clay suddenly felt a growing certainty that he didn¡¯t want to find out what happened if too many of the legionnaires died.


    He drew back another arrow and shot a legionnaire as it tried to charge Syr Katherine from behind. It fell, fading as the others had. Orn batted another one away, and attempted to push his way forward, only to be thrown back in a blast of red flame as the saboteur hissed in glee. Taylor was being forced back, and nearly stumbled into another legionnaire before Clay shot that one as well.


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    Clay started the Refrain, hoping to at least keep the legionnaires at bay as he thought up a way out. They needed a distraction. Something that could keep the Undead from coordinating with each other and chasing them as they pulled out. He stowed his bow and grabbed his spear, turning on the three legionnaires that were coming at him from behind. He smashed one of them aside, ducked a slash from another, and then put his spearpoint through the third¡¯s helmet. As he spun away from the third one, he cut down the other two in a wide slash that tore through their armor like it was paper.


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    As he looked back towards the others, he saw Taylor get knocked halfway across the room. She hit the ground and rolled to a stop next to one of the grinding wheels. As she started to get back to her feet, the knight advanced, its sword ready to strike her down.


    The Refrain completed, and Clay¡¯s eyes fell on the pile of sacks next to the knight. He didn¡¯t hesitate. Four spears of ice tore across the room and slammed into the sacks, tearing holes in them and flooding the air around the knight with a cloud of dust. It paused, its bulky figure half-lost in the haze, and Clay reached out to grab Taylor by the shoulder. He shouted loud enough to be heard over the chaos of the battle.


    ¡°Pull back! Pull back to the doorway!¡±


    Taylor jerked and looked back at him, her mouth open to yell something, but Clay was already moving past her, the Refrain once again on his lips. An idea had grown in his mind as that cloud of dust had engulfed the knight. It had reminded him of a story his father had told him, a warning about a man that had owned a grain mill and had hired an incautious fool amused by fire¡­


    Another explosion forced Orn back, and Clay reacted immediately. He grabbed the nearest bag of powder and hurled it across the room. Even with the Malus affecting him, it flew across the room easily. Clay grinned as he saw the saboteur¡¯s eyes flicker with something like surprise. It pivoted to fire its weapon at the bag, but the powder simply absorbed the shot. When it hit the saboteur, dust flew everywhere, just as Clay had hoped.


    Orn was struggling to his feet when Clay stepped up beside him. He motioned to where the knight was now striding out of the haze of dust, and then back to where Taylor was reluctantly falling back. The [Fighter] paused, and then nodded. The knight was still brushing dust away from its eyes when Orn smashed into it with his hammer; its shield crumpled, and the Undead was thrown back into the cloud of dust, which billowed even wider.


    As Orn and Taylor headed for the exit, Clay completed the Refrain again. This time, he fired the spears at the priest, who had to pause in its assault on Syr Katherine to deflect them. She glanced back at him, and he yelled to her. ¡°Pull back! I have a plan!¡±


    She paused for a moment, and the centurion sounded out another call on its horn. More legionnaires stepped out from the walls, and Syr Katherine nodded. With another of her terrific leaps, she shot back towards where the others were gathering. The move left the priest a bit baffled; it started to turn towards Clay.


    Its face leered at him just in time to be hit with a bag of dust in the face.


    Clay started the [Chant] for the Ballad of Air, backpedaling across the floor of the room. As he went, he lashed out with his spear against the bags of dust around him, cutting slits in most of them, tossing others at the advancing Undead. Frustrated legionnaires slashed the bags out of the air. The knight exploded one of them as it tried to smash it aside with its shield; the saboteur shot at him, but missed thanks to the steadily growing cloud of dust. A whirling wheel of light came tearing through the cloud, and Clay just barely managed to dodge it. It carved through part of the nearest grinding wheel instead, leaving a smoking scar on the stone.


    More and more dust filled the room, and Clay grinned as he finally completed the Ballad. He reached out with tendrils of wind and stirred the cloud even further, sweeping it into a dust storm that only grew as he added more powder to the mix. He couldn¡¯t even see the Undead now, aside from the indistinct figures of some of the closest legionnaires. The air was growing so thick with dust that he could barely see the doorway where the adventurers were standing. Above the cloud, however, he could still hear the centurion¡¯s horn, calling more and more Undead to battle.


    As Clay reached the door, he spent one final bit of focus hurling another blade-savaged pile of dust bags into the air. More dust billowed into the room, filling it from top to bottom. He ran for the door, releasing the [Chant] as he went. Instead, he grabbed his bow and an arrow, and began the [Chant] of the Spontaneous Spark.


    Clay stumbled out of the mill and out into the open air, still coughing the final words of the [Chant] out. Orn made as if to shut the door, but he stopped the [Fighter] and dragged him further from the building. Taylor opened her mouth to demand an explanation, and then her eyes bugged out as he finished the minor [Chant] and set the arrow alight.


    He turned and drew back the arrow. His voice was rough as he spoke. ¡°For Pellsglade.¡±


    Then he loosed it. The arrow flew straight into the expanding dust cloud, a flaming beacon of destruction. For a moment, it seemed as if nothing had happened.


    There was a flicker of flame inside the cloud. It grew into a single swelling explosion in half a heartbeat. Flames roared through the open doorway; more shot through the openings where the axles were still turning. The ground shook as the blast struck with full force; he saw the stone of the building crack, and the tiles of the roof seemed to lift slightly as smoke burst from the fractures there. Its impact knocked Clay to one knee as the heat and wind of it rushed past, but he ignored it and started the [Chant] of the Drums of the Earth.


    A flood of notifications followed the blast, one that was gratifyingly long.


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Chained Serf slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    {Undying Legionnaire slain!}


    He was partway through when Syr Katherine grabbed his shoulder. ¡°Sir Clay, we should retreat. The enemy¡­¡±


    She paused as he glanced at her, and then Clay turned his attention back to the building. Its foundations were already cracked; one of the axles had shattered and leaned against the stone instead of standing apart. The Undead inside had to be staggered, and all of their minions had just been blasted to bits. They wouldn¡¯t be moving quickly, if they were moving at all, and if he caught them just right¡­


    He rose to his feet and poured everything he had into the [Chant], concentrating it into the area just below the mill itself. It completed just as the knight appeared in the doorway, staggering to a halt just inside the frame. The Undead¡¯s armor was battered and burnt; trails of fire were still burning along the joints. Only one of its eyes was glowing red, and it fixed on him.


    It was too late. The [Chant] struck the building, and Clay knew it had worked before the knight had the chance to take its first step. Cracks caused by the explosion widened in an instant; the mortar between the stones fountained out in a rain of dust and pebbles. A heartbeat later, the rest of the mill came down in an avalanche of grey rock. The knight disappeared beneath it, still lunging for the opening as the mill collapsed.


    {Putrid Saboteur slain! Soul increases by 150}


    {Corrupted Priest slain! Soul increases by 150}


    {Commoner reaches Level 13!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 28!}


    {Experience gained (Follower: Gain 20% bonus when being led by a higher-level hero.)}


    {Experience gained (Dungeoneer: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when inside a Dungeon.)}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Commander: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when leading a group of heroes. Allied heroes gain a 20% bonus to all skills.}


    Clay stood staring at the piled rubble. He hadn¡¯t seen a notification for the centurion, which meant that the Guardian had probably escaped the mill before he collapsed it. Yet he also hadn¡¯t seen one for the knight either, and it had been right next to the door. How had it¡ª


    His thoughts cut off as the rubble shifted and the giant fist shot out of it, grasping at the air. Clay jerked back out of sheer reflex. Then his eyes narrowed, and he sprinted forward, his spear clutched tightly in his hand as he mounted the pile.


    He found the thing still half buried under the rock, its maddened red eye glowing with malice. Its gaze locked onto him, and for half a heartbeat, he felt himself freeze under the sheer hatred in its gaze. Dark smoke began to leak from Clay, and he felt a wave of fatigue wash over him.


    Then he stabbed it right in the face, punching his spear straight through the visor. He hit it again and again, until the flailing gauntlet went limp and the weakness went away.


    {Death Knight slain! Soul increases by 150}


    Exhausted, he looked back at the others, who were all staring at him in something approaching shock. ¡°So. Should we head back now?¡±

 B3Ch6: Another Chance

    Their escape from the Dungeon was not as memorable as their entrance had been.


    Syr Katherine led them through the corridors with an impressive grasp of navigation. She seemed to know exactly where they were, and they came back to the stone archway without meeting any further monsters aside from the serfs.


    Emerging from the Dungeon was like coming up from under a river of filth. The air seemed impossibly clear and fresh; the lingering malice of the Dungeon itself retreated from his mind. By comparison, the mere howling of the ethereal wind didn¡¯t seem nearly as bothersome.


    Clay paused for a moment to tilt his head back and revel in the feel of the normal spring sun on his face. Orn clapped him on the back, and he looked over to see the [Fighter] grinning at him. ¡°Well done, young hero. Your first time in a Dungeon, and you brought an entire building down on them!¡±


    Taylor seemed far less happy. She had a sour expression on her face and was staring back at the arch. ¡°Those¡­ things were far more clever than I expected. Perhaps it will take some time for me to readjust to this task.¡±


    Syr Katherine glanced at the [Artifactor] and nodded. ¡°Perhaps. For now, we need to return to our camp. Tomorrow we will rest until the Malus is gone, and then we will try again the day after.¡± She looked at him, her eyes studying him. ¡°Did you level, Sir Clay?¡±


    The question was as direct as it was unexpected. Most adventurers had a tendency to keep their levels and abilities secret, partially because of the way the Guild encouraged competition among its members. Of course, she could have simply used the Orison to find out for herself, but it would have been a bit offensive to do so.


    Clay looked back at her for a moment and nodded. ¡°Yeah, I did.¡± He shrugged as she continued to look at him. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much it will help for the next assault, however.¡±


    She seemed to relax slightly. ¡°Do not worry, Sir Clay. You have done well already.¡± Then she turned to face north. ¡°All we need to worry about now is returning home safely.¡±


    He blinked. It slowly dawned on him that they were still deep in the Dungeon¡¯s territory, surrounded by hostile monsters¡ªand that they were all still being affected by the Malus.


    It was going to be a long walk home.


    Clay grimaced as the Undead gathered for their third attempted ambush. His hands ached, and his breath was harder and harder to catch. The sun was getting low in the sky as well; another hour or two, and they¡¯d be fighting in the twilight.


    He wasn¡¯t the only one getting tired, either. With the Malus still affecting them, the others weren¡¯t able to enjoy their use of [Chants] as much anymore. Orn wasn¡¯t able to use anything more complicated than the most minor ones, and the others had been heavily limited in what they could do. Even Clay¡¯s [Chants] were not nearly as effective anymore.


    Fortunately, the Undead who faced them were not the same level of threat as what they had found in the Dungeon. The first ambush had been a group of rank fours that had tried to stop them; fighting sergeants, scouts, and hunters after the Dungeon was almost laughable. Their second attempt had been with mere corporals, foragers, and riders, and had fared even worse.


    Now, they had tried again with their weakest. Syr Katherine appeared so much more justified in her contempt for them now as she gave the order. ¡°End them. Finish this.¡±


    Clay nodded and finished his [Chant]. Four spears of ice sprang into existence and shot out to skewer the riders on the road.


    {Skeletal Rider slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    {Skeletal Rider slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    {Skeletal Rider slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    {Skeletal Rider slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Corpsebane: 10% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 20% versus Rotted Levies, Wretched Corporals, Weary Horses, and Skeletal Riders.}


    As they collapsed, he saw Orn charge into the ranks of the levies on the side of the road. They went flying into the air as he hit them; weakened or no, the [Fighter] had no need to conserve his [Feats] anymore. Dogs and levies alike went flying, with the latter collapsing as Orn pushed through to their corporals.


    Clay had his bow out, and he began shooting down the foragers. Their return fire was as weak as it was ineffectual. One arrow bounced from his helmet, but nothing else hit him before he killed them all.


    {Condemned Forager slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Condemned Forager slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Condemned Forager slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Corpsebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 30% versus Rotted Levies, Wretched Corporals, Weary Horses, Skeletal Riders, Corpse Hounds, and Condemned Foragers.}


    {Condemned Forager slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    As he lowered his bow, the only satisfaction he felt was the fact that he¡¯d finally reinforced [Corpsebane]. The [Achievement] hadn¡¯t seemed to help very much so far, but every little bit helped.


    He turned to look back at the others and saw that they had already virtually finished the Undead on their side. Syr Katherine looked as weary as he felt, only far, far worse. Taylor¡¯s sour expression made a certain kind of sense as she finished the last of the corporals she faced; it was unpleasant to know that their task was still not done.


    As the others rejoined him on the road, Clay just felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps they¡¯d finally finished the last of it.


    By the time they¡¯d staggered back into their camp, the sun was already low in the sky. They hadn¡¯t run into any more Undead, but Syr Katherine had insisted on pausing near the dead village of Sarlsboro to make sure they weren¡¯t followed back to their actual camp. They had waited there for nearly an hour until she was satisfied.


    Now, as Clay lowered his pile of supplies from the tree where they had hung them, Syr Katherine walked by him. She looked as rough as he felt; fatigue was clear on her face, though she still smiled at him. ¡°Get a good night¡¯s rest, Sir Clay. Sir Orn will take first watch. You¡¯ll take third.¡±


    Clay nodded, and the [Calculator] went off to find her own supplies and bedroll. He watched her for a long moment and then turned to his own work. Something told him that there would not be very much resting the next day.


    ¡°Keep your foot planted, Sir Clay.¡± Syr Katherine¡¯s ever-so-helpful advice was delivered in the same cool voice as always, but Clay had to suppress a burst of irritation. Orn simply grinned at him, adjusting his grip on the practice sword he carried and prepared to attack again.


    ¡°Stop, Sir Orn.¡± Taylor¡¯s interruption was incredibly welcome. Orn had been battering him around the campsite for nearly half an hour, and Syr Katherine had been doing it the same amount of time before that. Apparently, being under the effects of the Malus didn¡¯t excuse him from training meant to increase his [Stats], now that he¡¯d gained a level.


    Syr Katherine looked over at Taylor, her eyebrow arching. ¡°Is something wrong, Syr Taylor?¡±


    The scholar gave her an irritated glare. ¡°His grip is sparking again. I need to take a look at it.¡±


    Clay looked back at Orn¡¯s false hand. The artifact that was fixed to the [Fighter]¡¯s arm had taken a hit during his fight with the saboteur, and now the runes that covered it were sparking occasionally. Sometimes it made the [Fighter]¡¯s artificial hand twitch and spasm, something that would be disastrous in an actual fight. Taylor had been keeping an eagle eye on the thing ever since Orn had mentioned it, and now that she had pointed it out, he noticed a telltale fragment of lightning stuttering from one of the runes.


    Orn caught sight of it as well and sighed. He glanced at Clay. ¡°I need to thank you again, Sir Clay, for destroying that monster. Its effectiveness has been¡­ irksome, today.¡±


    ¡°I just hope I can be faster next time, Sir Orn.¡± Clay bowed to signal the end of the spar, which Orn returned. The Armsman then stomped over to where Taylor was waiting. She seized hold of his hand almost immediately, peering at it and muttering under her breath.


    Clay tried to repress a smile as Syr Katherine sighed. ¡°You are fortunate that Syr Taylor decided to come along, Sir Orn. Otherwise, we might have already lost your service on this mission.¡±


    Orn nodded solemnly. ¡°You have my thanks, Syr Taylor.¡±


    The [Artifactor] snorted. ¡°As if this isn¡¯t the entire reason I came along in the first place. Well, most of it, anyway.¡± She took out a small tool and began etching away at something on Orn¡¯s hand. ¡°We both know that there¡¯s no one more qualified to maintain these things than I am, and they wanted to make sure you didn¡¯t manage to end up dying on this mission. Don¡¯t make it out to be anything more than it is.¡±


    Bemused, the Armsman bit his lip to avoid a smile. ¡°As you say, Syr Taylor.¡± He glanced at Clay and seemed unable to avoid a grin. ¡°I have actually enjoyed this trip, to be honest. It has been too long since I have left Crownsguard, and speaking with David was a true delight.¡±


    Taylor snorted again, muttering something dark and threatening. ¡°Don¡¯t move, you overeager¡­¡±


    Clay tried not to listen to the rest of the sentence. Taylor hadn¡¯t been in the best of moods since the last fight in the Dungeon, and he couldn¡¯t exactly blame her. It had probably been years since she¡¯d been thrown into danger and getting thrown across a room by an Undead warrior likely wouldn¡¯t leave anyone happy. He looked at Syr Katherine instead. ¡°So, are we planning on reentering the Dungeon again tomorrow?¡±


    She nodded, her eyes serious. ¡°We are. Though, to be truthful, a good portion of our mission is already complete. I trust that you have already grown familiar with the kind of threats a place like that can bring?¡±


    He grimaced. ¡°You could say that, Syr Katherine.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She shook her head. ¡°The Council was concerned that without that knowledge, you¡¯d throw yourself into the first Dungeon you could find, the same way you threw yourself at the Lair in the Tanglewood.¡±


    Clay opened his mouth to protest the implication and then thought better of it. ¡°I suppose that is a fair worry to have, Syr Katherine.¡±


    The [Calculator] glanced up at him and then went back to studying her sword for imperfections. ¡°I tried to tell them it wouldn¡¯t quite work out that way, but they didn¡¯t listen. At the very least, I hope that I¡¯ve convinced you not to go into one with someone who is unprepared? You saw what the Malus did to us. What it can do to someone far less advanced would be devastating.¡±


    He pictured a batch of level one [Commoners] stumbling around with the [Stats] of a [Youth]. ¡°I understand, Syr Katherine.¡±


    For a moment, she simply continued to check her gear in silence. Then she sighed and set the blade aside. ¡°You have questions. Ask.¡±


    Clay blinked. He hadn¡¯t expected to have it come out quite so directly, but he couldn¡¯t ignore the opportunity. ¡°Do all adventurers approach a mission like this in the same way?¡±


    ¡°As far as I know, yes.¡± Syr Katherine¡¯s lips twisted into a smile. ¡°It is not what you are used to, I understand, but it has kept the Dungeons we face suppressed for years. It is thanks to these methods that our land is not swarming with unstoppable armies of monsters.¡±


    ¡°It just¡­ seems so ineffective, Syr Katherine.¡± Clay shook his head. He set down his spear and sat down on a nearby log. ¡°With just a day or two of delay, we could all reinforce the [Achievement] that works against these monsters, and then enter the Dungeon. Those bonuses could help us fight that much more effectively.¡±


    Syr Katherine tilted her head. ¡°True. At the same time, a group of high-level adventurers is capable of clearing a Dungeon without such bonuses easily. While we are fairly experienced, we are somewhat¡­ out of practice compared to most of the parties that assault places like this one.¡±


    Clay frowned. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, isn¡¯t it even more important to be cautious? Missions like this one seem extremely dangerous, and rushing in every time could easily lead to the kind of casualties that limit the number of adventurers the Guild has to send.¡±


    She fixed him with a steady stare. ¡°Perhaps, but managing the situation in this way allows the Guild to also send adventurers of a similar level against Lairs, where they can seal off potential Dungeons. Even more important than that, they can keep lower-level adventurers from dying regularly.¡±


    His frown deepened. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Taylor sighed in frustration. ¡°She means that most adventurers barely live long enough to reach level ten, let alone fifteen or twenty. Most of us end up dying to some unfamiliar monster type in a Lair nobody remembered long before we reach this point, which means we don¡¯t have enough¡ªstay still, you ingrate!¡±


    Orn gave her a reproachful glance before he looked at Clay. ¡°She is correct, of course. It is a struggle to keep our younger heroes alive for long enough to make a difference in our eternal war against the Curses. We try to prepare them as best we can, but the weight of our tasks turns our own responsibilities against us. Too often, we must send them into danger unprepared and unescorted, where they then pay the price.¡±


    Clay thought back to his time at the Academy and shook his head. ¡°There were so many high-level adventurers at the Academy, though. They seemed like they were everywhere, especially the ones on the Council. Why aren¡¯t they being sent on missions? Why don¡¯t they join in the war?¡±


    The adventurers looked at one another for a moment. Syr Katherine spoke carefully. ¡°By the time they reach our level, many adventurers are either battle-weary or wounded. Many end their careers and serve the various houses of the nobility, or the Rectory. Many also choose to be part of the Academy as teachers or trainers.¡±


    ¡°Or guards.¡± Taylor grimaced, and then rolled her eyes when Syr Katherine glared at her. ¡°He¡¯s going to figure it out eventually, Katherine. Even if he doesn¡¯t, someone else will spill the beans, eventually. Just tell him.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Syr Katherine set her jaw and looked away, so Clay turned back to Taylor. The [Artifactor] had fallen silent, bending forward to examine the adjustments she was making to Orn¡¯s hand. She didn¡¯t seem ready to acknowledge his unspoken question. ¡°Tell me what?¡±


    There was a moment of silence. Then Orn cleared his throat, very carefully not moving his hand. ¡°Sir Clay, when we spar, you¡¯ve learned the importance of guarding yourself, have you not?¡±


    Clay nodded, wondering at the non sequitur. Orn continued in a casual voice. ¡°Intercepting your enemy¡¯s strikes is more and more important the closer they are to your heart, are they not? More important than any attack, or any fancy feinting or other stylish tricks, is the ability to prevent someone from striking at your center.¡±


    He nodded again, thinking over his time at the Academy. The Council had literally never left the Academy at all, and those higher-level adventurers who did leave were kept on a rotation. They always kept enough around to guard¡­ ¡°The library?¡±


    Taylor sighed and scratched at something on the metal with her tool. ¡°Yes, Sir Clay. The library. Specifically, the more restricted sections that you as yet do not have access to.¡±


    Clay looked at her and frowned. ¡°Why? Even if there was a group of [Knaves] or something that wanted to break in, even one member of the Council would be able to destroy them all. You can¡¯t be worried about monsters appearing, not when there is a literal army of adventurers nearby, and the King to back you up. Even if there was a war, the invaders wouldn¡¯t want to attack an Academy of the Guild. So, who are you worried about?¡±


    Syr Katherine remained silent, as did Taylor. Orn grimaced and looked away. ¡°Wizards, Sir Clay. They are concerned that a Wizard will attack.¡±


    Confusion ran through Clay¡¯s mind, and he shook his head. ¡°Are you serious? Wizards are nothing but a fairy tale, something that¡­¡± He paused, thinking back to the very beginning of his adventures. There had been something that Olivia had mentioned... ¡°You¡¯re saying they are real?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes, yes. The [Wizards] are real.¡±


    The way Syr Katherine said the name twisted in Clay¡¯s gut. He looked at her in surprise, and she sighed. ¡°When someone creates a Curse on purpose, and survives the experience, do you know what happens to them, Sir Clay?¡±


    He thought back to the mad scribblings of the [Occultist] who had died trying to open the Lair in the Tanglewood. ¡°It had something to do with power. That was what they are usually looking for, when they do it on purpose, right?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°There is only one known way to change your [Class] in this world, and that is to become a [Wizard]. The moment someone creates a Curse and opens a Lair, they gain access to a tremendous amount of power. At the same time, they lose something, a part of whatever makes them human.¡±


    Taylor tilted her head and paused in her work for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s theorized it has to do with the loss of the [Gift] actually. It hasn¡¯t been studied very much, for obvious reasons, but the gods apparently withdraw their protection and sponsorship from the [Wizard]¡ªand something¡­ else steps in to take their place.¡±


    Clay shivered at the way she¡¯d said it. Even the clinical tone couldn¡¯t rob the horror from her words. ¡°Are there any [Wizards] out there right now? People who¡¯ve done this?¡±


    ¡°They are not common, young hero.¡± Orn shifted slightly on his chair. Taylor gave him a sharp look, and he fell still again. ¡°As soon as they appear, all available adventurers are called to hunt them down, sometimes at the cost of our other duties. The appearance of a [Wizard] rates as that much of a threat, you see. A single one can easily build enough power to handle a small army of adventurers. One that gains enough strength might be a match for the entire Council.¡±


    Syr Katherine broke back in, her voice grave. ¡°So the Council cannot afford to risk sending too much of their strength out of the Academy. The chance that a [Wizard] might strike, even a newly made one that they do not yet know of, is too much of a chance. The damage they could do, both to the Academy and Crownsguard itself, would be bad enough. Even worse, however, might be the knowledge that we might lose. Things preserved since the War of Heroes, things that cost dozens of adventurers¡¯ lives to learn, might be wiped from existence. It cannot be allowed to happen, no matter the cost.¡±


    Clay didn¡¯t respond immediately. He could see the choices that the Council had made, and the compromises they had traded in order to try to make it all work mostly made sense. They were desperate to keep the Lairs and Dungeons at bay, so they rushed the missions in order to cover all their responsibilities. They couldn¡¯t risk a threat to the library or to the place where their new recruits could gather, so they kept many of their strongest at home to guard against that possibility.


    Yet it didn¡¯t change the fact that they were still losing their war. Every Lair that became a Dungeon was a wound they could no longer heal. Every adventurer that died, unprepared and unled, became a casualty that they could no longer easily replace. It was a war of attrition that they could never win, not unless something changed¡ªand they seemed to have become too afraid of the consequences to ever take the leap and try a new approach. How long before even the strength they were already clinging to faded from them, and the monsters really started to take over?


    He shook his head and looked back at Syr Katherine. ¡°Thank you for explaining, Syr Katherine. I¡­ need to think about this. Can I be excused?¡±


    The [Calculator] hesitated, looking as if she wanted to find a reason to tell him to stay. Taylor snorted yet again, however, and shook her head. ¡°Just let the boy wander, Katherine. He¡¯s proven himself trustworthy, even if he is a little reckless. I imagine he isn¡¯t going to run off on us, or go back to the Dungeon today.¡±


    Syr Katherine glared at her, but she turned back and nodded to Clay. ¡°Go. We¡¯ll expect you back by dinner. Do not go near the Dungeon.¡±


    He nodded and took up his spear. While he didn¡¯t intend to attack the Dungeon again¡ªyet¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to wander around unarmed. Clay bowed slightly to Syr Katherine, and then to Orn and Taylor.


    Then he strode off into the woods, heading through a silent forest to think about what he¡¯d learned.


    As he walked through the forest, his footsteps slowly took him south. While he had no desire to betray Syr Katherine¡¯s wishes, there was something that he wanted to visit, just to say that he had been there.


    Clay strode through the trees, feeling the lack of animals with every brush of wind. His sense of unease only grew worse as he once again began to see the signs of corruption on the life around him. More and more patches of that papery brown grass appeared, along with stretches of barren, grey dirt. When he looked closely enough, he saw the occasional sprouting tree, twisted and gnarled, that had the unnaturally smooth bark.


    Eventually, he reached the place he¡¯d been looking for.


    It wasn¡¯t an impressive place. The owners had built it on the western edge of the village, just out of sight of the village proper. They had not built anything fancy at first, only a simple farmhouse with a barn. In time, it had grown and expanded, becoming a big enough place for multiple generations to live there comfortably, with fields on all sides that stretched to the edges of the forest.


    Now it was a ruin. The expansive fields were choked with paper grass, and the fine house was a shamble. Windows gaped open, and the shattered remnants of the front door still swung listlessly on its hinges. Clay hesitated for a long time at the front gate, where someone had carved a family sigil into the fencepost.


    He looked at the edges of the forest and remembered his father¡¯s words. One night my father woke me up. He said there were Undead at the edge of the forest.


    Clay shook his head and stepped through the gate. He walked up the small, overgrown path and tried not to shudder as the grass brushed his shins and crackled at his passage.


    He stepped through the front door and was greeted with a place that had once been full of warmth and life and family. The front room had held portraits and a small table full of keepsakes. To the right, there had been a dining room with a table large enough to hold well over a dozen people. A kitchen with cupboards full of dishes and a pantry stocked with food was beyond that, and there was even a small bookcase tucked in behind the stairway that ran along the wall to the left. Above, he could see the start of a second floor, where the bedrooms for the family were kept.


    Now, however, the house was full of ruin and worse. The grand table lay half-shattered on the floor; the cupboards and pantry had been torn to pieces. There were old stains on the floor, where blood had once been spilt and never washed away by rain. He bent down to run his hand along the scratches and stains near the front door. Obviously, the home had not fallen undefended. Someone had stayed and fought until the end.


    Clay wandered the main floor for a moment, feeling a heaviness in his heart as he saw the broken windows and scraped walls. Then, after studying the stairs carefully, he made his way to the second floor. The stairway creaked dangerously, but it held firm as he climbed.


    He found more signs of desperate resistance on the second floor. Blood stained the top of the staircase and trailed backwards along the hallway. Most of the doors to the rooms stood open, with the beds inside torn and desecrated. One door, however, at the very end of the hall, had been shattered. The weapons of the Undead had battered it to pieces as the monsters tore their way inside. More ancient blood stained the floor inside. Clay stared at it for a long moment and then turned away.


    His father had occasionally talked about his room, but he had never really mentioned where it was in the house. It took some searching to find the place, but Clay recognized it when he entered. There were three beds, all set into one of the walls and stacked on top of each other like crates. His father¡¯s had been the top one.


    Clay spent a moment touching that old bed, thinking over the stories he¡¯d heard about this place and the people who¡¯d lived there. Then he sighed and turned to search. It took a while, but he found the stash of keepsakes that Sam had never been given the chance to rescue. They were small things¡ªa smoothed branch, a bit of parchment with unfamiliar handwriting, a small knife¡ªbut Clay tucked them away all the same.


    After that, he looked through the rest of the house. There was a book that his father had mentioned, something full of stories about ancient nobles and honored adventurers. He found it after a diligent search in one of the rooms, tucked beneath a bed. A necklace his grandmother had loved turned up inside the largest of the rooms; his grandfather¡¯s cane had been left leaning against a window. Each item was a piece of a world he¡¯d never known, and one he never would.


    In the end, Clay stood in the ruined house of his fathers, and thought of the cost the Guild had been forced to accept. Sarlsboro was hardly the only place to have been destroyed by the monsters. Zelton was apparently another such place. All of the rushing and urgency of the Guild was not keeping such tragedies from happening. For all the sacrifices they were making, the monsters were still advancing. Their cause was still failing.


    He thought back to the stories his mother had shared with him about the famine that had destroyed her home. It hadn¡¯t been caused by monsters. The tragedy there had been completely mundane, but now her words came back to him. She had talked about how as the hunger began to take hold, the people of her home had grown desperate. They had eaten through their remaining stores and then turned to more severe methods. Their animals had gone, and the seed that they were keeping for the following planting season.


    It had saved them, for a time. More people had survived the winter than they had expected. Yet when they had faced the following spring, they fell back into despair. Their flocks were gone; the seed they would have planted was gone. Even if they had managed to live longer, they had sacrificed their future to do it. Hunger returned, and in the end, they were forced to abandon their homes.


    The Guild was doing the same thing, even if they didn¡¯t see it. They were burning the lives of the younger adventurers to hold off disaster, and in doing so, they made the safety of the survivors too precious to risk. It was working, for now, but at some point they were going to look around and discover that they had run out of time. Disaster could only be delayed for so long before the consequences came due.


    From what the adventurers were saying, the Council was reluctant to change anything about the way they were doing things, because it was what they knew, and had worked so far. He didn¡¯t know all of their plans, but it seemed like they would rather watch things burn slowly than risk any failure.


    Clay looked around the house that had been a home one last time and made a decision. If the Council was too stubborn to change, they would discover that he had his own brand of stubbornness. He would show them a new way of doing things, and if that meant he would defy the Council¡¯s wishes, so be it. There would be no more compromises, not when they were being made out of fear.


    Decision made, Clay sat down on the old staircase. He stared at the shattered door for a moment longer, and then he drew out the notes that Olivia had given him. There hadn¡¯t been much of a chance for him to study them before, and he¡¯d been limited by the need to hide them on the road and at the Academy, but he had plenty of time now.


    His lips moving slowly, he began to read as the wind brushed through the ruins around him.


    It was nearly dark by the time Clay left the house. His head was swimming with new [Chants]; Olivia had been right that her corrections to some of the translations had been off originally. Her corrections had opened up an entirely new set of minor [Chants]. They were things he could have used even as a level one [Commoner], but he was already able to see how useful they could be.


    Mischief¡¯s Ladder was one such [Chant]. All it did was create an invisible ladder for him to climb, but it would have been incredibly helpful in the Tanglewood. Its reverse created one he could use to descend, which seemed just as useful. The Hawk¡¯s Flight had given him hope for some kind of flying spell, but he¡¯d discovered it just acted as a kind of distant sight. Its opposite had been in the notes as well, called the Mouse¡¯s View, and allowed for him to see things that were incredibly small.


    There were more, though they seemed less directly helpful. Needle¡¯s Aid could mend fabric, Brewer¡¯s Joy seemed to distill things. Paint of the Sky could create images on a surface, and Mule¡¯s Dismay could carry a small cartload of supplies for him. Horn of Distress seemed to be intended to summon help, while the last one, called Freshening Breeze, banished smells. Their reversed [Chants] provided a blend of other effects, mixing or unmaking, fixing something in place or placing a mark on something to keep track of it. He wasn¡¯t sure when he would want to enhance his sense of smell, or perfectly memorize an image, but he was sure he could find a way to use them.


    The most interesting discovery, however, was not a minor [Chant]. It was a small thing, one that Olivia had misspelled slightly on the first run through. This time, however, she had fixed it, and he knew instantly what it did. After all, the King himself had used it on him, once. Olivia¡¯s translation called it the Unharmonious Discord, and from what Clay had experienced, it instantly put a stop to another person¡¯s [Chant].


    At first, he couldn¡¯t think of how he would ever use it outside of a spar. After all, any adventurer he traveled with would consider that kind of interference rude, if not an actual attack.


    Then he thought back to when Lawrence had stood in front of the writing on the cave wall, fighting not to lose the battle and begin the [Chant] of the Poisoned Wish. If he came across another adventurer, one who was losing that same fight, how valuable would it be to have a tool that could stop that [Chant] in its tracks?


    As he dutifully filed all that knowledge away, he¡¯d been rewarded with two pieces of news just as he left the ruined home.


    {Memory increased by 1!}


    {Malus from the Legion of the Unliving has expired! Stats are now normal}


    He felt a rush of power flow through him, and with it, some of his fatigue evaporated. Clay nodded slowly and then started to run. The adventurers would be waiting for him, after all, and he didn¡¯t want to miss out on dinner. Not when they had the Dungeon to face the next day.


    They set out together the next day, just as the sun had risen in the sky.


    It had only taken a little time for them to prepare their camp. Compared to their first attempt, they would be attacking much earlier in the day. They¡¯d even had a good night¡¯s rest; Clay had slept well, despite the way his head had ached from the work of memorizing the new [Chants]. The others had been in a good mood as well. Taylor had been curious as to where he had gone, but Syr Katherine had simply nodded and assigned him to help with dinner.


    Now, with breakfast eaten and a lunch of trail rations prepared, they were already on their way. Once again, they followed the route that took them around the dull ruin of Sarlsboro. This time, as he passed by, Clay felt a far more visceral reaction to the unnatural grass and the dead, grey soil. Each one of those houses was a story like his father¡¯s; every building was a tragedy written in blood. He wanted to erase those scars, the way he¡¯d erased the Lair in the Tanglewood. One day, he promised himself he would.


    For the time being, he had to look out for the dangers waiting for them along the trail, and prepare himself for what they would face in the Dungeon itself. Even though his teachers seemed confident¡ªthey were all far more relaxed and steady than they were the first time¡ªanything could happen. Anything.


    {Wretched Corporal slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Clay frowned as the last of the Undead fell. It was the fourth ambush of the day, and they hadn¡¯t even made it to the next rank of monsters yet.


    He looked over at Orn, who just shook his head and laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, young hero. The monsters around the Dungeon have probably just been stirred up a little. It¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded. She was already walking along the road again, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. ¡°They are trying harder to wear us down. We should be prepared to face greater challenges now.¡±


    Taylor sighed. ¡°As if these poor creatures even count.¡± She nudged one of the fallen levies with her foot. ¡°At least we¡¯ve all gotten [Corpsebane] by now. That should help finish this whole thing a little quicker.¡±


    Clay nodded slowly, but something about the way she had said the words bothered him. It was as if she saw the whole exercise as a mere formality, not a serious mission. What had changed between yesterday and today?


    Shaking his head, he hurried after the others. The way things were looking, the last thing he needed was to be left behind.


    They endured another two ambushes, this time from the medium ranked Undead, before they once again reached the entrance to the Dungeon. Neither of those ambushes really took much effort to destroy; now that he knew the way the Undead worked, and had an [Achievement] boosting him significantly, the work of destroying them was far, far easier.


    Once again, a wall of poisonous fog was waiting for them. It didn¡¯t look any bigger or more intense than the last time, something which made Clay feel a little better about their chances. He glanced at the others. ¡°There shouldn¡¯t be any of those really dangerous ones down there, right? Nothing from the Dungeon itself?¡±


    Taylor snorted, but it was Syr Katherine that answered. ¡°No. Those only emerge when the Dungeon is about to claim another territory for itself, or if adventurers hang around the entrance too long. A Dungeon Breach is a dangerous, lethal thing, but we aren¡¯t likely to face that today. Not for a while, at least.¡±


    Orn¡¯s grip tightened on his hammer, his eyes momentarily seeing something that was not there. ¡°Be grateful, young hero. I was present for one such occasion. I never want to see another.¡± The [Fighter] rubbed at the wrist of his false hand absently, though Taylor had spent quite a lot of time and effort to make sure it was working fine before they¡¯d left.


    Syr Katherine drew her sword and then glanced at the others. ¡°Once we defeat them, we¡¯ll pause for a brief meal. Then we enter the Dungeon and renew our search. Are you ready?¡±


    Clay nodded along with the others and then set himself for the charge. If there were any more traps waiting for them, they would be there. Syr Katherine motioned for them to begin, and Orn unleashed the Ballad of Air again, clearing the space so that the battle could begin.


    Then they all ran forward, and the fight truly began.


    It was over with almost disappointing speed.


    Clay had sprinted into the nearest marshal¡¯s troops, destroying them with the Flame-Tongued Song. Then he had slain the marshal and cooked the levies a second time with the Refrain, putting an end to the threat almost immediately. A lancer had charged him, too late to help its friends, and Clay had killed it with a leaping strike of his spear. When one of the archers had turned its attention to him, he¡¯d easily put an arrow through its head.


    The others had dealt with their own threats just as easily. Had the change in [Corpsebane] really made that much of a difference? Or had it just been the lack of a change in the Undead monsters¡¯ tactics? Clay was still shaking his head over the problem when Syr Katherine told them to break out the water and rations and eat.


    They took only a short break, and then they were once again passing through that dreaded doorway, and into the Dungeon.

 B3Ch7: Lesson Nine

    {Malus received from the Curse of the Legion of the Unliving! All Stats decreased by 2 for 24 hours.}


    Clay shivered as he felt the power drain from him. It was a miserable way to start an already terrible experience, but there was no way to avoid it.


