Junfa April: Chapter 11-15 (Patreon)

Chapter 11

The two warriors made it back to the wagon train just as they were stopping for the day.  Grant was happy to see they had picked a swift-running stream as a place for them to stop.  He needed to wash almost worse than he needed to take another healing potion.

<If you do, you lose out on the mental cultivation of fighting through the pain of hurt ribs.>  Sarge’s reminder kept him from pulling one out as soon as they stopped.  The run to catch up had been a special kind of torture.  <Don’t worry, it will be less of a concern once we start your training.  You need to earn a few skills before we fight again.>

“I’ll check on Sokkur.  You stay here and unhitch the Prairie Pullers from our wagon.”  Skor took off before Grant could answer.  He had only worked with the Meatballs so far, but it couldn’t be too different.  He was very wrong.

“Why do I tempt the Fates like that?”  Grant was massaging his forearm after the oversized rodent bit him.  Hard.  “I thought these things were supposed to be gentle?”

“They normally are.”  The Warden came around the corner of the wagon, and sent a small stream of water into the Prairie Puller’s face.  Grant was impressed by the casual display of power, but he tried not to show it.  “There must be something about you that they don’t like.”

“I don’t know what it would be.  I haven’t done anything besides fight their smaller cousins when I came through the border.”  Grant was forced to use his repair spell again to fix the vambraces that covered his arms.  “At least the Saunterlings don’t mind me.”

“It’s the Dao Seed.”  Junfa April came from around the other side of the wagon.  Was there a wagon train leadership meeting on the other side of the wagon that Grant didn’t know about or something?  “Prairie Pullers like routine.  They hate change, and you carry its essence inside you.  I’m surprised they stopped at just biting you.”

“Well, I think I prefer the stubborn Meatballs to these things.”  Grant’s arm finally felt serviceable enough, so he ignored it and looked at two of the most important people in the wagon train.  Junfa April motioned for some people standing nearby to handle the creatures, and the trio of warriors moved out of earshot of the wagon train.  “So, what is this all about?”

“I asked the Warden here to assist with your training.”  Junfa April motioned to the man, who made a stream of water appear from each hand.  “He will help you understand the essence of the Uchigatana.”

“How will water help me?”  Grant was pretty sure they were going to try and repeat the same kind of training he had already done with Sarge.  They didn’t know that his Wielded Weapon could project images in his head to make his training almost as realistic as the real thing.  “I’m already pretty accomplished with my sword.”

“I want you to do your best to not get wet.”  Junfa motioned to the Warden.  “He will shoot measured bursts at you, and you need to use your sword to block them as best you can.”  Grant nodded and prepared himself.  This should be easy.  “Oh, and don’t move your feet.”  He didn’t have time to think about how to react to that, because the first stream of water was already blasting for his face.

Using his Iaijutsu, Grant’s sword unsheathed so quickly that it was almost imperceptible.  He struck the stream of water in the middle, the length of his sword shattering the solid stream into a spray of droplets.  That completely coated him.

<Well, you did want to take a bath.>  Sarge sounded pleased.  <Your task isn’t to attack the water, or knock it away.  You need to use your blade to redirect it.>  Grant gave a small nod.  It was meant to tell Sarge that he understood the task, but the Warden took it as a sign to continue.

The leader of the Anti-Flame Fanatics let him have it.  Dozens of streams, all different sizes, strengths, and lengths, flew at him like they were bolts fired from a crossbow.  Grant used his skills in Kenjutsu to deflect a few of the streams, but the vast majority soaked him through.  Junfa April stood there silently, judging him through the five minutes of furious sword swinging.  Finally, the streams stopped.  Grant guessed the Warden had to allow his mana to recharge.

“You have proven you can use a blade to deadly effect, there is no doubt about that.”  Junfa April pulled off one of her whips, and unlimbered it behind her.  “But you are missing the point.  You need to think about how your weapon interacts with what it hits.  Does it just cut?  Does it deflect?  Does it impact with force?  How much different is a slicing motion from a stabbing one?  Those are the things that will let you see into the essence of your weapon.”  She motioned to the Warden.  “Observe.”

What followed was an abject lesson on why you should never mess with Junfa April.  The Warden slammed her with triple the water streams he had sent at Grant, and not a drop touched her.  She only took one step backward the entire time, and it was only because it looked like she was tired of standing bent over.  A whip in her hands was just an extension of her will.  It never stopped moving the entire time, its cracking sound echoing across the plains in a steady staccato of dominance.  Eventually, the Warden had to stop again, and her whip came to a rest draped across her shoulders.

