Chapter 55: Double Points, Woozled, and Rastard

  I was trying to decide between [chill] and [strengthen], and which one would be easier to adapt for possible combat versions. [Chill-blast] seemed like an easy fix, but adding [strengthen] to my existing scroll also had potential.

  //I still contend that [weaken] will be the easiest for you to learn. And you did ask//

  ‘Yeah, and I supposed it could be used to [weaken] armor or weapons.’

  //True, as it was part of my factoring//

  ‘You don’t have to be smug.’

  //But I want to//

  I was working in the attic workshop, having the place all to myself. Tak’s room had been our first project at the townhouse—the plumbing wasn’t set up yet, so she still borrowed our bathroom. Yeah, I was sharing limited hot water with two women, one of whom liked to sleep late, like me. I was lucky if the [heat] scroll recharged enough for lukewarm showers. At least I was making my own rechargeable ones, nowadays. Cost still came out of my pocket.

  That pocket was healthier than it used to be, thank the Mother. But not by much. With Team Brawn gone on assignment, our sales have been a little slim. Tess sold to the occasional adventurer she ran into on Guilded Row—now that she was an official partner in the endeavor—and that kept us afloat, not to mention the shared costs of our co-op lent itself to cheaper materials and ingredients, respectively.

  I pulled a clean parchment to my desk, and used [infuse parchment]—which was now number 4 on the [Quick-key] menu—trading better quality for speed. Once done, I activated [Aether sight]. I let my thoughts reach into the infused parchment, exploring the cell structures and bonds, peering into the universe's void domain and searching for the Divine left behind the Mother, the realm of [mana].

  I gave of myself, letting the internalized [mana]—now laced with intent and possessed of a faint purpose—flow from my center, traveling the meridians to my fingertips. The excited fibers of my gryphon-feather quill pen conducted the [mana] until it mixed freely with the energy of the—proper—ink that I then used to paint the ancient word for “weaken” on the scroll. The synergy of [mana],[ink], and parchment roiled at first, the differing currents swirling until they achieved a common flow. I used the ‘commonality’ to encourage my specified result; the loosening of atomic bonds as a virus that jumped from cell to cell.

  *Ding!*

  It worked on the first attempt! I might have a future as this [Scriven]ing racket.

  //I should hope so; if not…so much time wasted//

  I wiped the sweat from my brow, happy with my accomplishment.

  //Are you sure this is the right ‘weaken’ your Master asked for?//

  ‘Huh?’

  //There are more types; yours focuses on ‘material’. What about physical weakness? Or even mental? You ought to be good at that one//

  ‘Sure, I learned from the best…Sia. But you are right.’

  //As always//

  I ignored her. As always.

  How could I apply my technique to other types of weakness? Loosening the bonds of flesh…wouldn’t that be a wound? Huh.

  “Well, Alric didn’t specify, so he’s going to get what he gets on that front.” I didn’t want to lose my momentum “Next.”

  *Ding!*

  *Ding!*

  Dinner bell!

  Holy balls! Acorns? Nuts? Never-matter. Three new scroll types and only five parchments were used. I’m impressed.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  //Actually, so am I?//

  ‘You don’t have to phrase it as a question, ya know.’

  “Foooodd…,” the word usurped my pride. I needed to eat. Satisfied with my progress, I grabbed a handful of coppers from the business fund hidden in my desk—a mannequin-legged desk that was absolutely going to follow me to the new digs—and set my work aside.

  I capped the [ink]s that had *Ding!*(ed) earlier at the shop where I was watched over by my Master, [ink]s that I’d learned straight from his own apprentice recipes. Base+: (A)cidic, for loosing bonds; (I)ron, firming bonds; and (Be)taine, for absorbing heat.

  That is six…count them…S.I.X. new *Ding!*(s), in one day!

  //Three letters?//

  ‘2x each!’

  It was no wonder my stomach felt like a ravening pit…Sarlac variety. And my head felt like a rung bell, but not as bad as I could fear. Small victories.

  //Your welcome//

  ‘You are NOT taking credit for that.’

  //*Sigh*, if you only knew//

  I grabbed my wool over-robe—winter had firmly set in—and carefully made my way down the flurry-slicked steps. I was only a dozen yards from the building when I was snatched by the hood of my robe, and almost yanked me off my feet.

  //Watch out!//

  A little late for that.

  “Did’ya think we wouldn’t come back for you?”

  Oh, Mother’s Bark, I’m fucked!

  I knew that voice.

  That voice belonged to Jhok Team Nightshade’s lead thug, who we'd sent to do—limited—time in lockup. What do I do?!

  //Calm//

  My heart rate slowed, leveling out to a heavy thump…thump…thump; strong, steady.

  //Assess//

  Time seemed to slow, keeping cadence with my heart, giving my thoughts room to gather coherently.

  //Your mace, ‘Rosie’, is on your hip. Grab it//

  I did, the textured grip settling snugly in my palm despite the sudden claminess of my hands. I lifted her off the hook on my hip.

  //Step back, bring your right heel down hard//

  …I felt a crunch, my flimsy sandal cracking its light weight through the heavy leather of a boot. Overpowered.

