activa-t Book 3: Chapter 37: Mercy
Book 3: Chapter 37: Mercy
Book 3: Chapter 37: Mercy
The closing pages of a courtesan’s are that of a withering flower. Beautiful color and fragrance are forever soon lost, with nobody caring to spare the once subtle bloom a second glance. For youth flies as fast as the fleeting clouds, and fortune passes without lingering.
- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.
Together, the little girl and I ventured into what seemed like a labyrinthine warren, populated by a neglected segment of humanity. The buildings and streets we navigated resembled the decaying ruins of a fallen civilization rather than a part of the city where people lived. Along the way, we encountered many suffering the harsh vicissitudes of human existence. Some were blind or missing limbs, others visibly ill, and many appeared to be dead or dying. Those who were relatively hale and whole of body, like Theo, looked haunted. They carried in their eyes a weight of suffering that made me feel guilty just looking at them.
I questioned why anyone would choose to be here. However, as I thought upon the manner, and ignored a few more entreaties for help, I realized that it was a foolish question. Choice had little to do with their current predicament. Rather, it was the harsh hand of fortune and circumstance that had corralled them into this forgotten corner of the city.
As I waded up to my knees in the mire of these depressive thoughts, I sensed a shift in the atmosphere of the place. Were this a forest, the sudden silence of birds and insects would have signaled the presence of a predator. I felt that same primal warning here, a sense of danger in the air. Then came a muffled cry from some distant alley. This was quickly stifled, but soon followed by another. I paused, the hackles on my neck rising as another scream came, this time closer, then another. It had the feeling of a bitter harvest, and each cry sent a shiver down my spine. Something was approaching.
Where were the cries of alarm? Were the people here so meek that they would just accept their fate? The streets were full of debris, human and otherwise. One could not travel them at such speeds unless...
A thought intruded upon me, prey hardly looked upward.
I searched around, scanning upwards for the source of my disquiet. A tile fell from a nearby rooftop, smashing into fragments on the street. A heartbeat later, a slender figure, clad in funereal black leaped from what must have been three stories. Masked, long hair tied in a braid whipped behind this new mystery like a snake as it landed in front of me with almost inhuman grace.
Damnit, another fight, I thought to myself as the figure leaped at me, in attack.
No, not at me, I realized. It was little Theo who was in danger. The dastardly thing was targeting the weakest first.
Instinctively, I positioned myself between her and the threat. The mysterious attacker’s fists, encased in spiked gauntlets, hurtled toward me with sudden velocity. Reflexively, a web of worm-like threads knitted together to form my Mimic shield, my primary defense. The Mimic intercepted a heavy punch, but that was not without cost. Bits of the Mimic’s false wood and metal exterior were sheared off by the blow and its Health dropped significantly. What's more, these fragments soon melted into a grayish goo. Stone sizzled and hissed where this matter met the stone of the pavement. A few drops found themselves on my opponent's upper arm, melting black cloth to reveal a fine dark silver mesh beneath.
Suddenly, with my shield obstructing my view, I lost sight of my assailant and found myself swept off my feet, crashing to the hard stone ground. She had taken my legs from under me with a sweeping blow and was even now spinning into the combination's next move. Reflex, or perhaps the Dodge skill, made me immediately roll to my left as a heel came crashing down that would have smashed my skull.
By some miracle, I was able to rise lightly to my feet in the same motion.
My attacker had the air of someone who was performing a necessary, but unwelcome, task. No battle cry or challenge came forth. The blows kept on coming, but there was no anger or emotion behind the strikes. He, or she, just seemed to be, almost playing with me. Drawing the dagger at my side, I tried to weave in a few attacks of my own, but my small blade found only air.
With the fluid movements, my attacker dodged the sharp edge of my weapon and delivered a rising kick that snapped my head back, jarring my brain. She flipped away, leaving me staggering as my vision blurred momentarily.
