First Chapter |

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“They’re here! Two minutes!” Reina hollered from the top of a nearby hill. She drew her bow back, aiming at the sky, and released five arrows one-by-one in quick succession, each bathed in a different color.

Maybe that class would be a good one… Tanner thought.

“I need more time!” Verra shouted. “I need more Radiance!” Her eyes were closed, but she shouted commandingly. “Flint! Garrison! I will save this boy, but I need more time.”

Garrison walked up calmly, his silver eyes resolute as they peered down at Dustin’s wretched form. “How long do you need?”

“Can you give me five minutes?”

“Yes.” Garrison said, giving Dustin a final look before turning and marching away, electricity zipping across his forest green armor in short, blue arcs. “Flint,” Garrison said, his voice different than before, a new immensity to his presence that sent a chill down Tanner’s back. “I’m ready.”

Flint grinned. “About damn time.”

Garrison grunted in response.

“How’re you feeling?”

Garrison spoke over his shoulder. “Rusty.”

Flint followed in his gold armor, flexing and unflexing his bare right arm. “Well, this’ll definitely knock some of that off. You should know that I’m not going to use full power.”

Garrion turned sharply. “What?”

“Garrison, you’ve been out for five years.”

“I’ve taken a five-for-one. I’ll be fine.”

“And so have I. You’re a level behind, at least.” Flint didn’t back down. Neither did Garrison. The two generals in their grand armor and statuesque postures dripping in the enemy’s blood, stared back at each other, unyielding. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember your ability having a condition where you can use it twice if you don’t consume more than seventy-five percent.”

“Correct,” Garrison said gruffly.

“Then that’s further reason not to. We need to delay, Garrison. Not kill. Even with this, we’ll still die if we fight them head on. There are still twenty, or maybe even thirty left. The fours haven’t even moved, which more than worries me.”

Garrison’s voice had a sharp edge to it. “They’ve killed so many.” He shook his head. “And to do so during the ceremonial ride.” Garrison became more passionate as he spoke, his usual stony countenance cracking slightly. “You know I don’t give a damn about the traditions of the founding three, but this,” he waved around him, “this is supposed to be one of the good parts. I still remember my walk through the Eye. Do you?”

“I do.”

“And?”

“And it’s something I draw on, as do you, as do many others. They’ll find something else or they never would’ve made it anyway. You know that’s true.”

They stared at each other for a long second, and then General Garrison features darkened. “I can’t accept that.”

“And yet you will. You’ve been gone for five years, my friend. You don’t get to simply show up and assume command. You’re not ready.”

Garrison rounded on him.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You spoke brashly in front of the scared recruits causing them to lose control. Truthfully, it was thanks to that young lad over there lying on the ground that they remained under control to the degree that they did. You were my senior; you taught me much of what I know.” Flint dipped his head toward Garrions. “You know I hold great respect for you and your capabilities—but you’re five years behind, Garrison. You are rusty.” General Flint withdrew a sharp spiked silver ball from somewhere inside of his armor. “Do you know what this is, Garrison? You don’t. You can’t. Because it’s from the fourth floor, and you haven’t cleared, let alone stepped foot on, the fourth floor. Now, I know you’re a stubborn man, so I’ll speak to you in a way that you might better understand. You may not be five years behind in skill, that’s true.” Flint nodded. “You deserve that benefit of the doubt. But you’re five years behind in the knowledge of items, gear, abilities, politics, and everything else that’s involved in surviving this place. So, while I appreciate and agreed with your decision earlier, you need to understand that the only reason you’re still alive is because Verra prioritized your healing, because I warned her to—because I know you.” Flint’s head tilted to the side. “Understood?”

Garrison didn’t speak for a long moment, and then turned to face Verra. “Is that right, Verra?” He asked softly.

“Yes,” she said immediately, her focus not leaving Dustin’s form. “Now leave me alone, I’m busy.”

Garrison closed his eyes for two seconds, took a deep breath, and then opened them. He turned back to face General Flint. “Understood. How do you want to move forward?”