“Do you see what I mean now?”  Grant could only shake his head in disbelief.  Her display of prowess was certainly enlightening.  “Now, use your sword as if it is a part of you.  An extension of the self instead of a tool.”

“Yes, Junfa April.”  The thought that she could use a second whip at the same time made Grant very glad that he hadn’t listened to Sarge when he first came through the border.  Trying to stab the woman with the title of ‘Warlord’ was a very bad idea.  “I will try.”

The Warden didn’t wait for Grant to get ready.  He sent two bolts of water at one time, sending one toward his face and the second at his feet.  Grant unsheathed his sword in a smooth motion, this time not using Iaijutsu to its full extent.  This time, he felt different.  It wasn’t necessary to move at lightning speed.  Grant only needed to tell his sword where to go more smoothly.  He made one clean movement, swiping downward from above his head at a slight angle so he could intercept both of the streams in one motion.  His Uchigatana parted them perfectly, splitting the water to either side.  A single drop of water fell off the tip of his sword into the trampled grass at his feet.

Skill gained: Floating Lotus Chop (1/3). This skill is designed for slicing through your enemies, no matter what stands in your way. You have shown initial mastery! Congratulations!

Tier one effect: When properly focused, sword slices through four times its own thickness in material, increasing target penetration by 10%.

<Good job, Grant Monday.  You have taken your first step onto the Dao of the Uchigatana.>  Grant smiled at Sarge’s praise.  It felt good to gain a Skill again.

“Well done.”  Junfa April was also pleased, and the Warden stood open-mouthed across from Grant.  “I am starting to see why you have managed to make it this far.”

“Mate, that was more than impressive.  Most warriors take weeks to manage an improvement like that.”  The Warden pulled both of his hands up into fists.  “We need to maximize your period of enlightenment, while we still can.”

The next thirty minutes passed by in a blur.  Grant wasn’t perfect, but he somehow managed to split or deflect far more than he allowed to splash over himself.  His new skill required him to focus on nothing but the swing of his sword, and it was harder to do than he expected.  Most of the times he didn’t get it to activate were because he was mentally forcing himself to hold his feet still, which messed with his concentration.

“Okay, I think that’s probably enough.”  The Warden put his hands down at Junfa April’s words.  “You have made a great stride as a warrior this evening.  We will continue with your lessons tomorrow.  Think over what you have learned today, and we will discuss it before you start your guard shift.”

“Thank you both, for helping me.”  Grant gave each of them a small bow.  He meant it, too.  They had helped him gain a Skill, which was a very rare occurrence.

Both of them left, and Grant made his way upstream to wash.  There were guards posted along the stream to protect the people as they washed clothes and took baths.  Farther upstream, Grant could see three water wagons refilling using some kind of hose and manual pump system.

<You want to take a bath already?>  Sarge’s words caused Grant to stop.  He had a feeling he knew what was about to happen.  <You guessed it!  You don’t need sleep, remember?  It’s time to try and gain another skill!>

Grant’s groan was loud enough that the guards could hear it over the sound of the running water.

Chapter 12

“Why didn’t it work?”  Grant was finally getting to wash the grime of the past few days away.  The rinse from training with Junfa April and the Warden had only washed off the surface dirt.  What was under his armor was still gross.  “I tried it for hours, but nothing happened.”

<There are three ways to gain skills.  Either through enlightenment, completing a specific action, or meeting the minimum requirements to gain the skill.  You got one by sheer luck when you picked up that mushroom. It was completing a specific action. The one you gained today was from enlightenment. You had an epiphany, and you gained the skill.>  Grant was nodding along with what Sarge was saying. He knew all of this.  <Remember when you got the skill that increases your feeling of pain by ten percent?  That's from meeting the minimum requirements for the skill. You got hurt so many times, you unlocked it.>  Grant grimaced at the memory. <That's what we are trying to do now. You just need a lot more practice until you unlock the skill we are trying for.>

Grant had spent the last four hours trying to unlock some kind of thrusting skill Sarge wanted him to have.  Starting from the low guard, he was supposed to swipe upward until the sword was parallel with his eyes, and thrust forward in one level motion with his entire body.  It was easy to do.  Well, it would be if he didn’t have a ridiculously heavy pouch hanging from his belt.

“I think I would have got it if you had just let me take off the pouch.”  Grant massaged his sore calves as he stood in waist-high water.  They had taken the brunt of the punishment the precise movement required.  “How many times did the extra weight throw me off?”

<I didn’t bother keeping track after the twentieth time.>  Grant snorted in frustration, but Sarge ignored him.  <Why do you think I had you shift your belt around so much?  You don’t want to build up a bad habit of compensating for it, but you need to get used to it being there.  Besides, you only have seven thousand more precise movements until you master it.>

“What?  Seven thousand!”  Grant didn’t mean to raise his voice, but his shout brought over the familiar figure of April Second.  He was holding his mace up like he was ready to attack, but there was nothing to smash.  “Sorry April Second, I was just talking to myself.”