    The corridor they had entered seemed to be the same as before, all darkness and dust. Once again, they set out through the maze in search of their prey. This time, Clay told himself that they would finally find their enemies and destroy them.


    Yet aside from the ever-present serfs, the Undead were nowhere to be seen. They passed through empty passages and walked by fields full of that disturbing red grain, but there was no sign of a knight, priest, or saboteur. More importantly, the centurions weren¡¯t there either. Clay gritted his teeth as he walked, wondering if the Undead had simply decided to handle the problem of adventurers invading their realm by simply hiding.


    Eventually, however, Syr Katherine appeared to have had enough of the lack of contact. She called for a brief halt at the end of one corridor, her eyes showing a hint of the same frustration that Clay had been feeling. ¡°The enemy is obviously avoiding us. I do not know why, but we will need to draw them out if we want to accomplish our mission.¡±


    The other two adventurers looked grim, and Clay frowned. He looked back at Syr Katherine. ¡°So how do we do that?¡±


    Orn spoke first. ¡°We¡¯re going to start destroying serfs, young hero.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Are you sure this is wise, Syr Katherine? You know what can happen.¡±


    Syr Katherine looked back at him and nodded. ¡°We are still close enough to the entrance to escape if needed. I believe it will be an important lesson as well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you do.¡± Taylor sighed and looked at Clay. ¡°Dungeons don¡¯t approve of anyone messing with their denizens, Sir Clay. So if we start attacking serfs, the Dungeon itself will send a response.¡±


    ¡°Meaning they¡¯ll come looking for us.¡± Clay looked around and saw confirmation on their faces. ¡°How many will there be?¡±


    Syr Katherine hesitated. ¡°It depends.¡±


    The answer sounded evasive. Clay frowned. ¡°Depends on what?¡±


    Taylor grimaced. ¡°On many factors, Sir Clay, ranging from how active the Dungeon is, to how many denizens are harmed, to how strong the adventurers are. It¡¯s impossible to know for sure what will happen before we do it.¡±


    There was a rumble of discontent from Orn as the Armsman folded his arms. ¡°So again I say, Syr Katherine, is this wise? We could find ourselves outmatched by the real powers that guide this place.¡±


    Hearing the Armsman mention even stronger monsters within the Dungeon caught Clay¡¯s attention rather quickly. The idea that they had only been fighting the weakest of the Dungeon¡¯s creatures put the situation into very clear perspective.


    Yet Syr Katherine was shaking her head. ¡°We cannot afford to wait much longer. If we do, the Malus will make it almost impossible to continue.¡±


    The others grimaced, but they nodded. She looked at Clay. ¡°Sir Clay, we are taking a risk here, but it will be for the best. Be cautious about doing so in the future.¡±


    It sounded all too much like the reasoning the Guild used to justify half of what it did, but Clay nodded. Then Syr Katherine pulled open the door and stepped through. ¡°We¡¯ll start by¡ª¡±


    She stopped, and Clay looked past her to see what had brought her to a halt. His breath caught for a moment as he got a clear view of the ground beyond the door.


    It had opened into another courtyard, though this one held neither farming space nor busy machinery. This time, it was a parade ground of some kind, with the entire cleared space covered in bone-white cobblestones. Walls rose on all four sides, higher than they had at any other point in their exploration of the Dungeon.


    Standing in the distance were three centurions, their banners waving in a breeze that howled in Clay¡¯s ethereal senses. Their horns were idle at their sides; instead, they were watching as Clay and the others stepped out into the strange light of the hollow sun to face them. They weren¡¯t alone, of course; a veritable army of legionnaires surrounded them, their shields up and their swords ready to stab and slash.


    Beyond them, however, was a familiar trio. A knight cut the air with his sword; a priest held his staff motionless and ready. Behind them, almost even with the legionnaires, a saboteur was leering at them as it prepared its weapon. Three enemies stood between them and a chance at driving back the Dungeon¡¯s power for years.


    It was all Clay could do to think rather than simply charging. The centurions weren¡¯t withdrawing; if anything, they seemed to be preparing themselves to fight. Why would they be so confident, if the last time the heroes had fought them, all three of their defenders had died?


    Guardians weren¡¯t like normal monsters. They didn¡¯t react out of sheer instinct. He¡¯d seen them plan and strategize. The oldest of them could outthink adventurers easily; the ones in the Tanglewood had designed a trap that had almost killed them all. There was a door directly behind them. Why weren¡¯t they leaving?


    Syr Katherine had drawn her sword and claimed the center for herself. Orn was already squaring off against the knight; he was also just as obviously planning on giving the saboteur a wide berth. Taylor had lined up in a similar fashion to fight the priest. Why were the Undead allowing them time to plan and maneuver? They should have attacked by now.


    Clay shook his head. He spoke in a low voice, trying to keep his words from crossing the courtyard. ¡°Wait. This doesn¡¯t feel right.¡±


    Syr Katherine glanced back at him. There was a hint of incredulity in her eyes. ¡°Sir Clay, our targets are right there. We cannot pass up this chance.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Clay narrowed his eyes. He remembered all the traps the monsters had set for him, both in the Tanglewood and at Rodcliff. It was a love that monsters and people often shared. ¡°I think they¡¯re bait. This feels like a trap.¡±


    Taylor scoffed, but Orn paused. He looked around the courtyard cautiously. ¡°You¡­ may be right, young hero.¡±


    The [Artifactor] stared at the [Fighter] in surprise. ¡°What? How could you say that now?¡±


    ¡°The situation is just a little too perfect.¡± Clay¡¯s mind was racing; he¡¯d just now noticed the other two doors in the courtyard, on either side of them. ¡°We haven¡¯t seen a single enemy this entire time, and now we find three Guardians? Guarded by a group that we¡¯ve already destroyed before? And they aren¡¯t retreating or calling for aid? No, something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    Orn nodded, and Taylor blinked. She looked around, her gaze pausing on the two other doors. Her expression went from confident to concerned in an eyeblink. ¡°What do you think they¡¯re doing?¡±


    Clay looked back at the monsters. They were shifting in position, but they weren¡¯t charging or retreating. Did they know how much their patience was giving away? ¡°I¡¯d bet that we¡¯re closer to getting a new level of Malus than we think. There¡¯s probably a lot more enemies on either side of those doors, too. So as soon as we charge out to fight that group¡­¡±


    ¡°They come out and cut us off from retreat.¡± Syr Katherine¡¯s voice was thick with remorse and self-reproach. She shook her head. ¡°They¡¯ve even arranged to fight us out in the open, where there¡¯s little chance of you repeating your¡­ tactic from last time, Sir Clay. I believe you are right.¡±


    The monsters were starting to get a bit less patient now. Clay could see the knight edging its way forward; the saboteur and the priest were fingering their weapons as well, as if debating whether they should use them. If they delayed too much longer, the Undead would probably just charge and give up their perfect ambush. ¡°We can¡¯t just stay here, though. They might have another group trying to come around and cut us off from behind.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s if they aren¡¯t there already, Sir Clay.¡± Orn¡¯s hands, false and real, tightened their grip on his hammer. ¡°We might be surrounded as we speak.¡±


    Taylor grimaced. ¡°Don¡¯t talk like that, you oaf. The boy might have an idea of how to get out of it. He¡¯s certainly tricky enough.¡± She looked at him expectantly, her eyebrows arched as if she¡¯d just asked him a question back at the Academy.


    Clay grunted and glanced backwards. ¡°I can block the door. It¡¯ll give us time to get back through the hallway. Once we make the next room, we can bring the passage down on them. Even if it doesn¡¯t kill them, they¡¯ll have to stop and go around. If there¡¯s some of them ahead of us, we¡¯ll just fight our way past them and get back to the gateway.¡±


    Syr Katherine tilted her head. ¡°You¡¯re sure it will hold?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Clay put up his spear and drew out his bow. He smiled as he set the first arrow. ¡°Start the [Chant] for the Drums of the Earth, all of you. Between the three of you, you can probably bring half the place down if you wanted.¡± The Undead were stepping forward, their eyes glowing a vicious red. ¡°We¡¯re out of time. Go, now!¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait to see if they listened. Instead, Clay drew the arrow back and shot at one of the Guardians, hoping it seemed like an act of bravado that was doomed to failure. Under his breath, he started one of his brand new minor [Chants]¡ªthe reverse of the Mule¡¯s Dismay.


    The thing hadn¡¯t been given a formal name by Olivia¡¯s notes, but Clay had privately been calling it The Convenient Nail. When he¡¯d grown up on the farm, he¡¯d gone through a period of time when he couldn¡¯t seem to avoid dropping things. Tools, baskets, the occasional sibling; he¡¯d dropped them all, for various clumsy reasons. His father and mother had started to wonder if the only way to keep things from falling would be to literally nail them down.


    This Nail would have been perfect. Once it was finished, it could fix an object in place for as long as Clay kept it going. It seemed like it would have been handy for making sure a tool didn¡¯t fall off a roof or slide off a table. Now, however, the simple thing might just save their lives.


    He shot a second arrow, even as his companions started back through the doorway at a run. Neither projectile did anything; both bounced off of the banner-shields the Guardians wielded. Clay stayed long enough to risk a third shot¡ªa fact that let him see even more knights, priests, and saboteurs boil out of both sides of the courtyard¡ªand then he stepped back through the door himself and slammed it shut behind him.


    There was a pair of metal bands, obviously meant to hold some sort of drop bar so that the door could be locked shut. The bar was missing, however, so Clay was going to have to improvise. He pulled out a handful of arrows, wrapped a bit of rope around them, and then slid them into place, wedging them between the door and the wall.


    Then he finished the [Chant], and the arrows went abruptly still. Clay tugged at them experimentally and found he couldn¡¯t have moved them if he tried. Suppressing his own shout of victory, Clay turned and ran for the end of the hallway, seeing the adventurers up ahead of him.


    Stolen story; please report.


    He made it a handful of steps before the door shook behind him. Clearly, one of the Undead had thought they would be able to ram their way through by sheer brute force. Clay grinned and ran harder, feeling the strain against his spell as the door held fast against more blows. All he needed to do was buy them enough time to¡ª


    {Malus Refreshed and Reinforced! All Stats decreased by 4 for 24 hours.}


    The notice arrived at the same time that he felt the shocking blow to his Soul. Despite it, he held onto his [Chant] and kept running. Now, more than ever, he couldn¡¯t afford to lose concentration.


    Up ahead, he saw Orn lash out with a fist as the [Fighter] lost the [Stats] he needed to use the Drums of the Earth. The impact left a slight dent in the wall, and Clay shook his head. Taylor gestured to a support beam as they passed it, and the [Fighter] paused long enough to smash it with his hammer. By the time Clay had caught up to the trio, half the hallway was littered with broken pieces of support columns.


    They paused as they reached the next room, a place that had been filled with stacks of crates. Clay spun around and slammed the door behind them. He glanced back at them and ended his [Chant]. ¡°They¡¯re going to be coming now. If you can still use the [Chant], then do it. I¡¯ll block this door, and we can keep moving.¡±


    He started the Refrain, grabbing a nearby crate to lean against the door. The adventurers looked at each other, and then both Syr Katherine and Master Taylor finished their own [Chants] and focused. A rumbling sound roared in the next hallway. It seemed to stop all too soon, and Orn shook his head. ¡°Did you kill any of them, Syrs?¡±


    Syr Katherine shook her head, as did Taylor. Then Clay completed his [Chant] and gestured for them to run again.


    Behind them, the door was already beginning to shake.


    The next hour continued with more of the same. Clay did his best to lock each door behind them, while the others damaged the passages and rooms they ran through, trying to block them off for the Undead pursuing them. Syr Katherine led them through the Dungeon, guiding them back along the corridors that would take them home, with Orn close behind.


    At one three-way intersection, they reached the turn just moments before a trio of Undead. The monsters seemed surprised to see them there; the knight had only a fraction of time to stab at Syr Katherine before the [Calculator] had darted past it and unleashed a wall of ice to block them. One gauntleted fist had smashed through it a heartbeat later, and a priest appeared on the other side just in time to be smashed aside by Orn. Taylor had dodged a trap set by the saboteur, firing off her own spell in a blaze of light that must have blinded the enemy long enough for them to turn the corner and escape behind the next locked door.


    From then on, each turn or twist in the passage hid another group of Undead. Every room they crossed seemed to grow shadows that would hide ranks of ambushers. Clay felt his breath growing ragged; even his bonuses to resist fatigue had their limits, and he wasn¡¯t nearly as bad off as the Syr Katherine was. Yet they all ran for their lives; they had no other choice.


    It was a miracle to burst through one last door and find the archway waiting for them. The light of the real world was waiting for them, a shimmering paradise just beyond those curved stones. Clay felt a burst of hunger for that freedom, something beyond anything he¡¯d expected to feel for just the sight of sunlight.


    There were Undead marching behind them. Clay locked the last door, and they ran. He glanced back just as they crossed the boundary, in time to see a massive sword smash partway through the barrier.


    Then they were out and in the sunlight again. They were free.


    Syr Katherine kept them moving. After their narrow escape, she didn¡¯t want the Dungeon¡¯s warriors to think they could finish the job by just stepping outside their home. Apparently, they could leave the Dungeon, at least for a very short time, but any extended pursuit was beyond them. Even staying too close to the entrance for too long would hurt them in the long run.


    By the time they all stopped running¡ªmore accurately, they all half-collapsed from exhaustion, with the arch a long way behind them¡ªClay thought his lungs might be about to burst. He had no idea how Syr Katherine had made it that far, and the prospect of fighting their way home sounded like an additional nightmare.


    For a time, they all simply sat there gasping for air, trying their best to fill their lungs and avoid moving muscles too sore for words. Then, as Clay felt his racing heart finally slowing down, he heard Taylor start to speak up. ¡°Syr Katherine. It may. Be too. Dangerous to continue.¡±


    Orn shook his head, looking for all the world like a bull. He appeared the least affected by their journey, though his face was still flush with exertion and covered in sweat. ¡°You give up too easily, Syr Taylor.¡±


    The [Artifactor]¡¯s eyes flashed with irritation. ¡°I do not. You oaf.¡± She drew in a deeper, shuddering breath and shook her head. ¡°We¡¯ve finished our main goal. There¡¯s no¡­ need to push things further.¡±


    Syr Katherine was still suffering more than any of them. As she shook her head silently, Clay took the chance to break into the conversation. ¡°What are you¡­ talking about? The Guardians¡­ are still alive.¡±


    Taylor speared him with a glare, but Syr Katherine finally managed to get a word out. ¡°Sir Clay¡­ is correct. However¡­ Master Taylor¡­ is not wrong.¡± The [Calculator] looked at him, her gaze cool despite her obvious exhaustion. ¡°Lesson nine. Sometimes¡­ we fail.¡±


    Clay looked at her in shock. Had she lost her mind? ¡°We haven¡¯t¡­ failed yet. They just¡­ surprised us. Once.¡± He looked around at the others, searching for support. Taylor looked away. Orn was tinkering with his false hand. ¡°We can¡­ do this.¡±


    Syr Katherine grimaced. It was odd seeing the expression on her face. ¡°There is¡­ too much.. at risk.¡±


    He opened his mouth to protest, but Orn spoke first. The [Fighter]¡¯s words were calm and even. ¡°You¡¯re putting the Council¡¯s plans first, then.¡±


    The [Calculator] shot him a look, but the Armsman looked unimpressed. He glanced at Clay and sighed. ¡°I am sorry, Sir Clay, but there is more at risk than you know.¡±


    Anger spiraled through Clay¡¯s chest. ¡°Then tell me.¡±


    Taylor somehow summoned the breath to laugh, though the bird-like chirp still seemed short of strength. ¡°Fine then. If you must know.¡± She glanced at Syr Katherine before she continued. ¡°The Council has decided that you are important. Your ability to train new adventurers and help them survive means that you are too valuable to risk. They aren¡¯t going to let you die against a random Dungeon in the middle of nowhere when they could have you bringing up entire generations of adventurers.¡±


    Clay blinked. The words made sense, considering what he knew of the Guild and its priorities. They were desperate; the fact that he¡¯d brought back an entire group of level one adventurers, not only alive, but several levels higher than they should have been, must have seemed like a miracle.


    At the same time, he was just one person. Expecting him to do the same thing with an entire year¡¯s worth of adventurers was insane, especially considering how much work he¡¯d put into it. Why did they think it was even possible?


    A hint of the answer lurked in the shadows of his mind as he shook his head. ¡°How is that going to work? I can¡¯t exactly take the entire next class of initiates out with me, now can I?¡±


    Orn grunted. ¡°One batch at a time, perhaps. They likely would want them cycling through the process with you.¡±


    ¡°That still doesn¡¯t¡­¡± Clay frowned. ¡°What makes them think that would work? I wouldn¡¯t have enough time. Unless¡­¡±


    Unless he started running things the way the Guild wanted him to, the way they had always done it. Do the work as quickly and straightforwardly as possible, without assessing the risks. Rush in, and trust in his abilities to compensate for any surprises.


    Taylor must have caught sight of his reaction; she raised an eyebrow. ¡°They have every confidence in your success, Sir Clay. After all, you have [Mentor], and you gained [Leader] on top of that. All you would need was one more [Experience], and you would have the [Achievement] that would make your students practically invincible. Which I assume you already received.¡±


    Clay thought back to Syr Katherine asking about his level. He turned to her and saw confirmation in her eyes. Then he looked back at Taylor. ¡°That¡¯s insane. My [Experiences] helped, but they weren¡¯t the reason the Ruffians survived.¡±


    Syr Katherine spoke, her breath now much more under control. ¡°The Council believes differently.¡±


    ¡°The Council wasn¡¯t there!¡± He shook his head. ¡°I got a different result because I did a lot of things differently. They can¡¯t just throw dozens of new adventurers at me and trust that a few bonuses will keep them safe.¡±


    ¡°That is an argument that you can have with the Council directly, then.¡± Syr Katherine shook her head. ¡°We need to move. Whether we continue or not, we cannot stay here.¡±


    Her words, while true, left Clay feeling incredibly angry. It was like she was assuming he was just going to go along with whatever the Council had planned. He hadn¡¯t fought his way out of the Academy and then gained the rank of peer within the Guild just to dance along with whatever tune they played.


    As they headed south, a plan began to form. It would take a little luck, but he had no intention of letting the Council¡ªor anyone else¡ªput him in a cage. Not when he still had something he could actually do to make things better. The Eternal Seal, the [Chant] that would kill a Dungeon, was out there, waiting to be found, as was the Rogue that had nearly destroyed Rodcliff. He wasn¡¯t going to be able to go after either of those missions if he was frantically trying to keep up with the Council¡¯s desperate refusal to change.


    All of which meant that he needed to prove that they had to change. They couldn¡¯t keep doing the same thing and expect a different result, even if he could make it work just a little better than before. It meant that he needed to get the chance to prove his own ideas in a way that they couldn¡¯t deny.


    One chance would be all he would get, but hopefully it would be all he needed.


    The journey back to camp was an eventful one. While the greater Undead within the Dungeon did not chase after them, the other, lower ranked creatures still gave it their best effort. They had to fight another ambush from the middle rank Undead, and three more from the lesser ones, before they finally made it back around Sarlsboro.


    Seeing the dead village did nothing to improve Clay¡¯s mood, and the others seemed to sense his lack of good cheer as they made ready to rest for the night. Dinner was a somber affair, and soon enough, Clay bedded down for the night, his plans still whirling in his mind. While he felt he could handle Syr Katherine and the others here, what was he going to do about the Guild as a whole? Just ignoring them wasn¡¯t a good solution in the long term; he¡¯d have to become a Rogue in all but name, and he¡¯d never be able to visit his own home again. There had to be some way to change the course that things were following.


    He kept chasing his own thoughts around his head, until exhaustion finally outweighed his frustration, and sleep claimed him. Even then, the dreams he could remember had him arguing with mirrored versions of himself, using words that made no sense.


    It was not a restful experience.


    The next day, Clay woke early and started to prepare. While the others noticed what he was doing, they didn¡¯t say anything as they ate breakfast and tended to their camp.


    When he began to tie up his supplies, however, Syr Katherine approached him. ¡°Sir Clay, are you ready for your training?¡±


    He looked at her for a long moment. Then he smiled. ¡°You could say that.¡± He tugged on the rope until his pack and extra supplies were once again suspended in midair. ¡°I¡¯m going hunting, actually. I¡¯ll be back tonight.¡±


    The adventurers all paused. Orn raised an eyebrow; Taylor was staring at him like he¡¯d just cursed her name. Syr Katherine, on the other hand, just studied him with narrowed eyes. ¡°There are no beasts in this place, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°Not hunting animals, Syr Katherine. Just monsters.¡± Clay picked up his spear and adjusted his armor. ¡°I won¡¯t go near the archway, but I am going to do my best to wipe out a bunch of the Undead between here and the Dungeon. At the very least, I should be able to reinforce [Corpsebane] a few times.¡±


    He stepped away, but Syr Katherine moved to block him. ¡°You are putting yourself at risk, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s part of the work. It has been long before I met you, and it will always be part of it until I die.¡± Then he grinned. ¡°At the same time, I¡¯d place my bets on the way I do things more than the way you¡¯re planning on doing them. With all due respect, of course.¡±


    Taylor spoke up from where she sat tending the fire. ¡°You remember you are still under the Malus, don¡¯t you? You aren¡¯t going to be able to do nearly as much.¡±


    He glanced at her. ¡°I was still able to fight the lesser Undead well enough yesterday. Besides, the Malus will run out by afternoon at this point. I will be fine.¡±


    Syr Katherine shook her head. ¡°The Council wanted us to stay with you.¡±


    ¡°Then come along. Or wait here until I get back. Either way, I¡¯m going.¡± Clay met her eyes without flinching. His grip tightened on his spear.


    Orn shook his head. ¡°You know we are heading back to Pellsglade soon. What is the point of this, young hero?¡±


    Clay broke off his stare to look at the Armsman. ¡°The point is that even if your job is done, my job isn¡¯t. I mean to drive back the Dungeon for a year or two at least, and I haven¡¯t finished that yet.¡±


    Taylor snorted in disbelief. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. I don¡¯t care how much you reinforce that [Achievement], you won¡¯t be able to do it alone.¡±


    When he looked at Syr Katherine, the adventurer was still studying him seriously. ¡°Syr Taylor is correct. You can¡¯t do this alone.¡±


    ¡°Again, feel free to join me, then.¡± Clay smiled. ¡°Here, I¡¯ll make it easy for you. We can spar once I get back tonight. If I win, we go about one last assault on the Dungeon, my way. That way you can see exactly how I worked in Rodcliff and keep me from getting killed at the same time. If you win, we go back to Pellsglade.¡±


    He heard Orn grumble something under his breath, but he ignored the [Fighter] and focused on Syr Katherine. She had to know he was planning something, but she couldn¡¯t know what. The [Calculator] studied him for a long while, and then nodded.


    ¡°So be it, Sir Clay.¡± She looked up. ¡°Be back before the sun touches the trees, or we will come after you and consider it a forfeit on your part. Do you understand?¡±


    Clay nodded and loosened his grip on the spear a little. He had a chance, now. ¡°I do. Have a good morning, Syr Katherine. Syr Taylor, Sir Orn.¡±


    He offered them each a small bow. Then he turned south and started towards Sarlsboro. The Undead were waiting.

 B3Ch8: Monster of Monsters

    Without the need to travel with the others or conserve his energy, Clay loped along at a fairly good pace. He was past Sarlsboro and into the beginnings of the corrupted forest within an hour.


    The first Undead tried to ambush him only ten minutes after that.


    It was only a small group of foragers, coming out of the trees as he moved along the road. They sent their dogs to catch him while they drew their arrows. They obviously meant to kill him quickly, while he was isolated and vulnerable.


    Their optimism was almost quaint.


    Clay ripped through the corpse hounds with barely an afterthought. The foragers lasted barely a moment longer. Even with the handicap of the Malus, such lower-ranked Undead were simply not a challenge. Now the middle ranks, on the other hand¡­


    He started off down the road again, hoping he would be able to move fast enough to get past the less important Undead before long. With the time limit that Syr Katherine had set, he couldn¡¯t afford to waste any more of his day on the lesser Undead than was necessary.


    Five short battles later, Clay found his first group of the middle rank Undead. They blared an alarm in his ethereal senses, setting off a clamor far louder than he felt for the lesser versions.


    He veered off the road immediately, weaving through the black trees and brushing through the brown grass. Unlike before, he wasn¡¯t going to wait for the Undead to block his way or chase after him. Clay was the hunter now, and he was going to teach these monsters to fear him the same way the spiders had before he ended them.


    The first of the mid-rank Undead to appear were a group of the mounted scouts. He detected them moving quickly along the road and took cover behind one of the many dark trees. A short while later, the swirling mist arrived, trailing behind the Undead as they rode along the path.


    They rode past him without noticing, and Clay followed in their wake, stalking along through the trees and grass without leaving any sign of his pursuit. It wasn¡¯t long before the clumps of mist paused; he could hear the hooves of their mounts clopping against the packed soil of the road as they milled about. It occurred to him they were searching for an intruder. They¡¯d expected to meet him on the road. How had they¡­?


    He glanced upward and grimaced. Higher up than he¡¯d expected, there was a dead bird circling. Clearly, there were foragers guiding their fellow Undead to any unwary prey. He¡¯d need to be careful of that problem in the future.


    Clay turned his attention back to the road. With the bird watching, he didn¡¯t want to give the Undead any sign of what he was doing. His first instinct had been to use Ballad of Air to wipe away the mist, but he would need to be a bit more subtle now. Quietly, he crept closer to the mist, careful not to give any sign that he was coming. He stayed in the sunlight, rather than the shadows; hopefully, his body heat would stand out less that way.


    The riders hadn¡¯t moved by the time he had reached the edge of their mist. Peering carefully, he thought he could see their indistinct figures moving inside as they looked for him. He grinned and set himself.


    Then he charged into the mist, holding his spear near the very end so that he could get as much length out of it as possible. The clammy, wet air blanketed him immediately; he felt the chill of it through his clothes. Clay ignored it, his eyes fixed on the first of the indistinct figures.


    The scout seemed far more dangerous, half-concealed by the mist. They loomed out of the cloud ahead of him, head still beginning to swivel in his direction. Clay lunged, his spear pointed straight at their torso. It struck like a bolt of lightning cutting through the armor and bone, as if the Undead was barely there.


    {Skeletal Scout slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    The indistinct shape collapsed immediately, and Clay yanked out his spear and moved past it. A second shape was moving in the mist; he saw a spear come level with him, and the profile of the figure narrowed. He waited until it was nearly on top of him, and then dodged to the opposite side of the scout¡¯s spear. Clay lashed out with his own weapon as it passed, catching the Undead in the chest with the spearblade.


    {Skeletal Scout slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    As the second Undead collapsed behind him, Clay sprinted for the third figure, which appeared to be turning to flee north along the road. He took three bounding steps and jumped, slamming into the Undead and knocking it from its mount. It thrashed until he drew his Pell knife and brought the heavy blade down on its neck.


    {Might increased by 1!}


    {Skeletal Scout slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    There weren¡¯t any more figures in the mist with him. Clay ran for the edge of the road, ducking beneath the branches of one of the black trees as the mist faded behind him. He crouched, hoping that the bird hadn¡¯t caught sight of him. When the mist was gone, and he was sure the entire group of Undead was dead, he slunk off to the southwest through the trees, hoping he could find another group of monsters before they started to bunch up in larger groups. It was hard to repress a grin; it just felt so right to be hunting again, even if he was by himself.


    As he left, he heard the distant squawking of the dead bird as the bones of its fellow Undead were revealed.


    A few minutes later, Clay picked up on another group of monsters.


    They weren¡¯t riders this time. Instead, he found the tracks for a group of levies. He could tell by the lumbering pattern of boot marks and their general lack of care. The tracks were fresh enough that they had to have come by recently. Mindful of the sky, he chased the group down, hoping to score another set of kills.


    He caught up with the enemy on the shore of a lethargic-looking creek. The water was choked with drifting patches of brown grass; the Undead were marching along it, their halberds held over their soldiers.


    Clay watched them a while, counting. There were at least ten Undead; he thought that made it at least three sergeants in the mix, though they seemed impossible to tell apart. Aside from small variations in height and build, the Undead all seemed to be exactly alike. They carried the same weapons, moved with the same lurching steps, and wore the same armor. Technically, he probably didn¡¯t need to pick the actual monsters out from their puppets, but some part of him wanted to know the signs a bit better.


    He followed them for a while, debating his method of attack. Using the Flame-Tongued Song would be the quickest method of dealing with the group, but the fire would be like a beacon for any patrolling corpse birds. Just deciding to attack them directly might work as well. Even with the Malus, he was confident that he could handle a bunch of levies, but the noise might attract just as much attention.


    So instead, he watched and waited, hoping for some sign to give things away. There had to be something. Maybe something small, or something unobtrusive, but there was no way that a sergeant would be able to mimic the movements of its levies that cleanly.


    He¡¯d stalked the things for the better part of fifteen minutes before he noticed something he hadn¡¯t before. Each of the Undead wore the same kind of helmet, almost perfectly exact. It fit them in exactly the same way, every single time. Only one thing was different.


    Three of the Undead had a mark on the back of their helmet. It almost looked like a scratch, a vertical line that gleamed a little in the sunlight. Clay¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he rechecked the rest of the shambling monsters.


    {Insight increased by 1!}


    Then he started the Canticle of Ice. Four spears of ice formed and shot towards three targets.


    {Wretched Sergeant slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Wretched Sergeant slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Wretched Sergeant slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    With a satisfied smile, Clay slipped back through the forest, leaving the Undead where they fell. He had plenty more to do, after all.


    Clay waited in the paper grass and watched his newest prey stalk forward.


    They were being careful, which was to be expected. After all, their birds hadn¡¯t seen any sign of him lately, and there were already two groups of their friends down. The three Undead hunters seemed appropriately nervous; even their corpse hounds were alert and snuffling at the air. One of them was following the trail that Clay had left earlier, deliberately pressing his feet into the mud as he walked by.


    Of course, he¡¯d then doubled back and jumped into the patch of half-dead, papery grass where he was now hiding. The spot had plenty of sunlight, which probably didn¡¯t help the Undead see him any clearer. Just in case, he¡¯d been using Autumn¡¯s Grasp to cool himself off; the [Chant] was meant for food, not people, but he figured it wasn¡¯t doing him any harm yet.


    He watched, waiting patiently as the Undead walked past. Clay had found them in the first place by following one of their birds for a while, at least until he had located their trail. Their boots had left far less of an imprint than the levies, but the dogs left some fairly obvious tracks to follow.


    Clay had gotten out in front of them and given them a blatant invitation to find him. Now, they were just about where he wanted them.


    As the group of Undead reached the end of the trail, he saw them pause. Their confusion was clear as they stared around in the forest, looking for some sign of where he¡¯d gone. It was almost enough to make him want to chuckle, though that would have given the game away.


    Instead, he made no sound as he rose from the grass, his bow in his hand. He already had an arrow nocked, and he drew and fired in one smooth movement.


    The arrow took the rearmost hunter directly in the head. It collapsed instantly, along with the dogs that had been bound to it.


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    The remaining two hunters saw the dogs collapse, but their companion had died without a sound. One of the monsters stepped forward, as if to check on what had happened to the animals, while the second stepped back, searching the forest ahead for a threat.


    Clay picked the one at the rear again, drawing and shooting it before it could realize that its companion was already down. His arrow caught it square in the back, punching through its light armor. This time, the thing didn¡¯t just fall where it stood. It staggered forward and fell on its face, clutching at the sleeve of the last hunter before it hit the ground.


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    The final monster spun, already reaching for its own bow. Clay moved faster, however, and his arrow took it in the chest before it could aim. The impact ruined its half-drawn shot and sent it reeling to the ground. Both dogs attached to it spun and began a charge; up above, he heard a bird screech.


    He put an end to it with another arrow.


    {Valor increased by 1!}


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    With all of them down and their bones still, he stalked over to recover his arrows. At least one of them was probably destroyed¡ªshooting through a piece of metal like a helmet would do that¡ªbut the others would be fine. He had more back at camp, but he didn¡¯t plan on being wasteful.


    Sure enough, one arrow had splintered, and another snapped. The other two were fine, though, and he slipped them back into his quiver before he continued on his way. He wasn¡¯t anywhere near done yet.


    Mist shrouded the forest.


    It crept through the trees, stealing across the dead grass and covering the barren dirt. The mist was a harbinger of doom, preceding its masters and muffling their approach. Anyone who had seen it would have felt the grip of fear, knowing the monsters that were coming behind it.


    The Undead arrived a moment later, crashing through the forest on all sides. A group of scouts, shrouded by even thicker clouds of mist, came charging into the clearing, their spears ready to skewer and stab. From another direction, a group of levies swung into place, their halberds forming a hedge of blades and points. Half a dozen Undead hounds came snapping and snarling from the opposite direction, fangs ready to rip and tear.


    Then they all came to a stop, staring at what was waiting for them at the center of the clearing.


    It was a bundle of paper grass and dark tree branches, wrapped together and warmed with the reversed [Chant] of Autumn¡¯s Grasp. Clay had called the spell Spring¡¯s Sun, and it had worked fairly well to make the improvised strawman appear like a warm-blooded, living creature. Now, however, the spell was fading, and the Undead stepped forward to poke and prod at it. The hounds were the ones to get closest, snorting and sniffing at it as it searched for a scent.


    They didn¡¯t appear to find anything. The levies cautiously stepped closer, while the scouts turned their mounts to examine the forest around them. Even the hunters, cautious as they were, crept in, still examining the area for any sign of a threat. There were signs of frustration in their motions, the anger of a predator denied their prey.


    Then the dogs all froze as a hissing noise filled the air. They dropped in a pile of bones, their inquisitive snarls cutting off midway through. The other Undead froze, staring in surprise, and then turned to the hunters, all of whom had been skewered by spears of ice.


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Condemned Hunter slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Corpsebane: 20% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 40% versus Rotted Levies, Wretched Corporals, Weary Horses, Skeletal Riders, Corpse Hounds, Condemned Foragers, Corpse Birds, and Condemned Hunters.}


    The scouts reacted first. Before the slain corpse birds had crashed through the trees above, they wheeled their mounts around. They had no clear target, not yet, but they were already searching. At least, they were, until an arrow plucked one of them from the saddle.


    {Skeletal Scout slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    They spurred their mounts into a charge. The direction was less important than the motion; a moving target would be harder to hit, after all. There was a clear path for them to travel, down a small gully towards a nearby stream. From there, they could reach the road, where they might be able to escape, or at least see their tormentor.


    Halfway down the passage, a cord suddenly stretched across the trees, right at the perfect height to catch the horsemen in the neck or chest. There was no give in the cord when they struck it; it was as if they had charged directly into a rod of iron at a full gallop. Neither remained in the saddle; they landed hard, their armor and spears broken. A moment later, the rope flopped loosely to the ground, and a shadow flitted across their bodies, leaving behind tremendous gashes and still bones.


    {Skeletal Scout slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    {Skeletal Scout slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Weary Horse slain!}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Corpsebane: 25% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 50% versus Rotted Levies, Wretched Corporals, Weary Horses, Skeletal Riders, Corpse Hounds, Condemned Foragers, Corpse Birds, Condemned Hunters, and Skeletal Scouts.}


    The levies and sergeants had reacted slower, but they were no less disciplined for it. They formed a circle, their halberds pointing in all directions. Eyeless skulls searched the surrounding forest for threats as the mist cleared, and they shifted to aim their weapons at each imagined target.


    They waited in vain. It seemed like their attacker had left. When the mist of the horsemen cleared, and the brilliant sunlight once again shone across the clearing, they saw nothing waiting for them. There were no heroes surrounding them, and no opposing monsters ringed them.


    Then, just as they might have believed everything was over, a spear sailed out of the daylight and took one of the sergeants in the chest. It slew the Undead instantly, and as it toppled over, the spear sticking out of it like a flagpole, the strength fled the limbs of its levies.


    {Wretched Sergeant slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    The remaining Undead scrambled frantically to close ranks again, but it was already too late. Pursuing Leap gave their attacker too much speed; a figure they hadn¡¯t seen landed on the sergeant¡¯s corpse and ripped the spear free. A levy began an overhand swing to cut the enemy down, but before the blow landed, a heavy-bladed knife had already sunk up to the hilt in the face of its sergeant.


    {Wretched Sergeant slain! Soul increases by 20}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Corpsebane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 60% versus Rotted Levies, Wretched Corporals, Weary Horses, Skeletal Riders, Corpse Hounds, Condemned Foragers, Corpse Birds, Condemned Hunters, Skeletal Scouts, and Wretched Sergeants.}


    More corpses tumbled to the forest floor as the rest lunged at the attacker. Halberds were brushed aside with ease, and the final sergeant had barely managed to swing its own weapon when the figure caught the haft and stopped it. The sergeant looked up and had one moment to try to pull back before a lethal spear thrust caught it.


    {Wretched Sergeant slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    That quickly, the battle was over. The final corpses fell to the ground, never to rise again, and the clearing went still.


    Clay let the silence continue, listening for any other signs of reinforcements. He heard nothing.


    Then he wrenched his spear free and turned south. He was already finished with these, but he was sure that more interesting prey was waiting for him closer to the archway. He¡¯d keep his promise, of course, but that wouldn¡¯t keep him from hunting down every type of Undead that he could outside of the Dungeon. Besides, he was close to his next level already.


    {Will increased by 1!}


    His spear set on his shoulder, and a tuneless whistle on his lips, Clay headed deeper into the forest, thinking about what he would do to the next group of Undead. It had been a good hunt so far.


    An hour later, Clay watched as a cloud of poison slowly spread across the forest floor. The sickeningly green fog was thick enough to completely obscure the figures within, but he could hear them stomping across the barren patch of dirt they were crossing. There were at least two higher level Undead inside that cloud, more likely three: a marshal, a lancer, and an archer. He¡¯d been trying to figure out a plan on how to kill all three while they were working together and he was alone. So far, he hadn¡¯t been able to settle on a real plan.


    In general, his journey south had been much more complicated than he¡¯d been expecting. He¡¯d half hoped that the high-level monsters would have been patrolling in ones and twos, or at the very least they would be moving in groups with their own kind, the way the mid-rank Undead had been doing. Unfortunately, it looked like they were working together, which meant he¡¯d have to contend with them supporting each other¡¯s weaknesses.


    The terrain hadn¡¯t been doing him any favors either. He hadn¡¯t anticipated how much harder the bone-thorns would make his travel through the corrupted forest, but he knew better now. It didn¡¯t only show up in the open, either. There had been a few times when he¡¯d nearly stepped on a tangle of it running through some paper grass, or grabbed hold of a vine of it instead of the trunk of a tree. Clay had already been forced to use at least two bandages from when he¡¯d cut himself on it, and seeing the way it leeched away the blood had been disturbing to say the least.


    Fortunately, it didn¡¯t appear that the Undead below could smell the blood. They might have still been searching, through their own eyes and those of their puppets, but he¡¯d found a spot where they weren¡¯t able to see him. The Undead might have established a fairly thorough search pattern, but they somehow neglected to search the trees above them as they walked.