  //Swing Rosie up past your shoulder, behind your head//

  …smash!…

  A deep-throated scream crashed against my eardrum, reverberating in a spike of pain. I stumbled forward, away from my assailant, and clapped a hand to my ringing ear…

  //Wait!//

  …and grazed Rosie against the side of my shaved head.

  Wrong hand, wrong hand!

  The night stars suddenly exploded in my sight. Jhok recovered quicker than me, looming up from behind. I could feel the waves of rage radiating from the thug, knowing my time was up.

  “Tess!” I cried out, vainly calling my protector for help. She wasn’t even in the same sector of the city as me.

  A flying shadow detached from the darkness, colliding with Jhok, the two figures tumbling away in a tangle of limbs and curses.

  “Tess?”

  “Mothers Bark, Book! Help!”

  The voice wasn’t right…

  //Focus//

  A cold shot of determination coursed my veins, like a jolt of purified and refined adrenaline. Not natural, but I didn’t have the luxury of understanding. No time!

  I acted, grabbing a scroll from my satchel and snapping it open.

  “Close your eyes!” I yelled to my savior, hoping whoever it was would react before Jhok. I followed my own advice, pouring [mana] into a [torchlight]—one of my searing white ones—and released all the potential in one great rush. Brightness flared, piercing the thin skins of my eyelids, leaving stark afterimages.

  “Ahhhh!” A deep male voice, crying in pain.

  I ran to the sounds of thrashing, letting my foot fly and connecting with the larger form, eliciting a satisfied grunt, along with a crack.

  Shit, that was my toe!

  A pale, oddly shaped blade flashed out and raked Jhok across the face, from the hairline straight down to the chin.

  Another loud cry, this one much higher pitched. The thug clambered to his feet, still in stark relief from the hovering ball of [torchlight], and ran until the far shadows swallowed him whole. The light sputtered, flared, and then winked out, the [mana] spent.

  I spun frantically in a circle, searching for the rest of Team Nightshade. Where were they?

  ‘Where are they?!’

  //Relax, he was alone//

  I checked my [mini-map]—something I should have done before—seeing only the green dot of a friend, no highlighted foes.

  ‘Are you sure? That bastard wasn’t on the map either.’

  //How am I supposed to determine intent before they make a move?//

  ‘Then what good is it!”

  I was panicking, and I knew it.

  ‘Hey, Sia, can you release a shot of dopamine or something?’ The world was closing in on me, reality squeezing ever tighter.

  ‘Sia?’

  Nothing.

  “Book, can you light off another scroll? Gently.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Slow your breathing; in one-two-three, out one-two-three. Better.

  I fumbled around in my bag, feeling for a natural hued [torchlight], and activated it.

  “Good. I hate those white ones; too harsh.”

  The amber-orange glow painted my rescuer. Tak stood there, her eyes wild and chest heaving. Clutched in her hand was…a jawbone? It looked like an upside-down mandible attached to a bone handle, with jagged, razor-sharp teeth lining the slightly curved length. Esoteric runes were burned in deep, marring the bone.

  “Tak?” I said dumbly.

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “What? No! I’m just surprised; I didn’t expect to see you back at the attic.”

  “I forgot my porcelain figurine.”

  “Your porcelain…?” That ugly thing she’d picked up when I found my glorious work table? Some people have no taste.

  //*Snort*//

  ‘Hey, a response.’

  //Huff, you’d best get on with it. Those chemicals I dumped in your bloodstream are going to wear off soon//

  ‘Thought so! Where did you get them, from the flying saucer?’

  //I made them. Talk to Tak, you dolt//

  Right. Still a little woozled. “You saved me, Tak. I-I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Whatever.” Was the fiery redhead embarrassed? “At least I didn’t freeze up, this time. You were doing pretty good, for a while anyway. Did you really hit yourself in the head with your baby mace?”

  “Uh,” it was my turn to be embarrassed. “Sorta, yes. Whatever?”

  Tak laughed, the musical sound doing as much to lighten up the area as my [torchlight].

  “That’s a vicious-looking dagger you got there.”

  “Something that I have been working on, [enchant]ing. It’s coming along nicely,” she mused to herself, flicking blood off the teeth.

  “Gruesome.”

  “I know, isn’t it awesome?”

  OK.

  “Come here, let me see your head.”

  I did as told, first wiping the blood off of Rosie on the hem of my heavy outer robe. Tak inspected the damage, the pool of [torchlight] we stood in going strong--a bubble in the darkness.

  “Eh, not too bad.” She wiped at it with her sleeve, me wincing at every pat. “Got some salve?”

  Do I have [heal]ing salve? Silly girl.

  “Um, Tak? When we tell this story to the others…?”

  “I am going to totally sell you out. Your head banging will be worth weeks of fun!”

  Head banging, huh? Ratt’s "Round and Round" played in my mind—Dad’s music, again.

  “And what were you coming back for, huh?”

  Tak’s eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed thinly together. “You wouldn’t, you…” she sputtered out.

  //Ratt Bastard?//

  “Bat Rastard, that’s the phrase you are looking for.”

  Her confused look was priceless.