Laryn lay awake that night, pondering his next steps. At the moment, Coril and Tasam both seemed like poor choices to leave in charge. One of them was probably telling the truth, but Laryn had no way to know which one. Maybe he should spend time interviewing the other Jardensvalers, and see if he could get to the bottom of it; understand what really happened back in Jardensvale.
Tasam seemed a competent advisor, a typical priest type; thoughtful, organized, and curious to a fault. He was also overly concerned with being involved in every conversation, and far too willing to engage in espionage.
Coril had the friendly, backslapping kind of demeanor that immediately made people like him. The ‘natural leader’ type, who’d get far in life just by being friends with the right people. The Jardensvalers seemed to like Coril, generally, while only tolerating Tasam.
But one of them had stolen Laryn’s supplies, and lied to him about it.
Or maybe someone else had, and the two men were too fixated on their feud that they couldn’t see it.
The fact remained: Laryn had to work out this problem before his kingdom devolved into chaos, infighting, and backstabbing. In some ways it already had.
“Adi,” he whispered into the darkness, “Would it be possible to add a clause to the geas with Tasam and Coril?”
“They would have to agree to it,” Adi said. “What are you thinking?”
“Honesty,” Laryn said. “A requirement for them to tell me the truth.”
“Hmm… Those can be tricky,” Adi said. “You have to word them very carefully, to make sure that you don’t accidentally make assumptions that mislead you. [Rulers] have ended up fooling themselves better than their enemies ever could have with truth telling geas.”
“But we can do it?”
“We can offer,” Adi said. “For a proper geas, we would also have to offer them something in return. Then they would have to accept the modified contract.”
“Start working on that,” Laryn said.
The next morning, Laryn discovered that the problem seemed to have resolved itself.
“Where is Tasam?” he asked, looking around at the dirty, tired faces as people partook of their breakfast.
He was met with shrugs. Tasam had vanished in the night. Talia was gone with him. Nobody had seen them go, not even the watchmen.
“It’s as I feared,” Coril said. “He stole the provisions, and knew that justice would come for him and his daughter. He’s taken your supplies and fled; I’ll bet he’s well on his way to Townshold right now.”
“What will he do about the voidclaimed land you encountered on your previous attempt?” Laryn asked.
Coril shrugged. “Go around?”
Something about the situation didn’t sit right with Laryn. He found he couldn’t relax, despite the resolution of the problem. He was worried about what Tasam had learned about the kingdom core. About who the man might tell, and the trouble he might send.
“Well, I guess that settles things then,” Coril said. “I can take care of things here while you go to get the coresmith from Eltar. In exchange, well, I guess we want a few things from you.”
“What? Yes,” Laryn said, slow to process Coril’s words, as he kept thinking about Tasam’s actions.
“We need safe passage back to Townshold,” Coril said. “That should be easy for you, since I assume you’ll come back with guards. But there is the additional compensation you mentioned…”
Laryn was not listening to Coril’s negotiations. He watched the far shore of the river, where something moved among the trees.
“…enough for us to have a secure—” Laryn placed his hand on Coril’s chest, stopping him. He pointed to the shore.
Coril saw. He raised the alarm.
“To arms!” Coril cried, rallying his men.
“Will you fight with us?” Coril asked, eying Laryn’s blade. The man seemed unbothered by the incoming threat, and instead was sizing Laryn up.
“Lead your men,” Laryn said, reading the hidden meaning in Coril’s words. “I will support as needed.”
From the trees across the water to the north, four voidlings emerged. The smallest one sprang atop a rock, jumping from large, powerful hind legs. Laryn had only seen a dozen voidlings in his life, but they were varied enough that he decided a classification system was in order.
The jumping one—fast, springing around with strong legs—that one would be air type. Its movements reminded Laryn of the quick, floating strikes of air stance.
Wings buzzed as one of the voidlings took to the air. Another air type then, perhaps. Or was that too basic a way to classify the creature?
The final two voidlings stepped out onto the water. Each one was at least the size of a man. One was long and sleek, like a cockroach. It skipped across the water, seeming to glide across its surface. Water type.
The other, even larger than the water roach, splashed through the water. Thick armored carapace shielded it, massive horned spikes projecting from the head. It shouldered through the current like a boulder. Stone type, then.
Laryn reserved the right to change his classifications in the future. He’d have to find some way to write this down, and record it. Even as he prepared to fight, he wondered what caused the voidbloom to produce these different types of voidling.