General Flint smiled, reaching up and flexing his bare blood-smeared bicep. “Oh, we’re still going with the Lit-Flint-Combo. Even at half strength, I think you’ll be surprised at my output. The Fourth floor was a real pain in the ass to clear; I’ve grown stronger.”

“Lit-Flint…” Garrison frowned. “You know I hate that name,”

“And you know I don’t care.” Flint shot him a smile in return. “Now, stop sulking because you’re weak and go take it out on them.”

Garrison’s taciturn expression never faltered, but Tanner would swear he saw a slight twinkle in the man’s silver eyes. “Fine. Get ready.”

Verra stood over the white cocoon of light, her crystal staff pointed against Dustin’s chest. Tanner didn’t know which interesting event to follow: the woman about to perform some dangerous life altering spell with untold results, or, Garrison and Flint, who were off to the side, quibbling over the correct amount of power to unleash for the “Lit-Flint” combo.

The crowd of angry voices and clattering armor had grown so near that Tanner could almost make out the words from individual voices. His heart beat rapidly, and he glanced at his horse, instinctively questioning how long it’d take to hop on his horse and sprint away should the need arise.

“Listen to me,” Verra said, grabbing Tanner’s attention. He froze at the expression on her face. Weren’t healers supposed to be warm, kind people? Verra was hard as granite. Simply put: she scared him. “I’m about to start the hard part. And it’s… it’s going to hurt. He'll be exhausted afterward and unable to ride a horse. He probably won’t even be conscious. Again, I’m not sure.”

Garrison and Flint moved behind a grassy hill, just out of view, and the air began to pull toward them; a subtle draft drawing toward their location. And then a light behind the hill grew brighter until a small sun shone behind the crest, with orange and red light casting over in soft hues. …Then it was over, and the light died away without an explosion or big whirlwind or anything.

Lame.

“Hey!” Verra shouted. Tanner’s attention snapped back to her. “Good lord, boy, you need to focus. I understand there’s a lot going on, but listen.” She paused, and something about the way she hesitated told Tanner the next words out of her mouth would be important. “It’s likely that most of your class is dead.”

“What?” Tanner gaped in shock. “That can’t be true.”

“It’s the truth. This was a calculated, politically backed move. This many people, at this high of a level, all converging on this day?” She shook her head. “No. That requires a certain level of organization. Someone wanted you all to die, and this is an overwhelming force that almost guarantees it.”

“So… all of Bus One. All of those people that’d been drafted. You’re saying they’re all dead?”

“Most likely. This was a coordinated attack on the NATF. It was arranged to be a slaughter.”

Tanner stared at her blankly. “So, then why send us away if you knew we were going to die?”

“It was the best possible chance you had. Those five from earlier were given strict instructions to cast ‘Haste Two’ on the greatest number of people, but to escape if necessary and to save their own lives first and then prioritize by bus, if possible. Earlier, I wasn’t happy with that decision for multiple reasons, but after coming in contact with the level of force that’d been prepared against us, it was the right decision.”

If they had higher odds of receiving better classes, then it was technically the smartest move from a statistical point of view. If the goal was to clear the tower, and everyone was likely to die regardless, then prioritizing those most likely to have the greatest impact toward that goal made the most logical sense. Still though…

Verra's voice dropped an Octave. “But ‘Haste Two’ can’t be applied as a raid spell. It has to be done individually. …And to do so on a horse while getting attacked?” Her lips pressed together with a mother’s worry. “I… don’t know how many they might’ve managed to save.”

“Can you teleport or something? Are there any abilities like that?”

“Yes, but it’s rare and only small parties. Speaking of which…” She straightened. “We’re running out of time.” One hand released from her staff, tossing a small bag into the grass. She snapped her fingers, and the bag unfurled, expanding to three times its original size. “Go in there and find two glass beads. They’ll have red and yellow swirls in the center.”