“More like shouting to yourself, mate.”  April Second relaxed and sat down on the bank of the stream.  “Is there something that’s troubling you, cobber?”

“Just trying to elevate myself from a Spring warrior to a Summer Wielder.”  Grant rotated his sore shoulder, and went back to scrubbing himself clean.  “It is going to take a lot of work.”

“From what I hear, you have been doing better than most could in your shoes.”  April Second motioned back to the wagon train.  “You put out a fire that threatened everyone on your first day here, and on your second you saved a member of your team from a monster even Skor would find intimidating.  I think that’s plenty to be proud of, mate.”

“I guess that’s true enough.”  Grant wasn’t sure how to take the compliment from the fellow Wielder.  Instead, he tried to change the subject.  “So, Team Three was telling me it’s illegal for one Wielder to kill another, no matter the circumstances, but he did say there was a way they could still fight one another.  Do we do that in Junfa April’s convoy?”

“Ah, you mean Wielder Wednesdays!”  April Second smiled, and patted his mace.  “Every Wednesday, the Wielders do a bit of sparring with one another while the training circle is active.  It’s all done in fun, with a few bits of Time as a wager.”  He patted the storage pouch on his belt.  “I’m up twenty Days from last month, but Junfa April didn’t fight any.”

“Why are we able to fight in a training circle and not outside of it?”  Grant had been in plenty of training circles, and they had been just as dangerous as regular fighting.

“They are spelled by a few different people.  It stops any blows that would end with the Wielder seriously injured.”  He peeled back the pant leg on his left side and showed off the thin red line of a recently healed injury.  “That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt, but these competitions are more about pride than anything else.  No one here is fool enough to kill a fellow Wielder over something as stupid as pride.”

“Do you think I could try on the next one?”  Grant might have just found a way to increase his cultivation after all.  If beating them in the training circle counted as defeating them in combat, Grant could stack his victories to help him level up his cultivation.  “I would like to see where I stand.”

“Sure, mate, but I would wait until you get some more time here in District April.  Give yourself time to catch up.”  April Second got back to his feet.  “Besides, you just missed the last one.  Today is Friday, mate.  You gotta wait until next week.”

“That’s fine with me.”  Grant finally felt clean enough to get out of the stream.  “I just figured some extra practice would help me get where I need to be.”

“Understandable, cobber, but don’t put the cart in front of the Meatballs.”  April Second took a few steps back so Grant could start putting his armor back on.  “Just about every Wielder here could run circles around you right now, especially since you can’t use spells in the circle.”

“That’s true.”  Grant fastened his ridiculously heavy belt around his waist with a grunt.  The belt had caused some bruising on his hip bones, but he ignored the pain.  Even though it was enhanced.  “I will just have to keep training and fighting to close the gap.”

“Sounds good, mate.  Well, get yourself some rest.  Tomorrow will be another long one.”  April Second turned to walk away.  “We will be passing near the ruins of Eggertown tomorrow.  There are always a lot of monsters that nest in the ruined buildings.  We will have plenty of patrols running, but there are always squirters that manage to reach the wagons.  You’ll have to be sharp.”  A rustling in the grass on the opposite bank of the stream made both of them tense up, and Grant thought he saw the gleam of moonlight on a poison-coated fang flash past a gap in the wall of foliage, but it might have been his imagination.  The two of them relaxed after nothing came rushing across the stream, hungry to eat their faces.  “Probably nothing, but I’ll send out a patrol when I get back to the wagon train.  Just make sure you are ready to fight as soon as the sun comes up.  ”

“I’ll be ready.”  Grant regretted saying it instantly.  He needed to learn not to tempt the Fates so much.

Chapter 13

Grant spent the hours before daylight meditating instead of sleeping.  He knew that mental cultivation was still the thing holding him back the most, and the only way to fix it was tackling it head-on.  Sarge was luckily in agreement, so he only had to do a few sets of squats to keep himself limber throughout the night.  His sore muscles throbbed in time with the beat of the music the wagon train started up the moment the sun crested the horizon.

“I don’t know how they manage to dance and sing the whole day.”  Grant had to take his time stretching as he put on his armor.  He knew the tightness would fade as the day went on, but he didn’t want to pull a muscle strapping on a greave before the morning even got started.  “You would think they would run out of songs at some point.  Everything about them is just so… loud.  Their clothes, their wagons, their singing; it’s all an assault on my eyes and ears.  I don’t know if I like it or hate it yet.”