    It wasn¡¯t all that unforgivable a mistake, of course. The blackened trees were unclimbable for most people, with their smooth bark and oily branches. Most people didn¡¯t have access to a [Chant] like the Ladder, however, and he¡¯d managed to find a spot where he could boost himself into the middle branches and watch this particular group pass by.


    Using the Ballad of Air to brush aside the cloud so he could fight without being poisoned was a fair tactic; it was something that the group had used repeatedly in their attacks on the defenders of the doorway. Unfortunately, if he used it now, he wouldn¡¯t be able to use many of the other [Chants] that he normally used to simplify the fight, such as the Flame-Tongued Song, or the Canticle of Ice. If something broke his concentration before he killed the lancer, he¡¯d also be left in the middle of the poison, with little chance of reestablishing the [Chant] before it closed in around him.


    Clay shook his head, and tried to spot something, anything, through the cloud. If he could just spot the lancer, he might be able to kill it before he had to fight the others. The problem was that the cloud was far denser than the mist used by the scouts. It covered them completely.


    Perhaps it was time to give up for the day. He¡¯d wanted to kill a few more, to take a few more steps closer to another reinforcement for [Corpsebane] and reach the next level, but there was such a thing as pushing too far. Clay shook his head and mentally prepared himself for the argument ahead.


    Then he paused, still watching the cloud. The Undead had started to tromp past a dry creek bed, their weapons and armor creaking as they stepped down and out of the creek. As they moved past it, the cloud dropped low over the depression in the ground¡­ and something else happened.


    The mist pooled in the shallow ditch that had once formed the creek¡¯s banks. It flowed along the channel like water, hugging the curves of the empty riverbank. As it sank into that ditch, he saw the top of the mist get lower, as if it couldn¡¯t continue rising as high.


    For just a moment, he thought he saw a hint of a helmet.


    Then the Undead were past the obstacle, and the moment was gone. Clay continued watching them, noting the way the mist hugged the ground. An idea formed, and he smiled. He waited for the Undead to pass and then used the Ladder¡¯s opposite to let himself down. It would take a bit of time to lead them to the right place, but when he did, he might give himself the chance he needed to put an end to them.


    A little over half an hour later, Clay watched the same patrol following a trail he¡¯d laid out for them.


    It had been a bit of a masterpiece, if he said so himself. The first part had been simple; just letting the corpse birds catch sight of him. A few glimpses, no more than a hint here and there, had drawn the patrol like crows to a corpse. They¡¯d quickly found other signs of him; a boot print here, a drop of blood there, had been enough to convince them they were on the right path.


    He¡¯d led them on a bit of a merry chase for a while, making sure that they were coming for him alone. It would have been complicated if they had drawn in other patrols, but they had seemed intent on killing him themselves. When he was satisfied that he¡¯d be fighting them alone, Clay had let them find the traces that led up and around a small rise.


    Their pace had grown eager as they came up over that hill. The traces had gotten closer together, and Clay could practically sense their urgent need to track him down and end him. He¡¯d watched once again from the comfort of a nearby tree as they came up and over the side of the hill, walking along the side of it.


    They might not have noticed as the poisonous mist rolled away down the slope. Its own apparent weight dragged it from where it had provided shelter for the Undead, trailing down like a curtain as more and more of it dropped away from the lancer that was generating it. Clay muttered a [Chant] under his breath and nocked an arrow. He watched and waited.


    Eventually, just as they drew even with him on the slope, he saw the indistinct form of the lancer start to emerge. It was only a hazy outline, but Clay immediately fixed it in his mind. Once that Undead was down, he could deal with the others quickly enough.


    A moment later, the Canticle of Ice completed, and he sent a full six frozen spears directly at that indistinct shadow.


    He saw the figure in the mist stagger. For a heartbeat, he thought he¡¯d somehow missed the thing completely.


    Then the lancer shifted and fell away out of his sight. He heard the armor clatter along a stone; the corpse tumbled away down the slope a moment later.


    {Skeletal Lancer slain! Soul increases by 80}


    {Weary Mount slain!}


    Even as the lancer fell away, Clay watched the now-fading mist. He knew it would happen, but he wanted to see¡­


    There. Even as the marshal led his levies out of the mist towards him, and even as the pack of snarling corpse hounds tore their way up the slope, he saw a puff of motion out of the opposite side of the mist. In another circumstance, it might have been a gust of wind. With what he knew, however, it was the archer, trying to find a place to slip away unnoticed.


    Clay drew his arrow back and fired in the same motion, leading his target slightly. The shot caught the blurred form of the archer in the leg, sending it to its knees. As it struggled back upright, Clay shot it again, this time square in the back.


    His third shot was ruined as both corpse birds dove at him from above, screeching as they came. He grunted and tried to shift his weight on the tree branch. It was a mistake, and he knew it the moment his boots started to slip on the too-smooth wood. Rather than topple from the tree, Clay chose to jump, turning a fall into a half-hearted leap.


    He hit the grey dirt below and rolled a little, already starting a new [Chant] under his breath. The dogs were already nearly to him, and he drew his knife in response. Clay barely had enough time to stow his bow before the hounds were on him.


    The first one leapt at him, jaws opened wide to latch onto him. Clay struck at it, snapping a leg and shoving it aside. He was careful not to kill it outright; he didn¡¯t know if it took more effort to repair or revive the thing, but he hoped it would at least distract the archer. It took a little more effort as he dodged the second Undead beast, but he kicked it back down the hill and towards the advancing line of armored levies.


    They didn¡¯t stop; if anything, the levies stomped down harder on the struggling corpse hound as they climbed the hill. Clay¡¯s eyes narrowed as they advanced, and he shifted his grip on the knife as they came. The levies had formed the usual wall of halberds, their spearpoints creating a hedge that he would need to fight past in order to reach their master.


    He dodged to the left, abandoning the high ground to try to circle around. They shifted to face him, a few of them sliding a little in the grey, lifeless dirt. The corpse birds were circling as well, preparing for another dive at him, and he could already hear a pained whistle summoning the dogs back to their task.


    Then he completed the [Chant] of the Pursuing Leap, and he jumped into the air as he was yanked down the hillside. The archer was still struggling to its feet when he smashed into it. He stabbed and slashed it immediately, and it went still.


    {Condemned Marksman slain! Soul increases by 80}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Commoner reaches Level 14!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 29!}


    {Experience gained (Stalker: Gain 10% bonus to Tracking, Hide, and Trapping Skills.)}


    {Experience gained (Scout: Gain 20% to Tracking and Analysis Skills. Gain 10% to all skills when alone.)}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Assassin: Gain 40% damage to initial attacks from hiding.}


    Clay felt a rush of satisfaction at seeing the notifications come through. There was a second feeling of content as the bodies of the corpse birds fell from the sky. Then he looked up at the marshal and its troops and smiled. ¡°Two down, one to go.¡±


    He spoke the words of the Cycle of Return as he climbed the hill towards the last remaining Undead. The levies and the marshal backed away slightly, as if sensing that Clay was beyond them. One of them started to scramble away.


    It didn¡¯t make it far before Clay¡¯s spear came spinning out from behind the tree he¡¯d been using. The weapon crashed through the line of Undead from behind, knocking half of them from their feet. Clay was running before he¡¯d even caught the weapon; he reached them as they were still trying to scramble back into a line.


    The marshal died immediately, his spear planted in its heart, and its next three bodies were killed just as quickly. Clay turned and saw the last of them, the one that had made a break for safety, suddenly seize up as the marshal transferred to it. Perhaps the Undead thought it had managed to escape.


    It might have changed its mind as Clay¡¯s spear took it right in the head a moment later.


    {Wretched Marshal slain! Soul increases by 80}


    Clay looked around at the wreckage of the Undead patrol and nodded. Then he looked up at the sun overhead, trying to judge the time. One more, he thought, and then he¡¯d need to head home.


    He set about recovering his arrows and other equipment. Then he turned to the task of finding the next patrol.

 B3Ch9: Student to Teacher

    By the time that Clay returned to camp, a rainstorm had blown in across the corrupted forest.


    It had taken him a little by surprise; there had been such good weather recently that he hadn¡¯t really taken the possibility of rain into account. Fortunately, he¡¯d already been on the way back when the drops had started to fall, but it hadn¡¯t made his outlook any brighter as the rain had arrived. The only real benefit to it had been the fact that the Undead had apparently been just as slowed down by the mud as he was. They only attempted half a dozen ambushes as he made his way back through the trees, and none of them lasted very long.


    As he skirted the dead village, the downpour only increased, turning much of the grey, lifeless dirt into a clinging, pale mud. He had the sneaking suspicion that it would be awful to clean from his boots, a feeling that only increased as more and more of it stuck to him as he moved.


    As he closed in on the camp, he took a moment to check the [Gift]. It had been a while since he had last seen it, and he wanted to reassure himself as he went up against Syr Katherine.


    [Clay Evergreen]


    [Class: Commoner] {Level 14} (All Stats have a maximum of 29)


    [Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]


    [Soul: 360/1400]


    [Stats] {Might: 28} {Fortitude: 27} {Insight: 28} {Memory: 28} {Valor: 28} {Will: 28}


    [Experiences]


    {Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}


    {Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}


    {Slayer II: Gain 20% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    {Forrester: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of a forested area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in a forested area.}


    {Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill}


    {Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.)}


    {Exterminator II: Gain triple the bonus from all Bane Achievements.}


    {Determined: Fatigue lessened by 10%. Wounds heal 5% faster. Gain 10% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}


    {Defiant II: Gain 40% bonus to all skills when facing an opponent of a higher level.}


    {Smallmage: Can chant minor Chants 10% faster. Gain 20% effectiveness for minor Chants.}


    {Valiant: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing multiple opponents.}


    {Warsinger: Gain Lyricist Skill. Can complete all Chants 20% faster.}


    {Mentor: Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading lower level heroes. Allied heroes gain 20% bonus to all skills.}


    {Unseen: Gain 20% to all attempts to hide. Gain 10% to all damage and skills while hiding.}


    {Banisher: Gain permanent access to the Chant of Garden¡¯s Peace. Gain 10% speed and effectiveness for all Chants.}


    {Seeker: Gain Ethereal Sense Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting monsters.}


    {Leader: Gain Inspire Skill. Gain 5% bonus to all skills when leading heroes. Allied heroes gain 10% bonus to all skills.}


    {Stubborn: Fatigue lessened by 20%. Wounds heal 10% faster.}


    {Whisperer: Gain 10% bonus to minor Chants. Gain 10% bonus to the speed and effectiveness of all Chants.}


    {Duelist: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when facing an enemy one on one.}


    {Relentless: Fatigue lessened by 15%. Gain 15% bonus to repetitive or familiar activities.}


    {Guide: Gain Mapping Skill. Gain 20% bonus to Analysis and Track Skills. Movement speed increases by 10%.}


    {Tunneler: Gain 5% bonus to all skills inside of an underground area. Gain extra 15% bonus to the Tracking skill in an underground area.}


    {Champion: Gain 20% bonus to all skills and damage when facing a Guardian.}


    {Follower: Gain 20% bonus when being led by a higher-level hero.}


    {Dungeoneer: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when inside a Dungeon.}


    {Stalker: Gain 10% bonus to Tracking, Hide, and Trapping Skills.}


    {Scout: Gain 20% to Tracking and Analysis Skills. Gain 10% to all skills when alone.}


    [Achievements]


    {Spiderbane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against spiders. Bonus increases to 60% versus Mantrap Spiderlings, Troll Spiderlings, Mature Mantrap Spiders, Mature Troll Spiders, Elder Troll Spiders, and Elder Mantrap Spiders.}


    {Corpsebane: 30% increase to all skills and damage against Undead. Bonus increases to 60% versus Rotted Levies, Wretched Corporals, Weary Horses, Skeletal Riders, Corpse Hounds, Condemned Foragers, Corpse Birds, Condemned Hunters, Skeletal Scouts, and Wretched Sergeants.}


    {Lizardbane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against lizards. Bonus increases to 30% versus Flame Wretches, Flame Devils, and Flame Horrors.}


    {Slimebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against slimes. Bonus increases to 30% versus Small Ironslimes, Large Ironslimes, and Giant Ironslimes.}


    {Paragon: All skills gain 20% effectiveness around fellow heroes.}


    {Combat Generalist: Gain Tactician Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all damage in combat.}


    {Warrior Poet: Gain 40% bonus to Lyricist Skill. Gain 10% bonus to the speed of all Chants.}


    {Unyielding Spirit: Fatigue lessens by 5%. Wounds heal 10% faster. Gain 10% damage resistance.}


    {Commander: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when leading a group of heroes. Allied heroes gain a 20% bonus to all skills.}


    {Assassin: Gain 40% damage to initial attacks from hiding.}


    It was too bad he couldn¡¯t attack Syr Katherine from hiding; she¡¯d be much easier to deal with that way, but he doubted the others would consider it a victory in a spar. Clay shook his head and continued forward. He braced himself as he walked into the clearing that hid their camp.


    Syr Katherine was waiting, a practice sword already in her hand. She seemed to be completely unaffected by the rain falling around her; by contrast, Orn and Taylor had both retreated under a tent, peering out into the clearing as Clay approached.


    There was a practice spear laid against a nearby tree. Clay walked over to it and replaced his actual spear with it. ¡°We¡¯re fine to start, then?¡±


    She nodded, her eyes serious. ¡°You nearly did not make it in time, Sir Clay. I almost hoped that you had decided to concede the point.¡±


    Clay grinned. He shook his head. ¡°Not this time, Syr Katherine.¡± He moved the spear in his hands a little, getting a feel for the weapon. It was always a bit of an adjustment, going from the weight of his actual spear to the lighter, less lethal version. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±


    The [Calculator] nodded and fell into her stance. He could see her begin a [Chant]; to his surprise, he recognized the Canticle of Ice. In Syr Katherine¡¯s hands, it was an incredibly dangerous threat, bolstered both by her [Memory] and [Insight]. Clay noted, to his chagrin, that there was plenty of distance between them. There likely wouldn¡¯t be any way for him to reach her in time to stop her before she completed it.


    He charged anyway, his own [Chant] flowing from his lips. Syr Katherine¡¯s expression shifted when she heard him; a flicker of a frown crossed her face. Then she backed away, clearly wanting to gain a bit more distance in order to strike him more effectively.


    Then his [Chant] completed, long before hers, and a shrieking, disruptive clamor rose through the rain, as Clay deployed the Discord for the first time.


    Syr Katherine jerked as if he¡¯d stabbed her; the Canticle abruptly failed. She was still blinking in shock when Clay lunged at her, his spear already reaching to strike at her torso.


    She twisted and deflected the attack, though she was still obviously off balance. Clay attacked again and again, trying to keep her from reasserting herself. Without [Chants], he had the advantage in strength, speed, and endurance. He had every reason to continue to press those advantages while she was still floundering.


    Their feet squelched in the mud as Clay drove her across the clearing. He heard a mutter from Orn as Clay nearly knocked the sword from Syr Katherine¡¯s hands; he caught a glimpse of Taylor¡¯s wide-eyed expression, the [Artifactor] clearly having trouble processing what had just happened. Syr Katherine¡¯s own shock faded, however, and as he drove in towards her yet again, her eyes hardened.


    He saw her take a hand off her sword, bringing it up to face him. His reaction was immediate. Discord couldn¡¯t stop a [Charm] as far as he knew, and even if it could, there was no way that it would be fast enough. Instead, Clay shortened his grasp on his spear, lunging even closer to her. He deflected the sword to one side and took his own hand off the haft to grab Syr Katherine by the wrist.


    Clay twisted her palm out of the way just in time. He felt the sharp burst of chill as Syr Katherine blasted a lance of ice out and past him. It tore through the leaves of the trees, continuing out into the forest to crash into a distant trunk.


    Syr Katherine blinked, and Clay congratulated himself for surprising her a second time. Then she headbutted him straight in the face.


    He jerked backwards, though the blow hadn¡¯t hurt nearly as much as he¡¯d expected. Syr Katherine jerked backwards, trying to free herself from his hold on her wrist. Her sword writhed around the haft of his spear, darting towards his fingers, but he twisted and shoved it away again. Syr Katherine reversed her grip and tried to gut him with the sword, but he choked up enough on the spear to intercept her strike.


    She let go of the sword, obviously preparing to use a second [Charm]. At this range, unless he somehow pushed her aside again, it wasn¡¯t likely that he could to stop her.


    So instead, Clay stabbed her, right in the gut.


    He felt the air go out of Syr Katherine¡¯s lungs as the blunt tip of the practice spear smashed into her. She staggered backwards, but Clay still didn¡¯t let go. Two more hits in quick succession drove her backwards, and he let go so that she could fall to her hands and knees. Clay got both his hands on his spear and prepared to swing.


    ¡°Hold!¡±


    The order froze Clay where he stood. Orn¡¯s instructions were something that he had grown used to obeying over the previous months, and the old habits were hard to break. Syr Katherine stopped as well; she¡¯d been about to rise to her feet, but apparently she had the same reflexive reaction to the Armsman¡¯s voice.


    Clay took a risk and glanced at the tent. Orn had finally stepped outside of it, and was standing with his arms crossed. The Armsman was looking at him with a grim expression. ¡°I believe you¡¯ve made your point, Sir Clay. The match is over. You¡¯ve won.¡±


    Syr Katherine made a noise, and Clay looked back at her. She slowly rose to her feet, wincing as she stood. ¡°Yes. You have.¡± Then she raised an eyebrow. ¡°Though I am curious as to how you managed that, Sir Clay.¡±


    He stood back and let the butt of the spear hit the mud. ¡°We can talk about that later, Syr Katherine. For now, it was a fair bout.¡±


    Clay paused for a moment, as if daring her to challenge it. Syr Katherine didn¡¯t bother. She simply nodded and waited for him to continue. ¡°Tomorrow we are going to sweep the forest for Undead. I want each of you to get [Corpsebane] as far as you can. After that, we¡¯re going into the Dungeon one more time. Then we can head back to Pellsglade.¡±


    Syr Katherine tilted her head. ¡°And then you¡¯ll tell me where you found that [Chant]?¡±


    He paused, and Taylor answered for him. ¡°Well, that¡¯s obvious, at least.¡± When they looked over at her, the [Artifactor] shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that the Novice got it to him. She¡¯s probably found even more of the things.¡±


    The adventurers looked back at Clay, and he just returned their stares in silence. Taylor sighed. ¡°I thought so. Seriously, after her Choosing that girl is going to be twice as much trouble as he is¡­¡±


    Syr Katherine grimaced. ¡°We can address that later. I believe we all need a good night¡¯s rest.¡± She gingerly took a step to recover her sword, once again flinching as she touched the spot where he¡¯d repeatedly stabbed her with the practice spear. ¡°Since Sir Clay has plans for us, the very least we can do is prepare ourselves well.¡±


    Then she looked back at him, her eyes as steady as ever. ¡°As long as you remain sure of the risk, Sir Clay.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°The Guild wants me to help the cadets survive, right? Well tomorrow I¡¯m going to show you how I¡¯d plan on doing it, and why. Maybe that might make you a little less excited about it.¡±


    She studied him a moment, and then nodded. ¡°We will see, Sir Clay. We will see.¡±


    The rain had finished by the time they left camp the following morning, leaving behind a mist that clung to the ground like a shroud. They once again secured their supplies and trudged south. To Clay¡¯s complete lack of surprise, the adventurers were less than enthusiastic about their mission that day. He could imagine that they were already looking forward to returning to Pellsglade and then back to the Academy, where the Guild¡¯s plans could safely go forward without them.


    It was entirely possible that would still happen, but not before Clay felt finished with the Dungeon first. He put their sullen cooperation out of mind and focused on the task ahead.


    The Undead were waiting for them, of course. They were easy to clear away at first, with the lower ranked monsters being wiped away so quickly that it left even the adventurers a little surprised. Even the fact that there were at least four ambushes waiting for them didn¡¯t really bother the group all that much; in most cases, the battles lasted for less than half a minute.


    When they reached the part of the corrupted forest where the mid-rank monsters roamed, Clay called for a halt. The others all studied him with various levels of reluctance, but he forced a smile.


    ¡°All right, I¡¯ve already killed enough of this level of monsters to reinforce the [Achievement]. I want each of you to split up and hunt down enough of each kind so that you reinforce it as well. We can meet back here once you¡¯re all done in a few hours.¡±


    The adventurers blinked. They exchanged a look, and Taylor spoke up slowly. ¡°You want us to engage the enemy by ourselves, Sir Clay?¡±


    ¡°For now, yes.¡± Clay grinned. ¡°I believe that you¡¯re all more than capable of taking care of yourselves, and by spreading out, you should be able to find plenty of the enemy. I would avoid using your more limited abilities, though. We aren¡¯t going to be done once we meet up here again.¡±


    Orn cleared his voice slightly. ¡°Young hero, we¡¯ll be much more vulnerable alone than together. Worse, by attacking so much, we¡¯ll stir up the monsters into a frenzy.¡±


    ¡°Then you should finish that much quicker, Sir Orn.¡± Clay gave the Armsman a level look. ¡°I¡¯ve been able to handle it, and you¡¯re all three or four levels above me. I have every confidence that you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The [Fighter] blinked and adjusted his hammer on his shoulder. His frown told Clay that the man had more objections, but before he could speak them, Syr Katherine spoke up. ¡°And what will you be doing in the meantime, Sir Clay?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°I¡¯m going to hit the higher-level monsters further in. I already hunted a few of them yesterday. Hopefully, by the time you¡¯re all done, I¡¯ll be able to finish off the [Achievement] with them, and then you can all start in on it, too. We should be able to be done before nightfall.¡±


    The incredulousness in the others¡¯ eyes was refreshing, given the number of times he¡¯d had to feel exactly the same way about their tactics. Taylor was gathering herself up for another argument when Clay cut her off. ¡°This is how the Ruffians and I did it. They cleaned up as many of the smaller monsters as possible, and then I took them forward into the next challenge. I¡¯m not escorting you as much, because you¡¯re already experienced, but if you have me teach cadets, this is what I will do. And it will take as long as it needs to be done. Understand?¡±


    He looked at Syr Katherine, who nodded slowly. Clay let out a bit of breath that he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding and looked south. ¡°I¡¯ll give you some information. The sergeants all have marks on the backs of their helmets if you need to look for them. When you are tracking the hunters, watch for their birds; they use them to scout ahead and alert the others. As for the scouts, just don¡¯t let the mist bother you. They can¡¯t seem to track you very well through it, and the rest of the Undead are never inside the cloud.¡±


    They all exchanged another look, and Clay glanced up. Sure enough, there was a bird circling overhead. He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll see you before lunch. Good hunting.¡±


    The adventurers muttered their answers, but Clay simply turned south. He had his own work to do, after all, and the experienced heroes could take care of themselves. At least, that was what he hoped to be true.


    Clay watched as a group of Undead followed the trail he had left them and sighed.


    He¡¯d taken a second group of the advanced Undead the day before, in much the same way as the first group. Today he¡¯d been hoping to find that they hadn¡¯t changed their patrols all that much, but clearly he¡¯d underestimated the amount of chaos he¡¯d caused.


    Instead of a group of one of each kind of Undead, there were at least twice that number in the patrol below. The poison cloud was twice the size, and he counted at least four birds overhead. They weren¡¯t leaving anything to chance, clearly; another set of birds was traveling a short distance away, clearly ready to alert another group to danger and help them reinforce.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    He turned his attention back to the ground. Fortunately, the Undead were still coming up the hill just like he¡¯d planned, and the poison cloud was slowly beginning to trickle down the hill as they moved up the incline. The lancers would probably be exposed soon, and he thought his newer bonuses in striking from ambush would help him finish the job, regardless of the numbers, but it was still a disturbing sign of just how many monsters were moving through the corrupted forest, and how well organized they were. At this rate, he¡¯d be lucky to avoid a hunting party specifically meant to track him down before the day was done.


    Clay shook his head and prepared himself. The Canticle of Ice was a familiar tool, now, and he prepared it while he waited for the heads of the lancers to be exposed. He got his wish a short while later, as the mist dipped low enough for their forms to be mostly visible through the remaining haze.


    He unleashed the spell and watched as the spears drove into the barely seen figures. Before they had fallen, he had already started the Flame-Tongued Song and dropped from the tree where he had been waiting. It would have been nicer to clear out the archers next, but he wanted the marksmen to fall last, if only to give him a little more time before the next group attacked.


    {Skeletal Lancer slain! Soul increases by 80}


    {Weary Mount slain!}


    {Skeletal Lancer slain! Soul increases by 40}


    {Weary Mount slain!}


    His relief at the fall of the horseman vanished a moment later as a double batch of levies and marshals charged up the hillside towards him. Arrows spat up out of the cloud as well, though most of them went wide as he dodged out of the way. At least one of them brushed his armor, and he nearly lost hold of the [Chant] in his surprise. Clearly, this patrol was a lot more aware of his tactics than he¡¯d been hoping.


    The [Chant] was still not ready when the attackers swarmed around him, hacking and stabbing with their halberds. Clay whirled and dodged, lashing out with his own weapon as they pressed in. Each strike downed another Undead, even though they almost immediately began to revive. Both of the marshals stood back, positioning themselves just close enough to be tantalizingly within striking distance, yet completely out of reach beyond the levies.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Another volley of arrows streaked in, somehow aimed impossibly between the gaps in the levies swarming around him. Clay ducked and weaved, avoiding most of them a second time. One arrow bounced from his helmet, and another lodged itself in the armor over his heart, but none of them actually hit him hard enough to wound. His mind filled with gratitude and praises for Orn¡¯s handiwork, even as the levies pushed him back.


    Then the Song finished, and Clay sprayed fire across the ranks of the Undead in front of him. He saw the marshals take an alarmed step back as their levies fell, the burning fire robbing them of the front line that had protected them. They raised their axes and shields, clearly expecting him to rush forward.


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    {Rotted Levy slain!}


    Instead, Clay took a measured step forward, passing the still-burning of the levies at his own pace. The fire would keep them from reviving immediately, and he knew better than to rush in when there was another part of the ambush waiting. He murmured the lines of the Refrain under his breath as he casually stalked his prey through the flames and smoke.


    As expected, the corpse dogs came hurtling in at him a moment later. His spear lashed out almost of its own accord, batting them aside and knocking them to the ground. Once again, he didn¡¯t kill the things, hoping it would delay their return. The last two fights hadn¡¯t lasted long enough for him to know for sure, but it would give him some relief, at least.


    A flicker of shadow over his face told him the other little surprises had just arrived, as all four corpse birds dove in at him. He stepped back and knocked them from the sky as well, deflecting their desperate diving attacks. If he¡¯d rushed in, they might have caught him just as he¡¯d reached the marshals, with the dogs jumping on his back. Clay grinned as he drove the last of the squawking, partially fleshed things off and looked back at the marshals.


    He caught both of them charging at him, shields slightly lowered and their axes high. It wasn¡¯t a bad move. After all, if they could keep him busy enough, he¡¯d be surrounded by the slowly reviving levies, hounds, and birds, unable to focus on any of them well enough to survive. Bit by bit, wound by wound, he¡¯d be overwhelmed.


    Unfortunately for them, he¡¯d already nearly finished the Refrain. He caught a sudden jerk of surprise as the [Chant] completed, and he sent another stream of fire straight across both of them, before spraying the levies a second time. The edges of the flame caught the other creatures as well, but there was no real harm in that.


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Hound slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    {Corpse Bird slain!}


    The marshals staggered, their armor no protection against the clinging flame. Their own momentum carried them forward still, and Clay struck at them both. He delivered a single, brutal thrust through each of their helmets before they could react.


    {Wretched Marshal slain! Soul increases by 80}


    {Wretched Marshal slain! Soul increases by 40}


    As soon as the marshals fell, Clay threw himself to the side, rolling behind a nearby tree. A shower of arrows pelted the ground; one of them struck the haft of his spear before he made it to cover. He leaned his spear against the smooth wood and began the [Chant] for Mischief¡¯s Ladder. As the spell completed, he drew out his shortbow and raced up the invisible steps.


    It took him high enough to jump out past one of the tree¡¯s heavy branches. He drew his bow back as his eyes searched for targets below.


    He found them, both aiming their bows at the sides of the tree he¡¯d hidden behind. One of them caught sight of him and started to react. Clay shot it through the head before the arrow had tilted towards him at all. As it fell, he drew another arrow and put it through the other marksman¡¯s chest, following it up with a second one before he hit the ground and rolled.


    {Valor increased by 1!}


    {Condemned Marksman slain! Soul increases by 80}


    {Condemned Marksman slain! Soul increases by 40}


    Clay paused, looking in the direction of the other patrol. He couldn¡¯t see the birds from where he stood, but he had no doubt that they¡¯d be on their way soon. The hillside had served well for the first ambush, but for the second¡­


    He blinked, looking around at the scattered corpses of the Undead. The next patrol would probably be wary of whatever had killed their friends, but they probably would expect the attack to come from ahead of them. If he got around them and followed, ready to strike from behind¡­


    Still plotting the next attack, Clay ran back to retrieve his spear before circling around. He might end up back at the meeting spot a lot sooner than he expected at this rate.


    He¡¯d been making excellent time, but Clay still came back to the road to find his three teachers waiting for him.


    None of them looked so much as out of breath. If anything, Taylor looked annoyed, while Orn seemed a little bored. Syr Katherine was the most alert out of the three, and she took a step forward as Clay walked out of the trees. ¡°Sir Clay. Were you successful in your efforts?¡±


    Clay gave her a smile. ¡°I was.¡± The burning power of [Corpsebane] was now flaring in his chest, and he¡¯d gained a bit more [Fortitude] and [Might] as well. He felt like he could have fought off half the Undead in the forest by himself if he had to. ¡°How about you? Are you ready?¡±


    Taylor spoke before Syr Katherine could. ¡°Look, whatever you¡¯re trying to prove, Sir Clay, it¡¯s not going to work. The Council has its plans, and the sooner you accept them, the better off you¡¯ll be.¡±


    He looked at her. ¡°Are you injured or exhausted, Master Taylor?¡±


    She glared at him for a moment. Then she shook her head. ¡°I am not.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid we are going to inconvenience you a little longer today.¡± He looked to the south, trying to judge the distance. His ethereal senses had grown sharper along with the bonuses from [Corpsebane]; he could now detect the enemy far, far further than he¡¯d ever been able to before, and it was making it a bit more difficult to be sure how long things would take. ¡°We¡¯ll be fighting the more advanced ones next, and I think you all have a lot longer to go before we are done with those.¡±


    Orn snorted. He tested the weight of his hammer. ¡°True enough. Were you going to have us disperse for that task as well, young hero?¡±


    Clay looked back at the Armsman. ¡°Well, at first I was. After all, if I can take a group of three at once, I¡¯m sure you all can as well.¡± His senses pricked at him again, and he grimaced. ¡°Unfortunately, I seem to have stirred them up quite a bit. They¡¯ve been doubling up on their numbers, and I think that most of you aren¡¯t stealthy enough to set an ambush the way that I can.¡±


    ¡°We may be more capable of that than you expect, Sir Clay.¡± Syr Katherine¡¯s look could have frozen the soft dirt of the road. Her grip had tightened on her sword.


    He shrugged. ¡°Perhaps, but I think it¡¯d be best if you stayed together, just in case they group up even more.¡± There was another twinge in his senses, and he smiled as he started to get a better estimate now. ¡°You might also want to support each other more, too. I¡¯ve noticed that you all tend to go for the same type of enemies each time in front of the Dungeon. Once you have to kill the other types, it might be useful for you to look for ways to work together. Of course, you can probably start using all of your techniques and abilities. We aren¡¯t going back into the Dungeon today, after all.¡±


    Something about the way he¡¯d said it had suddenly put them on edge. Taylor was studying him with wide eyes, and Orn had suddenly straightened up. Syr Katherine¡¯s eyes had narrowed; the handle of her sword creaked a little under her grip. ¡°Sir Clay, what aren¡¯t you telling us?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Just that your first encounter might be a little sooner than you expect.¡± With an all-too-casual motion, he drew out a bone from his pack. He¡¯d taken it from a fallen corpse hound at the last fight. It would draw Undead to it like iron to a lodestone. ¡°I¡¯d say you have at least a couple of minutes before they reach you. Good luck.¡±


    With that, Clay tossed the bone in the middle of them and strode off into the forest. He heard Taylor start a rant filled with invective, but when he glanced back, the three adventurers were already taking up an effective formation. With what his senses were telling him, the Undead would reach them soon, which meant he needed to get moving as well. It would take him some time to find a place to hide along the things¡¯ path, so he needed to hurry if he wanted to practice.


    The first battle his teachers fought was over almost before it began.


    Clay had watched from hiding as the Undead had ridden past him. None of them had located him as they walked past, their eyes intent on the adventurers in the road. He¡¯d needed to hold his breath as some wisps of poison fog drifted past, but the enemy had gone by quickly enough that he hadn¡¯t run out of air.


    Then Orn had stepped forward, and the [Fighter] had used the Ballad of Air to sweep the cloud almost directly back towards him. Clay had missed most of the rest of it as he¡¯d spent a few moments running away from the choking, toxic fumes, but he had seen the lancers once again go down with Syr Katherine¡¯s ice spears in them. He¡¯d also seen the corpse birds tumble from the sky as the sound of Taylor¡¯s earth [Chant] had roared, telling him that the [Artifactor] had probably once again gone after the marksmen, which probably had only left Orn the marshals to finish.


    By the time the cloud had dispersed, the fighting was well over. Clay had sighed and walked back out of the forest. ¡°All right, I¡¯m assuming at the very least you¡¯ve all reinforced [Corpsebane] again?¡±


    They nodded, though Taylor¡¯s face was still red with fury. He ignored her and turned south. ¡°Let¡¯s go find the next group, then. Whether you use a bone or something to lure them is up to you, but I¡¯m probably going to be trying to hide out in front of their path. I¡¯ll make sure not to interfere too much, though, so don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I won¡¯t.¡± Taylor sounded like she was trying to speak around a handful of ground glass. She almost seemed ready to use her abilities on him next.


    Orn, on the other hand, simply started laughing. ¡°I thought I saw you running away from that cloud! My apologies, young hero. We¡¯ll have to be more careful next time.¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°No, the fault was mine. I¡¯ll plan my hiding place a little better, so just do what you need to do.¡±


    He started to turn away, but Syr Katherine stopped him. Her eyes were curious. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you helping, Syr Clay? You would make this process far less dangerous if you gave us your aid.¡±


    Clay looked at her for a moment and then smiled. ¡°Because this way, you learn how to fight them on your own terms. The Ruffians needed to learn it; my friends had to learn the same thing, back in the Tanglewood. If I help you too much, you don¡¯t grow as quickly.¡±


    Then he hesitated as another thought struck him. ¡°Besides, I trust you. You may be irritated with me right now, but you¡¯re good adventurers. You¡¯ll come out of this fine.¡±


    She blinked, and Clay turned away. He looked back as he heard a short argument and saw Taylor picking up a leg bone to brandish at Syr Katherine and Orn. Still shaking his head, he looked for another place to hide. His senses were already telling him another group was on its way.


    They fought another two patrols in quick succession, shifting their tactics so that they could each face foes they hadn¡¯t paid much attention to before. Orn stood back, guarding against a charge by the lancers, even as he wiped their poison away. Taylor shifted to targeting the marshals and their levies, trying to catch them with her spells of earth and crystal, while Syr Katherine speared the marksmen from a distance.


    It worked fairly well, though the [Artifactor] had the worst time of it. Her armor Sigil protected her fairly well against the levies¡¯ attempts to strike her, but she occasionally had trouble smashing her way through their ranks to get to the marshal. The first time, Clay nearly stepped in, before Taylor had convinced the ground to swallow half the levies and both marshals. After that, she¡¯d spent her time smashing the marshals¡¯ next hosts, one after another as they tried to revive.


    Still, even with Taylor¡¯s troubles, the adventurers made steady progress. Clay avoided notice both times, with the added victory of positioning himself so that his own companions¡¯ abilities didn¡¯t wash over him.


    Of course, that grew harder when the size of the patrols increased yet again. The very next batch held three of each type, and they were riding with clear malice towards the group.


    The adventurers had responded with a hurried change in plans, one that Taylor apparently didn¡¯t much like. Regardless, they set themselves to receive the charge of the enemy yet again¡ªand Clay blinked. Unless he was seeing things wrong, Taylor was actually standing on Orn¡¯s shoulder, her face so bright red that Clay could see the blush from where he was hiding. What were they planning on doing?


    Once again, the Ballad swept the clouds back and away. The Undead hadn¡¯t caught sight of him this time either; perhaps [Corpsebane] was making it too difficult for them, but Clay had also noticed that they had a habit of not looking up very often. Perhaps the creatures in the Dungeon had a similar weakness. Even if they didn¡¯t, he felt more confident that he could evade their gaze.


    Still, he nearly fell out of the tree he was hiding in when Taylor went from Orn¡¯s shoulder to the man¡¯s hand. The [Fighter] had more than enough [Might] to hold her, but Clay felt his mouth drop open as the Armsman reared back and simply hurled the [Artifactor] through the air. A flurry of arrows struck Taylor as she flew, but the bone-white shafts bounced off of her armored skin, with most of them shattering.


    Taylor smashed into the ground just behind the line of levies, her staff already glowing with power. She spun and smashed her weapon through the shields and armor of the marshals that faced her, blasting them to pieces in a heartbeat. Still snarling, she waded into the levies after that, striking them down as they struggled to revive their masters; a burst of flame that could have only been the Flame-Tongued Song finished most of them.


    Behind the [Artifactor], the archers were still drawing their bows back when Syr Katherine¡¯s ice spears took them. Ahead, the lancers had twisted in their saddles to follow her flight; by the time they turned back, Orn was already among them, swinging his hammer in wide swaths that smashed their mounts out from under them. The fight didn¡¯t last long after that.


    The battlefield went still as Taylor cut down the last of the marshals and Orn crushed the final lancer flat. Clay watched as the adventurers gathered together, talking in low murmurs. He debated whether he should make an appearance, or remain hidden.


    His answer came a few moments later as he sensed another group of Undead coming, this time from the west. He spoke the [Chant] for Distant Whispers, and then focused.


    They¡¯re coming again. Probably the same numbers, from the west. I¡¯m still watching.


    He saw Syr Katherine twitch slightly. She looked out into the forest, and Clay blinked as her eyes landed on him. It should have been impossible, given the distance and his concealment, but he was sure she¡¯d found him all the same.


    Then she nodded and spoke again to the others. They set themselves again, with Taylor clearly grumbling as she climbed up on Orn¡¯s shoulder. Clay bit his lip to stop from laughing as he skirted around their position to find a new hiding spot. Things were already going better than he¡¯d hoped.


    The sun was already descending from the sky by the time the adventurers finished their sixth fight of the day.


    They were only now beginning to show signs of fatigue, even though they had been fighting virtually all day. Clay considered it a testament to their skills, as well as to the bonuses they had already won from fighting so many Undead.