“You should be dead,” remarked my attacker in a flat feminine voice. A woman then. Of course, it would be. I would be taking no joy in this.Diiscover new stories at novelhall.com
I wiped some blood off my chin, grinning to myself as I felt the wound already starting to slowly close. “It speaks,” I spat back. That last attack, in truth, had been dangerous, taking off about forty points of my Health.
Unluckily for her, my Health was already slowly recovering and my Mana was basically full. Stamina, too, was also just over three-quarters. If this became a battle of attrition, my victory would be all but certain. I had a feeling that this represented something deeper, but I had to deal with the here and now. To add to my problems, my Mimic’s Health had been worn down to just a little over half.
All the while, Theo looked on, stock still, gobsmacked and helpless at our exchange. I was tempted to warn her to run, but that would make finding her later difficult. Another chore I did not need.
It was time to stack the deck in my favor.
She must have noticed something different about me and I could not help but to let a smirk make its way across my face. I called Entropic Aura to me and the magic flared to life with a great pulse. Waves of it emanated off me and I could feel the dark echo that was the mark of my magic. Caution now colored the mysterious figure's stance.
Rust, too, heeded my call, the sibilant spell forming itself before I sent it out at the masked woman. Almost simultaneously with the spell's completion, she lunged at me again.
The silver on the exposed part of her arm momentarily glimmered as vines of black lightning from the spell attempted to corrode the metal. Even emboldened by my Entropic Aura, the spell could find no soil to take root. Utterly confounded by this failure, I was left with no choice but to endure the subsequent barrage of blows that steadily depleted my Health. As the spell withered and faded away, my surprise and dismay impaired my responses. I had been certain the spell would have sealed her doom.
A heavy blow landed, an open palm strike of all things, that smashed against my sternum and caused my heart to skip a beat. Tasting the copper-iron of blood, a system message obnoxiously popped up, which I soon dismissed, as my Health dropped even further. Almost as if in response, my Mimic shield smashed itself against her side, causing her to let out a grunt of pain.
Still disoriented, I employed Dash and managed to put some distance between us. A part of me seethed at the realization that I was being bested in close combat. My opponent was swift, significantly faster than me, even without the encumbrance of my armor. My mind raced. Unlike the others I had encountered up to this point, she posed a genuine threat.
Then, something whizzed past me, twin slivers of metal going in the general direction of the woman. However, I heard only the sound of metal scraping and careening off stone.
Was I saved? Or did I face yet another foe?
I shook my head in denial.
“Please... I lack the strength to take even my own life,” she rasped, before another round of coughing overcame her.
I felt angry. Anger at myself. Anger at the world. “My hand will save,” was my stern response. In an almost sympathetic reaction, Entropic Aura burst out of me, uncontrolled.
It was too late to hold it back, and I wished to experiment. It was as unstoppable as the urge that compels someone to throw a stone into a calm pond, just to witness the disruption—the expanding ripples, the aftermath. What would happen if light intertwined with darkness? I commenced the Greater Heal spell, feeling its threads resist my call as though coerced. The pure melody of righteousness emerged. Chords of light clashed with the waves of gray and funereal black. Strands of gold managed to interweave, morphing into a new liquid bronze. The normally vibrant auric gold faded, becoming as muted as the evening’s light.
As if in complaint, the textures of the world failed to load properly, morphing into strange shapes and anomalies. My vision glitched as the world turned monochrome before color returned. Was this spell bugging out the world? An error that could be exploited?
For a brief moment, I believed I was on the brink of uncovering an irreverent and unholy truth. However, that insight slipped away as the spell took effect on the woman.
The flesh of her body filled out as vitality flowed into her.
Emaciated, skeletal limbs grew healthy and whole. The sunken areas of her face filled in, vanishing right before my eyes. Her hair and eyes shimmered with renewed vitality as magic, not quite of this world, ran rampant through her. More Mana was taken from me, sapping my strength and vitality. Far more than was normal for the spell, and my Mana dipped into the single digits. More worryingly, my Stamina, alongside my Mana, was being drained at a prodigious rate.
