另类小说人亚洲小说

Flicker Wicker was in the midst of an elemental crisis; he wanted to be purified of the flames and return to being a nature spirit. I couldn’t blame him; if someone had forced me to be...

Only that was exactly what was going on at multiple levels of my life, wasn’t it?

And there was Darksmile, who was content with what he was.

he said.

I sighed.

he said,

He began trying to gnaw on the wicker.

I warned.

.....

I thought about it.

I said.

Flicker Wicker said.

I said, pulling the black... well, it used to be a sock before I’d worked on tailoring it. Anyway, I pulled it from inventory and slid the spirit home of Darksmile into it.>

And then the top was fastened.

I said.

he said.

Four rows, each four squads of campfires across. The Kamajeen, acting in almost unison, each performing the same ritual. Gods, the way the magic writhed and ... and screeched. Even muted by their ward space, it vibrated at the core of my bones, out to the tips of my hairs.

Nasty things, hairs. I longed in that instant to be rid of them.

I didn’t even need my [Mystic Sense], the mana wash was that strong.

“Hey, Pale Worm.” Ayya said. “If you’re going to be up anyway, how about you get your butt off that cot and pull some guard duty?”

“You don’t feel that?” I asked her.

“What, are you allergic to wood smoke or something?”

“The ritual they’re doing... is very messy.”

She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “So that’s a yes or a no on the guard shift?”

“Sure.” I said. “I’ll stand guard until everyone needs to be awake.”

“Until dawn? Damn, Worm. What did you DO? No, I don’t care, not as much as I do about sleep.”

How did she get sleep? How did Tigrin STAY asleep? I mean, sure he pitched and rolled and kicked, but he stayed asleep until the first of the elementals, screaming, was pulled from the plane of Fire.

“I hate you!” Tigrin said, punching the air. “What?”

“Tigrin, help me wake the others.” I said.

“What?” he asked. “What did you throw at me to wake me from all the way over there?”

“Tigrin. The Kamajeen are doing a mass summoning ritual. We need to be ready in case they can’t control the fire spirits they’re calling.”

He blinked at me.

“I’ll start with the corporal.” I said. “But for the love of Loki Forgemaster, help me wake the others.”

“Gyark!” I yelled, as a sheathed sword hit me across the neck.

“Ha! Who’s dead now?” she screamed, bounding out of bed. An empty scabbard landed dangerously close to my exposed eye.

“Corporal, Ma’am!” yelled Tigrin. “That’s Pale Worm. Glad he could wake you, corporal.”

“What?” she asked, upraised sword not twitching in the slightest. “Why would... what is THAT?”

“Mass summoning, Ma’am. Fire spirits.”

“That’s the second dumbest thing I’ve heard, and I’ve only been up less than a minute. Pale Worm! Hand me my scabbard.”

“Geph. M’plrg.” I handed it to her upside down, just glad my meaty monkey-like hands could hold things.

“EVERYONE! UP! NOW!” she said, loudly enough to conceal the sounds of her sheathing her sword. “UP, NOW! FIRE CONTROL DUTY! EVERYONE UP!”

“Fire’s all the way. Over there.” Denson said.

“Won’t be for long.” Tigrin said. “There’s a difference between unleashing spirits on woods and upon warded walls. Corporal’s right; we need every soldier on fire control duty.”

Drikt cleared her throat. “And get those buckets there to the river. We’re going to need every container we can spare.”

Because, and I hate saying this, Tigrin was right. The elementals, those who didn’t kill their summoners, parted left and right rather than even attempt to assault the walls. Disorganized as we were, it looked like the southern troops were... second worst.

The Kamajeen must have lost half their fire summoners. Not to the little spirits they called. There were protectors, adult elementals watching for someone to call upon the same true names. To grab their treasured young, and travel to the frigid reality that I thought of as normal.

To banish or negate a small spirit is simple, usually trivial if you know its true name. For experienced summoners, it was easy. An angry blaze, standing six feet of vengeful fury was another order of magnitude entirely.

Imagine you had put your hand into a rabbit hutch and discovered a badger with levels in Berserk. From a distance, it looked a lot like that.

“What were those fools THINKING?” asked Mohgson.

“They thought they could control the raw spirits of fire.” Siegen said.

“Arrogance.” Tigrin said, “They don’t even pray to Loki, Lord of Fire.”

I looked at the advancing spirits. “That looks like more than you can handle alone, Tigrin.”

“Buckets! River!” Drikt screamed, grabbing one in each hand, and following her own advice.

“Wait.” Mohgson said. “We have some lamp oil. If we feed them...”

“Do they look more hungry or angry to you?” Ayya asked.

“Well...”

“Mohgson, come on!” I said, “There’s no time for maybes.”

By coincidence, none of us were near the supply tent when it went up in a roaring column of fire.

Hey! My blankets! Damn it...

“Thor craps coal rocks!” Mohgson said. “Make way! We need water!”

“Fire duty! All soldiers up for fire duty!” we took turns screaming, or something like that. All told, there were two dozen tin pails or buckets brought to the river to be handed off to soldiers. They were passed hand to hand toward the burning areas, the empties handed back.

Maybe twenty squads of soldiers died that night, three times that many were too burned to return to duty the next day. A pittance, I thought, compared to the army’s total number.

Major Gring saw things through different eyes. From breakfast to lunch, we drilled, passing buckets back and forth. He probably would have taken up our afternoon like that, if he hadn’t been called into a staff meeting.

“Uh. So tired.” Mohgson said. “I just need sleep.”

“On what cot?” Denson asked. “I’m pretty sure mine didn’t survive last night.”

“We’re SUPPLY TROOPS.” Ayya said. “We should be able to get supplies from other tents.”

Drikt looked down, kicked a clod of half-moist earth. “Yeah, the quartermaster’s going to LOVE that.”

“Maybe if we all went at the same time...” Siegen said.

“I am not carrying your cots. Everyone get into line, we go in formation.”

Quartermaster Nahost did have some choice words, and some less than choice cots. And some miserable soldier’s kit.

It turned out not to be the time to ask about armor never having been issued to me. Contrary to the poet’s jokes, hobgoblin faces CAN get noticeably redder when anger takes them.

Eighteen sanity points lower, and he finally stopped his verbal torrent. Gods! How could anyone go ON that long?

[Ability – Cuss Them Out. For the cost of one round of serenity, make a number of consecutive verbal attacks equal to your highest level social class. Cost: 5 development points, Uses per day cost 1 DP each. (Minimum cost: 6 development points)]

[Ability – I Shout. Raising your voice no longer costs you fatigue. Inherent. 30 DP.]

Those abilities... were unlocked.

They weren’t things I needed, but the fact they were available reminded me there were things that I did want to unlock.

Like mental armor.

[Requested ability not found.]

Abilities scrolled past my vision. So many!

In this case, kit being the same as gear. We did each get a brand new toilet brush, a full container of soap powder, and the rest seemed random. I didn’t even get a backpack, just a sack to carry my things around in.

.....

And yes, the same thing later, for Serenity. The gods may laugh in the heavens, but there seemed no limit to the pain we mortals could get ourselves (and each other) into.