<Nothing about these people makes sense.  They don’t even say real words most of the time.>  Sarge seemed to stop long enough to hear the singing.  <Although the songs aren’t that bad.  I think they repeat a lot of them throughout the day, but never in quite the same way.  And you have to give a grudging respect to the kind of person that doesn’t just shout into the face of death, but sings at the top of their lungs in defiance of it.  That is the type of people who can change the world.>

“Well, we only have twenty-seven more days of it, so enjoy it while you can.”  Grant leaned back with a groan, stretching out his lower back.  “I need to find the food wagon and make my way back here before they start moving.”

“First, we need to talk about what you learned after meditating over what happened yesterday.”  Junfa April’s habit of popping out of nowhere was getting under Grant’s skin.  Not that he was mad at her.  He was just tired of jumping every time she did it.  “And maybe we should talk about how much you talk to yourself.”

“Oh, that?”  Grant swallowed hard.  “That’s just how I process my thoughts.”  He tried giving a disarming chuckle.  “So, I heard we will be passing by some ruins today?”

“Yes, though I wish we could take the long way around.  Eggerton wasn’t a grand city in the past, but it was deep.”  She gave a grunt, the faraway look in her eyes seeing something that was long ago.  “The mines went for miles in all directions, even before the Wielder War.  After the Greenlock moved in - before even the beast waves were in their infancy - it became a town filled with adventurers looking to draw attention from the Wielders.  They saw it as an easy chance to become Vassals.”  She shook her head, as if to clear it.  “A few managed it over the years, but most died, food for the Greenlock young living underground.  Once the city fell to the beast waves, the monsters moved to the surface.”

“It sounds dangerous.”  Grant didn’t know what a Greenlock was, but if they could kill adventure-seeking warriors in large numbers, he didn’t want anything to do with it.  “Why don’t we take the long way around?”

“The Greenlock fear the sunlight.  We think it burns their eyes.  If they could walk the surface freely, we would never come this way.”  Junfa April motioned for Grant to follow her to the source of the delicious smells coming from deeper within the wagon train.  “It isn’t like we can spend an entire week following the stream up to the next ford shallow enough to cross.  We would miss the Conclave, and I would forfeit the title of Junfa.”  They reached the food wagons, and Grant felt something nudge his back.  He turned around to see two grass tigers sitting behind him, as if they were waiting in line just like a person.

“Um, I think your cats are hungry.”  Grant accepted his own sack of food, noticing how the tigers’ eyes tracked his every movement.  “Very hungry.”

“Oh, ignore those beggars.  I fed them twice already this morning.”  Junfa started walking back to the rear, where Grant needed to be anyway.  He followed, tearing off two chunks of his breakfast sausage and silently tossing a piece to each tiger.  They snatched it out of the air, and it was gone in an eyeblink.  “We got off topic.  Tell me, did you learn anything from meditating?”

“I think so.”  Grant thought back to his revelations about the sword he experienced yesterday.  “The Uchigatana is more than just a tool that cuts things.  It’s even more than the extension of my will you talked about.”  Grant took a bite of food to think over what he was trying to say.  “I think it is how the things in the world are separated.  It represents the item that can divide them, cut one part from another.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t know if I’m explaining it well.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense to me, Earl Spring.  It just has to make sense to you.  Keep thinking about it, and make sure you internalize your revelations.  Now, let’s get this wagon ready for action.”  They had arrived at the last wagon, and Grant was surprised to see he was the first person from Team Three present.  Junfa April hopped into the back of the wagon, where she pulled a huge ballista out of her storage pouch.  Grant hadn’t noticed the four holes drilled through the base of the wagon bed yesterday, but they perfectly fit the four pegs at the bottom of the post that the giant crossbow was mounted to.  “There.  Now Skor should be able to handle most issues.  All you need to do is protect him.”

“Why don’t you leave that up all the time?”  Grant couldn’t help but feel impressed by the oversized weapon.  She dropped a stack of bolts the size of short spears next to it.  “It would make the convoy more secure.”

“It’s also a giant pain in the keister to maintain and repair them, mate.”  The answer came from Skor, who was leading the wagon’s Prairie Pullers through the maze of parked wagons.  “That’s why we only pull them out for special occasions.”

“Now that you’re here, I need to get the rest of them mounted to the other wagons.”  Junfa April gave Grant a sharp nod.  “Keep Skor in one piece, will you?  He’s the best archer we have.  Even better than is good-for-nothing Wielder.”  She disappeared into the wagon train, her two tigers close behind.