    Syr Katherine and the others had already shifted their tactics once again. Now it was Syr Katherine who was engaging the marshals, while Taylor struck at the horseman and Orn attacked the archers. They hadn¡¯t seemed at all comfortable with it at first, though at the very least Taylor was happy to no longer be flung through the air. The [Artifactor] had even been smiling as she set herself to receive the charging lancers, her staff growing into a pike that she leveled at her opponents. Orn, for his part, had seemed less happy, but he¡¯d proven himself unusually good at using a sling that he¡¯d produced from somewhere. Marksmen didn¡¯t last long against his strikes, though it occasionally took him some time.


    Almost more impressive had been Syr Katherine, however. She¡¯d launched herself forward during each battle, lashing out with an array of abilities that Clay hadn¡¯t seen her employ before. The levies had tried to form a wall of halberds between her and their masters, but she¡¯d either leaped over them easily, or cut her way through them using waves of ice, lightning, and air. It was a brutal, unhesitating rush through the enemy that had him tensing up as she dove beneath spearpoints and leaped over flashing axeheads.


    Still, even with Syr Katherine giving him heart attacks, Clay thought it had been going well. They were nearly done for the day, just another two fights or so and¡­


    His thoughts trailed off as he sensed another group coming in. Clay immediately caught something different about it. It seemed larger than the others and was approaching far more quickly.


    He grimaced. Apparently, the enemy had changed things once again. He used Distant Whispers again, already headed for a spot where the Undead would pass by.


    More coming. Seems like more than the last few times. Do we want to pull back? The guards in front of the arch could finish off your [Achievements].


    Syr Katherine cocked her head to the side. Then she shook her head, and a moment later, Clay heard her voice in his ear. ¡°Better to have done with this today, Sir Clay. If they come in numbers, then we will simply need to show them what we can really do.¡±


    Clay took a little heart from her apparent confidence. He got himself into position, and waited, hoping that the adventurers really were ready.


    The Undead arrived a short while later. A wall of poisoned fog drifted in towards the adventurers. Clay grimaced as he watched from his treetop vigil. There had to be as many high level Undead in that group as there were in front of the Dungeon¡¯s entrance. He could hear their armor shifting and clanking beneath him, and the top of the roiling green mist rose almost to the branch where he was hiding.


    An idea occurred to him as he watched the enemy travel by. He remembered Anne and Jack purifying the poisonous ironslimes from the inside. If that trick had worked for toxins inside of a monster¡­


    Carefully, Clay stretched out his hand to brush the edges of the poison fog, and began the [Chant] for Pure Touch. The minor [Chant] progressed quickly; the enemy had barely begun to pass by his hiding place when it activated.


    When it did, Clay plunged his hand into the noxious mist and focused. It was possible that he was wasting his time, but if he wasn¡¯t¡­


    It was as if the sun had risen and begun burning away the fog. Poison vanished from the air as the mist rolled back, revealing the ranks of marching Undead. The enemy came to an abrupt stop as their cover disappeared; Clay thought he could see both shock and horror in their pose as they looked around.


    He paused and glanced over to see a marksman looking straight at him. It raised its bow, about to alert the others to the danger lurking over them.


    Then a slingstone smashed it out of existence. The archer literally folded up around the stone like it was nothing more than a bedsheet, and the corpse beasts tied to it collapsed before it even hit the ground.


    Clay looked back and saw Orn give him a brief gesture as he wound up his next slingstone. The others were already moving as well; Taylor was actually charging out to meet the horseman this time, as they stood baffled and leaking small amounts of poison, while Syr Katherine was already airborne and streaking out to meet the marshals. He saw the lancers come forward, charging with their lances pointed at Syr Katherine, but Taylor raised her staff, and a sudden boiling sphere of light erupted from it.


    He had to look away from the searing ball of magic, and by the time he could look back, the adventurers were already among their enemies. Orn had claimed another marksman, leaving just two left; Syr Katherine had descended into the ranks of the marshals, wreaking havoc on their ranks with bursts of her [Charms].


    Then she paused for a moment, and the ice spears of the Canticle burst from above her head. They shot past the levies and struck the still-stunned lancers. This time, however, they only carved through the Undead horses themselves, sending riders tumbling to the dirt. Taylor shouted something that sounded almost like thanks as she ran in among them, her staff already becoming a shining lance.


    Another slingstone tore across the battlefield, almost claiming another marksman, and Clay looked up to find Orn advancing. His sling was spinning up again, but even as it did, he sent his hammer spinning across the field to crash into the ranks of the levies surrounding Syr Katherine. They fell like scythed wheat, and a moment later the hammer sprang back towards his hand.


    The [Fighter] tilted his head, as if considering something. He threw another slingstone, smashing the marksman out of existence. Then he flew across the field to where the stone lay, crashing through another pair of levies on the way. Clay heard the [Fighter] shout in victory as he found himself at close range with the last of the archers, his hammer already raised.


    Orn¡¯s help had already lessened the threat around Syr Katherine, but she hardly seemed to need the help. She ducked and wove with clear skill, cutting down levies and impaling marshals with bolts of lightning or spears of ice. The Undead had started out with four levies each; before long, they were down to their last puppets, frantically trying to evade her blade as she snapped halberds and slipped her blade into the joints of their armor.


    Before long, it was just her and the last marshal. Syr Katherine was clearly on her last legs, her face strained from her efforts. Her [Fortitude] was the weakest of the heroes here, and for a moment, it seemed like she would need help against her last opponent.


    Then she seemed to blur across the distance, her blade striking sparks as it clashed with the marshal¡¯s axe. The Undead reared back, off balance, and she placed the palm of her hand against the side of its torso. A massive spike of glittering ice tore its way out of the Undead¡¯s side¡ªand then exploded, sending still more spikes bursting through it.


    The Undead dropped, and Syr Katherine stood up, relief clear on her face. Both Orn and Taylor had finished with their final opponents as well.


    They all twitched a little as Clay dropped out of his hiding place and joined them. ¡°You all have the [Achievement] completely reinforced?¡±


    ¡°I believe we do, Sir Clay.¡± Syr Katherine smiled at him, her expression still heavy with fatigue. ¡°Shall we continue on to the Dungeon, then?¡±


    Clay looked at her with incredulity. ¡°No. We need to rest and get ready for tomorrow. I¡¯ll take the lead on the way back, though. You guys have done more than enough.¡±


    Orn chuckled to himself, suddenly in a very good mood. ¡°Well, at least you helped out with the last one, young hero. I didn¡¯t realize you had that ability.¡±


    ¡°Just something some of the Ruffians tried out while I was with them.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I was hoping it would work, but I wasn¡¯t entirely sure.¡±


    Taylor raised an eyebrow. ¡°So it wasn¡¯t some new mystery [Chant] like before, then? One you really shouldn¡¯t have had access to?¡±


    He looked back at the scholar and shook his head. ¡°It was just Pure Touch, Master Taylor. It turns out it can be rather useful under certain circumstances.¡±


    The [Artifactor] snorted and shook her head. ¡°I see.¡± Then she looked home. ¡°So, back to camp, then?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ll be back tomorrow.¡±


    They started off through the forest, leaving the devastation behind them as they headed north. It had been a very productive day.

 B3Ch10: One Final Strike

    With Clay clearing the path for them, they made it back to their camp easily. He barely felt tired by the end of it; [Corpsebane] made things significantly easier.


    All the same, it was a relief to rest and prepare for their mission in the morning. He knew the others were still skeptical, so he needed at least one more push to convince them of what he was doing. Then he could go back to Pellsglade and face what was waiting for him there.


    He was still going over his plans when Syr Katherine came over to sit near him. She was still tired, but she seemed far fresher than she had after their final fight. For a moment, she just studied him as he ate their dinner of field rations and soup. Then she sighed. ¡°You are still determined to enter the Dungeon again, aren¡¯t you Sir Clay?¡±


    Clay smiled. ¡°I am, yes. Sorry.¡±


    She sighed, a quiet sound that he almost could have missed. ¡°I see.¡± Then she looked at him more closely. ¡°What you were doing today, is that the strategy that you used with the Ruffians, as you called them?¡±


    He perked up at the question. Perhaps he was getting through to her after all? ¡°No, actually. With them, I¡¯d scout the next group of monsters, and then escort them one at a time to get used to hunting them. Each time they reached the next level of [Achievement], we¡¯d go to the next one, while the others kept the area behind us clear.¡±


    Syr Katherine frowned. She tilted her head to the side. ¡°I see. To keep the monsters from assaulting the village while you worked.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. I could trust them to do it, since they already had the experience of fighting the lower-level monsters. That, and they¡¯d be working as a team while I was out with one of their friends.¡±


    Her frown deepened. ¡°Then may I ask why you were hiding today, rather than helping us? You even lured the enemy to us, rather than helping us avoid them.¡±


    He felt his cheeks heat. ¡°Actually, I was practicing. The Undead have a way of seeing body heat, so I wanted to make sure I could get past that tomorrow.¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°That, and it gave me a chance to watch you work together without me interfering. If things had gone wrong, or someone needed help, I could reach you from outside the battle and help.¡±


    Syr Katherine¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You seem confident of that. You¡¯ve done it before.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like a question, but Clay answered it anyway. ¡°Yes, actually. Back in the Tanglewood, when my friends were first fighting the spiders. They¡­ needed help, but I couldn¡¯t let them know it was me at first. So I helped them from hiding. Small things, like helping them figure out where the mantraps were hiding, teaching them where the troll spiders liked to wait. That kind of thing.¡±


    Then he paused as another thought came to him. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ probably something any of you could do, actually. It¡¯s probably how I got [Mentor] in the first place.¡±


    He glanced at Syr Katherine. She¡¯d gone very, very still, staring at him as if searching for any sign of deception. Then she slowly nodded. ¡°I see.¡±


    Clay frowned a little. ¡°Are you all right, Syr Katherine?¡±


    She blinked. ¡°I am well, Sir Clay.¡± Then she looked back at the others. ¡°We should rest. Tomorrow will be difficult enough if we approach it without sleep. Rest well, Sir Clay.¡±


    He nodded and watched as she walked away. It was strange that she¡¯d been so surprised, but she was right. They had one last mission to complete, and he needed to make sure he was ready for it.


    The next day dawned with clouds covering the sky. Sunrise stained them an array of brilliant colors, something that Clay enjoyed as they ate breakfast and made ready for the coming fights. Light slowly faded as the day went on, however, as the clouds grew thicker and the sun disappeared completely behind them. Rain threatened in every gust of wind, but for the moment, it seemed like the weather hadn¡¯t turned completely poor.


    It was still threatening to downpour, however, as they fought their way south. Despite the glowering clouds, their journey was far easier than it had been the last two times they had fought their way to the Dungeon. The lower ranked Undead stood no better chance than they had before, but now it seemed like they barely had to pause in order to wipe the enemy out completely.


    The middle ranks didn¡¯t do any better, for all they threw themselves at the adventurers in greater numbers. By the time they reached the entrance to the Dungeon, their small group had been attacked at least ten times, and none of them lasted longer than a handful of moments. They reached the entrance long before the sun had reached its midday height.


    There, the same group of guards were waiting for them, concealed by a cloud of poison fog. Clay almost grinned when he saw it. It might have been an effective barrier before, but now¡­


    It took him and his companions roughly a single minute to demolish the entire group of Undead. Some portions of the poison were still dissipating when the last of them fell dead, and they were left facing that unnatural archway of stone.


    Taylor jerked her staff out of the ribcage of a disintegrating marshal. ¡°You know our bonuses won¡¯t be as effective inside, right? All we really did was make the approach a little easier.¡±


    Clay nodded, but Orn chuckled. ¡°I¡¯d say we did a sight more than that, Master Taylor! Even with all the additional attacks, we tore through them easily. Besides, I gained another level thanks to the extra fighting. Didn¡¯t you?¡±


    The [Artifactor] gave a reluctant nod, and Clay gave Orn a grateful look. Then he turned back to the doorway. ¡°We won¡¯t stay as long this time, but I¡¯m going to need you all to trust me. By the time we leave, we¡¯re going to have at least one Guardian dead.¡±


    Syr Katherine was studying him, her face as composed as ever. ¡°As you say, Sir Clay. Lead us in.¡±


    Clay faced the archway, with the twisted version of the world waiting on the other side. Then he stepped through, and the others followed. One way or the other, it ended today.


    Their search began just as it already had, moving through darkened corridors and fields full of red, pulsating grain. Clay made note of the workers still moving among the stalks, trying to keep track of where they were.


    Clay led them, stretching out his senses to try to find the enemies amid the howling chaos that concealed them. It was difficult, nearly impossible, but it still felt a little easier than before. Whether from levels or [Corpsebane], he was already feeling less threatened than he had been before.


    They had walked for several corridors before Clay brought them to a halt. The past three courtyards had been filled with serfs and red grain, but the doorway they had just passed through led them into an entirely different kind of room.


    It was a broad, spacious place, mostly filled with rows of pews and ornate columns. The windows that would have allowed light to filter through were clouded by dust and filth, leaving most of the room in shadow. There was a gigantic statue at the front of the room, showing a massive skeletal warrior with a sword stretched over its head. He could see a stone crown upon its brow, and at its feet, the wretched bodies of dozens of its servants formed a pedestal for its feet.


    Clay examined the room closely. There were only three entrances, one of which they had just entered through. Another door was set into the other side, but it was half-choked by rubble from a fallen pillar. The final entrance was a massive set of double doors, all the way down at the far end of the hall, opposite the great statue. It was difficult to see; there were more parts of the room cloaked in shadow than in light.


    It was perfect.


    He turned to the others. ¡°All right. If they are working like last time, the enemy is probably already trying to assemble a trap for us, right? There¡¯s going to be a bunch of their warriors, backed up by Guardians. I¡¯d imagine they might even be waiting for us a few rooms from here. They wouldn¡¯t want to spring it on us too close to the exit, after all, and they probably want to fight us while we are hitting that second level of Malus.¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded slowly. ¡°That does seem likely, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°Then here is what we are going to do.¡± Clay looked around the room one final time. ¡°I want you to go back to the past couple of fields and destroy as many serfs and plants as you can. I don¡¯t know what the Dungeon is using them for, but I¡¯m betting they need them functional. Start with the furthest field away and move back here. Once you break everything you can reach, set up in here and wait for the enemy to arrive.¡±


    Orn was studying Clay with an appraising stare. ¡°You¡¯re luring them in. The same way we did with the monster parts on the outside.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Clay grinned. ¡°They can make us run around here all day, but in the end, we are going to make it just as hard for them to sit still. If they come, we¡¯ll have them right where we want them. If they don¡¯t, we¡¯ll just have to burn down a little more of their kingdom until they do.¡±


    As he spoke, something seemed to shift in the howl he heard with his ethereal senses. It was as if the Dungeon had heard what he was saying, and had recoiled a little. Clay shrugged aside the feeling of unease and continued. ¡°We¡¯re only going to fight them once. When they show up, try to draw them further into the room. Then, once I give you the signal, don¡¯t hold back. I¡¯ll be nearby.¡±


    Taylor blinked in surprise. ¡°You aren¡¯t coming with us, Sir Clay?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s going to be just like the forest.¡± Clay looked from Taylor to Syr Katherine, who had shifted slightly. Her eyes had narrowed.


    ¡°We can¡¯t afford to use the same strategy, Sir Clay. Fighting here, the way we fought outside¡­¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I promise, Syr Katherine. Just one fight, and then we¡¯ll head straight back to the archway. Trust me.¡±


    She studied him a moment longer, and then nodded. ¡°I will.¡± Syr Katherine looked at the others and gestured for them to follow her. ¡°Come on, then. We have work to do¡ªand so does Sir Clay, I believe.¡±


    He waited for them to file out of the doorway again. His own task was going to be hard enough; it would be easier if even they didn¡¯t know what to expect. After all, the last thing he needed would be for them to give the trick away while he was vulnerable.


    Clay drew out a set of stones that he¡¯d pocketed back at camp that morning. They¡¯d been his long enough now to use them the way he needed to. He spent a few long moments hiding them in various spots around the room, tucking them beneath pews and adding them to piles of fallen rubble. One of them he left near the doorway the other heroes had taken, placing it so that it wouldn¡¯t be knocked aside when they reopened the door.


    Then he looked for other ways to prepare the place. He used the Ladder to clamber up to one of the windows and then used Pure Touch to cleanse it. Pure, unfiltered light streamed through the window, creating a shaft of brilliance that glowed amidst the pews. It also had the effect of deepening the shadows elsewhere, which would be incredibly useful.


    As he did so, Clay began to feel the howl in his senses start to twist and writhe. It felt¡­ lessened somehow, as if something had caused it to lose strength. He glanced in the direction of his friends, wondering if it was their efforts, or if something else had changed. Either way, he was running short on time.


    He spent a few more moments shifting the pews around, making it seem like someone had torn through the room in a fit of rage. Clay left them angled to provide a tangle of wood and stone that would block the advancing Undead, giving his friends a small barricade, especially near their future exit. The howl continued to lessen and shift as he worked. There was a note of urgency and rage in its incessant screaming that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    Just as he finished with moving another pew into position, his senses abruptly detected the enemy. They were moving faster than he expected, or he could find them from further away now. In either case, it was time for him to get into position.


    Clay spent a few more precious moments debating where he should hide. There were no trees to use here, and the flaking grey stone didn¡¯t offer much in the way of secure footholds, especially not if he had some time to wait.


    He began the [Chant] for the Ladder again, spotting a convenient place in an alcove above the far doors. There was a statue there at the moment, but it would be a good place to lose himself in its lumpen shape.


    Then he waited, feeling the enemy continue to approach, and listening to the ethereal howl of the Dungeon. It seemed like an assault on his senses, as if it was beating at his Soul. The way it had seemed to react to him earlier was still bothering him as well. It had felt¡­


    Clay frowned. It had felt like the Dungeon had been watching somehow, in a way that almost reminded him of what he felt when others used the Orison to study him. His frown deepened as he thought things over.


    Then he recited the Orison¡¯s reverse and sighed in relief as the howl became muted. He shook his head to clear it and shifted slightly in place, trying to position himself better.


    Then he was left to wait, hoping his friends arrived before the Undead did.


    His hopes were answered. The door to the room opened, and Orn strode through with his hammer over his shoulder. Taylor followed, her staff held ready to unleash her magic at the slightest threat. Syr Katherine brought up the rear, her eyes searching the gloom as she took in the way the room had been changed.


    Orn spoke first. ¡°Our young hero has been busy, it appears.¡±


    ¡°Busy, yes. Clever, well, we¡¯ll see.¡± Taylor shrugged, as if trying to loosen the muscles in her back. ¡°Does anybody see where he went to?¡±


    Syr Katherine shook her head. He thought she started to glance up at where he was, but she stopped. ¡°No. There¡¯s something else coming.¡±


    The three adventurers fell into their fighting stances, and below Clay, the broad doors of the building abruptly swung open.


    A small army of the Undead marched through.


    Clay saw at least three trios of Undead warriors. Three knights, three priests, three saboteurs. They stalked into the room with the chill of death following in their wake, and Clay could see how the hands of his fellow heroes tightened on their weapons when they saw the enemy arrive.


    They were not alone, of course. Behind them came rank after rank of Undead legionnaires, marching with shields locked and swords ready to pierce and stab. Following in their wake, protected by the warriors and minions that they had allowed to march in first, were three centurions. The standards the Guardians held were worn and menacing, and each had a corroded horn in their other hand.


    Clay held his breath as the warriors began their advance. He saw the adventurers draw back a little, their eyes locked on their opponents. There was a murmur of conversation between them, a bit too quiet for Clay to hear at this distance. Magic already glowed around the adventurers, and he wondered if they were preparing the [Chants] they would need. Across from them, the Undead paused and formed into ranks, preparing themselves to swarm forward and overwhelm their enemies.


    For a moment, the howl in his mind stilled. He felt a sudden unease, as if someone, something, was trying to peer into the room. He did his best to stay still, to not shrink back into the alcove. Motion would attract attention. It was safer to just freeze. Clay knew he needed to remain hidden. Internally, he threw everything he had into the Orison¡¯s reverse, trying to make sure it held against the inspection that scoured across it.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    {Insight increased by 1! Will increased by 1!}


    The presence withdrew, and he heard Taylor say something foul. Then the Undead charged.


    All three knights charged forward, smashing pews aside as they came. The priests glided forwards in their wake, floating up and above the barriers Clay had laid in their path. For their part, the saboteurs spread out as they strode forward, their weapons already aimed at his friends.


    The legionnaires charged as well, marching in lockstep in the wake of the greater Undead. They were a steadily advancing wave of iron and bone, closing in around the adventurers. Clay saw the adventurers back away slightly, stepping up onto the pedestal at the base of the statue. It wouldn¡¯t buy them much time against what they faced, but it was better than charging into the unrelenting waves of the enemy.


    Clay watched as the three Guardians stepped forward, their horns in their hands. The centurions sounded their calls, and the dead answered. He saw them emerge from the walls, more shields and swords in their hands, and that quickly the adventurers were completely surrounded in rank after rank of enemies.


    The adventurers responded immediately. Orn stepped forward to sweep his hammer through the enemies; Taylor armored her skin and stabbed her staff out to burn through shield and armor alike. Syr Katherine reacted as well, channeling her powers of lightning and ice to strike down the nearest enemies. Legionnaires crumbled and fell away, but in their wake, the true warriors of the Undead waded in.


    Skeletal hands grasped at Orn¡¯s legs, but Syr Katherine whirled and extended her hand. A [Charm] that Clay had not seen before shattered the Undead spell. The [Fighter] shouted in gratitude, and then stepped forward to block an approaching knight that had been aiming for Taylor. He smashed the knight backwards and then lunged after it to catch its shield and rip it away.


    As the Armsman battered the Undead warrior with its own protection, a priest rushed at Syr Katherine, staff glowing with power. It stopped a moment later as Master Taylor hurled her staff at it, catching it off guard with a lance formed of glowing crystal. The Undead vanished, and Taylor called her staff back to her before whirling to face yet more foes.


    They continued to fight, unleashing [Charms], [Feats], [Styles], and [Sigils] in quick succession. Against the Undead warriors themselves, they might have even managed to push forward now, but legionnaires kept wading into the fight. Their interference gave their greater brethren the chance to recover from hits and line up attacks of their own. He could see the adventurers were still holding back, too, just as he¡¯d asked them.


    Below him, still far from the fighting, he saw the centurions advance, their bannerpoles still clutched in their hands. One of them approached a particular pile of rubble, and Clay grinned. It was time.


    He started the [Chant] of the Pursuing Leap, dropping his ethereal protection. The minor spell was complete in heartbeats; he jumped just as it was nearly finished, allowing it to grasp him completely as he left the alcove. For just a moment, he hung in midair, his spear poised to strike.


    Then the [Chant] took hold, and Clay plunged down towards the centurion on the furthest right. The air whistled around him as he fell, and he saw the centurions twitch in surprise. His target still did not manage to turn before Clay struck it, moving at a speed that made the room blur around him.


    His spear struck through the centurion¡¯s armor in a single thrust, penetrating the thick bands of metal protecting its spine and burying itself up to the crossguards. The strength of the impact smashed the creature down onto its face, sending its horn in one direction and its standard in another. Before it could rise again, Clay drew his Pell knife and plunged it straight into the thing¡¯s head, stabbing hard enough that the blade punched through the armor and lodged in the thing¡¯s skull. Then he placed a foot on its back and twisted the spear before he yanked it free, feeling bone shatter and crack under the motion of his spearblade.


    {Cruel Centurion slain! Soul increases by 100}


    Clay caught sight of nearly a third of the legionnaires suddenly burn and fall, their armor crumbling and their weapons falling from nerveless hands. He saw Syr Katherine look up and see him, but he didn¡¯t spare more than a heartbeat to look in her direction. Instead, he sprinted towards the next of the centurions, knowing that the more time he gave them, the worse the situation would be.


    The creature dropped its horn and grabbed for a short sword that was a little longer and thicker than his Pell knife. Ethereal flames swirled around it as it stepped forward, its eyeless stare filled with malice. It clanked the bottom of its standard against the stone floor, and Clay saw a shimmering shield of magical force gather around it.


    He attacked regardless, knowing that he only had so much time before the warriors and legionnaires tried to fall back to stop him. Clay stabbed at the centurion, grunting when his spearpoint met the invisible barrier. It felt like he was trying to thrust through a brick wall, but he kept striking at it, even as he started the Refrain under his breath. The centurion lashed out at him, but the sword¡¯s shorter reach let Clay maintain the distance.


    After three blindingly fast exchanges, the barrier abruptly crumbled. The centurion backpedaled, swinging its banner at him to try to keep him away. Clay feinted high and to the right, and the centurion swung its pole out and up to bat the strike away from its face.


    Then Clay completed the Refrain, with his focus on the stone placed under a pew behind the centurion. He darted in low, moving too fast for the centurion to track. The creature shrieked as he slipped past its guard, and Clay forced himself to ignore the way the scream clawed at his soul.


    Instead, he shifted his grip on the spear and caught the centurion with a single, brutal blow. The rising slash caught the Undead and ripped up, crunching through armor and bone from the thing¡¯s groin to the middle of its corroded breastplate. In the corner of Clay¡¯s eye, he caught sight of nearly a dozen legionnaires abruptly burst into flame, though he knew the centurion was not dead yet. Was it consuming them, somehow?


    His suspicions strengthened as he saw the light in its eyeless sockets. The flailing standard caught him across the shoulder with a blow that made him stagger, but Clay ignored it. He stepped in again and thrust the spear as hard as he could, sinking it into the thing¡¯s sternum up to the crossguards. It staggered, the banner falling from its grasp as Clay wrenched the speartip back and forth, grinding through the bones beneath the thick breastplate.


    {Fortitude increased by 1!}


    He pulled the speartip free and swung the weighted end of his spear into its head. The blow landed on the side of the centurion¡¯s head and turned a part of the helmet into a crumpled ruin. For a moment, the centurion staggered, trying to stay upright while its minions burned.


    Then the strength went out of its legs, and the creature fell to the floor.


    {Cruel Centurion slain! Soul increases by 100}


    {Commoner reaches Level 15!}


    {Maximum level for all Stats is now 30!}


    {Experience gained (Weathered: Gain 10% resistance to disease, heat, and cold.)}


    {Experience gained (Spectral: Gain 20% resistance to ethereal senses.)}


    He straightened up and turned to face the last of the centurions. It had retreated from him, fleeing back towards the rest of the warriors. Its legionnaires had already abandoned the fight against the adventurers, quick-marching to help their commander. The rest of the Undead warriors suddenly seemed to find themselves hard pressed as their comrades abandoned them; Syr Katherine and the others had launched a renewed assault, now that they saw their battlefield clearing. Some of the Undead champions were already down; Taylor had speared a knight through the chest, Orn had caught a saboteur square in the head with a slingstone, and a priest had collapsed on the ground with one of Syr Katherine¡¯s ice spears through its fragile spine.


    Clay brought his attention back to the target in front of him. The centurion still had its horn in its hand, and its eyes were glowing with hatred. He ran straight at it, closing the distance at a blinding pace. It blew the horn in its hand just as he reached it.


    The sound tore through the air of the room on more than just the level of the physical. Both Clay¡¯s ears and Soul trembled at the blast, and his steps faltered.


    Then his eyes narrowed, and he forged ahead, forcing his steps forward.


    {Will increased by 1!}


    He reached the centurion a heartbeat later, lashing out with his spear. The spearpoint met the invisible barrier again, and Clay danced back as a pair of legionnaires came charging in. Both died in moments as he cut them down; a third attacked him from the side, and he smashed its head with the butt of his spear. Each time they fell, he saw the fires within the centurion burn a little brighter, and its jaw gaped open in a chilling hiss that had to have been a laugh.


    Anger flared, and Clay pushed himself to move faster and strike harder. More legionnaires were crowding in around him, and he was forced to spend precious seconds smashing them aside or running them through. The Guardian seemed to be getting further and further away, backing towards the rest of its friends. Its horn was rising to its lips again, and Clay knew that if it sounded it, he was going to be buried in a pile of legionnaires before long.


    Yet Clay hadn¡¯t come this far to just let it escape. He pressed forward, tearing his way through the legionnaires that rushed to block his way. The fires in the centurion¡¯s eyes burned brighter and brighter with each fallen legionnaire, but Clay just forced his way forward, regardless.


    He broke through the ranks just as the Guardian sounded its horn again. In the corners of his eyes, he could see more legionnaires stepping out from the shadows. They were all around him, and the flames of the centurion¡¯s eyes were unfazed. It had to be storing its power for something else.


    Clay rushed to strike the barrier again, and he felt his spear rebound. The centurion had dropped its horn and drawn its sword. Clay started the Refrain again as suspicion rose inside him. He¡¯d be through the barrier in the next strike, but it wasn¡¯t trying to gain distance. There had to be some reason for it.


    His suspicions were proven correct when the entire length of the centurion¡¯s sword glowed with power. Pale green fire stretched from it as it swung the blade, launching from the edge in a ravening wave of magic. Clay leapt backwards, and let the [Chant] lend him an extra pull; he just barely evaded the guttering fire, with traces of it singeing the front of his armor.


    Yet the centurion wasn¡¯t done. It stepped forward and thrust the standard at him, tilting it towards him. The head of the thing glowed, and a stream of that same pale fire lashed out like a whip, aimed straight at him.


    Clay threw himself to the side, feeling the unnatural heat of the fire brush by his leg. He saw triumph in the centurion¡¯s eyes¡ªand then he narrowed his own eyes as a thought struck him.


    Then, still in midair, Clay hurled his spear at the centurion, using every bit of his strength.


    The weapon tore across the room, more a blur than a shape. His target had barely enough time to step backwards before the point took it in the stomach. It punched through the thick armor, and the centurion staggered backwards, the fire in its eyes abruptly fading. A couple of the closest legionnaires abruptly burst into flame as well, their forms consumed in an attempt to save their master. Beyond them, the centurion dropped its sword and grabbed the spear¡¯s haft, trying to pull it back out.


    {Might increased by 1!}


    Clay didn¡¯t hesitate. When his feet touched the ground, he took off sprinting towards the centurion. He ran at the thing barehanded, once again speaking the Refrain. Legionnaires rushed in, and he dodged back and forth to avoid their swords. One of them tried to charge him with its shield, and he jumped high enough to plant a foot on the top of the shield itself, using it as a springboard to push himself higher into the air.


    As he rose, he saw a broader picture of the fight. More of the enemy champions were down; a priest had somehow been flattened against the remnants of a nearby pew, and a saboteur had been sunk halfway into the floor before it was impaled through the head. Even as he rose, Syr Katherine darted around behind a wounded knight and plunged her sword into a gap in its armor. It fell, even as the others backpedaled away from the adventurers.


    Then his spell completed, and Clay once again shot across the room, like an arrow to a deer. He struck the centurion feet first, catching it before it could replace its defensive barrier. His hands locked around the haft of the spear, and he finished pulling it the rest of the way out of the wound. Clay caught a glimpse of green fire leaking through the ruined armor, even as the centurion tried to regain its balance.


    Clay rose from his crouch and lunged forward. He swung his spear horizontally, catching the banner before it could strike the ground. The blow twisted it to the side, nearly knocking it from the centurion¡¯s grasp. It also left the creature almost completely open, its burning eyes wide with panic and rage.


    He stepped in and unleashed stab after stab, hammering the spear into his enemy. The boar spear caught the Guardian once, twice, three times in quick succession. Burning wounds appeared on its torso and arms; legionnaires collapsed as the centurion consumed them in a panic. Clay saw the banner coming back around in a broad swing; he swung his spear back to block it, meeting the strike with the haft.


    The centurion used the distraction to gain distance, scrabbling backwards across the debris. Clay caught sight of the last of its champions faltering under the assault of his companions. He could let the thing go; Syr Katherine and the others were going to be on top of it in moments. All he¡¯d need to do was make sure it couldn¡¯t escape.


    Then he breathed out and shifted his hands on his spear, giving himself just enough extra reach. Clay brought the spear down and around. The half-light of the Dungeon¡¯s hollow sun caught the spear blade with a flash as he brought it down and across the centurion.


    The blow caught the creature on its left shoulder. It carved through its half-ruined chestplate, ripping through metal and bone from shoulder to right hip in a massive, flaming gash. Clay saw the centurion¡¯s head tilt back, its eyes turned upwards to the unseen reaches of the room¡¯s ceiling. Legionnaires burned and shattered around him, sacrificed in one final, frantic attempt to survive.


    It wasn¡¯t enough.


    {Cruel Centurion slain! Soul increases by 100}


    An explosive sigh of relief tore its way out of Clay as the centurion collapsed to the ground. He glanced around to be sure all of its little minions were just as dead, and saw only ash and ruin where they had been standing. When he turned back to the others, he saw Orn crushing a knight¡¯s helmet in his false hand, a broad, fierce grin on his face. Taylor had thrown her staff like a spear through the last priest, and Syr Katherine was already standing over the smoking corpse of the last saboteur.


    He drew in a shuddering, wracking breath, and forced himself to smile. ¡°Well. Job¡¯s done. Shall we get out of here?¡±


    Their exit from the Dungeon was about as quick as they could manage it. Whatever forces controlled the Dungeon had been obviously unhappy about the destruction of its champions and three of its Guardians, to say nothing of the fields that they had burned.


    For that reason, they left the Dungeon just ahead of another, larger pack of Undead warriors, all of whom seemed fairly intent on chasing them all the way back to Crownsguard. Clay¡¯s last view of the archway was a glance backwards as they fled into the forest, running as hard as they could back to the camp.


    The journey was a bit more complicated than it might have been. Syr Katherine was almost completely exhausted; she¡¯d apparently used every [Feat] and [Charm] in her arsenal during their battle, and the effort had left her wavering on her feet by the time they returned to their own world. Orn was in better shape, but one of the Undead legionnaires had gotten a lucky strike in on his false foot, reducing him to a lumbering pace as they moved.


    Taylor, for her part, was relatively fresh and unwounded. She was, however, very, very loud.


    ¡°I have never, in all my years, seen such a reckless plan for a Dungeon strike. Do you even know how many things could have gone wrong? What would you have done if we hadn¡¯t gotten back to the room before the enemy? What if they had spotted you? Or what if we hadn¡¯t been able to hold our position without your help?¡±


    Clay sighed as they continued their flight north. ¡°I had to take a risk, yes, but we practiced all day yesterday. I had a good idea that it would work.¡±


    The [Artifactor] rolled her eyes. ¡°I doubt that anything you thought about what we just did was could be considered a good idea by anyone even partially sane. Honestly, I thought we managed to train you much better. I do recall trying to hammer some principles of basic Dungeon tactics into your heads at some point¡­¡±


    He let her continue on without paying much close attention. Of course, he could have brought up that her lessons about ambushes and distractions had influenced him a bit, but the truth was that he¡¯d just fallen back on his instincts. Traps and tricks had always worked in the Tanglewood, and the only reason he hadn¡¯t done something similar at Rodcliff was because things had been a bit too urgent.


    Still, he felt a little guilty as he glanced at Orn. The [Fighter] was hobbling along at a speed that most people would envy, but it was clear his foot was going to need quite a lot more work on the artifact that was attached to his leg. Taylor seemed just as worried about it; every time she started up another rant, it was after Orn grunted, or his foot let out a spark.


    The Armsman caught him looking and gave Clay a grin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Sir Clay. I won¡¯t slow you down.¡± Then he frowned. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that will be the last time I enter the Dungeon, however. Even with those bonuses and practice, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to help.¡±


    Taylor muttered something ugly under her breath, and Syr Katherine cleared her throat. ¡°I believe Sir Clay promised that today would be the last time before we returned to Pellsglade. Am I correct?¡±


    The [Calculator] looked at him, and Clay nodded. ¡°A deal is a deal. We¡¯ve done what we came here to do after all.¡± He shivered. ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t want whatever was watching us there to catch sight of me again for a while. Do you know what that was?¡±


    Syr Katherine frowned at him, but before she could respond, Orn¡¯s ankle shot out a shower of sparks and the [Fighter] nearly fell. Taylor was at his side instantly, even more filth coming from her mouth. Clay paused and searched the surrounding area for signs of enemies, and found it surprisingly clear. It was like the Undead had pulled back; either that, or the things had finally run low on creatures to throw at them.


    Shaking his head, Clay turned back to Orn. Taylor was shaking her head too, only it seemed more like a sign that she wouldn¡¯t be able to repair the foot in time here. They obviously couldn¡¯t just camp here. Even if they had their supplies, the Undead wouldn¡¯t stay away from them forever.


    Clay sighed and stepped over to them. ¡°Sir Orn, I think I¡¯ll be able to carry you back to camp. You¡¯ll probably need to pick off any Undead that get close, though.¡±


    The [Fighter] gave him a curious look. ¡°I could do that, young hero, but it seems like it would be hard for you to do. I do not mean to cast aspersions on you, but¡­¡± Orn gestured to himself and Clay winced. He had a point. Even with his greater [Might], it would have been a hard task to lift the giant and carry him along. Of course, the fact that they were still suffering under the Malus only made it worse. Even with a crude stretcher, it would be tough going for the next stretch of road.


    Fortunately, he had something a bit better than that.


    Clay stepped over near the [Fighter]¡¯s feet and began the [Chant] of Mule¡¯s Dismay. It was a minor [Chant], but it was supposed to be stronger based on the user¡¯s [Might]. A normal [Commoner] was supposedly able to cart around a small amount of supplies; with his extra [Stats] and bonuses¡­


    The adventurers¡¯ eyes went wide as Clay finished the [Chant] and Orn abruptly floated off the ground. Clay felt a bit of strain on his Soul for sustaining the spell, but it was something he could probably endure, at least until they reached the borders of Sarlsboro. Hopefully, from there they could reach camp and Taylor could make more repairs.


    He looked over at Taylor and Syr Katherine, both of whom were staring at him with wide eyes. Then Taylor broke into a laugh, as always a high, twittering sound. ¡°Oh, of course. Yet another one. I swear, once we get back to Pellsglade I am going to corner that Novice, no matter what the Rector says.¡±


    Syr Katherine gave the [Artifactor] a look, and then turned back to Clay. ¡°Can you maintain it, Sir Clay?¡± When he nodded, she gestured. ¡°Then let us continue. Those clouds look¡­ unpromising.¡±


    It did still look like it was going to rain soon. Orn reached down to wave a hand beneath himself, muttering something about being treated lack a slab of pork. Then he sighed and leaned back on the invisible cart, hands clasped behind his head. The false one sparked a bit before the runes steadied out. ¡°Yes, young hero, onwards! I would not want to call you lazy, after all.¡±


    Clay snorted, as did Taylor. Then he turned back to the road and started trudging away, with the [Fighter] drifting after him. It was going to be a long journey.

 B3Ch11: A New Choice

    The return to Pellsglade proved a bit more taxing than Clay had expected.


    It turned out that whatever the blade had done to Orn¡¯s foot, it wasn¡¯t repairable by the tools Taylor had available. As a result, he was stuck dragging the man all the way back to Pellsglade, one excruciating stretch of road at a time. The fact that Taylor spent most of the trip pestering him for whatever notes he¡¯d hidden from her, and Orn amused himself by pretending that Clay was his ¡®noble steed¡¯ carrying him back to civilization did not help Clay feel any happier about the situation.