“Tasam must be dead,” Coril said. “He probably stirred them up and ran back this way, leading those creatures to us.”
Laryn drew his sword. The Jardensvale men joined Coril and Laryn on the beach, brandishing staves and bows. Coril was the only man among them who had a proper sword. The women and children hunkered down in the shelter. Gaten and Widan stepped up beside Coril, brandishing sturdy sticks.
“Get away from here,” Coril ordered, fire in his eyes. “The two of you need to protect the women.”
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For a moment Gaten looked ready to protest, but then he wilted and ran to the shelter, Widan following along behind.
“I’m not losing another son to these monstrosities,” Coril said.
The voidlings surged across the river.
Coril took charge, shouting orders and coordinating the fighting. As the warrior of Jardensvale, that had been his job after all. A few arrows flew through the air. One of the struck the shiny carapace of the air-beetle, but the rest sailed into the trees beyond. The other air type sprang from boulder to boulder, like a grasshopper.
And then the voidlings were upon them. Nine men, including Laryn, facing down four voidlings.
Coril’s battle plan was sound, at first. He assigned two men with bows to try to take out the smaller voidlings. Their arrows wouldn’t have much affect against the water or stone types so that made sense. Then he assigned three men to the rhino-beetle, and three including himself to the water-roach. He didn’t give Laryn directives.
So Laryn watched as the battle fell apart. The air-beetle and the hopper closed in on the archers, forcing them to use their bows as ineffective quarter staves. The rhino-beetle brushed off strikes and tossed men into the air, trundling on toward the main camp.
Coril had better luck against the water-roach, slashing at antennae with his sword and using his wingmen to restrict the creature’s faster speed.
One of the archers screamed, dropping his weapon and falling to the ground as the air-beetle sank pincers into shoulder meat.
Laryn ran to help.
The man lay on the ground, writhing in pain and battering at his assailant. The voidling dug deeper, tearing out hunks of flesh. Laryn delt a swift kick to the beast. Carapace cracked, his added strength playing a role. The beetle flipped over onto its back, but refused to let go of the man’s shoulder.
The beetle flailed, exposing its abdomen. Laryn brought his sword down in a two handed flame strike, driving the steel through the voidling and pinning it to the sand. The air-beetle let go of its prey and twitched as it died.
Laryn yanked the sword from the ground and ran to help the other bowman. Older than the first, this man was craftier, dodging nimbly, but still struggling against the voidling.
The grass-hopper-like-voidling chittered as it sprang through the air, leaping over the archer’s head. The man whirled, fending the creature off with his unstrung bow as he struggled to draw a short dagger.
Moving rapidly, the voidling caught the man off balance. He tripped, and his bow and dagger flew from his grasp. Wasting no time, the voidling pounced.
Laryn moved quickly, intercepting the voidling with a blow from his sword. The strike landed awkwardly, and the sword deflected off hard carapace, but the hit sent the voidling spinning down to the ground.
Extending one hand, Laryn helped the man to his feet. The archer recovered his dagger, and the two of them stood back to back as the voidling sprang over top of them, jumping around as it searched for an opening.
Laryn tracked its movement patterns. Rapid movements forced Laryn into air stance as he tracked the voidling, but the rapid, light blows of air stance proved insufficient to deter the voidling.
Men cried out from the beach, but Laryn’s focus was locked on his foe. He needed to catch the voidling at the right time, pivoting into flame or stone as he brought a powerful strike down on the chitinous armor.
The bowman at his back breathed heavily, his age showing.
Click click click—the voidling chittered, springing this way and that.
Sun beat down on Laryn, on the beach, and shone on his blade.
Laryn saw his chance.
He twisted on his toes as the voidling launched an attack. Leaning back, Laryn fell into flame stance, bringing his blade around in the strong flashing arcs of the stance.
The archer beside him dodged away from the voidling, and accidentally smacked into Laryn’s sword arm. Laryn windmilled his free arm, searching for balance, but the sword jerked out of his hand and stabbed into the sand.
The voidling scythed with razor edged front claws, tearing into the flesh of Laryn’s arm and chest. He cried out, bringing his left elbow around and throwing himself down atop the voidling.
Laryn weighed more than the creature attacking him. His weight—thrown into the attack—drove the creature down toward the ground, landing on its back atop a protruding rock. Laryn fell with the voidling, and directed his momentum into his elbow, which slammed into the softer under armor of the chittering insect. Chitin cracked.