“That wasn’t fair to April Tenth.  It isn’t his fault he has bad eyesight.  If he wants to hit something close, there is no faster or more accurate archer.”  Skor got the animals in position, and Grant walked up to help get them harnessed.  Which was a bad idea.

“Oomph!”  The normally placid animal hip-checked Grant hard enough to send him tumbling head-over-heels into the dirt.  As he sat up, he heard the familiar laughter of both Reimaria and Sokkur.

“I think animals just don’t like you, mate.”  Sokkur walked over and picked Grant up off the ground, brushing him off after setting him on his feet.  “So, I guess I should thank you for saving my life.  I heard what you did to keep me above ground.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”  Grant motioned to the bandage wrapped around Sokkur’s head.  “Are you sure you don’t need to rest longer?”

“It’s just his head that’s injured.  He doesn’t use that anyway.”  Reimaria laughed at her own joke while Sokkur glowered at her.  “I’m just funnin’ ya, battle.  You know I don’t mean it.”

“I’m plenty smart, Shiela.”  Sokkur turned back to Grant.  “I just took a nasty bump on the noggin.  Not as nasty as Reimaria’s tongue can be, but nasty just the same.”  Now it was her turn to practice glowering.

“Knock it off, you two, and help me get these things hooked up.  Grant, you can get the bracing pins under the wagon in place, so the mount’s pegs don’t bounce out the first time I fire that thing.”  They all jumped to complete Skor’s orders.  Grant had to crawl under the wagon, where he found four small holes drilled through the end of the pegs.  He used the metal pins dangling from a short chain on the end of each to lock them in place.  In no time, they were ready to go.  They all got in position on the wagon, this time with Reimaria holding the reins while Sokkur knelt on the lowered tailgate of the wagon.  Skor stood behind the ballista, and Grant tried to stay out of the way next to the pile of bolts.  “Grant, you will be in charge of handing me bolts.  Let Sokkur and Reimaria handle protecting the wagon.  This is the only thing that can hurt the really big Greenlocks anyway, so keeping it firing is our first priority.”

“What is a Greenlock, anyway?”  Grant sent a questing thought to Sarge to see if he knew, but got no response.  Apparently, the sword spirit hadn’t heard of them either.  “Is it made of grass like the stuff we fought yesterday?”

“No, we aren’t that lucky.”  Skor looked back at Grant while running a wax block along the thick cord of the ballista.  “They look like a cross between a lobster and a spider.  But bigger.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound so bad.”  Grant had fought something similar in District March.  It had been a hard battle, but he had won.  “I’ve killed similar creatures.”

“Believe me, mate, you haven’t seen anything like this in the Spring Districts.”  Remaria popped the reins to get their wagon rolling.  The convoy was on the move.  “It isn’t the size, or the poison, or the pincers that are as sharp as your sword that makes them such a problem.”  She looked back to make eye contact with Grant, so he could see how serious she was being.  “It’s how smart they are.  They use tactics, and plan things.  There are tales of the oldest Greenlock even being able to speak the language of man.”

Grant couldn’t hold in the shudder that passed through him.  The thought of an intelligent monster was a scary one.  If the creatures Grant had fought in District March had been smart, it would have been a much harder battle than the one he had fought.

“Don’t worry.  The Junfa has led us past them many times.  They might be smart, but she is smarter.  And that intelligence only lasts until they smell blood.  Then, they go crazy, like the beasts they are.”  Skor gave Grant a nod and held out a hand for a bolt.  “Let’s get loaded.”

They rode in silence, the four of them listening intently for anything out of the ordinary.  It was a long morning that seemed to crawl by.  It was interesting to Grant to see how the wagon train made it over the stream, but after they had built the temporary bridge, it was nothing but staring out over the flowing waves of grass.  Grant could see the hills grew in size the farther they traveled west, and to the north he thought he could see mountains in the distance.  They were too small to have snow at the tips, but they had to be large for Grant to see them from such a distance.

“What’s in those mountains?”  Skor glanced over to see where Grant was pointing, and just grunted in reply.  “Wouldn’t they be a good place to build something that could stand up to the beast waves?”

“They would be, if it weren’t for the Miniature Giant Ice Wraith.”  Sokkur didn’t turn away from his duties, so it was hard for Grant to hear him talking toward the back of the wagon.  “Anything you build there, it will just smash once it wanders by.”

“What’s a Miniature Giant Ice Wraith?”  Grant was getting really tired of all the crazy monsters in this place.  “Does it have anything to do with the Ice Warden?”

“Don’t ever let them hear you say that.”  Reimaria glanced back at Grant with a frown on her face.  “The Fanatics don’t like people comparing their leadership to the Plaine Bane.”

“Is it worse than the Greenlock?”  Grant looked at Skor, but he was still ignoring Grant for some reason.  “Intelligent, big, and cold or something?”