    The weather did not help things either. While the rain had been kind enough to hold off until they had escaped back to camp, it was not so hesitant when it came to the entire rest of the week. A steady, unrelenting downpour had turned the roads to muck and the wilderness to a series of mudslides and pits. The only person who wasn¡¯t spattered by mud by the end of every day was Orn, and his good cheer was considerably dampened by the fact that they often pelted him with mudballs in revenge. The [Chant] for Pure Touch was used quite a few times to make sure that they didn¡¯t sleep in the same mud they had been tromping through all day.


    All told, it took five full days to stagger back into the borders of the village. They were battered, exhausted, and ready to enjoy a moment of rest. Just about the only optimistic thing was the fact that the sky had finally broken through the clouds. The last stretch of road had been one they had walked through had been lit by a warm, bright spring sun. A broad stretch of blue sky, interrupted only by puffy white clouds, spread over their heads.


    The warmth had been a relief; Clay had been getting worried about being out in the cold and wet too much. His [Fortitude] should have been able to handle any normal colds or illnesses at this point, but he didn¡¯t want to push it too far by accident.


    Pellsglade was a sight for sore eyes, even with the tents set up outside it and the unfamiliar murmur of crowded people inside it. He blinked as they drew closer. Even with the newcomers, the village shouldn¡¯t have been so noisy already. What was happening?


    As they drew closer, he saw the villagers gathered in the middle of the village. He suddenly realized what day it had to be, and he turned to look at the adventurers still trailing along in his wake.


    Taylor was wearing a satisfied expression, while Orn simply gestured for him to continue with false impatience. Syr Katherine actually smiled, her eyebrow arching a little. ¡°I am glad you did not delay us further, Sir Clay. We might have missed it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That would have been¡­ bad.¡± He looked back at the clearing in the center of the village where the Stone sat and waited. There was already a crowd of nervous [Youths] there, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Rector Semmons was present as well, though his expression soured as he noticed their arrival. Baron Pellsglade immediately worked his way around the mass of people gathered for the ceremony and rushed over to them.


    ¡°Heroes! You¡¯ve returned just in time for the Choosing.¡± He looked at where Orn was hovering over the ground, and a brief flash of confusion crossed his expression. ¡°I trust¡­ you are all well?¡±


    ¡°Well enough, Lord Pellsglade.¡± Syr Katherine¡¯s voice was cool and impersonal. She was looking past the baron, her gaze fixed on someone else. ¡°We¡¯ve completed our mission to the Dungeon, and the monsters there should be substantially less of a problem in the coming years.¡±


    Baron Pellsglade nodded. A flicker of gratitude went through his expression, along with a little pride as he glanced at Clay. ¡°That is good to hear, Syr Katherine. As always, you are welcome to stay at my home until you are ready to travel back to Crownsguard.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Baron.¡±


    Clay had followed the direction of her stare during their conversation, and he felt himself go still when he realized exactly who Syr Katherine had found in the crowd. She was wearing her traveling robes already, and there was a suspicious-looking bundle on the ground beside her. Some unfamiliar strangers had been talking with her in low voices, but they fell away as she caught sight of the adventurers.


    Olivia saw him looking at her, and she smiled. It was like the sun had come out from the clouds a second time, as he saw all the nervousness, excitement, and determination on her face.


    Then Olivia noticed Syr Katherine¡¯s attention, and her smile faded. She stared back at the [Calculator] for a moment. Her chin rose, she squared her shoulders. Clay felt a flicker of justified concern at the way they were studying each other, and he was a more than a little grateful when the Rector stepped into the clearing and called everyone¡¯s attention to him.


    When he¡¯d spoken at Clay¡¯s Choosing, the Rector had appeared formal, steady, and unflappable. Now, however, as he glanced at Olivia, the man appeared to have considerably less certainty in his voice as he spoke.


    ¡°Youth of Pellsglade, today is the day of your Choosing.¡± The Rector paused and cleared his throat after another glance in Olivia¡¯s direction. ¡°Eight years ago, when you received your [Gift], you were given the chance to prepare for this day. The gods have watched you this long time, as you grew from [Child] to [Youth], and today they will deliver you the reward of your efforts. Those of you who are called to serve as their champions in this land will receive [Classes] that will guide you to your purpose. If you receive no such calling, you will still receive the [Class] and [Subclasses] that match your efforts.¡± He paused one more time and bowed his head.


    When he looked up again, the Rector seemed to have recovered some of his determination. ¡°Let us begin.¡±


    The Rector turned to a pair of villagers. ¡°Graham Summers, Tyler Smith, see to the Stone.¡±


    Clay watched as two boys stepped forward, and he remembered vividly the anxiety and hopes that he had carried with him to the Stone. They seemed even more nervous than he had been, perhaps with good reason. After all, the last Choosing had produced a group of adventurers¡­ and him, who was probably considered just as different these days. He saw the parents of the boys watching with just as much anxiety; Goodwoman Summers was wringing a handkerchief in her hands, and Goodman Smith had tightened his grip on a shovel enough that his knuckles stood out white.


    Both boys stepped over and placed their hands on the Stone. Rector Semmons began to murmur the words of the ceremony, and Clay suddenly realized that they sounded familiar. They were a [Chant], not just a random spell of some kind, and Clay practically kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. His eyes darted to Syr Katherine, who seemed unimpressed.


    Then he looked at Olivia, who simply nodded at him. She had to have already known. Clay felt his lips twitch in an aborted smile. He looked back to the Stone, which was glowing with power, and tried to remember as much of the [Chant] as he could.


    All too soon, the glow faded, and both boys stepped back. For a moment, they seemed too worried to react. Then they relaxed and smiled at each other. They walked over to the Rector, who was waiting with a subtle tension for them to speak with him. A smile broke out across his face as they spoke to him, and he turned to make the announcement.


    ¡°Goodman Graham Summers has been chosen as a [Commoner]! Goodman Tyler Smith has been chosen as a [Commoner]!¡±


    The tension in the air cracked slightly as the two newly minted [Commoners] went back to their families. They stole glances at Clay and the adventurers as they went, but they were clearly relieved that nobody would expect them to go hunting monsters any time soon.


    Clay heard Taylor sigh. He glanced at her as the next pair of [Youths] were ordered to the Stone. She gave him an apologetic shrug. ¡°There were¡­ concerns that something unusual was happening in Pellsglade. Many members of the Council will be relieved to hear of a normal Choosing this year, rather than one full of adventurers and¡­ well.¡±


    She gestured to him, and Clay couldn¡¯t help but grin at her. Then he turned back as the Stone glowed for a second time. He couldn¡¯t quite make out the words of the [Chant], but from the looks of things, he was going to have plenty of chances to practice.


    In the end, there were more [Youths] than Clay had expected. Five of them were people he¡¯d known for years. Tyler and Graham had always been lurking around the village, and Georgia Manors¡¯ family had worked for the baron for longer than he¡¯d been alive. Sam Fletcher¡¯s parents had come to Pellsglade a decade ago, while Alice Cooper¡¯s family had been farming in Pellsglade since the village had been founded.


    None of them were given an adventurer¡¯s [Class], and all of them seemed more than happy about the fact. Alice and Sam had given him shrugs and nods as they went back to their families; Georgia had run straight back to her mother and clung to her, crying with gratitude.


    Not all of them were familiar, though. Six more [Youths] had been newcomers to the village, and only about half looked to be happy about their new [Classes] as [Commoners]. Some of them were grousing openly about the fact that they hadn¡¯t been made adventurers, a fact that had Clay shaking his head in exasperation.


    One of them, however, had taken the news of his new [Class] with calm acceptance. He¡¯d turned to look at Clay for a long moment, and then nodded to himself. Clay had watched him for a moment, wondering what it meant, only to be distracted by a final call from the Rector.


    ¡°Olivia Shrinekept!¡± The Rector paused, something he hadn¡¯t done before. He looked at Olivia and swallowed. ¡°See to the Stone!¡±


    She stepped forward, walking to the middle of the clearing. He heard a burst of whispers and murmurs from the people who were still watching. Apparently, the conflict between Olivia and the Rector had made for good gossip the past few months.


    As Olivia passed the Rector, however, she paused. Rector Semmons was watching her with his arms folded, both hope and dread in his eyes. She looked at him and then stepped over to wrap her arms around him in a hug. The Rector¡¯s eyes went wide, and there was another burst of murmurs from the crowd. Rector Semmons wasn¡¯t exactly known as an affectionate or tolerant man, after all, and had Clay not known his relationship with Olivia, it would have been easy to expect a strict lecture on breaking the ceremony.


    Instead, the Rector¡¯s eyes had gone wide, and then soft. He hugged Olivia back for a moment. When she drew back, he held her arms; she spoke in a soft murmur that put a shaky smile on the Rector¡¯s face.


    Then Olivia turned to face the Stone. Her shoulders became set, and her stride became closer to a march than a regular pace. She stopped in front of the Stone and stared at it for a long moment. He saw her take a deep breath and then shove her hand against the surface of the weathered rock.


    He glanced at the adventurers as the Rector began his [Chant]. Taylor seemed like she was holding her breath. Orn was rolling his eyes at her apparent tension. Syr Katherine was watching without blinking, as if she would miss the result if she did anything but stare.


    Clay looked back at the scene as well. The Stone glowed, just as it had for the others. He studied it closely, searching for any sign of a difference. There was nothing he could see. He realized with a start that he had lost track of the words of the [Chant] that the Rector had been saying; it would be his last opportunity to hear it, at least for this year.


    Then the Rector came to a stop. Semmons was staring at Olivia, a faint look of horror on his face. The Rector¡¯s eyes darted to Clay, and he saw a rising panic in them. Fear took hold of Clay¡¯s own heart. He stepped forward, ready to sprint to Olivia and pull her from Stone if needed.


    Just as he took that step, though, the glow abruptly faded. Olivia stepped back from the Stone, her expression calm. She turned to look at the Rector, who was wringing his hands. Her stride was calm and composed as she approached Semmons.


    Clay was straining to listen as she leaned close, but the words they exchanged were too quiet to hear. He belatedly remembered the [Chant] of Distant Ear, but by the time he had recalled it, she was already gesturing for the Rector to speak. Semmons turned to face the rest of the village, a mixture of resignation, relief, and exasperation on his face.


    ¡°Goodwoman Olivia Newfeld has been chosen as a [Commoner]!¡±


    There was another murmur through the crowd, though Olivia didn¡¯t seem to notice. She walked calmly to where the bundle had been waiting for her and slowly unpacked it.


    Clay almost groaned as he recognized the war scythe as it emerged. It provoked another rash of murmurs, as did the sling she stored, and the small hatchet she put at her waist. The rest of her equipment she shoved in a pack that she hefted onto her back.


    Then she walked across the clearing, striding directly over to him while the entire village watched.


    He waited to speak until she was looking up at him from a decent distance. ¡°Olivia.¡±


    ¡°Clay.¡± She smiled. ¡°You were cutting it awfully close, you know. Any later and I might have needed to go south to find you.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t miss anything.¡± Clay paused, uncertain about how to proceed. ¡°Are you¡­¡±


    ¡°Disappointed?¡± Olivia shrugged. ¡°I might have been, if I hadn¡¯t met you. That, and I was given some¡­ reassurance, just now.¡± She paused, and Clay thought he might have heard laughter on the wind. ¡°So? Are you going to keep your promise?¡±


    Taylor spoke up before Clay could. ¡°You may need to know that Sir Clay¡¯s time will be spoken for, Novice. The Council will be keeping him rather busy. Perhaps while you wait for him, you could study with me in Crownsguard.¡±


    ¡°I have studied enough, Syr Taylor.¡± Olivia¡¯s voice had grown cold. ¡°And while I am grateful to the Rectory for their charity, and to Rector Semmons for his unflagging kindness, I am no longer a Novice. I am a hero.¡±


    Syr Katherine stepped forward, her eyes weighing the young woman before her. ¡°It will take more than determination to prove that, Olivia.¡±


    Olivia turned her attention to the [Calculator] and smiled. ¡°Of course. Fortunately, I will have a good teacher.¡± She looked back at Clay and raised her eyebrows.


    Clay bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling. If they had hoped Olivia would be less challenging than him¡­ ¡°I claim Olivia Newfeld as my apprentice, by my rights as a peer.¡±


    Taylor sighed, and Syr Katherine jerked in surprise. She looked back at Clay with an incredulous expression. ¡°You¡¯re serious. You¡¯re going to claim her as an apprentice? As a¡­¡±


    She stopped, and Clay allowed himself to smile at last. ¡°Yes, Syr Katherine. At the very least, it¡¯ll be easier on her than it was on me.¡± He looked back at Olivia. ¡°You¡¯re still sure about this, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes. ¡°More than you know, Clay.¡±


    Orn spoke up from where he was leaning on his hammer. ¡°The appropriate form of address for an apprentice to their teacher is Sir or Syr, young hero.¡±


    Olivia made as if to reply and then paused. She nodded to Orn in respect. ¡°Thank you, Sir Orn.¡±


    Syr Katherine looked at Orn in surprise. ¡°Are you actually going to entertain this, Armsman?¡±


    He looked back with a shrug. ¡°We don¡¯t have much choice, Syr Katherine. They¡¯ve followed the forms, even if they weren¡¯t expected. In fact, Sir Clay seems to have been suspiciously well prepared.¡±


    Orn looked at Taylor, who abruptly found something interesting in the village to study. Syr Katherine tapped a finger on her sword, and the scholar threw her hands up in frustration. ¡°Oh fine, I did mention some things to Sir Clay. At least she¡¯ll be tied to him instead of running around on her own. That way, the catastrophe can be limited in scope.¡±


    Syr Katherine let a breath hiss out between her teeth. ¡°Fine. We will sort this out when we return to Crownsguard.¡± She glanced at the baron, who was still standing nearby. ¡°We¡¯ll require lodging and a cart to help us return to Crownsguard. I¡¯m sure the [Guards] sent by the King will be more than happy to provide the horses.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t, Lord Pellsglade.¡± There was a sudden silence as Olivia stepped up next to Clay. Her expression was clearly one of triumph. ¡°The only thing we¡¯ll need is a few rations and other supplies for the road. We¡¯ll leave tomorrow morning.¡±


    Baron Pellsglade looked mystified as he looked back and forth between the adventurers and the [Commoners]. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sure that we can provide whatever you all need?¡±


    Syr Katherine was looking steadily less patient by the heartbeat now. ¡°Goodwoman Newfeld, Sir Clay will be following us back to the capital to speak with the Council about his next mission. If you continue to pretend to be his apprentice, you will need to follow him back there as well.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s smile was anything but kind. ¡°Syr Katherine, under most circumstances you would be correct. Unfortunately, I have a letter here from Baroness Janburg, requesting urgent aid from the Commoner Hero. Apparently, the local Lair has grown dangerously unchecked, and she needs assistance to get it under control.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    There was another moment of silence, this time deeper and more complete. Syr Katherine¡¯s expression had gone from frustrated to stunned. Her eyes darted to Clay, who shrugged. Olivia hadn¡¯t mentioned any letter to him, but he doubted she was lying. He heard too much honest pleasure in the truth in Olivia¡¯s voice. It was the kind of smug satisfaction his mother occasionally had when she¡¯d already won an argument, and Clay just hadn¡¯t realized it yet.


    It was Taylor that spoke up first. ¡°Janburg. It¡¯s a village on the border of Merarbor. Close to it, at least.¡±


    ¡°The borders changed a while ago.¡± Olivia broke off from staring at Syr Katherine to look at the [Artifactor]. ¡°The baroness and I are old friends. Ever since she saved my life.¡±


    Realization of exactly which Lair Olivia was taking them to exploded in Clay¡¯s mind. She glanced at him, obviously sensing his dawning comprehension, and nodded quickly. They weren¡¯t just going somewhere to train. Olivia was bringing him to the place that had been her home to kill the monsters that had murdered her family.


    It was brilliant enough that he almost forgot to be horrified at the sheer rage slowly filling Syr Katherine¡¯s expression.


    ¡°The Council¡¯s has ordered¡ª¡±


    Olivia cut her off. ¡°Many things, I¡¯m sure. For very good reasons, I¡¯m also sure.¡± Her voice lowered slightly, and her green eyes grew firm. ¡°If the Council¡¯s orders were the only important thing in the world, both Pellsglade and Rodcliff would be nothing but ruins now. Just like my home, Syr Katherine. My home, with my family dead inside it.¡±


    The adventurer straightened up as if Olivia had slapped her, and Clay winced as Olivia went on in that same frigid tone. ¡°It is my understanding, Syr Katherine, that every adventurer swears an oath. Do you remember it?¡±


    Syr Katherine nodded rigidly. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°In that oath, they promise to defend against monsters, and to obey the summons of one of the King¡¯s servants, do they not?¡± Olivia¡¯s leading tone wouldn¡¯t have gone over well in any lecture hall in the Academy, but she didn¡¯t seem to care at all.


    Orn seemed to have realized something; the Armsman grunted and whispered something to Taylor under his breath. The scholar twitched in surprise, but Syr Katherine answered before Clay could ask what was going on. ¡°That is correct.¡±


    Olivia shifted her war scythe in her hands. ¡°And do they swear to obey the Council as well, Syr Katherine?¡±


    Syr Katherine¡¯s mouth opened, and no sound came out for a few heartbeats. She glared at Olivia, who just arched an eyebrow at her. Then her eyes darted to Baron Pellsglade, who seemed torn between the desire to laugh and the sudden need to be elsewhere. When Syr Katherine looked back, her stare was nearly venomous all on its own. ¡°They do not.¡±


    The smugness was back in Olivia¡¯s tone. Clay wondered if it would ever leave. ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid Sir Clay¡¯s course is clear in this case. We¡¯ll respond to the baroness¡¯ request, and you can return to Crownsguard to report to the Council. Anything else would break the sacred oath that he took¡ªand that you all took as well. Or am I mistaken?¡±


    Olivia had drawn that last question out in agonizing fashion. It took Syr Katherine a few more moments to clamp down on her anger enough to respond. ¡°Your knowledge of the oath is correct.¡± Then Syr Katherine¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°You are making other mistakes, however.¡±


    ¡°We shall see.¡± Olivia shrugged. ¡°In any case, you¡¯ve occupied enough of Sir Clay¡¯s time. He¡¯s mine now.¡±


    Clay blinked at the statement, and a heartbeat later, Olivia went a little red. He heard Orn chuckle behind him and gave the [Fighter] a brief glare. The Armsman couldn¡¯t even bother looking ashamed, however. At least Taylor was too busy looking a little lost at the moment to join in. Then he looked back at Syr Katherine and Olivia, who seemed to be getting ready for another verbal exchange.


    He cleared his throat, getting both of them to look at him. ¡°Syr Katherine, Olivia, maybe we can discuss this later? I do have something I need to give my father.¡±


    Baron Pellsglade seemed to latch onto the suggestion like a desperate sailor grabbing a lifeline. ¡°A fine suggestion, Sir Clay. Perhaps some time to consider things and a less¡­ public¡­ forum might lessen the conflict?¡±


    The words seemed to convince Syr Katherine to rein herself back in. She took a single breath to steady herself, and her impassive mask slid back into place. ¡°You are correct, Lord Pellsglade. Lead the way. Sir Clay, we will speak more about this later.¡±


    Without further words, Syr Katherine turned and began walking towards the road that led to the baron¡¯s manor. Pellsglade spent a moment to clasp Clay¡¯s hand and then hurried after her. Taylor and Orn trailed in her wake, with the [Fighter] limping along and the scholar lost in her own thoughts.


    Olivia watched them go, her smug expression settled firmly on her face. Then, when they were out of sight, she buried the butt of her war scythe in the dirt and leaned heavily on it. She breathed in and out heavily.


    Clay gave her an amused look. ¡°Not as brave as you looked?¡±


    She gave him a bashful look. ¡°Not yet, maybe. I just gained two [Valor]. Not bad for my first day as a [Commoner].¡± Then she glanced back at where the adventurers had vanished. ¡°Do you think they bought it?¡±


    ¡°You definitely seemed pretty convincing.¡± He grinned. ¡°You had me worried there for a minute. Do you need more time, or should we get going?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Olivia straightened up, and some of her determination came back. She looked at Rector Semmons and nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    The walk back to his family home was a calm, relaxing one compared to what he¡¯d been doing the past few days. With the sun shining down and Olivia walking alongside him, Clay felt a calm he hadn¡¯t known for a while. It was like his worries had retreated for a time; even the looming problems the adventurers and the Council might cause were distant for a while.


    He snuck a look at Olivia. She was walking along at a pace that matched his own, her war scythe still on her shoulder. Her expression was a mixture of satisfaction and determination, and there was a small smile on her lips.


    She glanced over at him, and he jerked a little as she caught him looking. ¡°What?¡±


    Clay frantically grasped for a safe topic. ¡°I was just wondering what [Subclass] you ended up with.¡±


    Olivia blushed a little. ¡°Oh, really?¡±


    He smiled. ¡°Hey, it has to be better than [Laborer], right? What is it? Mom would probably love it if you got [Scribe].¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll have to get used to disappointment, then.¡± Olivia sighed. ¡°I¡¯m a [Student] apparently. A small bonus to when I am studying things.¡±


    Clay blinked. As much as he¡¯d downplayed it, [Laborer] had helped him out plenty of times, even in the middle of combat. If [Student] was similar¡­ ¡°It says things? Not books?¡±


    She paused. ¡°Not books.¡± Her lips curved into a smile again. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to think a bit more about what that means.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°How about your first [Experiences]? Anything interesting?¡±


    Her expression soured a little. ¡°Just [Translator] and [Survivor], actually. It should help with any languages we find, and maybe provide some useful things in terms of endurance and healing, but nothing beyond that.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°Well, it might prove more useful than [Hunter] or [Farmhand] at least.¡±


    Olivia chuckled. ¡°Hey, at least you¡¯d be able to feed us. Besides, I doubt you want your father to hear about your opinion of farming.¡±


    He laughed. ¡°Good point! He¡¯d certainly let me have an earful. Can you keep it a to yourself, then?¡±


    She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head a little. ¡°I suppose it¡¯ll be our secret.¡±


    They continued walking in silence for a few more moments. Clay felt warm, inside and out, as the farm came into view.


    His family was there this time, clearly going about their daily work. Without someone to worry about at the Choosing, it was obvious that they¡¯d just spent it as another day around the farm, caring for their crops and animals and going about their chores. Sam, working in the field, caught sight of them first. He waved to them and called out.


    Moments later, Amelia came out of the house and waved to them as well. Will and Saphy were nowhere to be seen, but Finn was clutching at Amelia¡¯s skirts, and a sour-looking Amy was carrying a basket of clothes back from the river. She almost dropped them when she saw Olivia and Clay, but a glance at Amelia had her thinking better of it, and settling for a lurching jog instead.


    It was Amelia who met them first, as Sam was still picking his way through the crop. ¡°Clay, Olivia, welcome back! Good news?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°The Dungeon should be contained for at least a year or two. We don¡¯t have to worry about it for a while.¡±


    Amelia raised an eyebrow and then looked at Olivia. The newly made [Student] nudged him in the side with an elbow. ¡°I¡¯m a [Commoner]. Like we expected.¡±


    His mother nodded. ¡°And how do you feel? Are you ready?¡±


    Olivia smiled. ¡°I think so. How about the others? Are the supplies all ready?¡±


    ¡°In the barn, except for the [Guards]. I think they are probably still on their way back from the manor.¡±


    Clay blinked. He looked back and forth between them. ¡°Wait, what others? What are you talking about?¡±


    Amelia gave him a look that suggested he was being particularly slow. ¡°The others who wanted to join you on the way to Janburg, obviously. Some of them might be less helpful than others, but at the very least, you won¡¯t be traveling alone.¡±


    He opened his mouth to protest, but then Sam arrived and threw his arms around Clay. Despite his superior [Stats], he could still feel the strength of his father¡¯s hug. ¡°Welcome back, son. You¡¯re well, aren¡¯t you? No wounds anywhere? No poisons?¡±


    The anxiety in his father¡¯s voice made Clay¡¯s heart clench. For the moment, he forgot his questions and just hugged his father back. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Dad. Really.¡±


    Sam hung on for a few moments more, as if he really didn¡¯t believe it. Then he loosened up and looked Clay over for himself. ¡°Good. Good.¡± He looked at Amelia and smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t think we want to sit here talking about things in the middle of the road, do we? Let¡¯s take this inside and give him a meal of some kind. Those rations never put any meat on his bones, from what I can see¡­¡±


    He didn¡¯t let go of Clay¡¯s shoulder as they headed towards the house. It was a bit amusing, thinking of how people would see it from the outside. Here was Clay, the Commoner Hero, being dragged to his house by a [Farmer] with no special abilities or magic¡­and yet still completely helpless about it. The thought was almost enough to make him laugh. Almost.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you found these.¡± The wonder and faded pain in his father¡¯s voice was enough to set Clay¡¯s heart aching again, but he forced himself to not say anything and just watch. Olivia put a hand on his arm and squeezed a little. She smiled when he glanced at her.


    His father had the treasures he¡¯d rescued from the Sarlsboro home spread out on the table, and he was turning them over and studying them like they were made of gold. Sam shook his head and looked up. ¡°You were there? You found the house?¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°It was right where you said it was. You couldn¡¯t have drawn a better map if you tried.¡±


    Sam went back to looking at the things Clay had brought home. His smile was a fragile, wonderful thing. ¡°I thought I¡¯d never see any of it again. Not after¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m guessing we can¡¯t exactly go there on a family visit, right?¡±


    The simple idea of it made Clay shake his head, hard. ¡°No, Dad. It¡¯s still dangerous. Just less than it used to be.¡± He reached out and touched the book he¡¯d rescued. ¡°Still, if there is anything else you wanted to see again¡­¡±


    Sam reached out and grabbed Clay by the hand. He squeezed it tight. ¡°No, son. I already have everything I could ever want, right here.¡± Reaching out with his other hand, he ruffled Clay¡¯s hair and grinned. ¡°And you managed to come back without a pile of wounds this time! You must be getting better at this whole adventuring thing.¡±


    Clay snorted and drew back. ¡°I hope so. They certainly aren¡¯t giving me much of a break.¡±


    Then he looked over at his mother, who was idly reading a book. ¡°Speaking of which, what did you mean about other people joining Olivia and me? You never did explain that.¡±


    Amelia gave him a sidelong glance before she went back to her reading. ¡°I meant just what I said. There¡¯s a few people who are interested in joining you on the road, and we have the supplies ready for all of you out there in the barn. I¡¯d suggest you wait for the rest of them to get here, but as soon as they do, you¡¯d best be off.¡±


    Clay glanced at Olivia, who was nodding along. ¡°You¡¯re saying I should just abandon Syr Katherine and the others? We told them we¡¯d meet them back at the manor.¡±


    Olivia sighed. ¡°Which means we¡¯ll have a fairly decent head start, especially with Sir Orn¡¯s injury. Syr Katherine won¡¯t be able to abandon him, and she wouldn¡¯t try to track us down on her own. At least, that¡¯s what I hope.¡±


    He fixed her with a steady look. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t need to track us down if we just kept our word, you know. After all, there¡¯s not much she can do. We have the letter from the baroness.¡±


    Amelia chuckled to herself. ¡°And how long do you think it will take her to convince the Baron to ask you to stay here instead, at least until the Council can send their own message?¡±


    Clay blinked. He looked from his mom to Olivia and back. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t do that. Would he?¡±


    Sam shook him by the shoulder for a bit and then leaned back in his chair. ¡°Ah, son¡­ The Baron is fond of you, he really is, but I don¡¯t know if he would risk his relationship with the Guild over this. Especially not with his son in their ranks.¡±


    Olivia nodded, her expression solemn. ¡°He¡¯s right, Clay. She¡¯ll be motivated to make it happen, too. If we go back to the baron¡¯s manor, we won¡¯t be going to Janburg. Not any time soon.¡±


    He grimaced. It wasn¡¯t the best situation, but if the baroness really did need the help, there was no other way to make it happen in time. ¡°I still don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Amelia gave him a look of false shock. ¡°This from the person who was sneaking around and fighting spiders behind everyone else¡¯s back?¡±


    Clay blinked. He worried at the thought like a sore tooth, but he didn¡¯t have an answer. ¡°That was different.¡±


    His mother set down her book for long enough to give him a frank look. ¡°Oh really? How?¡±


    He glared back at her, unwilling to just surrender the point. Before he could hit on an answer though, Olivia spoke up instead. ¡°He¡¯s probably unhappy because the plans are putting someone else in danger, Amelia. He can get a bit¡­ stubborn about things like that. Even if it really isn¡¯t any different at all.¡±


    Clay looked back at Olivia, who smiled at him. Then he slumped. ¡°All right, all right. We¡¯ll leave tonight.¡± She nodded, and he continued in an aggravated tone. ¡°I¡¯m still going to leave a letter explaining where we¡¯ve gone. We are going to Janburg, right?¡±


    Olivia blinked. Then she laughed softly. ¡°Yes, Clay. We really are going to Janburg.¡± Her face grew a bit more serious. ¡°The Baroness was more than happy to request your aid when I wrote to her, and I didn¡¯t want the Guild to consider you a Rogue by just disappearing into the night. We wouldn¡¯t get much done with a bunch of adventurers from the Guild hunting us.¡±


    He snorted. ¡°Glad you think that way now. The way you were fighting with Syr Katherine, I was worried you¡¯d have us on the run the rest of our lives.¡±


    Amelia paused, halfway to picking up her book again, and Sam let out a bark of laughter. ¡°See, I told you we should have gone to the Choosing! We obviously missed out on more than we should have.¡±


    His mother shook her head and muttered to herself, though the words were still loud enough to hear. ¡°I suppose he was right, there.¡± She gave Olivia a look. ¡°What happened to trying to stay out of their attention?¡±


    Olivia straightened her shoulders. ¡°I¡­ may have lost my temper.¡± She shook her head, her face showing echoes of her frustration. ¡°The way they were talking about him, about both of us, like we were pawns on their board¡­ I couldn¡¯t let them even pretend that it was right. They needed to know where we were going, and why.¡±


    Then she glanced at him and blushed. ¡°Besides, if they¡¯re worried about how I¡¯ll react, maybe they will try to be a bit more reasonable with Clay. He¡¯s a bit too good-hearted about things sometimes.¡±


    Sam snorted. ¡°A fair point.¡± He scuffed Clay¡¯s hair a second time and then grinned. ¡°Well, if that cat is out of the bag, then we might as well not worry about it. We have a journey to prepare for, anyway.¡±


    Clay grunted. He was feeling a little warm again, though he couldn¡¯t have said why. ¡°About that. These others? Who are they?¡±


    Amelia exchanged a look with Sam. Then she sighed. ¡°They are¡­ admirers of yours, Clay.¡±


    He gave her an exasperated look. ¡°Be serious.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡± She almost glared back at him. ¡°You might not know it, but Crownsguard wasn¡¯t the only place that¡¯s heard of the Commoner Hero. Some of the newcomers moving here had heard of you, too.¡±


    Sam spoke up, drawing an irritated look from Amelia. ¡°Not just them, either. There were a few traveling merchants that stopped by, and every time they had heard songs of you in some of the nearby villages as well. You haven¡¯t been around, but the folks around here have already learned a few.¡±


    Clay grimaced. He cursed at his past self for giving coins to the minstrels. It had been an act of pity, but obviously it had gotten far out of control. ¡°I don¡¯t need people thinking that following me is going to be like a song.¡±


    Olivia chuckled softly. ¡°So they won¡¯t be fighting monsters? Destroying Lairs? Dueling with the King?¡±


    He winced. ¡°That was¡­ only one time. And he won, anyway.¡±


    There was a moment of silence. Then Sam burst out laughing. He struck the table with his palm and pointed at Amelia. ¡°I told you! That¡¯s twice in one day!¡±


    Amelia straightened her skirt, her face scrunched up in a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. ¡°Really, Clay, I thought I raised you better than that. You challenged the King?¡±


    Clay hurriedly shook his head. ¡°No, no, it was during a melee at a festival. And he came after me, actually. I was just trying not to get¡­ knocked down.¡± Olivia gave him a sharp look, but he wasn¡¯t about to admit that the King had nearly used a dirty fighting trick on him. Not to his mother and father, at least. The King probably needed to have some air of dignity for people who didn¡¯t see him regularly.


    ¡°In any case, for different reasons, they came to follow you, and hope to learn how to do what you did.¡± Amelia shrugged. ¡°Some of them we¡¯ve come to know, some are strangers. All of them are willing to go and help you at Janburg.¡±


    Clay glanced at Olivia, who gave him a nod. He sighed. ¡°There¡¯s only so much I can do to help. How many are there?¡±


    ¡°Twelve, counting a few of the [Guards].¡± Sam¡¯s voice was serious. Clay gave him an exasperated look, and his father sighed. ¡°Just do what you can, son. I know they may not be much help¡­ but without you, they won¡¯t get far.¡±


    With a sigh, Clay nodded. ¡°I will do what I can, father. We just need to be careful, in a lot of ways. The monsters are dangerous, but we can¡¯t just teach everything I know to anyone. The [Chants] in particular are risky. If the wrong person learns those, it could be worse than them all dying.¡±


    The others looked at each other for a moment. Amelia spoke up slowly. ¡°It would, would it?¡±


    He gave his mother a look. ¡°Yes. If they stumble on the wrong [Chant]¡­ just the text from the wrong [Chant], written on the wall, nearly destroyed Rodcliff. It created the thing in the Tanglewood too. We can¡¯t just let anyone learn about spells like that until we know we can trust them, especially since if the adventurers find out¡­¡±


    Clay paused as the door banged open, and his little brother and sister ran in. They were both absolutely covered in mud, and Will had a desperate look on his face. Saphy¡¯s expression was full of a kind of vindictive triumph that only an aggrieved sibling could feel. ¡°Mom, Will pushed me in the creek!¡±


    ¡°I only did it after you pushed me in!¡±


    ¡°Well, you said it wasn¡¯t such a big deal that I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I did not! You were being all¡ª¡±


    He put a hand over his face as his brother and sister continued their argument, but before he could lower it, he heard Will stop mid-shout. ¡°Hey, Clay¡¯s back! Clay!¡±


    Clay jumped out of his chair, grinning as Will tried to tackle him. ¡°Hey. Hey! I don¡¯t want whatever that is all over me.¡±


    Will scowled. ¡°Oh, come on, it¡¯s just a little mud. You¡¯re an adventurer or something now, right? You shouldn¡¯t be scared of that.¡±


    He put his nose up in the air in response, still grinning from ear to ear. ¡°Do you see any mud on me? No? That¡¯s cause adventurers know how to get past such trivial things. Aren¡¯t I right, Olivia?¡±


    Clay looked at her, expecting her to be smiling too, but instead he found her exchanging a silent look with Amelia. Saphy, for her part, was looking down at her filthy clothes, and then marched up to her mother. ¡°Mom, can you clean me off? I want to be the first one to give Clay a hug.¡±


    Amy poked her head over the edge of the loft and laughed. ¡®Too late! I already did it before they even started talking about boring stuff.¡±


    Saphy stuck her tongue out at Amy, and almost immediately seemed to regret it as a bit of muddy water dripped onto it. She scowled and turned back to Amelia. ¡°Mom?¡±


    Clay blinked. He stepped forward, ready to volunteer to clean his sister off with a quick spell.


    Then he froze as Amelia sighed, stepped forward, and began reciting some very familiar words. Specifically, she was saying the words for the [Chant] of Pure Touch, something that should have been impossible.


    He glanced at Olivia, who was avoiding his eyes now, and then looked around the house. The immaculate, spotless house that looked like she¡¯d spent hours cleaning every nook and cranny. Hours that no farmwife ever truly had, with children to look after and a farm to support.


    His attention landed on his father, who gave him a small smile and shrugged. By the time he looked back at Amelia, his mother had already almost finished the spell.


    Just like that, Saphy¡¯s clothes were suddenly purged of all filth. She gave herself a quick once over and then catapulted past Will to tackle-hug Clay. ¡°Clay! It¡¯s so good to see you!¡±


    Feeling a little numb, Clay hugged her back. ¡°It¡¯s good to be back, little one.¡± She beamed up at him while Will stomped over for his own cleaning. A moment later, as the two were finally satisfied with their hugs and a quick excuse, they rushed up to the loft to be with Amy, and Clay slowly sat back down in his chair.


    He looked back and forth between his parents. Then he sighed. ¡°So it would be a good thing to encourage the adventurers to leave town quickly, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Sam snorted. ¡°I¡¯d say that¡¯s maybe a good idea.¡± He looked over at Amelia and shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll show him to the barn. Do you want to make sure that Dasher and the cart are ready to go? I think the [Guards] will be back soon.¡±


    Amelia and Olivia nodded, and Sam gestured for Clay to join him. They walked out the door and back into the spring sunshine, as Clay tried to reconcile the idea of both his parents being amateur mages.


    Life had become very strange.

 B3Ch12: The Road to Janburg

    The crowd of people waiting for him in the barn was more intimidating than Clay wanted to admit. They all looked at Clay like he was some kind of figure from a storybook, and when he asked them to get ready to leave, they leaped to gather their equipment and supplies together. There were eight of them, carrying a variety of different weapons and tools, from simple woodaxes to old swords.


    All of them looked far too excited, except for the sour-faced young man Clay had noticed at the Choosing. He carried a sledgehammer that looked like it had seen hard use. His name was Andrew Cooper, and his family had come to Pellsglade after a bandit raid had burned part of their village to the north. They had come to Pellsglade to search for a new life, and Andrew had every intention of making sure he could keep them safe.


    Not all of them carried that kind of story. Lana Towers was simply looking for the chance to have her own adventures sung by minstrels; she¡¯d apparently followed Clay from Crownsguard. James Fields and Elizabeth Wheatrose had both come to Pellsglade looking for work, and had been caught up in the chance to become adventurers after all. Elizabeth¡¯s brother, Peter, seemed to mostly be along for the ride so he could keep an eye on his younger sibling, while Sal Shepherd, Pauline Fargrain, and Arthur Hopper had all leapt at the chance to leave behind fields and apprenticeships that they had viewed as boring.


    They all shook Clay¡¯s hand and promised not to let him down. Clay told them he¡¯d do his best to keep them safe, which some of them scoffed at, and then encouraged them to get ready. They¡¯d have to make good time to keep ahead of Syr Katherine, after all.