Tanner did as he was told and dropped to his knees in front of the bag. Due to the effects of ‘Haste’, his hands moved swiftly, but he took one look inside, then stopped short in fascination. There was enough space for a small closet. Colorful glass potions, stoppered bottles, and other various things, hung from the walls as stalagmites would in a cave. Tanner tossed a wary glance in Verra’s direction. She wouldn’t casually tell him to retrieve something if it was dangerous, right? Deciding to risk it, he tentatively reached into the bag, and his hand distorted, shrinking in size until he was able to pluck items off the shelves as if he were reaching through a miniature overlooking cellar window. That had to be what everyone had been using earlier. It took him five long seconds to locate the glass marbles. “Got it!” He pulled his hand out and it regrew to a normal size.

“Good.” Verra planted her feet solidly as if preparing to carry a heavy object on her back. “When I’m finished, put him on one of the horses and strap him to it. You think you can manage that?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Get ready. …And don’t call me, ma'am.” She motioned to the marbles in Tanner’s hand. “Those are called Drop Stones. They’re short range teleport beacons. You’ll need to be within fifty miles of the centralized draw in Harrows for it to work. You can throw, or drop, them at your feet to activate the effect. When you get there, shout as loud as you can*: ‘mass casualty event in sector B45, emergency black code 47. I speak on behalf of Verra Trinn.’* If anyone asks you any further questions, show them the Drop Stones and then tell them you’re a new recruit and untested. Can you remember that?”

“I can.”

Use those exact words. That’s important.”

“I will.”

“Good. Now, listen to me. That’s an extremely busy place. It’s louder than any market square you’ve ever experienced. You’ll need to shout repeatedly until someone comes to you or tries to stop you. Do it immediately when you get there.” She eyed him seriously. “Do you understand? If you have to, keep shouting until a guard shows up.”

Tanner nodded. What did the city look like? How many people lived there? The idea of seeing the city sent a flurry of excitement, but the thought of racing on horseback for another couple hours with people possibly chasing them caused a greater surge of anxiety—and perhaps a bit of excitement on the tail end. Lenny had said the Zone would make your heart pump. He’d been right about that.

“Say it back to me.”

“The whole thing?”

“Good lord. The code, boy. The code.”

“Oh. Mass casualty in sector B45, black code 47.”

“Close enough.”

Tanner started to shake in anticipation, or fear, he wasn’t sure. “Will you all be okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” she said curtly, giving him an odd look. “I’m going to start. Gather the horses and prepare so you’re ready to leave immediately.”

“How far away from Harrows would you say we are?”

“A hundred miles, maybe a little less. You’ve still got some riding ahead of you.”

“Why don’t you all leave with us? Can’t you protect us?”

“No. There were about fifty people on that hill earlier, and we killed very few. They’re healing them, and we’ve been prioritizing staying alive while shielding you all. That’s harder than you think. This was the only way to give you all a chance—and it still looks like we failed. It really depends on how well those five young tier two’s did. They seemed capable, but violence against other people is a completely different experience compared to Terrors. And not only that—” She cut-off, laughing gently. “Look at me, rambling like a Redhorn’s first trip into the tower.” She let out a spurt of exasperation. “Enough. You’ve got this Verra. You’ve got this.” She glanced up at him. “I’m starting. Go!” She pointed toward the horses. “Don’t forget the code!”

“I won’t.” Tanner launched off the ground, running for Dustin’s horse. They seemed to be well-trained beasts, even if he wasn’t much of a horse person. But considering how docile they acted around all the loud noise, they must’ve been trained as war horses.

Tanner returned in less than thirty seconds, horses in tow. That was when the screaming started. The cocoon of light wrapping around Dustin muffled most of it, but not all. It was the very essence of pain. It was like when that guy burned to death outside the World Order in protest of the Zone draft notice. It was a soul-wrenching sound that pulled on the essence of one’s humanity, twisting and crushing it. God, he wanted the sound to stop. A scream that anyone with any sense of empathy could feel. …The sound of being boiled alive.