Time itself seemed to halt and then rewind, smoothing out the traces of its passage. Yet, where her illness had marked her, an unusual phenomenon occurred. The sores and cankers seared into her skin, forming intricate patterns that shifted with each pulse of entropy.
Eventually, like all things must, the spell reached its conclusion, The woman before me gave a gasp of renewed breath as surprise and wonder filled the hollow places of her soul.
"That was the healing of the great temples... only those sanctified by the gods themselves can perform such acts after being supplied with sufficient offerings...” she uttered in a tone now that was a surprisingly deep and pleasant timbre. Her next words sounded hollow, the echo of spent emotion. “Only those sanctified by the gods themselves can perform such acts...,” she said, her voice imbued with disbelief. “I would not have expected it... especially not here, of all places. To think that hesitation and cowardice saved my life.”
The woman’s gaze wandered, searching, until a decision was reached. With a nod to herself, she cast aside the rags serving as her bed and rose, clad only in her scant undergarments.
Despite regaining her health, Elenora's figure was slightly thinner than I preferred. However, even with the smudges of dirt on her skin, her attractiveness was undeniable. Her doe eyes met mine, challenging, as she asked for her clothes with a commanding yet unfazed tone. “Could you pass me those?” she requested archly, smiling knowingly at me and pointing at the pile of only slightly better attire.
Blushing, I found myself caught in her momentum and I complied. After passing her the clothes, I turned around. Shortly after, Theophania burst into the room, radiating joy, and leaped into her mother's arms. They embraced, breaking the spell Elenora had cast over me with her presence.
“You're walking again! You look nice! Everything can be like it was before! I just knew it!!” the happy girl said, bouncing in her mother’s arms. “No bad men this time, of course!” she added as an afterthought.
“Oh, Theo, I'm so, so sorry,” she whispered over and over, tenderly stroking her daughter's hair. Tears welled in her eyes, a tumultuous blend of guilt, happiness, joy, and sorrow stirring within her.
“Why are you sorry, Ele? I did just fine, right?" Theo asked, confusion evident in her eyes.
“You did more than fine,” she paused, her voice almost breaking. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she replied, embracing Theo fiercely.
A cynical part of me had the feeling that those words were for more to her own doubts than anything else.
“And you, Master Gilgamesh...” she paused, sampling the unfamiliar sound. “You, you have my heartfelt thanks. I will always be indebted to you,” she stated bluntly, disentangling herself from her daughter and wiping away her tears. She looked away, hissing almost through her teeth before shaking her head. Looking at me imploringly she added, “I have nothing to offer you. Yet, I must ask for more help, shamelessly so.”
“Please, help me and my daughter. We cannot stay here any longer. I prayed for only death, and you appeared. There must be some meaning in that. Perhaps, I am being rewarded for a past life more virtuously lived than this one,' she half-mused, looking away momentarily before her gaze returned, filled with steely resolve. 'If you leave us now, we will only die here. Your gracious actions will have been nothing more than a stay of execution. Please, help us. I beg of you. I feel that there is a link between you and I,” she begged, bowing deeply and guiding her daughter to do the same with her free hand.
I did not need this responsibility. There was no benefit for me.
Silent, I waited, almost expecting the world to signal a new quest to provide justification for what my conscience impelled me to do. No such sign came.
Yet, despite all of this, my mouth formed the next words as naturally as breathing, “Very well.” The answer had with it an air of finality that served to irk me no end.
“A thousand thanks, samasa,” came Elenora’s reply, which was echoed shortly after by her daughter.
“You are also too trusting... what if I am some kind of monster seeking to take advantage of you?”
“Take advantage of someone who has nothing? I do not think that would be the question a monster would be asking. Besides, if you wanted to kill us or have your way with us there was, and is, nothing stopping you,” she replied blithely.
Joy beamed about Theo’s face for salvation found, a path out of this mire.