    Olivia caught up with him as they were piling their gear onto the cart, all chattering happily. She glanced at them before she spoke to him in a voice low enough that they couldn¡¯t overhear it. ¡°You really don¡¯t need to bring them, Clay. I know you¡¯ve mentioned the [Chants] could be dangerous before, in the wrong hands. I haven¡¯t taught them anything.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°And who have you been teaching? Aside from my mom, of course.¡±


    She blushed. ¡°Actually, your dad wanted to learn a little, too. His [Memory] is just about high enough to start using the minor [Chants] already. I¡¯m betting he¡¯s planning on using things like the Mule¡¯s Dismay to make up for us ¡®stealing¡¯ his cart.¡±


    Clay winced and tried to hold on to the hope that his father would at least keep the magic out of the sight of most of the village. ¡°Who else?¡±


    ¡°Well, the Baron wanted to know what else I had found, obviously. And Adam had wanted to know a little more, in exchange for some of my supplies.¡± She shifted the scythe on her shoulder. ¡°Then there was David. He was curious about how I¡¯d gotten Adam to help me, and it seemed like I should be able to trust him. Herb was a bit interested too, so he got a copy¡­¡±


    He heaved a slow, heavy sigh. ¡°Is there anyone in the village you haven¡¯t taught?¡±


    She gave him a glare that didn¡¯t have much heat in it. ¡°You weren¡¯t quite as concerned when I was teaching you the things, were you? Besides, I didn¡¯t give them anything dangerous. Most of the combat [Chants] they can¡¯t even use until they get a bunch of levels, which they won¡¯t, and the only really dangerous one you never even shared with me.¡±


    Clay grunted. ¡°I guess that¡¯s a good point.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s just¡­ the Guild takes this kind of thing seriously. They may be accepting what we are doing now, but they¡¯re already going to fight us on that. Olivia, they don¡¯t even want to teach adventurers [Chants] before they hit level thirteen. If they hear we are teaching [Commoners] the spells¡­¡±


    Her glare softened. ¡°You let me worry about that. You¡¯ve got enough on your mind already.¡± Sal and Andrew bumped into each other. They started to squabble a bit before Elizabeth and Lana scorned them back into good order. ¡°Just get us to Janburg, and help me destroy the things in the Lair there. Everything else will fall into place.¡±


    He doubted it would be that simple, but Clay nodded anyway. After all, it wasn¡¯t like he had a lot of other choices at the moment.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the group of [Guards] came back along the road. They looked far more ready and professional compared to the gaggle of [Commoners] that were waiting for them, and Clay could have sworn that he saw at least one or two of them smirk when they thought the others weren¡¯t looking.


    To his surprise, however, they weren¡¯t alone. Rector Semmons was with them, and he walked over to Olivia and Clay with a hurried stride.


    Clay opened his mouth to try to defend Olivia, but the Rector beat him to the punch. ¡°Olivia, you nearly forgot your good cloak. I put an extra set of parchment and another bottle of ink in with it, along with my good knife.¡±


    She blinked and accepted the bundle of items from him hesitantly. ¡°Thank you. I am sorry I made you come all this way.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. I would have come anyway. I couldn¡¯t say goodbye properly, not with those adventurers watching.¡± He gave Clay a wary look, like a rooster eying a grub. ¡°They are already working on the baron, you should know. Poor Martin is going to do well just to hold out for the afternoon, honestly.¡±


    Clay grunted, and Semmons looked back at Olivia. ¡°Now, I want letters every week, more often if things get serious. Don¡¯t let the adventurers push you into anything you don¡¯t want to do; I¡¯ve given you the letters for Rector Parlen, and one for the High Rectory in Crownsguard if you need them.¡± He paused and looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were suspiciously wet, and his voice was even rougher than usual. ¡°And remember, if something should happen, if anything should happen, you will always have a home here. Always, without question. Do you understand me, girl?¡±


    Olivia stared back at the Rector, apparently at a loss for words. ¡°I do, Den. Thank you.¡±


    The Rector blinked and then nodded. He turned to Clay, who was still trying to adjust to hearing the Rector¡¯s first name for the first time. ¡°As for you, young man, you¡¯ve got her caught up in all this, but you¡¯re also the one who saved her life. I need to depend on you to do it again now. Can I trust you?¡±


    The question caught Clay almost completely off guard. He nodded. ¡°Yes, Rector, you can.¡±


    ¡°Good. I hope I don¡¯t need to regret it.¡± The Rector¡¯s voice promised a grim future if Clay failed his expectations. It was as threatening as anything Syr Katherine or the Council had ever said, and Clay swallowed a little before he answered.


    ¡°You won¡¯t.¡±


    The Rector nodded. ¡°Once you¡¯re finished with your own farewells, I¡¯m going to speak with your parents for a moment, just to get our stories straight for the adventurers. I expect you to be gone by the time we¡¯re finished.¡± He drew in a deep breath. ¡°Go then. Be safe, and triumph.¡±


    Semmons gave Olivia one last hug and then stepped back. He gestured for Clay to go ahead of him into the house. Clay headed back up the stairs, where his family was waiting. It seemed like he hadn¡¯t been in Pellsglade for long, and it was agonizing to leave again already, but it couldn¡¯t be helped. All the same, he wished he¡¯d just had a little more time.


    The road out of Pellsglade seemed like a long one, but the group of [Commoners] still made good time. Between Dasher¡¯s reluctant help, the eagerness of the collection of new recruits, and the disciplined help from the [Guards], by the time they made camp, they were nearly halfway to the next village.


    They paused long enough to eat a quick meal of rations, and then they continued onwards. When people grew too tired to march, they took a short rest on the cart. Anyone who complained was told that they needed to work on their [Fortitude] anyway. Usually, it was enough to silence any complaints.


    Unfortunately, even though they reached the next village before sundown, it didn¡¯t mean their journey had absolutely no complications.


    The village of Belsford was only a little larger than Pellsglade had been, before the wave of newcomers had arrived. Even now, while it lacked the unpleasant tent city, Belsford had far more actual buildings, and the farmland had been expanded around the village far more. It had none of the threats that Pellsglade had suffered from; there was never a Tanglewood looming on its northern border, and the Sarlwood was much further away. As a result, until recently, Belsford had been considered a much safer place to live, and had prospered as a result.


    It wasn¡¯t large enough that the caravan of [Commoners] avoided notice, however. Clay had them camp outside the middle of Belsford, and spent a good portion of the evening reassuring the local baron that they were only passing through, and didn¡¯t require support.


    While he was gone, however, the others apparently spent their time either resting, or explaining what they were going to do. Several of them, Sal included, were bragging about how much glory they would win and how many monsters they were going to kill.


    By the time the caravan set out again, early the next morning, they had gained another pair of [Commoners], eager for their own share of the glory. Clay had tried to argue for them to remain behind, but he had no better success with them than he¡¯d had with the initial group.


    Belsford wasn¡¯t alone, either. In each village, as the caravan passed through, word spread about what they were doing, and more and more [Commoners] joined. It got to the point where Clay deliberately started to avoid villages in order to keep the problem from getting worse. The Guild was already going to be unhappy with him; the last thing he needed was the adventurers or worse, the King, to start worrying that he was raising an army on the way to Janburg.


    Unfortunately, Olivia wasn¡¯t exactly very helpful, either. She spent every waking moment that she had, outside of traveling or eating, studying her own notes. It was like she¡¯d been possessed with her own need to know the [Chants] she had uncovered. He often saw her still reading the parchment long into the night, after most of the rest of the camp had already gone to sleep.


    The only real bright spots in the situation were the facts that the adventurers didn¡¯t appear on the road behind them, and that Janburg was not as far away as he¡¯d originally feared. Once they moved far enough west, the roads turned south again, eventually heading straight towards the southwestern borders of the kingdom.


    Janburg was located in a valley in the shadow of a nearby mountain range. The peaks had once formed the border with Merarbor¡¯s territory, at least before the Lair had consumed Zelton. Now, for all intents and purposes, Janburg was the only human settlement left in the area, the last bastion of the kingdom before the wilderness.


    It looked like more of a small castle than a normal village. A wooden wall surrounded the place, with a tall stone tower on the southwestern side. Near the tower, a river ran past the place, winding its way past the town. There was a bridge built across it, and the remnants of an old path that led closer in towards the mountains. Clay¡¯s eyes followed that path until it was lost in the distant hills.


    The Lair had to be in that direction. He could already see the way the land changed on the other side of the river; there were furrows dug into the dirt, as if someone or something had created a trench to defend the town. It was a strange sight, given how little most monsters tended to care about walls and fortifications, but Janburg had held out for years at this point. Clay didn¡¯t have much cause to criticize how they¡¯d managed it.


    It had taken five hard days of travel, but they had finally arrived.


    ¡°Welcome to Janburg, traveler.¡± Baroness Janburg gave him a small bow. The [Guards] behind her were watching the rest of the caravan of [Commoners] warily. ¡°May I ask the purpose of your visit?¡±


    Clay couldn¡¯t help but grin at her question. It was obvious the Baroness was trying to figure out whether she was looking at a band of bandits. The presence of members of the King¡¯s [Guards] might have helped her feel more secure, but it was clearly not enough for her to order her troops to relax. They wore solid-looking gambesons and metal helmets, and carried a mix of spears, swords, and shields in a way that told Clay they knew how to use them. He wondered, briefly, if any of them had been quietly helping the Baroness with her duties.


    The Baroness herself was no less impressive a figure. She wore a breastplate over her own gambeson, with a helmet carried under her left elbow. A scar started partway up her left cheek and crawled down and across her lips, giving her a fearsome snarl. Her red hair was tied into a loose ponytail, keeping her blue eyes clear as she studied him.


    Most importantly, in her right hand was a war scythe, one a little heavier and stronger than the one Olivia was carrying. Clay was tempted to glance back at her to confirm his suspicions that she¡¯d been inspired by the Baroness¡¯ weapon, but he sensed it would be a better decision to answer the [Noble]¡¯s question first.


    He bowed slightly. ¡°Baroness Janburg, I am Clay Evergreen. You requested my help in a letter.¡±


    The Baroness blinked. She frowned as she looked over the others. ¡°I suppose I did, but I didn¡¯t expect quite this many¡­¡±


    Her words trailed off as her gaze fell on Olivia, who stood near the cart. The Baroness¡¯ jaw dropped. ¡°I-is that you? Olivia?¡±


    Face red and her fingers clutched around the shaft of her own war scythe, Olivia stepped forward. ¡°It is, Lady Janburg.¡±


    The Baroness handed off her helmet and her war scythe, and was past Clay almost before he could register the move. She scooped Olivia up into a clearly crushing embrace a heartbeat later. ¡°Little one! You must have had your Choosing this year, yes? What [Class]? Did the gods send you something so you could reclaim your home?¡±


    Olivia¡¯s face was still bright red as she stepped back from the embrace. She nodded. ¡°I am a [Commoner], Lady Janburg. As is Sir Clay.¡±


    A flash of surprise and confusion crossed Janburg¡¯s expression. Then she looked over the assembled caravan again before her eyes settled on Clay again. Her expression grew hard. ¡°I¡­ see.¡± She nodded and gestured for her [Guards] to step forward. ¡°Show them to our guest rooms. Sir Clay, you¡¯ll have to forgive us. Our accommodations are not as fine as the ones in Crownsguard, but we¡¯ll find space for you and your¡­ retainers.¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°As long as you have space for us inside the walls, and maybe some food while we work, that should be enough.¡± He glanced back and saw disappointed looks on the others¡¯ faces. Obviously, some of them were looking forward to being wined and dined by a [Noble]. ¡°After all, before this I was fighting against a Dungeon and keeping watch part of the night. We¡¯re here to work, not to be treated gently.¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The other [Commoners] stiffened up a little, and Clay snorted to himself. He turned back and saw a flicker of approval in the Baroness¡¯ expression. She nodded. ¡°Very well. Sir Clay, if I could borrow a moment of your time while the others get settled in?¡±


    He bowed slightly, and she led the way back into the village. The others began to unpack their belongings from the cart and mingle with the Janburg [Guards]. Clay just hoped that they¡¯d be able to get everything sorted out easily enough.


    After all, the next day was going to be a busy one.


    The Baroness led him to her home, which turned out to be the stone tower he¡¯d seen from the road. It was a blunt, uncompromising structure, one that made him think of a guardhouse for the soldiers in Crownsguard rather than a [Noble]¡¯s home. There wasn¡¯t any idle conversation as they walked, something that Clay appreciated as he looked over the village.


    It looked like the place was stable enough, if infected by an understandable kind of paranoia. Conversations were hushed, and people peered at him with obvious curiosity. Some of them glanced up at the top of the tower, obviously checking for some kind of warning. Children played, but only close by their houses, and there were far more [Guards] than he¡¯d ever seen back in Pellsglade.


    They reached the tower, and the Baroness led the way into a room that had been built on the ground floor. It looked like an audience chamber, with her throne set into the stone floor, and banners hung from the ceiling of the room. She turned and sat in the chair, leaning back and examining him for a moment. ¡°So. You¡¯re the Commoner Hero.¡±


    Clay looked back at her. ¡°That¡¯s what they call me, yes.¡±


    The Baroness leaned forward in her chair, steepling her fingers and studying him another moment. ¡°And you really came here to help us?¡±


    He nodded slowly. ¡°Yes, Lady Janburg. Olivia told me you had requested it.¡± If Olivia had been¡­ less than honest¡­ things were going to get even more complicated.


    ¡°I had.¡± Janburg smiled. ¡°Though to be honest, I didn¡¯t really believe that you would come. The Guild has been remarkably tight-lipped about you, Sir Clay. They don¡¯t answer questions about you, or the methods you use.¡±


    Clay snorted. ¡°Yeah. They probably don¡¯t.¡±


    The Baroness tilted her head, her eyebrows twitching at his tone. ¡°Is there a reason, then?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°To be honest, I don¡¯t think they¡¯re very comfortable with me. I have a tendency to be¡­ inconvenient.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± A smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth. ¡°I must admit, I have a similar reputation among my peers. They often seem like they would be happy to forget the Lair here exists.¡±


    ¡°Well, soon they¡¯ll be able to, my lady.¡± Clay smiled. ¡°You too, of course.¡±


    The Baroness blinked. She sat back. ¡°You¡¯re aware this place is dangerous, correct? If you attempt to bring all of those [Commoners] with you into the Lair¡­¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to attack the Lair directly. At least, not yet.¡± He glanced in the direction of the river. ¡°My plan is to spend a few weeks giving these people time to try to help. Once they level up and gain the [Achievement], we¡¯ll push further into the Lair¡¯s territory. Each week, we¡¯ll try to kill enough of the monsters that they don¡¯t get a chance to hit the village. By the time we¡¯re ready, the Lair should be wide open for an attack.¡±


    The Baroness¡¯ frown had grown as he spoke. She shook her head. ¡°That¡­ does not sound like a normal Guild mission. Normally, adventurers prioritize faster strikes than that, correct?¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Yes, my lady, they do.¡± Then he looked her straight in the eyes. ¡°Unfortunately, they aren¡¯t here, and I am. What I¡¯m doing will work, if you give it the chance. It worked in Pellsglade, and in Rodcliff too. I just need time.¡±


    She studied him for a very long time. Then she snorted. ¡°So be it. We¡¯ve waited long enough already, after all.¡± Janburg settled her chin on her fist, and her elbow on the armrest. ¡°Are you planning on including little Olivia with your¡­ plans here? I¡¯d expected her to stay in Pellsglade, unless she was an adventurer herself.¡±


    Clay couldn¡¯t help it this time. He chuckled. ¡°You aren¡¯t the only one she¡¯s surprised, my lady. She¡¯s almost as much of a headache for the Guild as I am, and I have no doubt she¡¯ll be worse in no time.¡±


    Janburg sat back again, blinking in surprise. ¡°That seems¡­ unlikely.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°In any case, she¡¯s chosen to be my apprentice, and you can be sure I¡¯ll take good care of her and the others as well.¡±


    The [Noble] was still frowning at him, but she shook herself out of her thoughts. ¡°Good. I¡¯d expect nothing less.¡± She nodded to herself. ¡°While you are here, I¡¯ll offer you the hospitality of the village and my house. You should be aware, though, that if anything happens to the last daughter of Zelton, my patience will be¡­ strained.¡±


    Clay grimaced. ¡°I really wish people would stop assuming that I¡¯m the one getting her into trouble.¡± She opened her mouth again, and he spoke quickly. ¡°I understand, my lady. Now, I need to go get ready. Tomorrow morning, I¡¯m going to scout the area so that we can get started. Does that sound all right?¡±


    The Baroness nodded, and Clay breathed a brief sigh of relief. It was the first time he¡¯d really had to deal with a local [Noble] who hadn¡¯t known him personally. It hadn¡¯t gone too badly; at least, she¡¯d was allowing him to go hunt. ¡°Then I¡¯m going to go see that the camp is settled, my lady. Thank you for your help.¡±


    Janburg nodded, seeming amused. ¡°Of course, Sir Clay. If there is anything else I can do, just let me know.¡±


    Clay made as if to leave and then paused. Then he smiled. ¡°Now that you mention it, there is one thing¡­¡±


    The others had set up the camp in the village square, around the Stone that Janburg used for the Choosing. It looked just as weathered as the one in Pellsglade had, and he spent a heartbeat looking at it before he moved on. If the gods had any more opinions about what he was doing, they didn¡¯t choose that moment to reveal it.


    He walked around the tents, making sure that everyone had settled in for the day. Some of the recruits were already speaking with the villagers, clearly spreading the news of what they were going to do. At least a few of the younger [Commoners] looked like they were listening a little too closely; Clay grimaced as he realized he might have a few more recruits than he¡¯d expected to need to deal with soon.


    Clay looked around and found where they had tied up Dasher. The mule was drinking from a trough and looking very satisfied to not be tied to the cart anymore. He stroked the beast¡¯s back for a moment, earning a baleful glance in response.


    After that, he went to where the King¡¯s troops had set up a tent for him. He nodded uncomfortably to the [Guards] and poked his head inside, seeing that they¡¯d set up his bedroll for him already. It was a small kindness, but it still made him feel a little uncomfortable. There was something about someone else touching his things that just didn¡¯t sit right.


    He sat down on the edge of his bedroll with a sigh. A moment of rummaging around his pack, and he brought out his notes. Clay sorted through them, bypassing the descriptions of the [Chants] in order to find the descriptions of the monsters that had destroyed Zelton.


    He¡¯d grown used to the vague instructions, combined with more precise illustrations that the old adventurer¡¯s advice had provided. There was something frustratingly familiar and nostalgic about it, as if the lack of detail just invited him to guess at what the actual truth of the monsters that awaited him was like.


    This time, however, he had two new sources of information alongside them. Olivia had added her own notes from her memories of Zelton¡¯s fall, and the Baroness had told him what she could of the monsters that awaited them.


    They were called swinefolk, and came in three separate types. The first was a massive creature called a wild smasher. Clay brushed his fingers over the illustration of a man with a shield, fending off the blows of a bulky, towering figure wielding two large war hammers. He winced as he looked at the tusked, twisted face of the thing, and read through what the ancient adventurer¡¯s translated words said.


    Wild smashers are thick of skin and mighty of brawn. Do not rely on distance alone to save you. They have no use for subtlety, and their strength is enough to break down walls. Move quickly, strike with power, and finish any that fall.


    In the margins, Olivia¡¯s writing had continued.


    They can kill with a single blow. They really are larger than normal. Don¡¯t underestimate the impact of each strike. Arrows bounced off. One [Guard] stabbed one with a spear. The wound healed.


    Clay shivered as he pictured the memory. Janburg had confirmed the details as well, saying that the smashers were capable of enduring and healing from the worst wounds possible. She¡¯d also been careful to say that only the strongest strikes could penetrate their leathery hide; he hadn¡¯t enjoyed the doubtful looks she¡¯d given his spear at that point.


    He shook his head and turned to the next form. This time, the image showed a much larger, porcine humanoid, with much longer tusks and a single, massive hammer. It almost looked like some sort of meat tenderizer, with nine spikes on the back face of the squared hammerhead. In the illustration, it was beating down a stone wall, showering a crouching magic user with fragments of rock.


    Wild crushers are stronger and tougher. Their hammers do not tire; walls are no barrier. Overcome their might with boldness. Strike at the eyes and ears. Do not allow them rest.


    Olivia¡¯s notes were briefer here.


    Didn¡¯t see much of these. Anyone who got too close to them never made it back.


    Even the Baroness hadn¡¯t much to say about them, aside from the fact that she¡¯d only killed a few dozen during her entire time fighting them. She was of the opinion that it was hard to face them in a standup battle, but if they were forced to chase someone over a long distance, exhaustion weakened them. It was a good tactic to know.


    Of course, he wasn¡¯t sure it would help with the last form of them. It was a towering giant of muscle, hide, and tusk, one that was a shadow against a night sky. The hammer in its hands could have broken a Shrine¡¯s wall in a single hit. Even the Baroness¡¯ tower wouldn¡¯t have held up for long, and its eyes blazed with power as it raised its weapon over a group of adventurers who stood against it.


    Wild shakers are maddened with rage. Do not stand firm. Trust no ground. Flow about them, and strike while they weary. Persist.


    Neither Olivia nor the Baroness said much about those beasts. Clay thought they probably were located much deeper in; the [Noble] had only been trying to keep the Lair from advancing, not counterattacking the monsters themselves, after all.


    He turned to the next monster. This time, it was a much different creature. Where the smashers had been hulking and large, standing tall on two feet, this creature stood low to the ground. It crouched with a hunched posture. Two jagged blades were gripped in its beefy, footlike hands, and its porcine snout was low to the dirt.


    Squealers are fast and agile. The wounds they make are terrible. Let no blade touch you, lest you bleed. Their voices call the horde to their aid. Silence them quickly, or regret your mistakes.


    An image showed one of the things midjump, shrieking as it descended on an adventurer who held a spear ready to impale it. There was a second creature, already sprinting around the side on all fours, ready to strike from the side. Clay felt his eyes narrow as he studied the image. Something to watch for.


    Olivia¡¯s notes were helpful as well.


    They can track people like dogs, sniffing along the ground. They found the ones that tried to hide, and squealed to bring the others. They chased so many of us down as we ran.


    His fingers tightened on the parchment for a moment, before he forced himself to recall the Baroness¡¯ advice. She hated the ¡®little loud ones¡¯ and considered them nothing but trouble. Apparently, they were almost as hard to kill, thanks to their agility, and their calls would help the creatures bury their opponents in enemies quickly.


    Of course, they weren¡¯t the worst threats there.


    Shriekers do not pause, and do not rest. They track, they strike, they cripple, they kill. Do not hesitate. Magic can fail about them. Prepare, and survive.


    The image wasn¡¯t encouraging either. It had the same crouched form, but the blades in its hands had grown longer and more vicious, with hooks on the tips. It showed one of them leaping off of a tree trunk to strike at a very surprised-looking magic user. Olivia hadn¡¯t seen much of the things, though her words were helpful there as well.


    They said the shriekers helped kill our baron. Caught him and stopped his magic from working. We never knew for sure. Not many from his party came back.


    The Baroness had been full of curses for the things. She said they could stop a [Charm] with their screams, and had gone on at length about how she¡¯d needed to watch out for them in their territory. They were agile and accurate with their blades. If they were just as good at pursuit, it did not bode well for anyone trying to sneak by them.


    When he looked at the final form of the things, Clay grunted a little. The image was of a blurred figure, one that had left three dead or dying adventurers in its wake. A fourth adventurer, a woman with a sword, had a panicked look on her face as she tried to put the blade between her and it.


    Screechers deal wounds that do not heal. They break the air and baffle the eyes. Running is fruitless. Stand ready, and meet them.


    Again, there were no further details. Clay supposed he¡¯d need to find them himself.


    The last of the three creatures, at least as far as the common monsters, seemed worst of all. It was drawn in the notes as a hunched figure. It wasn¡¯t as massive as the smasher, or as low and agile as the squealer. There was a whip in its hands, and a tattered hooded robe cloaked it. If Clay had met it in the forest, he would have assumed it was a false threat or a puppet, like the levies of the Undead.


    Another image showed the truth of the thing. It had extended its hand, and a ravening ball of nothing had shot from it.


    Flesh eaters can channel emptiness and hunger itself. They are weak of body, but powerful in magic. Strike quickly, break their forms, and stay at a distance. Do not allow them time to bring their will to bear.


    Olivia¡¯s observations only made things worse, especially as they backed up the Baroness¡¯ thoughts.


    They led the assault on Zelton. They¡¯d organized the others, and their whips drove them forwards. I saw someone kill a shrieker, and an eater used a spell to consume it and strengthen another one. Stay out of their reach.


    It seemed like a good warning, considering how many times the Baroness had said that their spells had nearly ended her.


    The next image was of another relatively fragile creature, covered in a cloak. This one, however, had larger eyes, and its whip was covered in thorns. A second illustration showed it shielding itself with a flat circle of emptiness while it lashed out at a nearby warrior.


    Land eaters are dangerous. They wield their magic like a devouring storm. Overwhelm or surprise them, but do not risk open confrontations. Leave no dead.


    The Baroness hadn¡¯t seen much of this type, but Olivia had. It was a short note, but it said everything it needed to.


    One led the attack on Zelton. It was the one that killed the baroness, after the baron died.


    Clay nodded and turned to the last image. The creature wasn¡¯t even there this time. Instead, it just showed a howling portal of some kind, dragging in a frantic adventurer, who was trying to hold onto the ground. When he read the description, it did not make it better.


    Soul eaters can rend even the strongest from life. Avoid or destroy, but do not ignore. They watch, always.


    He grimaced at the warning, and set the notes aside. If he¡¯d learned anything, it was that there were surprises ahead, but at least he knew about some of them. There were still no clues about the types of Guardians he¡¯d face at the Lair itself, but perhaps he¡¯d find out more as he fought his way closer.


    As he tucked the notes away again and stretched, he heard someone clear their throat nearby and looked over to find Olivia watching him.


    Clay froze, realizing that she must have been watching him for a while. He tried not to look sheepish. ¡°Is everything all right?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°I was just wondering what the Baroness had told you.¡±


    ¡°Just some of what she¡¯d seen from the monsters, and a warning that I should take care of you.¡± Clay grinned. ¡°Between her and the Rector, I¡¯m starting to get worried about the impression I make on people.¡±


    Olivia rolled her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry about it that much. After all, you¡¯ve been pretty successful at not killing me so far.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m happy at least someone appreciates it.¡± For some reason, as he said the words, Clay¡¯s mind flashed back to the moment before the assault on the Lair in the Tanglewood, when she¡¯d kissed him on the cheek. He looked away, feeling his cheeks warm. ¡°In any case, I¡¯m heading across the river tomorrow. It¡¯ll be good for me to see these things up close for myself.¡±


    He paused. There was a difficult conversation he needed to have with Olivia, and he wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to say it. He¡¯d seen how much work she¡¯d put into preparing herself, but it was still only a handful of days after her Choosing. Even if she wanted to, there was no way that he¡¯d be able to bring her along with him. At the same time, how could he tell her she¡¯d have to delay her long-imagined mission of vengeance so that she could train?


    As he opened his mouth to find a way to explain, when Olivia spoke first. ¡°Clay, I¡¯m not going to be able to come with you tomorrow.¡±


    Clay blinked. He felt a burst of befuddled gratitude. ¡°Really?¡±


    She nodded, her expression serious. ¡°Yeah.¡± Olivia shook her head. ¡°I still need to work on my [Might] and [Fortitude]. As it is right now, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready to face the monsters yet.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ understand.¡± Clay wasn¡¯t about to complain about the fact that she¡¯d figured things out for herself. ¡°Are you going to ask the Baroness to help you? She¡¯d probably be able to give you a few pointers, at least.¡±


    Olivia smiled. ¡°I think I would enjoy that. She¡¯d at least be able to tell me how to use my scythe.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°True.¡± Clay tilted his head to the side and nudged her. ¡°So, does this mean you¡¯re giving up on the [Chants] for now? Maybe until you¡¯re at a higher level?¡±


    She gave him a look that suggested he might have lost his mind. ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. That particular job is already done.¡±


    He watched as she paused, and then slowly, carefully recited the words that he¡¯d already long since burned into his own mind. A moment later, the [Chant] for Heart¡¯s Light activated, and a light glowed in her palm. Olivia smiled down at it before it sputtered and went out. ¡°Now I just need to increase the rest of my [Stats], and gain a few levels. Then some real magic will be mine.¡±


    Clay smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure the monsters are already shaking.¡± She nudged him, her face red, and he laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow, before I leave. Until then, we should get some rest.¡±


    Olivia nodded. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow, Clay.¡±


    She smiled and walked away, heading back towards the tower. Clay watched her for a moment, and then turned back to his bedroll. He needed his rest. Tomorrow the monsters were waiting.

 B3Ch13: The First Day

    The next morning dawned bright and early. Clay was awake before any of the others in the camp. He collected his equipment, and was crossing the bridge just as the village itself came awake behind him.


    It was going to be a warm day. He could already tell from the way the sun was heating his back as he walked. The sky was clear as well, with nothing but blue stretching overhead.


    There should have been birds chirping and insects buzzing away, but the hills were silent as he made his way along the road. The ground was torn and disturbed everywhere he looked as well. Now that he was closer, Clay could see that the trenches he¡¯d thought were some kind of defensive line were actually the trail of something that had been rooting through the soil, tearing it into a mixture of dirt and rock and leaving it barren in its wake.


    The hills showed more signs of those trails. Trees had been knocked down, and the tall grasses that would have covered much of the hills were crisscrossed by what seemed like animal tracks. Clay frowned as he proceeded further into the hills. It seemed like the creatures weren¡¯t even bothering to hide their tracks. His notes had warned that many of them didn¡¯t have any use for stealth, but reading about it was one thing. Seeing a complete disregard for any kind of concealment was another thing entirely.


    Most of the trails were old enough that grass and moss had grown over the ravaged earth, but he soon found one that was fresh. He bent down to trace the shape of the hooves in the overturned dirt. It looked like there were at least three different creatures. Were the different types traveling together? The Undead had acted like that, but only occasionally. Perhaps these creatures were different.


    Clay turned from the old, neglected path and followed the trail. The track meandered aimlessly through the hills, going up and down the slopes without any apparent goal in mind. He started to jog, hoping to catch up to them before they took him all over the foothills. His original plan had been to spend the entire day hunting down these creatures, but that didn¡¯t mean he wanted to waste his time.


    The trail took him up and down three different hills before his ethereal senses abruptly clamored for attention. He paused long enough to fix the creatures¡¯ position in his mind. Then he diverted from the trail and started stalking through the long grasses on the hillside. It wasn¡¯t the same as following something through the woods, but it was better than just stumbling along in their wake.


    Using his senses to guide him, Clay cut between the next two hills, circling around to get in front of his prey. He could see signs of them now, a small group of figures that were tearing their way through the grass in an aimless path. He made his way to a spot where he could hide, crouching down low in the grass ahead of them. Then he waited and tried to evaluate his options.


    The notes had contained a lot of contradictory advice for him. He needed to maintain his distance from some of the creatures and stay close to others. Some needed to be worn down, while the others demanded immediate destruction. It was a perfectly reasonable set of tactics as long as the creatures were separated. Together, however, they could cover each others¡¯ weaknesses easily, leaving him with far fewer options.


    Still, part of what his job was, at the moment, would be to see how badly things could go wrong. If he just wanted to kill the things and move on, Clay could probably just rely on a [Chant] or two from ambush and be done with it. He needed to see how dangerous the things were to the [Commoners] he¡¯d be leading against them the next day.


    So he waited, still crouched in the grass, while the sounds of the enemy grew closer. The noises they made were so odd to Clay, after the perpetual silence of the creatures he¡¯d faced before. None of the spiders had made any noise outside of death-screams, and both the lizards and slimes had relied far too much on stealth to just give an advantage away. Even the Undead had consistently tried to strike from ambush; the only sounds they made were usually either to revive their puppets or the odd creak of rotten leather and metal as they walked.


    These creatures, by contrast, made noise constantly. It was hard to separate it out honestly. There were snuffling, ripping sounds that sounded somehow wet; it made Clay¡¯s stomach churn a little to hear it. He could hear grunting and snorting as well, with occasional high whines that strained the edges of his hearing. Every so often, there was a deep thrum that seemed to echo through his chest, occasionally echoing off the nearby hills.


    Clay shook his head as he waited. The spiders would have killed the lot of these things off years ago. He pictured them walking right over a mantrap hole and dying immediately. It was an effort to not start chuckling, but he still managed it. Just because they were cluelessly obvious about their presence didn¡¯t mean that he needed to be as well.


    As they drew close, a soft breeze whispered across the small valley where he waited. It wafted through the grass, making the plants bend and move. It was like ripples on a green pond, and Clay let out a quiet breath as the air stole some of the heat from his armor. He had already been sweating more than enough for an early summer morning, and he had the sneaking suspicion that it was only going to get worse as the day wore on.


    Then he blinked. The noises from the creatures had stopped.


    Clay turned carefully, trying not to disturb the grass around him. He couldn¡¯t hear any of the squeals or grunts anymore, and it seemed like they weren¡¯t moving. There was another sound, a deceptively soft huffing noise that he could just barely pick up. What were they doing? Had they decided to stop for some¡ª


    A sudden, shrill squeal rose over the hills, and the creatures suddenly burst into motion. Clay grimaced as he saw the path they were taking. They were no longer simply wandering along a random path. The monsters were heading straight for him.


    It took an effort to not immediately start using a [Chant]. His students wouldn¡¯t have them, so he needed to know what it would be like to face the things head on. Besides, they were supposedly only rank two creatures. They shouldn¡¯t be any more of a threat than the lowest ranked Undead.


    Then he heard more echoing squeals from all around him, rising from out of sight beyond the other hills, and he realized he might have more of a problem than he¡¯d thought.


    Before he could react, the first of the creatures tore its way out of the grass and threw itself at him.


    The squealer was just as ugly and fast as the notes had said it would be. It darted in at his legs, its knives flashing as it tore along the ground in a disturbing, loping stride. Its eyes were completely black, and the stench of it hit him like a blow.


    Clay moved almost without thinking. He brought his spear down and around to counter the thing¡¯s charge. The spearpoint glittered in the summer sun, and the squealer let out an enraged squeal as it was forced to dodge aside. It skidded to a stop, dirt and grass flying into the air as its back hooves and heavily muscled arms dug into the soil.


    The instant its momentum died, Clay lunged at it. He had no intention of allowing the thing to call for any more help. Its eyes widened slightly as he thrust the spearpoint at it, but as fast as it was, the squealer still couldn¡¯t get out of the way before he skewered it through the chest.


    It thrashed, but Clay just twisted the spearpoint in deeper. Bright green blood leaked out of the wound and mixed with the frothing drool on its mouth. Clay heard another figure stomping through the grass and yanked his spear back out, leaving it to collapse into the dirt.


    {Feral Squealer slain! Soul increases by 20}


    The hulking figure that came through the grass left a trampled path behind it. Clay¡¯s eyes widened slightly as it roared in rage, raising its hammers over its head. It was massive, at least the same size as Orn, and the thing seemed to have just as much muscle. Armor that had been crafted from some kind of strange leather covered it from head to toe, and its beady, close-set eyes were filled with immediate fury.


    It swung a hammer at Clay¡¯s spear, as if it was trying to knock it away or break it. Clay avoided the hit and then struck at it, stabbing it right in the shoulder. The spearpoint went in, but he felt an unnatural amount of resistance that even the armor couldn¡¯t have explained. Even more enraged, the thing gave a burbling roar and dropped one hammer so it could close one meaty hand around the haft of Clay¡¯s spear. Forcing its way forward despite the spear lodged in its shoulder, it raised its other hammer high, ready to try to pummel him into the dirt.


    Clay skipped back, letting his hands slide along the spear haft so that he didn¡¯t lose his grip on the weapon. The monster jerked to the side, trying to pull it free, but Clay held on firmly with one hand, while the other darted for his knife.


    Unable to wrench the spear free, the monster leaned forward, willingly digging itself onto the spearhead in order to reach Clay. He waited, watching as the drool from the tusked mouth worked into a froth, and as green blood dripped from the wound in its shoulder. The hammer came up again, even as the monster strained to push forward.


    Then Clay leapt forward, choking up on the spear as he closed the distance. The monster swung at him, but Clay was too far inside its swing; a meaty elbow bounced off the armor on his shoulder. He grunted from the force of the impact and then jumped so that he could drive the thick blade of his Pell knife into the thing¡¯s neck.


    It snapped at his arm, trying to bite him as the knife went in, but Clay struck too quickly for it to manage the attack. He stabbed it again and again, feeling that same stubborn resistance as he hit it each time. The monster staggered backwards, flailing as it dropped its hammer and trying to roar as Clay clung to it and kept stabbing.


    Then it tripped over something in the grass and went down, with Clay still on top of it. They slammed into the dirt, and the thing started to roll, obviously intending to crush Clay beneath it. Clay ripped the knife out and pulled his spear free before twisting in the opposite direction. He wound up in a crouch next to the smasher as it came up on its hands and knees, still bleeding from the neck and shoulder.


    He caught it with another thrust through the head, and this time its incredible toughness did not save it. The monster collapsed forward and wallowed for a moment before it went still.


    {Wild Smasher slain! Soul increases by 20}


    Clay stood up, breathing hard. The thing had been far tougher and stronger than it should have been. Was that why it could afford to just ignore stealth entirely? He kicked at it, noting with some bitterness how the blow glanced off of the hide.


    Then he heard a dull thrum from the direction the beasts had appeared from and realized he was missing one. He threw himself back into the grass, not even bothering to look first.


    It was a wise choice. As he crashed back through the plants, a sphere of utter blackness shot by him. The sphere struck a patch of grass and imploded, leaving behind a perfectly cut hole in the plants. He shuddered slightly as he pictured what it would have done if it had hit him directly and finally spun to face his last opponent.


    The eater was already forming a second sphere in its free hand. Its other hand was moving the whip, letting the dark leather hiss through the grass. With a single step, it put itself in range of him and snapped the whip out and across his face, aiming to blind him or worse.


    Clay cut at the whip with his knife. The heavy blade bit deep into the leather and deflected the blow. As the eater recoiled, still muttering and blubbering under its breath, Clay stepped forward and hurled his knife at it. Long hours of practice paid off as the blade flew straight and true. It took the eater in the head, sinking in up to its hilt.


    The monster took another step back and the words it had been speaking faded. Then it dropped onto its back in the grass without another sound.


    {Flesh Eater slain! Soul increases by 20}


    With the immediate threats handled, Clay took a moment to steady his breathing. It hadn¡¯t been the kind of fight he¡¯d been used to, certainly. Even as weak as they were, the monsters were tough enough that they would be dangerous, especially for a bunch of un-leveled [Commoners]. He was going to need to be careful.


    He heard another round of squeals rise over the hills. They sounded much closer this time. Clay grimaced and walked over to recover his knife. It was going to be a long day.


    Clay watched as yet another group of piglike monsters made their way past his hiding spot.


    The monsters had been relentless almost the entire day. Every time one of them stumbled across him, the squealer would send up a call to bring the others nearby running. If they didn¡¯t immediately find him when they arrived, they would just start a patrolling pattern that was meant to root him out of the surroundings. He usually had to kill at least another group just to escape it, which would bring the whole horde of them down on him that much quicker.


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    Fortunately, he was already getting used to their tricks.


    For one thing, the squealers had fiendishly good senses. They could track him by his smell every time the wind changed. They weren¡¯t picky, however, and once there was enough monster blood in the vicinity, they started having trouble tracking him. He¡¯d made it a little worse by using Freshening Breeze to banish all smells as soon as they got close; apparently ridding himself of sweat was a good way of avoiding their noses.