“Not intelligent like the Greenlock.”  Sokkur shifted positions, as if even talking about the Ice Wraith made him uncomfortable.  “More like… a force of nature.”

“That sounds bad.”  Finally, Skor answered Grant.  He wished he hadn’t.

“Bad?  Imagine the oldest and tallest giant you have ever seen in your life.  Over thirty feet tall, easy.  A walking tower.  But instead of flesh, it’s made of ice harder than steel when it wants, and intangible when it decides to be.  Oh, and everything it touches dies instantly.”  Skor shifted the ballista to aim at a spot of grass, but nothing came out of it.  “At least fire on the plains results in a rebirth afterward.  That doesn’t happen when the Ice Wraith kills something.  Anywhere the ice giant walks, it only leaves death behind.  Permanently.  That’s why those mountains are barren.  There once was a great forest, but now it is only dead wood.  The Wraith prefers to walk there.  It can hide in some places, and ambush its prey.  Thousands died when it first came through the border.  Thousands have died since.  Entire teams of Wielders, wiped out to a man.  Expeditions had to be formed to collect their weapons, otherwise District April wouldn’t have a single Wielder beyond the Junfa.  Eventually, we gave up trying to kill it, and just let it have the mountains.”

“That’s why no one really likes to talk about it.”  Reimaria pulled the reins to create a little more distance between themselves and the water wagon.  “Almost everyone had a family member or friend die because of that thing.”

“My great-great-grandfather was turned into a statue by the Ice Wraith before my father was born.  All it did was breathe on him, and he was frozen solid.”  Sokkur patted his shield, as if to comfort himself.  “It has been here in District April for a long time, and no one has figured out a way to beat it.”

“That’s not all.”  The ballista angled up over where Sokkur was sitting as Skor rotated it on the post to switch sides.  “The Wraith never travels alone when it leaves the mountains.  It quickly develops an entourage of scavengers and predators looking to feast on the death it leaves in its wake.  Some think it is on purpose, and the Wraith orders them.  I don’t ascribe to that, otherwise everyone would have been frozen long ago.  We are just lucky it hasn’t left the mountains in fifty years.  Most people think it died of old age, but no one wants to go check.  Even Wraiths can’t live forever, and this one is beyond ancient.  Maybe one day someone will be brave enough to find out.”  The four warriors fell silent, the conversation forcing them all to contemplate creatures beyond the abilities of even a team of Wielders to kill.  Eventually, Skor brought them back on task.  “Time to focus up.  We are getting close to the remains of the mining town.”

“Hey Skor, I never did hear, what did they mine at Eggerton?”  Grant was curious about what kind of resource might be found under the thin dirt of the grassy plains.

“In ancient times, they mined coal.”  Skor shifted his point of aim to the same side the ruins would be appearing.  “But for a long time, the only thing those mines have produced has been death.”

Chapter 14

Grant could see the ruins as soon as they topped another small hill along the convoy’s wandering path.  The destroyed town was surrounded by a perfect circle of low hills, clearly man-made.  Most likely the old slag and gravel piles from the mining operation, now ancient enough to blend in with the normal hills as nature found a way to reclaim them.  It hadn’t found a way to take back the town proper, though.

<That… is a lot of webs.>  Grant could only agree with Sarge.  It looked like the tumbled buildings and destroyed infrastructure was covered in a thick layer of snow.  But it was entirely too warm for snow to exist.  <This place is a death trap.>

The wagon train was angled to just miss the nearest of the low hills that surrounded the town.  It was forced to pass so close because of the collapsed mine tunnels that riddled the area.  It created impassable sections of land in long stretches, narrow ravines that reminded Grant of a demented kind of spider web when seen from above.  At the center, the home of the Greenlock.  An errant breeze brought the smell of death to his nose, and Grant couldn’t stop his face from wrinkling in disgust.

“Junfa April has had patrols luring out the little ones all morning, but we will still have to deal with any of the big ones brave enough to poke their heads out of their tunnels.”  Skor checked his mounted weapon once again, the action clearly a reflex born of long practice.  “If you see anything, shout out distance and direction.  The front of the wagon is our twelve o’clock, no matter which way we are traveling.  Right now, the village will be passing on our three o’clock.  Grant, you make sure to check our nine.  We don’t need any of the smaller ones jumping on our back while we pass by those ravines.”  Skor was all business, snapping orders like the Guard Team Leader he was.  “Sokkur, you don’t let anything on this wagon besides us.  Raimaria, you make sure the Prairie Pullers don’t drag us into a ravine and turn our ride into a bunch of toothpicks.  Only fight if Grant and Sokkur get overwhelmed.  Right now, bad driving will kill us just as easily as a Greenlock.”