Tanner took a deep breath. It was a good thing. It was a good thing. You’re new to the world. You don’t know anything. She does. He glanced over to Verra. She was crying. Tears trickled down her cheeks, washing the dry blood off and causing thin trails of pale white skin to peek through.

Tanner considered asking if she was sure she was doing the right thing, but for once, he listened to his better judgment and shut up, not blurting out his thoughts. Still… It was hard to sit idly by.

“I’m through the worst of it, I think,” Verra said, her voice rough.

Was that for her own sake? …Because the intensity of Dustin’s screaming hadn’t gone down...

The muffled aspect of it didn’t make it any better. It was as if they were hiding what they were doing. Tanner crouched down nonchalantly, scouting the rings and trinkets he’d thrown into the grass. He grimaced, wishing he had the ability to close his ears. No ability to feel pain? It was too bad she’d taken that ring. Tanner exhaled slowly as the cocoon surged in brightness and the screaming grew worse. If the ring even did as she thought*—*because it sure didn’t seem like it.

What other effects might the other items hold? What attributes would a stealthy assassin desire? Tanner’s stomach bubbled with eager anticipation that soured when the screams reached a new level of intensity. Poor Dustin. Stick in there, buddy.

Tanner glanced up, studying the fallen forms of the three pursuers who’d been eviscerated by the Generals. Their bodies were laying in the grass back there. Was their stuff alluringly organized beside them like the others? It would be a waste to let it disappear... right?

The surrounding roar of battle grew louder, marked by the occasional tell-tale boom of a lightning-strike ringing out like a loitering thunderstorm. Tanner fidgeted, glancing around, worried and eager to leave. Once distant thunderclaps turned into ear-splitting detonations followed by the loud buzz of zapping electricity. Anything with a heartbeat instinctively knew to avoid that sound. That being said, Tanner desperately wanted to peek over the hill and watch.

Where had Reina and the Hill Billy woman gone? They’d slipped away. Were they over there too? Without a healer?

Tanner crouched down inconspicuously, with his arms resting on his knees and his fingertips hanging near the gras. Yup. Completely normal. “Don’t they need you?” he asked, watching Verra intently.

“Yes—” she said, tensing up, her bloody hands tightening around her crystal staff. Tanner plucked a sapphire blue ring from the blades of grass. “—and if I don’t hurry up, Dustin might not be the only one dying here.”

Had he misheard? Tanner peered over at the cocoon of light, almost afraid to ask the question. “W-What are you actually doing?”

“I’m killing him, and in the immediate moment of his death, I’m healing him so the ring doesn’t activate, and then I’m resuscitating him. It’s the only way to bypass the ring's effects, so I have to do it agonizingly slow. ...Who knows what harm I’m doing? It feels like I’m slicing away parts of his Reserves every time. …I’m sorry, Dustin,” she whispered regretfully, “but this is the only way.”

Tanner’s eyebrows rose in shock at the gruesome reality of Verra's words. That didn’t stop him from snatching up a couple more fallen trinkets from the grass, however. The Haste spell helped quite a bit, and his hands moved with deft skill that defied normal reflexes.

What was that about 'Reserves'? What did that mean?

Next Chapter on RR.

First Chapter |

The Generals, having sprung their trap, arranged themselves around Verra and the other wizards in a protective circle.

Garrison wore the same forest green armor trimmed with silver from when he’d first stepped into the Zone. When had he switched back?

General Flint was in his heavy gold armor. Reina had her longbow the size of a person, out and ready, arrow nocked. The woman with the Viking axe and crossbow, she hadn’t done or said much, yet. And then finally the hook-nosed man with a dark expression. Dustin had trouble remembering he was even there. It was only when Dustin concentrated on the man’s presence that he actually recognized him standing in the open like the others. As Dustin studied the hook-nosed man, his form gradually faded until Dustin was left staring blankly at an empty space.

What the hell was that ability?