    The other thing he¡¯d learned was that the squat little things were fast, but only once they had built up enough momentum. There was always a moment when they had to change direction, or start a new sprint, when they seemed to almost stay in place, churning up the ground beneath their hooves and hands. For that handful of moments, it made them a perfect target.


    All of which meant that the ideal order for dealing with them was fairly clear, at least while he was alone.


    Still crouched, Clay drew out his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. He drew it back in one motion and fired, sending the arrow hissing through the grass. The eater of the group, ambling along at the rear of their pack, never saw it coming before it took the thing square in the head.


    {Flesh Eater slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Achievement Unlocked! Swinebane: 5% increase to all skills and damage against swinefolk. Bonus increases to 10% versus Flesh Eaters.}


    Before the eater even dropped, Clay had drawn a second arrow back and let it fly. The squealer had heard its companion fall. It had spun around to see what was happening; Clay saw its jaw drop as it sucked in air, readying the shriek that would call other monsters to its cause.


    The arrow caught it square in the side. Instead of the ear-grating scream, the squealer produced a shocked, wet cough. It staggered forward a bit until Clay shot it a second time, at which point it fell and lay still.


    {Feral Squealer slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Swinebane: 10% increase to all skills and damage against swinefolk. Bonus increases to 20% versus Flesh Eaters and Feral Squealers.}


    A burbling roar filled the clearing as the smasher spun around to face him. It was loud enough that it might have attracted attention, but for some reason the other monsters didn¡¯t take such roars nearly as seriously. Perhaps the smashers lost their temper enough to make it less alarming; either way, Clay didn¡¯t hear the other swinefolk in the hills echo its cry as it rushed towards him.


    He¡¯d learned that allowing the things to get in close was a bad idea. They were strong enough to break trees or crack stone when they hit, and their persistent refusal to lay down and die made them hard to manage. At the same time, those abilities had their limits, and even if its thick skin might make it resistant to a normal person¡¯s arrows¡­


    Clay drew another arrow and sighted on his target again. The smasher was just a short distance away now, clearly visible above the waving grass. He put the shot into the thing¡¯s face easily, and it staggered. It dropped one hammer to clutch at the wound, and Clay shot it again, this time catching it right in a beady eye.


    The hit seemed to stun the smasher even further. It backpedaled, lurching away from Clay in clumsy, half-hearted staggers. Still roaring, it swung its other hammer blindly, knocking the heads off the grass nearby. Clay watched it for another moment and then put a third arrow through its throat.


    This time the smasher fell, tumbling onto its back in the grass. Clay slid the bow back into place and hefted his spear. He jogged forward, looking around to make sure the other swinefolk weren¡¯t too close. When he reached the smasher a moment later, it was still choking and swinging its hammer wildly. It only took a moment to step around it and deliver the killing stab.


    {Wild Smasher slain! Soul increases by 10}


    {Achievement Reinforced! Swinebane: 15% increase to all skills and damage against swinefolk. Bonus increases to 30% versus Flesh Eaters, Feral Squealers and Wild Smashers.}


    Clay took a moment to use the [Chant] of Pure Touch to purge himself and his equipment of the blood. He recovered a handful of the arrows he¡¯d used. The rest he could replace back at Janburg, hopefully.


    He glanced up at the sun and sighed. It was already late afternoon. Fortunately, he could make it back to Janburg long before it was dark, but he didn¡¯t want to lead any of the monsters back to the village. Even if the Baroness wouldn¡¯t mind helping him clean a few of them up, the swinefolk seemed a lot more pack-minded than the other monsters he¡¯d fought. Better to make sure that they didn¡¯t have a trail to follow.


    Nodding to himself, Clay slipped away and headed northeast, leaving behind the corpses of the monsters he¡¯d killed. The real work was going to start tomorrow.


    Despite his caution, Clay still made it back to Janburg well before the sun started to set.


    He broke from cover to trot across the ruined ground on the monsters¡¯ side of the bridge, waving to the [Guard] on duty. The man had been stationed up there, looking for signs of a monster attack; he seemed relatively happy to see Clay and waved back.


    Janburg¡¯s gates creaked open as Clay walked across the bridge. He glanced behind himself to make sure that there was nothing creeping out of the hills to take advantage of the open door, but there was nothing. Apparently, he¡¯d made a clean escape.


    One of the [Guards] was waiting for him as he entered. The doors creaked shut behind him as the man bowed. ¡°Welcome back to Janburg, Sir Clay. How did your hunt go?¡±


    Clay caught the edge of something he couldn¡¯t define in the question. It could have been curiosity or resentment, but he didn¡¯t know which. He mentally shrugged it off as he answered. ¡°Those things are a lot different than the other monsters I¡¯ve killed. Definitely a lot tougher than most, but we¡¯ll handle them.¡± The [Guard] blinked in surprise, and Clay continued in an even voice. ¡°How are the others doing? Are they still training?¡±


    The [Guard] coughed. He glanced at Clay as they walked together further into the village. ¡°Ah, some of them are, Sir Clay.¡±


    Something about the way he¡¯d said that made Clay take a closer look at the man. The [Guard] seemed suddenly reluctant to say anything more, and it made him think of when Clay had been trying not to rat out Enessa or Charles to their parents when they were asking inconvenient questions. He grimaced and nodded. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s see.¡±


    He caught sight of the [Guard] wincing out of the corner of his eye, which confirmed a bit of his suspicions. They walked together further into the village, past the walls of the Baroness¡¯ tower and the barracks that the [Guards] used. As they approached the middle of the village, the small camp his people had set up came into view.


    As did the [Commoners] he¡¯d brought with him.


    Given the [Guard]¡¯s reactions, Clay wasn¡¯t entirely surprised when he found the majority of them eating and laughing together in spots around the camp. The looks the villagers were giving them seemed heavily disapproving, a fact that Clay suspected meant the recruits hadn¡¯t been doing much of anything all day. Out of more than twenty [Commoners], barely more than a handful were doing any kind of practicing at all.


    The grand majority of the [Commoners] straightened up and appeared to be trying to look busy when they saw him, but Clay ignored them. He had the sneaking suspicion that they wouldn¡¯t enjoy the next few days if they even survived them. In fact, he made a quiet decision to try t encourage most of them to leave, as long as he didn¡¯t think they were serious. The last thing he needed was to depend on some fool and find that they had abandoned their duties.


    He shook his head over the thoughts; they weren¡¯t exactly the best way to look at things at the start of the whole adventure. Instead, Clay focused his attention on the smaller group that was apparently still training in a clear space near the Stone.


    Most of them were members of the King¡¯s [Guards], with a handful of the Baroness¡¯ troops sprinkled into the mix as well. They were sparring with each other, though a few of them were attempting to teach their fellow, less-martial [Commoners] which end of the spear to hold. Andrew, the angry stranger that had joined back in Pellsglade, was facing off against a [Guard] who was trying to demonstrate the proper way to use his hammer; Lana was being coached through the motions of using a sword. Peter and Elizabeth Wheatrose were using practice spears to face off against another pair of [Guards], their faces locked in concentration.


    Clay¡¯s attention quickly focused on the last of their number, however. In a space off to the side, the Baroness herself was facing off with Olivia. Both women were wielding practice versions of the war scythes they had chosen as weapons, and even at a distance, Clay could tell that Olivia¡¯s face was coated in sweat. Her hands shook on the haft of her weapon, but they stilled as she circled the Baroness.


    Then they both moved.


    The Baroness was obviously holding back. An experienced [Noble] had more than enough speed and endurance to outlast and outfight any simple [Commoner], especially one less than a week from their Choosing. All the same, Olivia¡¯s sheer ferocity was a thing to behold. She hacked and slashed and shoved with everything she had, trying to find a hole in Janburg¡¯s defenses.


    Eventually, though, the Baroness slipped an attack through Olivia¡¯s guard and swept her legs out from under her. Olivia hit the dirt hard, but rather than staying there, she rolled and got her weapon back up and between her and the Baroness again. It was a good move; the Baroness brought her weapon down on the spot where Olivia had been and chased after her until the [Commoner] counterattacked.


    Laughing, the Baroness backed up and grounded the butt of her practice scythe. Olivia saw the gesture and copied it, clinging to the shaft as if it were the only thing keeping her up. Clay shook his head and chuckled, remembering the feeling of sparring with Orn and the others. The sound attracted attention, though, and Olivia looked in his direction.


    So did the Baroness. She raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Sir Clay! You seem to have made it back unharmed.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°You were right about how nasty those swinefolk were, my lady. Thank you for your warning.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°It seems like they still didn¡¯t manage to land a finger on you. Are all your battles so clean?¡±


    Clay glanced down at himself¡ªleft pristine by Pure Touch long before he left the hills, of course¡ªand laughed. ¡°I suppose. At some point, I might need to teach you how I do that, though I think the Guild wouldn¡¯t like it if I did.¡±


    The Baroness frowned, but before she could speak, Olivia slumped down until she was sitting in the dust. It seemed like all of her fatigue had suddenly caught up with her at once. Clay immediately took a step in her direction. ¡°Olivia? Are you all right?¡±


    She looked up and nodded. ¡°I am. I just¡­ pushed myself a bit too hard, I suppose.¡± Olivia gave him a crooked, exhausted grin. ¡°The Baroness offered me the chance to train while you were gone, and I couldn¡¯t pass it up. Now, though, I don¡¯t know if I will be ready to go with you tomorrow, either.¡±


    He wanted to protest and tell her she¡¯d be fine, but he could recognize the signs. She was practically collapsing where she sat. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Better that you feel ready rather than throwing yourself in without preparation. You¡¯ll probably catch up easy enough.¡±


    Olivia rested her head against the practice scythe, closing her eyes for a moment. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll need to. You won¡¯t kill all of them before I get out there, will you?¡±


    The question nearly made him laugh. ¡°No. I won¡¯t.¡± He looked back at the rest of the camp and waved them all over. Those who were practicing paused in their sparring; those who hadn¡¯t been doing much of anything quickly made their way over to join them.


    Clay raised his voice. ¡°Tomorrow we are going to start fighting monsters.¡± He paused as a murmur went through the [Commoners]. The number of people who were smirking with confidence, or who seemed suddenly worried, was troubling to him. ¡°We¡¯re going to move our camp across the river to get closer to the enemy. While you are there, I expect you to train your skills.¡±


    There were eyerolls and smirks among some of them, and Clay let his voice grow a bit harder. ¡°Those who refuse to train are going to lose the chance to continue. I¡¯m going to ask Baroness Janburg to come along, both to help protect the camp and to let me know if any of you aren¡¯t taking things as seriously as you need to.¡±


    He glanced at Janburg, who nodded. There was a look of satisfaction on her face, something that the slackers among the group appeared to notice. They straightened up as he continued. ¡°While we are out there, I¡¯m going to bring you each out individually to hunt down a group of monsters. I¡¯ll give you the chance to fight and kill one of them. It will be your first chance to help defend this place.¡±


    Another excited murmur went through the crowd, and Clay forced himself to step on his own impatience. He waited until they had calmed back down before he spoke again. ¡°If you do not feel ready to go out tomorrow, please let me know. While we are out there, I will be in command. That means you go where I tell you to go, you fight where I tell you to fight, you run when I tell you to run. Anyone who can¡¯t do that will not be going out a second time. If I catch you trying, after I¡¯ve told you you¡¯re done, I¡¯ll ask the Baroness to stick you in a cell somewhere until the Lair is destroyed. Is that understood?¡±


    There was silence after his question. More of the expressions on the [Commoners] were starting to shift from self-assurance and excitement to worry and concern. It wasn¡¯t the best reaction, but it was better than overconfidence. ¡°Remember, while all adventurers start at level one, they also have abilities far better suited to combat than ours. Their [Stats] are different, their abilities are more focused, and most of them have months of training at the Academy to rely on¡ªand many of them still die. Your only real advantage is the fact that I can give you additional strength, but it won¡¯t be enough if you do not do your best. Listen to me, work hard, and we¡¯ll get the job done.¡±


    He waited, wondering if any of them would have any questions. When none appeared, Clay nodded again. ¡°All right then. Get some rest, choose out what order you will fight in, if you have a preference, and be ready for tomorrow. May you all fight well.¡±


    The [Commoners] hesitated, and then they all turned to head back to their tents. Several of them looked to be whispering to each other in tones that suggested a bit of reality had intruded on their dream adventure.


    Clay watched them for a moment, shaking his head. Then he turned and walked over to where Olivia was now lying on the ground, her eyes still closed. She cracked an eye to look up at him when his shadow fell over her. ¡°You might need to work on your inspiring speeches, Sir Clay.¡±


    ¡°And you obviously need to gain a little more [Fortitude], Syr Olivia.¡± Clay saw her twitch a little at the title of respect, and then she closed her eye again.


    ¡°I gained a solid three points of it today, for your information. A few of [Might] and [Valor] too. At this rate, I might just be able to catch up to you.¡± She gave a tired chuckle. ¡°As long as I manage to convince my legs to work again. Maybe tomorrow?¡±


    The sheer fatigue in her voice made Clay¡¯s smile soften. He knelt beside her and laid his spear to one side. ¡°Here, let¡¯s get you back to your tent.¡±


    Before she could protest, he slipped an arm under her back and her legs and lifted her up out of the dirt. Her arms went around his neck by pure reflex, and her eyes popped open for a moment. She somehow summoned enough fire to glare at him for a heartbeat. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to ask before you do that, you know.¡±


    ¡°Well, I apologize. I¡¯ll remember for next time.¡± Clay started walking in the direction of her bedroll, feeling his face heat at the knowing looks from some of the [Guards]. The Baroness raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored her.


    Olivia, eyes closed, didn¡¯t seem to notice any of it as she snuggled a little deeper into his arms. ¡°See that you do, Sir Clay.¡± She yawned a little and turned her face into his chest. Clay couldn¡¯t help but notice that she smelled like sweat, dust, and summer. His heart beat faster. ¡°I expect¡­ the best¡­ from¡­¡±


    The last part of her words turned into an indistinct murmur. When he glanced down, she was already asleep. He kept himself to a quiet chuckle as he carried her to her tent and laid her down. She immediately shifted onto her side, and Clay reached out to brush some of her hair out of her face. Olivia smiled a little and then sighed. He pulled back and headed for his own tent, across the camp.


    He tried to bring his thoughts back to the work he had ahead of him tomorrow, but he kept thinking of how soft her cheek had been. Sleep was a long time coming.

 B3Ch14: A Common Test

    The next day, the sky was filled with clouds. It was not the best sign about how things were going to go, but it might have been an accurate omen.


    He noted that most of the recruits weren¡¯t exactly enthusiastic as they filed out of the village. Something about leaving the walls behind seemed to make the entire expedition more real to them, as if they were finally beginning to realize that it was not all just a game. Those who had been grinning and joking around the day before were serious now, clutching their weapons and staring around at the hills as if they expected armies of swinefolk to appear at any moment.


    Baroness Janburg looked far less concerned, though she was watching the surrounding terrain with interest. Her stride and alertness spoke of a hard-won kind of experience that reassured Clay; he¡¯d be depending on her to make sure that the swinefolk didn¡¯t make an opportunistic raid on the camp while he was out. It was a benefit he hadn¡¯t enjoyed back in Rodcliff, since the baron there had already been dead long before he and the Ruffians had arrived.


    Olivia had come along as well, limping along with the rest of the [Commoners]. She had her war scythe with her, though she was still apparently sore and tired from the day before. Clay had noticed that she remained apart from most of the others; they didn¡¯t try to include her in their whispered conversations, and she stayed quiet for the most part as well. The only person she talked with was the Baroness, who was happy to chat like old friends.


    Clay led them some ways into the hills until he had just started to catch hints of monsters at the edges of his ethereal senses. Then he called for a halt. The [Commoners] set down their supplies; a few of them began working to put up a few temporary tents to provide some shelter from the summer sun. By the time the sun had finished rising, the camp was in place, and they were ready to begin.


    He shouldered his spear and looked at the group. ¡°All right. Who is coming with me first?¡±


    There was a pause. The [Commoners] looked around at each other, obviously not hoping to be the first to go out and fight.


    Then Andrew, the sullen-faced young man who had joined them in Pellsglade, stepped forward. He held his hammer in both hands, as if eager to use it. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you, Sir Clay. Lead on.¡±


    Clay nodded and gestured for the man to come with him. They headed out together into danger.


    They crouched together a short while later, watching the monsters draw close. It was yet another trio of swinefolk, one of each type. The squealer was already sniffing the air, obviously picking up something in the wind.


    Clay looked at Andrew, searching for signs of how the other [Commoner] would react. The man seemed tense and alert, his hands clenched around the sledgehammer and his gaze fixed on the swinefolk as they approached. His breathing was coming quicker, which was only natural. After all, this was probably his first time fighting creatures like this.


    For a moment, Clay remembered his first time in the Tanglewood. He pictured the feeling of creeping closer to the mantrap hole, the way his heart was beating as he clutched a pitchfork. How much would have changed if he had just turned back? Or if another spiderling had just happened to be somewhere he hadn¡¯t noticed?


    He shook off the memory and focused. Now was no time to be caught up in the past. Clay kept his voice low. ¡°Is there one of them that you want to try to kill? I can take care of the other two to give you the chance.¡±


    Andrew¡¯s grip on the hammer grew even tighter. His whisper was harsh. ¡°The big one is tough, right? And the one with the knives is quick. Can you¡­ distract them? So I can get the one in the back?¡±


    It seemed like it cost the man to ask, but he was showing good sense. Clay nodded. ¡°You have to hit hard, though. Don¡¯t let it get to you with the whip, or start to cast its spell. Otherwise¡­¡±


    The man nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be fast. I won¡¯t let you down.¡±


    Clay gripped his shoulder for a moment. Then he slid off through the grass, hoping to come at the enemy from the other side. The squealer was still taking its time. Hopefully, the thing wouldn¡¯t catch his scent before he was ready.


    He was in position a few short heartbeats later. It took only a moment to draw an arrow back on his shortbow. Then he fired.


    The arrow took the squealer in the throat. It died instantly, slumping to the soil.


    {Feral Squealer slain!}


    As it fell, the other two swinefolk pivoted to face him. The smasher charged, roaring along. Behind it, the eater began its familiar, grunting spell. It didn¡¯t seem aware of the [Commoner] crouching in the grass just beyond it, hammer in his hands.


    Clay tried to keep his focus on the smasher, knowing that if he gave the eater a hint about Andrew¡¯s position, it would get very, very dangerous for the man. He slipped his shortbow back into its holster and picked up his spear, ready to face the smasher¡¯s charge head on.


    Thanks to the bonuses from [Swinebane], the smasher seemed almost like it was moving in slow motion. It swung at him hard, but Clay simply dodged and brought his spear up and around. A single stab took the thing directly in the chest and shoved it back. Maddened fury filled the thing¡¯s close-set eyes, and it went for another burbling roar. Clay cut the noise short with a second stab, right in the face.


    {Wild Smasher slain!}


    As the bulky creature¡¯s corpse collapsed to one side, Clay stepped aside to get a better view of the eater. He expected to find it being bludgeoned to death by his ally, but instead, he saw it perfectly unharmed, still preparing its spell. The little orb of nothing took shape in its hand, and malice filled its twisted features.


    He stepped closer, his eyes darting to where Andrew was still crouched in the grass. The [Commoner] was still there, but he wasn¡¯t moving. Had something happened? Was there something else out here that had gotten to him?


    Clay felt a moment of fear for the other man, enough that he almost forgot about the eater. He remembered it just in time to step back as the thing lashed its whip at him, aiming to hit him in the face. The whistle of the whip as it sped by made Clay¡¯s eyes narrow. If something was wrong with Andrew, he needed to finish the fight and find out what it was. No more dawdling.


    The eater snapped its whip at him again, snarling as it finished its spell. Clay caught the whip out of the air, letting it wrap around his gauntlet. He saw a flicker of fear on the twisted face of the eater. Then its other hand shot out, hurling an orb of blackness at him.


    He sidestepped the spell, letting it carve through the grass behind him. Then Clay yanked on the whip as hard as he could, pulling the eater off its feet. The swinefolk shaman flew through the air, closing the distance between them in a moment.


    Clay put an end to its flight with a single, definite thrust. It died instantly.


    {Flesh Eater slain!}


    A pair of heartbeats later, Clay was at Andrew¡¯s side, looking for wounds.


    Instead, he found the man still crouching, unharmed, in the grass. His fingers were wrapped around the hammer, clenching so tightly that they shook. He was covered in sweat, and his eyes were staring out at where the swinefolk lay. When Clay reached out to him, Andrew flinched. ¡°I-I couldn¡¯t¡­ I couldn¡¯t move. Why couldn¡¯t I move? I just¡­¡±


    He looked lost, and Clay felt a pang of sympathy. Leaning forward, he grabbed Andrew by the shoulder. The [Commoner] jerked, and then focus returned to his eyes. It was closely followed by shame, and Clay spoke before the man could pull back into his shell. ¡°There is nothing wrong with being afraid of these things, Andrew. They¡¯re monsters, and they can kill you in an instant if you make a wrong move. The only reason I was able to get past that is because I spent a long time fighting through that fear. Are you going to do that? Or will you give up?¡±


    Still sweating, Andrew stared at him without answering. Clay glanced up at the sky, marking the position of the sun, and then reached out with his senses. He nodded. ¡°We need to get back to camp. Follow me. When you get back, think about what you felt today. No one will think any less of you if you decide that¡¯s the end of it¡ªbut if you decide to fight on, I will help you.¡±


    Andrew blinked, and some color came back to his face. He nodded, and they set off to return to camp. The day was still early.


    Unfortunately, Andrew was not the only one to freeze up in the face of the swinefolk. In fact, his reaction showed remarkable restraint. Out of the next ten [Commoners], six of them were paralyzed with fear when the time came to fight. Another three ran screaming the moment that the swinefolk appeared, forcing Clay to both kill the pursuing swinefolk and then chase the panicked recruit down before they could stumble across another batch of monsters.


    Their fear was understandable, given what they were facing. It wasn¡¯t an easy thing to throw caution to the side and attack a nightmare. It was just unpleasant to see so many formerly brave souls immediately abandon their courage the moment the time came to stand their ground.


    Of course, if their reactions were disappointing, there was always room for something worse to happen.


    Clay took a deep breath and tried to regain control of his temper. It was not as easy as he would¡¯ve liked it to be. He¡¯d already been guiding [Commoners] to and from the swinefolk for hours now, and even with his various bonuses and his native, unending stubbornness, the work was starting to take a toll.


    Then he spoke, keeping his voice even. ¡°Sal, you can¡¯t take the tusk back with you.¡±


    Sal looked up from what he was doing. The thuggish man had been braver than the others; rather than running for home or freezing still, he¡¯d charged straight into the fight. Clay had still needed to save him¡ªthe man had run straight at the smasher, his spear bouncing off its thick hide and nearly being knocked from his hands¡ªbut at least he¡¯d tried to attack.


    The only problem was that he seemed to think his ¡®victory¡¯ entitled him to something to remember the occasion. He¡¯d wanted a trophy, apparently, which was why Clay had found him sawing away at the smasher¡¯s teeth after the rest of the swinefolk had died.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why we can¡¯t bring back a trophy, you know? Something to prove we¡¯ve been hard at work out here.¡± Sal¡¯s smile was oily, and Clay felt an instant and deep distrust of the man form in his soul.


    Still, he tried to remain polite. ¡°Sal, you can¡¯t take home pieces of monsters. They track the scent of their fallen; it¡¯s why I wash the blood off me before I go back to camp.¡± Clay poked at the smasher with his spear. ¡°If you bring back a piece, then the camp will be buried in swinefolk before the end of the day.¡±


    The other [Commoner] scowled. ¡°By then, we¡¯ll be back in Janburg, right? Then it won¡¯t matter so much. That [Noble] can even take care of them before they get past the walls. It¡¯s really not that big of a problem.¡±


    Clay¡¯s already fragile grip on his temper was starting to fray again. ¡°No, it won¡¯t. Because you¡¯re going to leave that tusk alone, and we¡¯re going back to camp, now.¡±


    Sal grimaced. He looked down at the half-severed tusk and then pushed himself up to his feet. ¡°You know, I don¡¯t understand you. What are you afraid of? You¡¯re practically an adventurer, but you don¡¯t have to do any of the garbage that they do. You could have any number of people eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not loosen up and enjoy it?¡±


    The exasperation in Sal¡¯s voice was enough to make something click in Clay¡¯s head. He¡¯d heard that kind of talk before, back in Crownsguard. Clay hadn¡¯t been part of the conversation, of course; he¡¯d been crouched in a shadow, waiting for a clear shot.


    With a deliberately light tone, he tried to phrase it in exactly the right way. ¡°So you think that because I¡¯m strong enough, I should just do whatever I want? Fight when I want, take what I want, maybe even set up my own group somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re getting it!¡± Sal stepped forward, his expression growing animated. ¡°Think of what we could do with this kinda power. Nobody would stand against us, not even the Guild! They barely know what¡¯s going on under their noses these days, and you¡¯re strong enough that even the [Nobles] would be nervous about taking you on. We could do whatever we want!¡±


    Clay tilted his head to the side. ¡°It sounds like the kind of plan that a few adventurers had in the capital, actually. They wanted to set up their own little empire, right under the noses of the Guild and the King.¡± He paused, and a flicker of uncertainty went across the man¡¯s face. ¡°I broke their arms and legs and put them in the King¡¯s cells¡ªand they were someone I hadn¡¯t personally tried to train. Imagine what I would do to someone who betrayed me personally by turning bandit with their skills?¡±


    Sal¡¯s face had gone grey, now, and he looked even more worried than he had facing the swinefolk. He took a step back. ¡°I-I didn¡¯t mean to say anything about¡ª¡±


    ¡°The tusk is staying here, Sal. Whether your hand is attached to it is up to you.¡± Clay smiled and gestured for Sal to precede him. ¡°Time to go back to camp. Now.¡±


    By the time Clay paused for lunch, the camp was much, much smaller.


    Andrew was still there, sparring against one of the [Guards] that hadn¡¯t gone out yet. His face had lost some of the tension that it had carried during their journey back. Clay hoped that it meant he would stay the course.


    Sal was gone, as were three of his friends. Two of them hadn¡¯t even bothered to go out; they¡¯d just left in a group to head back to Janburg. Clay was happy enough to see them go; the last thing he needed was for some would-be crime lord or bandit king to learn something actually dangerous.


    He hadn¡¯t been alone in leaving. Of the other thirteen who had gone out already, only three were still in the camp. Only a quarter of the [Commoners] had gone through their first fight and decided to continue, which was grim enough. Another four, on top of Sal¡¯s buddies, had headed back on their own without ever coming face to face with the monsters. Apparently, just the stunned expressions and muttered stories of their fellow recruits had been enough.


    Clay shook his head as he ate, going over the remaining [Commoners] who still needed to be led to test their courage. Elizabeth and Peter had been putting off their turns, as had Lana. There were a couple of [Guards] who still wanted to try as well, one of the King¡¯s and one from Janburg itself. It seemed like such a short list, compared to the amount he had been anticipating dealing with before. In some ways, it was better to have it less complicated; in others, he wondered if the entire journey had been a mistake.


    Still, there was no other choice at this point. Even if everyone else abandoned the mission, he¡¯d promised the Baroness and Olivia that he¡¯d destroy the Lair, anyway. It might take him a longer amount of time¡ªa lot longer, now that he thought about it¡ªbut he¡¯d see it done. Whatever the cost.


    He finished his meal and went looking for Elizabeth. There was plenty of work left to do.


    ¡°Are you sure the monsters are out there?¡±


    Clay tried not to sigh. He nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sure, Lana. I will let you know when they are close.¡±


    She nodded, her expression still nervous. Her sword was quivering slightly as she held it, but at least she hadn¡¯t dropped it yet. That fact alone put her a little ahead of Elizabeth, who had asked why they couldn¡¯t bring her brother along the entire time, or Peter, who had refused to get any closer to the swinefolk than he had to. The [Guards] had been a little better, but neither of them had managed to score a kill during their time in the hills.


    He didn¡¯t have a whole lot of hope for Lana, either. She had been practicing hard, but the worry in her eyes as they had marched out of the camp had only increased the closer they got to the monsters. Clay was already resigning himself to needing to rescue yet another [Commoner] as they either froze or ran away.


    They reached the top of another hill, and Clay motioned for Lana to stop. He settled down in the brush and looked around at the nearby valley. It didn¡¯t take long to spot yet another batch of swinefolk making their way across the space between two hills. They didn¡¯t seem to have noticed the people watching them, at least not yet.


    A moment later, Lana gave a quiet gasp as she caught sight of the monsters as well. She fumbled her sword a little, but managed to not drop it.


    Unfortunately, the blade caught the light of the sun overhead, and a flash of sunlight swept across the grass below. The swinefolk, who had been walking along without a care in the world, came to a sudden halt. Clay watched them grunt and squeal to one another.


    Then they immediately swerved to walk up the hill. Lana flinched backwards, her breath starting to come faster. Clay looked back at her and made a motion to stop her from moving. She froze, her sword still in her hand.


    Clay kept his voice quiet. ¡°If you want to try to help, get your bow out and be ready to shoot. I¡¯ll start the fight. Just do what you can from here.¡±


    Wordlessly, she nodded and set her sword down in the dirt. She brought out her hunting bow a moment later and nocked an arrow. Clay watched her for a moment and then slipped off down the hillside towards the swinefolk.


    He debated whether to simply use a [Chant] to kill all three, but he supposed Lana deserved the chance to do something if she could. He tried not to feel like he was going to be immediately disappointed by what was about to happen.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Clay crept close to the path that the swinefolk were going to use. He quickly whispered the [Chant] for Freshening Breeze to make himself as scentless and then waited.


    The swinefolk came close a few moments later. He watched as they passed by his position, smirking a little as the squealer failed to catch him. Their beady little eyes were focused on the hilltop, so perhaps that helped the situation.


    He tensed up, ready to sprint forward and strike.


    Then an arrow, whistling through the air, slashed down and struck the eater in the shoulder, lodging itself there. He heard Lana cry out in triumph.


    For an instant, both Clay and the swinefolk froze in place. Then everything seemed to happen at once.


    Clay lunged out of the grass and struck the eater as it staggered, the arrow still lodged in its shoulder. The thing went down without another sound and he pivoted to see the smasher whirling to face him. It clashed its hammers together, obviously eager for the fight.


    {Flesh Eater slain!}


    The squealer, on the other hand, ignored Clay entirely and took off sprinting. Its hideous shriek rebounded off the hills as it climbed up towards Lana, who was frantically backing away.


    Clay growled to himself as he darted in towards the smasher. The swinefolk roared and struck at him. He dodged aside and stabbed, catching the thing in the throat. Its roar turned into a gurgle, and as I staggered backwards, Clay struck a second time and caught it in the knee, sending it to the ground.


    With the immediate threat down, Clay brought out his own bow and nocked an arrow. The squealer was too fast to catch on foot, and if he used the Canticle of Ice, it might take too long. His only chance would be to land a solid hit with an arrow; otherwise, Lana would face the swinefolk alone.


    He drew back the bowstring and paused his breath. The squealer continued to race up the hill, its unnatural, hunched gait repulsive in his eyes. Clay focused on the shot, allowing his eyes to follow the path the creature would take.


    Then he loosed, and the arrow crossed the distance in a heartbeat. It struck the squealer square in the back, cutting off its full-throated screams. He saw it complete one last lurch forward, and then it writhed in the grass, unable to continue.


    {Feral Squealer slain!}


    A massive hand reached up to grab at him, and Clay stepped to the side. He put away his bow and picked up his spear again. One last thrust finished the swinefolk that had been grasping for him.


    {Wild Smasher slain!}


    He looked down at the creature for a moment longer. Then, with a sigh that he never would have wanted Lana to see, Clay started to move up the hillside. It was time for the day to be done.


    When he and Lana reached the camp, it was a much quieter place than it had been. Counting Lana¡ªwho he had needed to reassure repeatedly that she was still welcome¡ªthere were only seven people aside from the Baroneess. Andrew was still there, along with Elizabeth and Peter. Two of the King¡¯s [Guards] were still sparring; their names were Sandra and Arnold, if he remembered right. One of Janburg¡¯s [Guards] had stayed as well, a dour, serious man by the name of Mitchell.


    The last person who remained was Olivia, of course, who had been sparring with the Baroness on and off all day. She was watching them come in, apparently resting at the moment. Clay gave her a subdued smile and tried to ignore the whispered conversations of the others. At this point, he was ready to just pack up and head back to Janburg for the day. Perhaps the next day, he wouldn¡¯t lose nearly three quarters of the people willing to follow him into danger.


    Olivia stepped up beside him, her war scythe in her hand. Her voice was pitched low. ¡°Welcome home, traveler.¡± The memory of her welcoming him to the Shrine back in Pellsglade brightened his mood for a moment, though it was quickly overshadowed again by the situation. ¡°Were things difficult out there?¡±


    Clay snorted. He glanced at the others. ¡°Yeah. You could say that.¡±


    ¡°Can I make things just a little more difficult for you, then?¡± She smiled when he gave her an incredulous look. ¡°It turns out that I¡¯m not feeling as badly as I was expecting, so¡­¡±


    His breath quickened a little. ¡°You want to go out now?¡±


    Olivia raised an eyebrow. ¡°If it is not too much trouble? After all, you were planning on taking a full six other people out before¡­¡±


    ¡°I thought you would be too tired today. Aren¡¯t you still sore?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°I guess I rested well. Besides¡­¡± Olivia lowered her voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I want to let the others get that much farther ahead of me.¡±


    Clay tried not to laugh. He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry that much about that, Olivia. We have time.¡±


    ¡°Still, there¡¯s no better time than the present, is there?¡± She leaned in closer, smiling. ¡°If I slow you down too much, you can have us come home immediately.¡±


    He was still hesitating when she delivered her most devastating weapon yet. She leaned in a little further and looked him straight in the eyes. ¡°Please, Clay?¡±


    A few minutes later, Clay was cursing himself for his weakness as they made their way through the hills. Olivia, on the other hand, was still smiling to herself as they walked. He¡¯d rarely seen her quite this happy, and despite the fatigue he felt and the lack of enthusiasm for the task, Clay couldn¡¯t help but feel a little more content over the situation.


    The sun was already starting its slide towards the horizon again, and the heat of the afternoon was almost oppressive as they made their way through the hills. He was sweating fairly hard at this point, and he could tell that Olivia was as well. She wasn¡¯t wearing armor as heavy as his, but she did have some kind of modified gambeson, and her [Fortitude] was far lower. Her hair was sticking to her neck and face as they moved further in, but she seemed determined to not slow down.


    Fortunately, his senses picked up on a group of swinefolk just a short distance away. He nodded and took the lead, forging a path through the grass to where they were heading. Olivia followed, her eyes intent.


    They reached the monsters a short while later. It was yet another trio of swinefolk. The monsters were actually poking at the corpses of some of Clay¡¯s earlier kills. He could see them snarling and ripping at the bodies. Apparently, these monsters were about as compassionate for their fellow creatures as the spiders had been, though they weren¡¯t actively killing each other.


    Clay shifted, looking over at Olivia. Her eyes were wide, and she was breathing quickly. He could see her fingers shaking on the shaft of her war scythe as she stared at the creatures, obviously unable to look away.


    He felt his feelings plummet. Of course, she had just as much fear as the rest of them; she had even more reason to be. These creatures had to be something out of her nightmares. Some of them had literally chased her from her home, had killed her families. What had he been thinking, bringing her out here?


    Yet just as he was about to tell her they could head back, Olivia closed her eyes. Her hands on the scythe steadied, and her lips moved in silence for a few moments. When she opened her eyes again, Olivia looked at him with an expression that mixed fear with determination, anger with uncertainty. She nodded and whispered in a quiet voice. ¡°The largest one is mine. You can take the other two.¡±


    He nodded, feeling a stab of concern. Fear he could understand, but there was something about the way she¡¯d said it that worried him. Olivia turned back to the swinefolk and started whispering something else under her breath. When he strained to hear, he thought he could recognize the [Chant] of the Convenient Nail of all things.


    Clay turned his attention back to the swinefolk, feeling his heart beat harder in his chest. He drew out his bow and set his sights on the squealer. It was the fastest threat, and the one that would bring even more enemies down on them. Better to limit the problems it could cause. If they could hit them in one immediate strike¡­


    His heart leaped into his throat a moment later as Olivia straightened up and walked out of the grass, standing in clear view of the enemy.


    The swinefolk were too preoccupied with their grisly meal to notice her at first, but she tapped the butt of her war scythe against a small rock. She was still finishing her [Chant] as they spun around; her war scythe was dangling almost negligently from her hand, the butt still dragging in the dirt as she took another step forward.


    Their reaction was immediate. The smasher roared in fury and charged forward; the eater loosened its whip and began its own grunting spell.


    Whatever the squealer might have done, Clay didn¡¯t give it the chance. Even as he started his own [Chant], the Canticle of Ice, he brought up his bow and shot the thing directly in the eye. It stiffened up and fell over, the arrow having gone in nearly up to the feathers.


    {Feral Squealer slain!}


    Clay switched targets to the eater, knowing it could do just as much damage. Olivia would dodge the smasher; she had to, or else the thing would run her over. She was fast enough, at least. He¡¯d seen her do just as much while she¡¯d been training that day.


    He had drawn his bowstring back when Olivia finished her own [Chant]. She stared up at the smasher looming in front of her, unmoving, as it raised its hammers and charged in. Clay felt another burst of panic as she made no move to duck or leap out of the way. On pure reflex, he started to switch targets, knowing it was already too late.


    Then Olivia took a single step back and watched as the smasher impaled itself on her scythe.


    The impact of it was shocking, so much so that Clay¡¯s fingers froze on the bowstring. He could see the scythe trembling under the weight of the smasher, but he couldn¡¯t understand how it had happened. Olivia hadn¡¯t even really braced it against the ground, and even if she had braced herself, there was no way she¡¯d have had the [Might] to withstand the charge. Now that he looked, her hand wasn¡¯t even on the haft anymore, but it was still propping the creature up, having driven the entire curved blade into the swinefolk¡¯s torso.


    Clay heard the eater¡¯s spell fall to pieces as it stared at its pinned companion in shock. His own [Chant] stuttered to a halt as well. Recovering first, he didn¡¯t give the eater a chance to come back to its senses; he put an arrow through its throat. It stumbled backwards, the whip falling from its hands, and Clay ignored it as it fell.


    {Flesh Eater slain!}


    When he looked back at Olivia, she was stepping away from her scythe. She unlimbered the axe at her waist and ducked beneath a clumsy swipe by the smasher. It was still trying to pull itself off the scythe when she took her axe in both hands and slashed it across the back of the knee. The blow cut some of the remaining strength from its legs, and it slumped a little against the blade of the scythe. A second strike against the back of the other knee only made the situation worse, as the smasher¡¯s own weight dragged the blade up through its chest, tearing the wound into a jagged gash that oozed green blood.