“Yes Team Leader.”  Reimaria was the only one to reply, but they all gave firm nods of agreement.  This was serious business.  “I see movement, one o’clock, three hundred meters.”

Grant completely forgot about watching their back, and strained to see what a Greenlock looked like over Skor’s shoulder.  What he saw made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he felt a cold tremble in his guts.

<Those things are nasty.>  Sarge even sounded disgusted, making Grant feel better about his reaction.  <I can sense their poison aura from here.  They look more like spiders than anything else, but longer.  And green.  I guess that explains the green part of their name, and considering the literal sense of whoever named them, I would venture to guess the lock part is because their poison paralyzes you.  That would fit a spider-beast like these.  Although, I thought these things were supposed to be big.  That isn’t much bigger than a dog.>

“I’m glad they aren’t any bigger.  That one is large enough for me.”  Grant had a bad experience involving being hunted by spiders across an entire forest in District February, and he was doing his best to not freak out at all the webs in the first place.  “I can handle this.  It isn’t as bad as I was afraid they would be.”

“Launching!”  Skor lined up a shot, but before he could pull the heavy trigger, a wagon farther forward in the convoy with two ballistas mounted on its longer bed took it out.  “Holding!  Search for targets!”

Grant was unfamiliar with the cadence of battle, but the commands were simple enough.  He checked their nine o’clock, and only saw a steep drop on the other side.  There were humps along the bottom of the narrow ravine that looked suspiciously like more of the Greenlock, but it was hard to tell due to the shadows at the bottom.  He turned to report to Skor.

“Sir, it looks like there might be a few of them hiding in the shadows at the bottom of the ravine, but I can’t confirm.”  Skor gave a sharp nod to show he heard, but he was busy tracking another of the creatures as it came straight for them.

“Launching!”  He pulled the trigger, and the entire wagon thrummed along with the giant crossbow’s thick string.  “Hit!  Reload!”  Grant handed him another bolt, and Skor racked the bolt into place with three sharp pulls of the ratchet-like cocking system.  “Ignore them for now.  They aren’t coming out because of the sunlight.  Just keep me loaded.”

Closer to the remains of the town, three chariots were running interference with a cluster of Greenlock in pursuit.  They raced back and forth over the web-coated ground, their Saunterlings running over the sticky substance like it was no different than the grass and dirt they normally traveled on.  Grant saw who must be Skor’s Wielder, April Tenth, riding on the rear of the chariot driving in circles around the perimeter.  His hands were a blur, and wherever they passed, Greenlock lay twitching.

“Two approaching from the four o’clock, fifty meters!”  Sokkur’s shout had Skor spinning the ballista to face the rear, and Grant already reaching for another bolt.  “Clear!”  The Shieldbearer dropped to his side, making sure he was clear of Skor’s firing lines.

“Hit!”  The first bolt had hit the faster of the two in the center of its back, pinning the monster to the ground.  “Reload!”  Grant dropped the bolt in place himself, and laid a hand on the cocking mechanism to help Skor slam it to the rear in only one motion.  “Launching!”  The second shot caught the Greenlock as it jumped, hitting the monster in the rear and sending it spinning into the tall grass with a crash.  It wasn’t dead, but Grant figured it wouldn’t want to keep chasing them after that.

“They are hitting the center!”  Reimaria pointed to a thick cluster of Greenlock that came in a rush out of the shade cast by the mound closest to the convoy.  They were headed straight for the oversized wagon that held two ballistas.  It was just trundling through the narrowest portion of the pass that ran between two of the impassable ravines.  There were far too many creatures for just the one guard wagon to stop.  “We have to do something!”

“They mean to split the train.  We will be trapped, and they can take their time picking us off until dark, when the big ones can come outside.  If that happens, we all die.”  Grant wasn’t sure what part of Skor’s statement freaked him out more.  That they were all about to die, or that they hadn’t even seen a ‘big one’ yet.  “Launching!”

Skor’s shot took the lead Greenlock in the head, showing off his skill.  Hitting a target over five hundred meters away with the rudimentary sights of the clunky ballista was impressive in the extreme.  Too bad it wasn’t enough to matter.  The one he killed disappeared under the sharp-tipped legs of the dozens of creatures close behind.  All four of them watched in dismay as the Greenlock came forward like a wave destined to wash away the people standing in their way.

“I can get there.”  Grant was saying it more to himself than the others, but he didn’t wait for agreement.  There wasn’t time.  “Thundering Step!”  He activated his spell, and leapt off the wagon at a full sprint.  He had to make it.  Run and fight, or stand and die.  He ran like the hounds of the third level of the dark realm were on his heels.