“I’m going to start,” Verra said. She glanced around at the others in the circle. “Follow my lead. In case someone drops, do your best to hold the spell for as long as you can. Understand?”

They nodded, determined.

Verra set the butt of her staff into the ground in front of her, with one hand holding it upright. She raised her opposite hand to the sky, palm up to the clouds. She then closed her eyes, which made her bloody-white figure even more insane looking.

The smooth white crystal on the end of her staff glowed dimly. “I’m ready. Join.”

Those standing in the circle, nodded, and performed the same odd movement: one hand on their staff, the other pitched up toward the sky, palm flat up. With all their eyes closed, and their bodies contorted into weird stances, it felt like he was watching a ritual.

“Good. Good.” Verra said. “Now—slowly.”

From the center of their circle birthed a white light. It started small, just a pin-prick, but then grew to the size of a small sphere. Then, it split in half and edges formed, peeling off and morphing into a thin expanding shield.

“Yes! I can see that you’ve all done this before.”

The thin shield stretched, transforming into a translucent dome, expanding, traveling in an arc and eventually covering the entire formation of conscripts huddled in the center. Like the spell had been aptly called, a translucent dome of white light grew over them. It shimmered as the sun does underneath water. It was tempting to touch the bubble. All he’d have to do was spur the horse forward a step or two and reach out.

Some idiot down at the far end of the circle did just that, and General Flint shouted harshly, “Get back in formation!" and they cowed back as if they’d been burned.

The Generals guarded the outside of the defensive dome while Dustin cowered among the mass of conscripts huddled tight in a circle. They’d actually drawn in tighter, converging in the center out of fright ...or maybe because there was simply more room as a result of all those that'd fled earlier.

“Good job, everyone!” Verra shouted to the wizards casting the spell, her tone encouraging like that of a teacher guiding students through a course. “Now, we hold.” Her eyes were open, and she glanced between them. “You can all relax, but don’t get lazy. You’ll need to focus in a moment’s notice. However, in the meantime, you should conserve your strength.”

“Reina! Update!” General Flint Shouted

“On it!” Reina stepped into the wavy protective dome and sat cross-legged in the long grass in front of Dustin. A white film covered her eyes, and the hawk took off, flying into the sky. Ten seconds later, Reina loudly sucked on her teeth. “Damn. They got her.” Her eyes reverted to their normal brown. On Reina’s shoulder, two small blue claws appeared gripping her shoulder pads. “They got her, sir! They’re just over that hill!” She pointed to a large green hill that sloped upward direct ahead of them. “I think they saw her when I was scouting! Or, they’ve got intel somehow!”

“Likely both,” Flint said. “If they knew we were here, they probably had information on who’d been assigned.” He paused, and then yelled with composed confidence. “Less than thirty seconds! Good luck everyone!” Then he grinned. “I’ll buy you all a roasted Trillacob when we make it out of this!”

Garrison didn’t smile in the slightest.

Reina and Verra nodded seriously.

The Viking woman chuckled. “I love me some Trillacob. I do, sir.” She had a heavy southern accent like she was born in the deep hills of Appalachia. She coughed, drawing up some mucus, and then shot it into the grass at her feet. She pointed at him. “I’ma hold you to that. You ‘ear?”

Flint nodded to her, his smile widening. “With all the pilsky sauce you can handle, Darnice. That, I promise.”

Darnice grunted. “Imma like that.”

At the top of the hill, a person on horseback crested the hill, their armor not gleaming nor impressive, but somehow all the more threatening. Gouge marks from narrowly missed attacks scored the outside of their armor, each one packed with dry brown blood splatter.

Did the Terrors in the Tower bleed red? Dustin really hoped they did. His stomach rumbled as he stared at a pack of people eager to kill him, no more than a couple hundred feet away. It was an odd feeling, to stare down a group of people who wanted nothing more than to stomp your heart out.

The lead rider had two weapons. Could people do that? In his left hand, he clutched a long staff with red rubies inset into the handle and a dark ruby crystal sitting on top. While on his right, a short-sword hung at his hip, sheathed but unmistakable. That was the first person so far with both a staff and a sword. Maybe there were classes that wielded both?