Clawed legs flailed, scratching at Laryn’s leg and chest, tearing his clothes. Laryn pinned the beast with his knee, reached out and grabbed his sword, then rammed the tip through a chink.
The voidling twitched twice, then lay still.
Laryn wiped sweat from his brow. Blood soaked his clothes; mostly his own.
“I’m sorry,” the archer said, aghast. “I didn’t mean to bump into you like that. My name is Thatch, by the way. Thank you for the help.”
“It’s okay,” Laryn said, “You’re welcome.” But he wasn’t listening. He surveyed the beach.
Coril and his group seemed to have a contained their voidling, circling round it in a standoff. The others…
They were not doing well. Two men lay strewn across the ground in the wake of the rhino-beetle. The third, still on his feet, held his staff out in front of him like a spear, trembling as the beast advanced.
Credit to his bravery, the man did not step backwards as the voidling charged.
The staff snapped, unnoticed by the bulky creature, and the man was tossed into the air like a rag doll.
Instead of turning to deal with the downed villagers, the voidling ran past, thundering across the beach as it headed straight toward the shelter.
Laryn ran, sprinting over the sand, injuries forgotten. Gaten and Widen stood just outside the entrance of the shelter, staves in hand, unmoving as the rhino-beetle charged. A dark stain colored Widen’s trousers.
Summoning up his water dart spell, Laryn took aim at one of the rampaging beast’s joints; a place less protected by hard shell. He let the shot fly. The splinter of water streaked through the air. The void-beast stumbled as the jet of water pierced its shoulder, but did not stop.
Laryn threw himself into the path of the oncoming beast.
He brought the hilt of the sword down on the beetle’s head, trying not to get caught and trampled beneath the creature.
The gigantic beetle chattered at him, slowing to address this more serious threat. A long, wicked horn protruded from its head. It lowered this and thrust it at Laryn.
Throwing his body to the side, Laryn tried to dodge the attack. He failed. The horn stabbed through the meat of his left leg, wrenching him from his feet.
The voidling flipped him into the air, tossing his body aside as it prepared to charge upon the shelter once more. Black ichor leaked from its wounded shoulder joint.
Laryn hit the ground hard, bleeding and wounded in several places. He did not stop to catch his breath. Sword in hand, he swept the blade around and lodged it into the void-beetle’s rear leg, near the knee.
The blade caught in the armor there, but Laryn did not let go. The beetle’s momentum pulled him up to his feet. He freed the sword and struck again.
The beetle’s leg cracked as a chunk of weakened armor broke away. One more unwounded leg remained on this side of the beetle. Laryn forced himself into flame stance, taking a half second to center himself. He unleashed a flurry of blows on the voidling’s middle leg, striking a half dozen times before the huge creature was able to bring its bulk around to face him.
Laryn’s final blow cut clean through the meat of the leg, and the voidling collapsed, rolling to the side as it struggled to stand.
Leaning on his sword, Laryn gasped for breath. He felt lightheaded as the ground wobbled around him.
He activated [Temporal Thinking Space].
“Rewind time,” he whispered. “I could have rewound time.”
Adi appeared beside him as everything froze. Pain faded from his body.
“Do you want to use your ability to rewind time?” she asked. Laryn looked at the screen, scrubbing through the last twenty seconds that his ability could impact.
“It’s not enough,” Laryn said. “I needed to act sooner.”
“You won the fight!”
Laryn had a sinking feeling that he had placed himself in a terribly vulnerable situation. If Coril really had killed Jarden because he wanted to be a Ruler, then what would stop him from going after Laryn?
Laryn searched for the man. He wasn’t sneaking up on Laryn. Coril and his men had the water-roach on its back, and Coril was about to strike the killing blow.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Laryn turned his attention back to the rewind screen.
“I wasn’t even thinking,” Laryn groaned. “I might have been able to avoid taking these injuries… But I did win.” He surveyed the voidlings he’d killed. Then he looked at the injured men lying on the ground. There was nothing his time reset could do for them.
His maximum time rewind didn’t even get him back to the point where the void-beetle had stabbed him in the leg, so it wouldn’t be much use.
Besides, using the ability risked the possibility of further revealing the power of the core.
“No time rewind,” Laryn said. “This is good enough.”
QuestWright Book 1: The Guildhall Grind is now live on Royal Road!