    As he watched, the smasher dropped its other hammer and got both hands on the haft, struggling to keep itself from falling further onto it. Then, all of a sudden, the scythe slipped; the smasher abruptly fell to its knees as the scythe slid out from under it. Olivia stepped up behind it, the axe still in her hands. Her expression was one of fury and hatred. The axe came down with all the force she could put behind it.


    The smasher fell forward and went still.


    Clay heard Olivia breathing, her lungs working as hard as they had when she had run back and forth to his farm from the Shrine in Pellsglade. She dropped her axe and leaned forward, putting her hands on her knees as she tried to pull air into her chest. He ran over to her, skirting around the corpse of the smasher. He was moving fast enough that he nearly tripped over the haft of her war scythe, still partially trapped under the body.


    She looked up at him and smiled, her expression a little shaky. Sweat covered her face, and she drew a sleeve across her forehead in an attempt to keep it out of her eyes. ¡°Tried¡­ the Nail¡­It worked! It worked!¡±


    {Insight increased by 1!}


    He stared at her as she laughed, a breathless, incredulous sound. It was as if she¡¯d surprised herself as much as she had him. A moment later, he was laughing too, shaking his head. ¡°You-you fixed it to the ground?¡±


    Olivia nodded, still too out of breath and laughing too hard to say anything. She tipped backwards onto her rear before flopping onto her back, putting an arm over her eyes as she laughed. Laughed until it faded into a half-sob of relief.


    Clay walked over and sat next to her. He took hold of her free hand and held it, waiting for it all to run its course.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think Firm Step would work, because I don¡¯t have the [Might] or the [Fortitude] for it. The weight of the thing would have smashed me. So I just fixed the scythe to the ground below me, and then kept it going long enough to get behind it.¡±


    They were walking through the hills again, leaving the corpses of the swinefolk behind them. Pure Touch had already wiped the sweat, blood, and dirt from them, and a cool breeze was flowing through the grass. If it wasn¡¯t for the noise of the occasional group of swinefolk echoing from the hillsides, it might have been a pleasant afternoon walk.


    Clay shook his head, still incredulous. ¡°How did you know the haft wouldn¡¯t snap? Those things are heavy.¡±


    Olivia gave him a sly smile. ¡°What, you don¡¯t trust David¡¯s work? You should know how sturdy something he made can be.¡± He gave her a grudging nod, and she sighed in contentment. ¡°Still, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure. When it charged me¡­¡±


    She took in another shaky breath. ¡°I nearly lost the [Chant]. It was like I was back in Zelton, running for my life. It took everything I had to¡­¡±


    Her voice faded away, and Clay nodded. ¡°Yeah, I understand. Sometimes when I¡¯m asleep, I go back to those early days when it was just me and a pitchfork. Only this time it just goes wrong¡­¡±


    With another smile, she took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s the same, but I appreciate the thought.¡± Then she nudged him a little with her shoulder. ¡°So how crazy did you think I was, just standing in front of it without moving?¡±


    ¡°I might have had some doubts.¡± He carefully nudged her back. She seemed so much more fragile, still. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate a warning sometimes. Just because you are still gaining [Valor] doesn¡¯t mean I need to!¡±


    She laughed again, a beautiful, unrestrained sound. ¡°I did! I got two just for that.¡± Then she grew silent for a moment. ¡°I got Soul, too. The first time that¡¯s ever happened.¡±


    His senses caught the hint of another group of swinefolk, moving around the hill to their left. He veered to the right to avoid them. ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re the only one who managed it today, so I think some congratulations are in order. The next time, it should be easier, too.¡±


    He took a few more steps and then realized that she¡¯d stopped. There was a calculating look on her face. ¡°If it gets easier, why don¡¯t we do it again?¡±


    Clay paused long enough to direct a few choice words at his past self. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s such a good idea. You¡¯ve already fought one group, and you¡¯re still tired from yesterday.¡±


    ¡°You said the next ones would be easier. I won¡¯t go for the smasher again. I promise.¡± Olivia¡¯s smile told Clay she thought she¡¯d already won. She started to look around; the sounds of the swinefolk carried far too well across the otherwise-silent hills. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t take too long to find one or two more groups of them, right? And it¡¯ll show the others just how much we can do.¡±


    The argument broke down the reasons he had already been mustering. He looked up at the sun, hoping that it had slid a little further towards the horizon. Instead, he saw that there was plenty of light left in the afternoon. There weren¡¯t any clouds threatening rain or darkness, and he knew exactly where they could find the next group.


    He looked back at Olivia and found her grinning at him. Clay sighed. ¡°No more than two more. Then we go back. Understand?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Sir Clay.¡± The fond way she said the words kept them from seeming sarcastic or bitter. He turned away to hide the heat in his cheeks and tried not to hear the low chuckle behind him. There were monsters to find, after all.


    The squealer turned and snapped at the air. Clay blinked in surprise and then turned his attention back to the smasher in front of him. It was already raising its hammers, so a simple thrust caught it square through the heart.


    {Wild Smasher slain!}


    By the time he stepped back, Olivia had already struck. Her war scythe came down and around, hacking at the distracted squealer with her entire weight behind the blow. The blade caught it in the shoulder, cleaving through hide, muscle, and bone in a spray of green blood. She jerked the weapon out of the wound and kicked the creature, knocking it backwards.


    Her follow up swing killed it. Clay watched her for a few more moments, thinking back over what she¡¯d done during the brief fight. ¡°Gnat¡¯s Bite?¡±


    Olivia grinned. ¡°Got it in one! I figured their senses would be a little sensitive to distractions like that. It turns out I was correct.¡± She muttered a few more words, and Pure Touch cleaned her of the squealer¡¯s blood. ¡°Now I just want to get one of those, and we can be done.¡±


    She pointed at the eater that had come with the group, which was currently lying with Clay¡¯s arrow in its skull. Clay wasn¡¯t entirely surprised by the request, but he still sighed. ¡°You¡¯re sure? Their spell can cause an awful lot of damage. I haven¡¯t been hit myself, but¡­¡±


    He trailed off as Olivia nodded firmly. ¡°I am sure. I want one of each, to prove I can.¡± Then she smirked at him. ¡°Besides, don¡¯t you believe I can do it by now?¡±


    Clay looked back at the squealer. The thing had enough time to scream for help, so he really didn¡¯t have much of a reason to argue that they wouldn¡¯t be able to find another batch of monsters. ¡°All right, we can give it a try. A group is already on its way.¡±


    Olivia¡¯s eyes shone as she nodded. ¡°Which direction are they coming from?¡±


    He pointed, and she headed off towards a patch of grass in that direction. ¡°Just take care of the other two and leave the eater to me. Don¡¯t hide though. You need to get their attention.¡±


    Clay gave her a put-upon look, and she rolled her eyes. Then she disappeared into the grass, her war scythe barely poking out of the vegetation. It vanished a moment later, and Clay was left standing by himself, waiting for monsters to come and try to kill him.


    It really said something about his life that it was the most entertaining part of his day. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure what it was saying, but Clay was reasonably sure it wasn¡¯t good.


    The thing of it was that he found it increasingly hard to complain about his life with Olivia around. Her determination echoed his own, and even if his more responsible side told him they should have headed back to camp a while ago, a part of him was thrilled to see another person just as committed to the mission as he was.


    Even more than that, she was interesting. Clay might have thought about using the Nail to stop a smasher, or the Gnat¡¯s Bite to distract a squealer, but she¡¯d already started helping him come up with new ways to use [Chants]. A part of him was just excited to see what she¡¯d come up with next, to say nothing of what she¡¯d do with some of the more advanced [Chants]. Syr Katherine and the others had already been a bit horrified about what he could do with them, but they really hadn¡¯t seen anything yet. Once he and Olivia really started to work together¡­


    Clay smiled to himself at the thought and glanced back at the thicket of grass. Maybe it was time that he showed off a little. Just to reassure himself that she wasn¡¯t the only one impressing people for the day.


    When the swinefolk finally arrived, Clay had already put his own preparations in place. He could just see the glint of his Pell knife, hidden in a clump of grass, as the swinefolk trampled past it on their way to face him.


    The squealer came howling for him first, with the smasher close behind. Clay watched them come, idly reciting the Cycle of Return, and then smashed the butt of his spear into the ground. He used it like a level to launch himself skyward, just as he finished the [Chant].


    His knife shot out of the grass, stabbing directly in the smasher¡¯s back. He tugged as hard on it as he could as he came back down, dragging the knife along a new trajectory as he did so. The smasher staggered to a stop as Clay landed, and then dodged past the squealer again as it came the other way. Another sharp dodge carved the knife deeper into the creature¡¯s back along a new trajectory. Clay just kept pulling at it, feeling it worm its way into the massive creature until it finally punched through its torso and came flying straight towards him.


    Clay had timed it perfectly, waiting until the squealer had charged him yet again. As both knife and monster hurtled towards him, Clay adjusted his position just slightly¡ªand then dropped the [Chant] and dodged. This time, the creature ran face-first into the incoming Pell knife. Its customary shriek cut off with an undignified squawk, and as it staggered, Clay turned and killed it with a single thrust of his spear. Beyond it, the smasher finally finished collapsing.


    {Feral squealer slain!}


    {Wild Smasher slain!}


    He looked up from his performance to see that the eater had nearly finished its spell. The orb of darkness spun and flickered in its hands, and the creature grinned as it brought its hand up slowly to unleash it on him. Clay braced himself to dodge the thing, wondering if Olivia had just been distracted.


    Then she burst out of the grass, skating on the air above the dirt as she flew in at the eater. Her war scythe swung in a single passing stroke, and the eater¡¯s head left its shoulders. The magic in its hands shattered, stitching its falling body with ravening needles of energy.


    Olivia came to a stop a short while later, a grin plastered on her face. She let herself drop. ¡°I knew I would like Floating Step.¡±


    Clay glanced at the mess he¡¯d made with Cycle of Return and then sighed. ¡°Well done! Now, let¡¯s get back to the camp before someone thinks the monsters got us.¡±


    She nodded, already reciting Pure Touch to clean her blade. Clay retrieved his knife and started doing the same, feeling an unjustified amount of unhappiness over the fact that she hadn¡¯t seen him showing off. He pictured his mother shaking her head at him and his father laughing, and let his lips twist in a crooked smile. After all, there was still tomorrow.


    The camp hadn¡¯t gotten any smaller by the time they got back, though the Baroness looked a little anxious. She hid it well, but it was clear she had been trying to make a decision on whether to leave the camp full of vulnerable [Commoners] unguarded to go looking for Clay and Olivia, or stay where she was when the two people she actually wanted to protect were missing.


    It would have been hard to miss the relief on the Baroness¡¯ face, but only a blind fool wouldn¡¯t have seen it on the others. They crowded around Olivia, asking questions and looking for wounds, while the Baroness herself approached Clay.


    ¡°So, have you given up this charade, Sir Clay?¡± She nodded to Olivia when he looked at her. ¡°I¡¯m sure you protected her well enough for today, but this cannot continue any further. You¡¯ll get them¡­¡±


    She trailed off as Clay raised his palm. ¡°My lady, Olivia did well. Actually, she killed three of the things already, and she might have gone after more if I didn¡¯t make her promise to come back now. I think tomorrow she might even reach the next level, at this rate.¡±


    The Baroness frowned. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    A burst of incredulous exclamations from the rest of the group made Clay smile. He nodded to where the others were asking even more questions. ¡°Feel free to see how she feels, Baroness, but I think she is going to be fine. As for the others, well, I only promised Olivia my help. The rest are going to need to earn it, the same way she did today.¡±


    For a moment, the Baroness seemed like she wanted to argue further, but she just shook her head. ¡°Fine. We will continue this experiment of yours tomorrow, but again, if any harm comes to her¡­¡±


    Clay nodded, already thinking about how he¡¯d organize things the next day. With fewer people, he could probably afford to spend at least as much time with each of them as he had with Olivia. If he did, and if the rest of them took a bit of courage from Olivia¡¯s example¡­


    His head was still spinning with possibilities as they walked back towards the gates of Janburg, though for once they didn¡¯t keep him up long after dinner. He ate well, lied down for what seemed like just a moment, and was asleep before his head hit the bedroll.


    It had been a good day, after all.

 B3Ch15: Winnowing

    The next morning, a severely reduced camp set out from Janburg, once again escorted by the Baroness.


    There were only eight [Commoners] left now, counting Olivia, even though some of the King¡¯s [Guards] had stayed in the village after they¡¯d officially quit the mission. They apparently still had orders to follow Clay around, so they couldn¡¯t simply leave. He didn¡¯t know if he felt annoyed or flattered that King John had taken such an interest in him.


    At the very least, the handful that were coming with them seemed far more determined and serious now. Perhaps it was simply being given an example of success, or the challenge of being outdone by a newly Chosen [Commoner] who didn¡¯t even have a fighting [Subclass], but all three of the [Guards] were more than eager to join him on the next trip out into the hills. They¡¯d even had to play some sort of game amongst themselves to determine who would go first.


    Apparently, luck favored Mitchell, which was why the surly man bid Baroness Janburg a respectful farewell and followed Clay out into the hills.


    They marched for a while in relative quiet. The first time Mitchell had followed Clay, the [Guard] had been relatively taciturn. During the encounter with the swinefolk, he hadn¡¯t run, but he hadn¡¯t budged from behind the tree where he¡¯d been crouched, either. Clay had suspected it had been more because Mitchell had been watching how things played out rather than surrendering to the grip of fear, but he¡¯d still seemed embarrassed by the lack of a contribution when the fight had been done.


    Now, though, he was walking with a spear and shield in his hands and an eye on the terrain around them. He seemed a bit more relaxed, even if his armor still creaked with painful clarity and the smell of stale sweat still filled the air, in tribute to the still-rising summer sun.


    Clay detected a group of monsters and changed course to track them. Mitchell glanced at him and grunted. ¡°You picked up a trail, Sir Clay?¡±


    He glanced at the [Guard]. ¡°Sort of. One of my [Experiences] lets me track them, even without any scent or prints.¡±


    ¡°I figured. You were too sure of yourself the last time.¡± Mitchell nodded to himself. ¡°Do you think anyone can get that [Experience]?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± The Academy had never given him a complete list of [Experiences] and the methods to gain them. They might not have known themselves, of course; [Experiences] were likely to vary quite a bit more than other abilities. Of course, explaining he¡¯d gained [Seeker] when he¡¯d destroyed a Lair would probably have gotten into a longer explanation than he was willing to give, for the moment. After all, he still wasn¡¯t entirely sure he could trust the recruits yet, not like he did Olivia. There was too high a chance that someone like Sal could still be lurking in the ranks.


    Mitchell shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s nice to hear it¡¯s possible, but I doubt I¡¯ll get something as useful as that one, to be honest. Luck doesn¡¯t really run in my family.¡±


    Clay looked over. It was probably the longest string of words that he¡¯d heard Mitchell say at once. ¡°Why would you say that?¡±


    ¡°A string of burning buildings, crop diseases, and lost cattle going back four generations, Sir Clay.¡± Mitchell shrugged, clearly unimpressed by what seemed like a tragic family history. ¡°Still, I might as well try.¡±


    Despite himself, Clay found himself growing a bit more attached to the grumpy old [Guard]. He reminded him of a few of the King¡¯s men in Crownsguard. They¡¯d often had plenty of stories, and even if they were known to complain and make sour comments, they were also the first to lend a hand when something went wrong. ¡°Have you always lived in Janburg, then?¡±


    Mitchell shook his head. ¡°No, Sir Clay. We are from up near Eldsville. My wife and I moved here a good nine years ago, just before¡­¡±


    He trailed off for a moment. When he spoke again, he shook his head. ¡°Before the tragedy happened at Zelton. Honestly, thought I¡¯d brought the whole place down with the family luck.¡±


    Clay frowned. ¡°I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t that.¡±


    Mitchell raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°I know that well enough. But still¡­¡± He glanced to the southeast, as if remembering a time when the hills looked different. ¡°I was there, you know, when the Baroness saved that girl. The last daughter of Zelton. We pulled her from the river and brought her home. Nobody else made it out.¡±


    The sober tone of the words only helped them lapse back into silence. Then Mitchell sighed. ¡°Look, I still think you¡¯re all a little off your rockers for trying this, but if she can do it, then I owe it to her to try. I¡¯m no thinker, though, so don¡¯t ask me what plans to make or what I prefer. You know this business better than I do. Tell me what to do, and I will, all right?¡±


    The honest, blunt request was so sincere that Clay couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°All right, I will.¡± He looked back along the path that the swinefolk were following. ¡°They always travel in threes. What I¡¯m going to do is lure them to follow me, and then when the eater¡ªthat¡¯s the one in the robe¡ªwhen they go past¡­¡±


    By the time Clay came back with Mitchell, the [Guard] had actually killed just as many as Olivia had. He¡¯d taken both an eater and a squealer from ambush while Clay distracted the others, and he¡¯d killed a smasher by hamstringing it before delivering a final series of blows. The man¡¯s expression had been a mix of awe, gratitude, and smug pride when he returned to the camp, and Clay had been more than happy to announce his accomplishments to the rest.


    Not all of the [Commoners] improved as much, however. When Elizabeth and Peter had gone next, they once again failed to do much more than watch Clay work. After he¡¯d brought Peter back, the siblings almost immediately began arguing about whose fault the whole situation was. As he left with Lana, he was relatively certain that both Wheatrose siblings would be gone by the time he came back.


    Lana, at least, seemed a bit more sober now. She had changed out her hunting bow for an actual longbow, and he¡¯d seen her practicing with it throughout the day. Her sword remained sheathed at her hip as they walked.


    She caught him glancing at it and gave him a nervous smile. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll aim a little better this time.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Your shot actually wasn¡¯t that bad yesterday. With a better bow, you¡¯ll probably be able to score your first kill.¡±


    Lana nodded. ¡°That¡¯s what I was hoping.¡± She fell silent for a few more minutes as they continued through the hills. ¡°You weren¡¯t really all that happy with us yesterday, were you?¡±


    He caught the hint of sadness in Lana¡¯s voice and debated his answer. Then he sighed. ¡°Things could have gone better, yes, but I think you were all doing the best you could. The important thing is that you are sticking with it, and for the right reasons.¡±


    She winced. ¡°Thank you.¡± Then her back straightened. ¡°I¡¯ll do better this time. I will. My arrows will fly straight and true.¡±


    It seemed like she was speaking as much to herself as she was to him, but Clay supposed it couldn¡¯t be too bad. He shrugged off his misgivings and headed for the nearest of the monsters.


    They found the swinefolk a short while later. It seemed as if the number of groups traveling through the hills had started to increase, though it could have just been the fact that they were getting more cautious. This batch was trundling along the grass, tramping it down as they walked. Clay started forward when Lana reached out and stopped him. She spoke low, staying crouched down in the grass. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get close.¡±


    Clay blinked at her. He couldn¡¯t help but grin. ¡°You want to try that bow shot again?¡±


    Her expression was serious as she nodded. ¡°Yes. I do.¡± When he tilted his head, she continued, her eyes still on the monsters. ¡°At first, I wanted it to be like a story. My sword flashing in the sun, an adventure I could tell people about¡­ It isn¡¯t like that, is it? And it never will be.¡±


    She drew out an arrow and fit it to the bowstring. ¡°I don¡¯t want a story anymore. I want to do the job you¡¯re trusting me with. So I want you to show me how to shoot them from here, before they even have the chance to get close. Can you do that?¡±


    Clay nodded and put down his spear. He drew out his own bow. ¡°I¡¯ll take the other two. When you fire, take out your next arrow and start pulling it back, just in case you miss. For the eater, you don¡¯t need to aim for the head, especially not with a bow like that. Just hit it in the torso, and you¡¯ll probably finish it¡­¡±


    When they reached camp again, they were both considerably lighter on arrows, but Lana was beaming. She¡¯d killed one of each kind of swinefolk, all from a distance as they tried to close with her. True, she¡¯d spent nearly half her arrows doing it, but the kills were all that mattered. The Baroness would be more than happy to replace the ammunition¡­ probably.


    Arnold, one of the King¡¯s soldiers, was far less optimistic. He carried the crossbow he¡¯d brought with him almost like he hated the thing. The man fired one shot, missed, and Clay had to save him when the swinefolk came down on him. After that experience, the [Guard] had stormed back into camp and declared his honor satisfied and his time fighting monsters done.


    Sandra, his fellow soldier, had been next. When Clay had mentioned Arnold¡¯s frustration, she had just rolled her eyes. ¡°I have to give him credit, he stuck it out better than most. This all hasn¡¯t been easy, you know.¡±


    There was a note of accusation in her voice that Clay hadn¡¯t really been expecting. He winced. ¡°The King ordered you to follow me. He didn¡¯t order you to come out here, though.¡±


    ¡°Did he?¡± There was a slightly mocking note to her question, and Clay winced again. She went on as she scanned their surroundings, obviously looking for more signs of monsters. ¡°He¡¯s been really interested in you since Crownsguard, actually. Especially when you came back with the Ruffians.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Clay grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know that he¡¯d told you to do more than watch.¡±


    Sandra shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not the worst assignment. After all, who doesn¡¯t want to be the next Commoner Hero?¡± Then she shook her head. ¡°A lot of us actually volunteered, to be honest. We thought that if you could do it, any of us could too. You know, we¡¯ve spent our lives training and fighting. Why would this be any different?¡±


    Clay shook his head, and she laughed. ¡°Yeah, I know. It seems a bit ridiculous now. It¡¯d be like the difference between the Common Melee and the High. It¡¯s one thing to fight a man on horseback, but against monsters like these¡­¡±


    The [Guard] chuckled to herself, and Clay looked back at her. She seemed a bit more resigned and full of melancholy than he¡¯d expected. He looked back at where they were headed, making sure his senses were still keen to any approaching monsters. ¡°Why would he even want you to learn this type of thing, anyway? Does he not trust the Guild?¡±


    She snorted. ¡°Trust them? No. They¡¯re outside his direct control and a King, well¡­ they don¡¯t approve of things like that very often.¡±


    Clay grunted. King John had seemed decent enough, but one fistfight didn¡¯t tell him that much about the man¡¯s character. Out loud, he just tried to keep his voice light. ¡°I¡¯m sure he loves me, then. I seem to be causing problems for everyone, no matter where I go.¡±


    Sandra snorted again. ¡°I think he likes you a bit more than you¡¯d think. That¡¯s why he wants a group of [Guards] who are used to working for you, and maybe have a few levels from following you around. Maybe he wants you to get more used to ordering soldiers around too, now that I think about it.¡±


    He paused, his feelings going a little still at the implication. When he looked back at her, the [Guard] was smirking at him. ¡°Why would that be?¡±


    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh, come on. You have that [Experience], right? The one that makes it so that first level adventurers can take on people at three times their level?¡± When he stayed silent, she continued. ¡°You think the King wasn¡¯t thinking about what that could do for him? I¡¯m sure the first thing he pictured was you leading a hundred or so of his best men into the center of an enemy army and trashing the whole thing. You¡¯d be unstoppable.¡±


    Clay stopped. His fingers clenched on the haft of his spear for a moment. ¡°And he thinks the Guild would allow that?¡±


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Sandra shook her head. ¡°Well, no. The Guild is always a little stiff about what he¡¯s doing, but unlike them, he has a kingdom to run. He can¡¯t afford to play nice.¡±


    ¡°And he assumes that I will?¡± Clay saw her freeze slightly, and when she looked at him, the smile he gave her was cold. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be leading any armies.¡±


    She looked at him like he had lost his mind. ¡°What makes you think he¡¯ll give you a choice? If he¡¯s willing to take on the Guild, you can be sure he¡¯s willing to make you a little upset.¡±


    Clay shook his head. ¡°I swore an oath to forego war. Leading an army would break that oath. I¡¯m going to keep my word.¡±


    Sandra threw back her head and laughed. ¡°An oath? You think he¡¯s going to let a thing like that stop him?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the same oath that keeps me from leading armies against him, in case you¡¯ve both forgotten.¡± He saw her go still, and he raised an eyebrow. ¡°Explain to me why I would break one part of that promise, and not think about breaking the other?¡±


    It took her a few moments to recover enough to respond. Her hand dropped to her sword. ¡°Some people might consider you a traitor for even suggesting that, Sir Clay. The King deserves your respect.¡±


    ¡°Then he probably shouldn¡¯t have tried kneeing me in the nuts, Sergeant Sandra.¡± Clay saw shock on her face, and he laughed. ¡°And before you draw that blade, remember that one of us has been killing monsters that the other can¡¯t even stomach facing. I wouldn¡¯t even have to kill you, really. I¡¯d just let that group of swinefolk get you.¡±


    He nodded behind her, and the [Guard] glanced backwards. Before she¡¯d turned back to face him, he had his spear out, with the point resting against her neck. Her eyes went very, very wide, and her face turned pale as he leaned forward.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to escort you back to camp, and then you and all of the King¡¯s troops in Janburg are going to head back to Crownsguard. You¡¯re going to report that your mission was a failure, and that I¡¯m going to refuse to train any of the soldiers under his command unless he allows them to take the Adventurer¡¯s Oath first. You can tell him that the only war I care about is between the monsters and the people, and anything or anyone who gets in my way is going to find out exactly what it means to choose the wrong side of that conflict. Do you understand?¡±


    Sandra very carefully took her hand away from the hilt of her sword. Her fingers shook a little before she clenched them into a fist. ¡°You really think he¡¯s going to accept that?¡±


    Clay shrugged. He didn¡¯t let the spearpoint move at all. ¡°If he¡¯s that upset, he can come and explain things to me personally.¡± Then he let out another crooked smile. ¡°He should keep in mind that I was only at level eight at our last meeting, though. That won¡¯t be the case next time.¡±


    She nodded slowly, and Clay watched her for any signs of foolishness. Then he took away the spearpoint and gestured for her to head back to camp. ¡°After you, Sergeant. I wouldn¡¯t want you to have a late start for your trip. You have a long way to go, after all.¡±


    ¡°Are you angry at me, Sir Clay?¡±


    The question startled Clay out of his thoughts. He¡¯d been brooding over what Sandra had told him ever since he¡¯d brought her back to camp. The [Guard] had stomped over to where the other members of the King¡¯s soldiers were training, and after a few whispered conversations, he¡¯d seen the highest ranked among them turn to try to reason with him.


    After a long, careful look at his face, the [Guards] had changed their plans. They¡¯d left the camp and headed back to town, their expressions a mixture of anger and concern. Clay had watched them go for a while, and then gestured for Andrew to follow him out into the hills. The [Commoner] had been wearing a worried expression, and they hadn¡¯t talked at all until now.


    He shook his head, feeling like a fool. ¡°No, Andrew, I¡¯m just¡­ reconsidering some things. I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to make you worry.¡±


    A flicker of relief crossed Andrew¡¯s face. Some of the tension went out of his body. ¡°Th-that¡¯s good. I was just a little worried that¡­¡±


    Clay glanced at him, and Andrew seemed to steel himself to continue. ¡°That you didn¡¯t want to help me anymore. After what I did last time.¡±


    He frowned for a moment, and then realization dawned. ¡°No. That¡¯s not it at all. I mean, you¡¯re hardly the only one who froze up, Andrew. In the beginning, I froze up a lot too. I¡¯d never blame you for doing something that¡¯s completely natural.¡±


    Andrew¡¯s expression grew even more relieved, but he hunched his shoulders a little more. It made Clay remember that the young man was only a few weeks out from his Choosing, in the larger scheme of things. Had he even started the hunts in the Tanglewood, at this kid¡¯s age?


    His thoughts were interrupted again as Andrew spoke.


    ¡°I just¡­ I thought I would be better at this. My parents always said that if anyone could be an adventurer, it¡¯d be me. We even came all the way to Pellsglade, just to give me the best chance.¡±


    Clay nodded, feeling a bit of empathy. ¡°And then you ended up a [Commoner] anyways.¡±


    Andrew grunted. They walked along for a long moment until the young man spoke again. ¡°I knew, when the others started to whisper about joining you, that I wanted to come with you. Adventurer or [Commoner], I wanted to be something more than just another farmer. I had to keep everyone¡­¡±


    He trailed off, and Clay continued for him. ¡°Safe. You wanted to make everyone safe.¡±


    The young [Commoner] looked at him, and nodded. ¡°I came out here to do that, but when I saw those-those things, I couldn¡¯t... I couldn¡¯t even move. And now people are leaving, and you¡¯re sending even the soldiers away and I felt like I was next, you know? That I was going to fail again, and then I¡¯d have to go back and admit that there had never been any hope after all.¡±


    Clay watched him walk for another moment. There were monsters clamoring for the attention of his ethereal senses, but they seemed somehow unimportant compared to what he¡¯d just heard. They walked along in silence for another few moments, as Clay looked for the right words.


    Then he smiled. ¡°Do you remember anything from your Choosing?¡±


    Andrew winced a little. ¡°No. Not really.¡± He shook his head. ¡°To be honest, it was all kind of a blur.¡±


    ¡°I do. Or at least, I had a daydream that I think was related.¡± Clay saw Andrew¡¯s expression shift to one of astonishment, and he held up a hand before the young man could respond. ¡°Mostly, it was just me and the Trickster talking. Do you know what she said to me?¡±


    The other [Commoner] shook his head, and Clay continued. ¡°She told me I was a failure. That, and she made me a [Commoner].¡±


    Andrew¡¯s jaw fell open. ¡°You? A failure?¡±


    ¡°Yep. It stung quite a bit, even before the [Class] was given to me.¡± He chuckled, remembering the numb pain and grief he¡¯d felt. ¡°And then she gave me the [Laborer] [Subclass] on top of it. Did you know that?¡±


    The young man¡¯s expression was a blend of astonishment and horror now. ¡°No. I thought for sure you¡¯d be something like a [Guard] or maybe a [Thug]¡­¡±


    ¡°Nope, just a [Laborer].¡± He gave Andrew a sidelong glance. ¡°I¡¯m not forgetting that implication about my intelligence, by the way. What [Subclass] did you get?¡±


    Andrew blinked. Then he grinned. ¡°I got [Crafter]. They say it¡¯s a pretty good one for building things and making plans, but right now it doesn¡¯t seem to do me any good.¡±


    Clay shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t sell it short. Even us [Laborers] can see some surprising benefits.¡± The [Crafter] snorted, and Clay smiled as he continued. ¡°It wasn¡¯t the only thing she said to me, of course, but there was one thing she said that stuck with me for a while. Something you might want to hear. She said failure is not the end.¡±


    He looked back ahead of them, feeling a group of swinefolk behind the next hill. ¡°You failed last time, Andrew, but your journey isn¡¯t over. If you really want to do what I do, and you want to try again, I¡¯ll help you. It won¡¯t be easy, but until we¡¯re dead, we can keep going. All right?¡±


    The other [Commoner] hesitated. Then he nodded, and his grip on the sledgehammer firmed. ¡°All right. I¡­ I think I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Clay pointed at the hill. ¡°The next group is right over there. This time, I¡¯m going to draw their attention again, and when you see the opening¡­¡±


    Three dead swinefolk patrols and an hour or so later, Clay was once again stalking through the hills with Olivia by his side.


    Unfortunately, he¡¯d had to spend the past little while explaining what he¡¯d learned about King John¡¯s intentions. When he was finished, Olivia just shrugged. ¡°Do you think the King is actually going to come here?¡±


    The question made Clay frown. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think he would, especially if he¡¯s trying to do something without the Guild interfering.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Then I think we can ignore him for now. He¡¯s not going to want to put you in charge of an army if he isn¡¯t completely certain you¡¯re on his side, and for now he can use you to get the Guild to do things he wants them to do.¡±


    At the mention of the Guild, Clay grunted. ¡°Do you think that this is part of why the Council wanted to keep me away from the King?¡±


    ¡°Oh, definitely.¡± She grimaced. ¡°After all, if he is busy having you lead armies, they can¡¯t use you to make all of their mistakes easier to deal with. We really have to do something about your tendency to have people try to use you to fix all the problems in the world.¡±


    He gave her an appraising look. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. How did I end up out here again?¡±


    Olivia laughed. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s fine if you solve my problems, Clay. It¡¯s everyone else that doesn¡¯t deserve you.¡±


    Clay felt his face go a little red. ¡°Flattery won¡¯t get you anywhere, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°So you say.¡± She nudged him with a shoulder, giving him a broad grin. ¡°Tell you what, I¡¯ll solve your problems, and you solve mine. Doesn¡¯t that sound fair?¡±


    He snorted. ¡°So all I have to do is destroy a Lair full of monsters for you, is that right?¡±


    ¡°For a start.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m committing to dealing with a King and the Council trying to turn you into a puppet. Seems like you¡¯re winning the deal, honestly.¡±


    ¡°Well, when you put it that way¡­¡± Clay grinned as she nudged him again. ¡°You seem like you are in a good mood today. Anything I should know about?¡±


    Olivia blinked. ¡°Well, if we do the same thing I did yesterday, I¡¯ll get to level two. Why wouldn¡¯t I be excited?¡±


    He raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°You¡¯re assuming we¡¯re going to find another three groups to take down today. For all you know, the swinefolk have lost so many they¡¯ve started to retreat.¡±


    She gave him a stern look. ¡°Really? I can practically hear them grunting and squealing from here.¡±


    Clay half-hid a smile and put a hand to his head. ¡°Oh no, my senses have been fatigued by the efforts of the day. I just don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll be able to¡ª¡±


    Olivia scooped a handful of dirt and tossed it at him. Laughing, Clay dropped the act and headed for the nearest pack of monsters. They had work to do, after all.


    The squealer slumped to the dirt, and Olivia let out a sudden explosive sigh. She stood motionless for a moment, and then looked back at him, her smile as bright as he¡¯d ever seen it. ¡°Level two.¡±


    Clay broke out in a similar smile. ¡°Well done. What [Experiences] did you get?¡±


    It was normally a very rude question, but he figured that they were past some of the politeness that the Guild would have enforced on its members. Besides, he had his suspicions about at least one of them.


    ¡°[Slayer]. And [Smallmage].¡± Her smile grew a little at his surprise. ¡°I told you your [Experiences] reflected what you did. Why do think I worked so hard to use the [Chants] each time?¡±


    Clay tried to bury his own brief burst of jealousy. He hadn¡¯t gotten [Smallmage] until he¡¯d hit level five. ¡°Well, I guess we can hit one more and head back to camp then. Unless you¡¯d like to stay out longer again?¡±


    She had the gall to actually hesitate and then shook her head. ¡°We can save that for tomorrow. The Baroness would start getting worried about us if we kept staying out here for too long.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to keep you out past curfew then.¡± Olivia blushed, and Clay chuckled to himself.


    As she fell into step beside him, she had a thoughtful tone to her voice. ¡°We might as well go longer tomorrow, though. After all, there are only four of us left. That should give us plenty of time to hit six groups a piece. We¡¯d all reach level three just two or three days from now at that rate¡­¡±


    He felt his smile become a little fixed as she continued charting out a grueling course for the rest of the week. At least there were only four left, unless someone had changed their mind by the time they got back. Otherwise, Clay was fairly sure that she would have run him ragged.


    Fortunately, or unfortunately, none of the remaining four [Commoners] objected to the plan of hunting longer for the rest of the week. The other three had been both encouraged and jealous of Olivia¡¯s advancement to second level, and they unanimously chose to get in some extra training before they headed out the next day. Each of them wanted to spend two hours a piece in the hills, hunting down the monsters with a ferocity that bordered on fanaticism.


    Andrew, Lana, and Mitchell all reached second level during that next day¡¯s hunt. Every single one of them had [Slayer] as an [Experience], something that Clay had grown used to. It had been true for the Ruffians, and he was beginning to suspect that it came from killing monsters for the experience to advance to their first level.


    Their second [Experiences] varied, however. Mitchell actually got [Watcher], which he was immediately proud of; Lana was just as happy with [Hiker], which would apparently give her a boost in the hills surrounding Janburg. Andrew was a bit more subdued, but it was just as clear that he had his own kind of pride in having received [Determined].


    None of them seemed to want to slow down, however. By day four, they all hit level three; this time their shared [Experience] was [Follower], something that Clay felt like he needed to take responsibility for. Olivia got [Warsinger] as well, while Mitchell got [Spear Expert], Andrew learned [Hiker], and Lana gained [Ambusher]. They celebrated, they trained, and then they went out the next day again.


    Clay could see the mild disbelief in the Baroness¡¯ eyes as they came back to the village on the fifth day, already boasting about how they were planning on finishing out the [Achievement] the next day. Olivia had already told them about the fact that they¡¯d get it once they made ten kills; the other three were planning on staying out long enough to get three extra patrols just to set things to rest. The Baroness had obviously never expected things to go that far, nor had she hoped for a bunch of [Commoners] to reach nearly half her level over the course of a single week. It must have seemed like a dream of some kind, without the clues about whether it was a nightmare.


    Still, as they walked back through the gates, Clay turned to the others and spoke quietly. ¡°All right, tomorrow we¡¯re going to do what needs to be done to get you all the [Achievement], but after that, the Baroness is going to escort you back on her own. I¡¯ll need to head a bit further into the interior for a while, and you guys will have earned yourselves a rest.¡±


    He could already see rebelliousness in their expressions, and he held up his hands in defense. ¡°Look, I need some time to scout the next part of the Lair¡¯s defenses, and you won¡¯t be ready for that yet. I want you all to train and rest a little bit. Once I feel like we are ready, we can move deeper in and start fighting tougher monsters.¡±


    When Andrew and Lana both opened their mouths to protest, Clay went on in a firm voice. ¡°While I¡¯m doing that, you can all keep fighting the lower level swinefolk on your own. It¡¯ll be important to know what you can do when you aren¡¯t getting the benefit of my bonuses, and it¡¯ll help you get to know the lay of the land as well. Besides, it¡¯ll only help us to cut down on the number of monsters hanging around so that they don¡¯t ambush us on our way home.¡±


    Olivia spoke up, her voice cool. ¡°That¡¯s what they often did in the Tanglewood, correct Sir Clay?¡±


    He gave her a grateful look. ¡°Yeah. Especially once we got close to the Lair itself. The more of the smaller monsters we can kill, the less the Lair can send to hunt us down when we start hammering away at its final defenses. Even a strong adventurer can get swamped, so this is part of the work too, all right?¡±


    The others gave him resentful nods, and he turned to the Baroness. ¡°We¡¯ll need your help at least one more time, my lady, but after that, I believe we should be able to defend our own camp. You won¡¯t need to accompany us anymore.¡±


    She looked at him with eyebrows raised. ¡°Are you saying my presence is not welcome, Sir Clay?¡±


    He blinked. ¡°No. Of course not. Just that if you happen to have other responsibilities¡ª¡±


    ¡°The defense of my people is my responsibility. The destruction of these monsters is my responsibility.¡± She folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him. ¡°I will continue to accompany you, regardless. At the very least, I can help exterminate more of these creatures to make sure their numbers continue to fall.¡±


    Clay nodded. ¡°Your help is appreciated, my lady.¡± Then he looked around at the others and nodded again. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s get some rest and some food. Tomorrow will be a very important day.¡±