Next to him rode a woman on a dark black horse. She was young, tan, and bald, wearing all white similar to Verra. If that was anything to go by, she must be a healer. She sat straight-backed, haughtily so, her diamond-glass staff clutched in her hands.

The man on the other side looked plain. Did he not have weapons? Nothing showed on his hip or back. He wore a silver helmet with beast fangs as a teeth guard. Red arrows with teardrops of blood crisscrossed on his dented grey breastplate.

More riders fanned out, taking up the crest of the hill, glaring and war-mongering. People inserted things into their mouths, they drank potions, and hazy lights flourished over them. Many of the riders had staffs of similar make to the wizards standing before Dustin, who continued to hold their hands to the sky as they kept the ‘Dome’ spell active.

Dustin stared at the group of five, more concerned than ever as to whether they could hold out.

More bloodstained people crested the top of the hill. Wizards’ staff’s brightened sporadically, and riders along the ridge, though wearing dull armor in broad daylight, glowed with different colors.

“This is it,” Tanner whispered, his voice dripping with excitement.

Dustin’s heart thumped wildly in fear as he gripped the reins tighter. They were going to die. All crammed together like sardines in a dome bucket. So close to everyone. The anxiety palpable. The stink of fear and desperation. Dustin gazed sideways. Out there was vast, open land, green hills and blue skies. He could sprint away; he was a fast rider. He stared out into the sprawling, endless green hills for a couple of pivotal seconds, but no. He pushed the urge away, Verra’s last warning helping keep him still: "You’re new to this world. We’re not." Who knew what the hell was out there.

If only he could see his parents one last time. Shame filled his gut that there wasn't more to miss. Dustin glanced over to Tanner. His blue eyes were wide, his hands clenched tight around the reins like everyone else’s—but, unlike everyone else, a bright eager smile split his lips. It was then that Dustin changed his mind about Tanner. He might be scrawny, but he was neither weak, nor stupid—the guy was insane.

General Flint shouted. “We can’t wait! They’ll cast a spell targeting the recruits. Everyone ready?”

There were nods from all those standing beside him, their hands on their weapons, waiting for the word.

But the number of riders cresting the hill continued rising. Horse’s long muzzles appeared first, and then mages and warriors clad in bulky armor, and pointy wizard hats, and bows, long and short, some with creatures on the ends. One person had a spiked hammer the size of a small child leaning against his shoulder. The Generals arrayed in front of Dustin wore polished sets of armor looking like they belonged on someone’s wall as decoration. But theirs looked battle-worn. Most had glaringly mismatched sets like Garrison when he’d been given random armor.

…And that was a lot more than fifteen people. Dustin’s heart sank like a rock

“Reina?” General Flint shouted, alarmed. The first time Dustin had heard any hint of fear touch his voice.

Her brown eyes darted around at the ever increasing number of people. “I counted fifteen!” she stammered out defensively. “I counted fifteen! I used ‘Allsight!’”.

For a brief second all the Generals went still as they gazed upon more and more bodies appearing on the hillside ridge.

General Garrison shouted, “Everyone! On me!”

Like the snap of a whip, the General’s attention’s returned and they formed around Garrison. Flint, in his gold, Garrison, in his green, Reina, with the legs of a half-formed bird appearing on her brown leather shoulder, and Darnice, in her tarnished plate and massive battle-axe. For a few brief seconds, their heads leaned in and they spoke quietly amongst themselves. Then, startlingly, Flint and Garrison argued back-and-forth for a couple tense breaths, and then stopped. Instead of separating, the Generals dashed as a group over to Verra and the other wizards located immediately in front of Dustin. The five with their sapphire staffs, and Verra with her glassy-diamond, were still contorted in that weird stance, holding the ‘Dome’ spell active.

All the while, more and more people appeared on the hillcrest.

Read ahead here