<You will only be a speed bump to those things, Grant.  I do understand the sentiment.  Go down fighting, instead of hiding on the back of a wagon, waiting for a beast to come for you in the night.  The true heart of a warrior I am proud to have trained.>  Grant grabbed the hilt of February Twenty Nine and leaned into his sprint.  If Sarge thought he was about to be washed away by the wave of the monsters, then so be it.  He chose this death with open eyes.

Charging from the direction of the ruins of Eggerton, the three chariots were only bringing more of the monsters that followed close behind.  It was obvious their goal was to intercept the Greenlock, sacrificing themselves to give as much of the wagon train a chance to pass as possible.  They would arrive far too late.

Grant somehow went even faster.  He was practically running on top of the grass now, barely even touching the ground.  The leading edge of the monster wave was less than one hundred meters from the convoy, and Grant was two hundred meters away.  He would be too late.

“No!”  Grant shouted in defiance of the reality in front of himself.  He would not watch these people, with their joy, and singing, and color, and… love of life get ripped apart by these disgusting things.  Somehow, Grant tapped into the same sense of understanding he had found when unlocking the chop skill with the help of Junfa April.  “Thundering Step!”  He tore his throat from the intensity of the shout, and something in his chest thundered in response.

Strength is Change

Skill tier increase:  Lightning Attunement (2/10)

Tier one effect:  Increases damage of all lightning-attuned spells by 10%.

Tier two effect:  Ride the Lightning!  Your ability to direct lightning-based spells and abilities is now perfect.  Halo effects can now be aimed.

Dao Seed of Change activated!  Your need for change has created a resonance with another ability.

Spell: Thundering Step ->  Thundering Step II

Elemental Spell: Thundering Step II

Prerequisites: 100 Mind. Two feet. Metal weapon.

Active Mode: Create a static field in a five foot radius around you that damages others when they move through the area. Does not move from the point it was set. Lasts five seconds.

Mana cost: 10 per use.

Damage(Self): 0% Mental cultivation.

Damage(Other): 100% Mental cultivation per second.

Training Mode: Increase movement speed by 50% while out of combat. Combat is defined as not dealing or taking damage from an opponent for five seconds.

Mana cost: 10% per second. Mana regen halved while active.

May stack spells at double the Mana cost.  No limits.

<Only two major changes that I can see.  Your mana regeneration is now halved instead of halted while running, and - bigger change - you can cast it more than once.>

Grant didn’t answer, even though he appreciated the information from Sarge.  He was screaming in pain inside his head.  The focus required to concentrate the normal aura of lightning around him when he ran to just his legs instantly caused a blinding headache.  The double use of the spell made him twice as fast as his normal speed, but his body was warning him with every step that it wasn’t meant to go this fast.  Grant’s Bodily Awareness skill didn’t just increase his pain.  It told him exactly how many tiny tears he was causing through his body.  And, to make it all worse, Grant could see he was still too slow.  The swarm of Greenlock were less than fifty meters from the wagon, and he would arrive just a few seconds too late.  He wasn’t going to save them.

“Thundering Step!”  This time, Grant couldn’t maintain the concentration to direct the lightning.  The halo of lightning erupted around Grant, turning him into a living storm.  Activating it a third time caused blood to spray out of his nose, and the spike of pain caused him to almost stumble.  The tiny tears in his muscles weren’t tiny anymore, and he could feel his body trying to rip itself apart.  It didn’t matter.  He slammed into the leading edge of the giant bug monsters with enough force to blast the first three he hit with his lowered shoulder pauldron into a spray of guts and chitin shrapnel, and when he used his Iaijutsu to unsheathe his sword, all the lightning built up in and around him went with it.

Grant couldn’t hear the roar of destruction that he unleashed on the front ranks of his enemies over the ringing in his ears, but he did see it.  They came apart like an angry god decided to smite them from existence, their superheated insides turned into a scalding steam that washed over those out of range.  The advancing Greenlock that were burned reared up in pain, those still behind slamming into their stalled clutch-mates in a clatter of rock-hard exoskeleton and unearthly screams.  The frenzied creatures ripped apart their brethren, finishing off the injured in a storm of gore and feasting that made the stomachs of everyone observing lurch in disgust.  Grant dropped to one knee, leaning on his sword for support.

He had made it.  His vision was black around the edges, and his insides were more damaged than he could ever remember, but Grant had stopped the advance.  He would probably die soon, ripped apart by those his sacrifice didn’t finish.  That was okay.  It was the job of a Wielder to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.  Grant knew he had done his job.

<Healing potion, now!>  Sarge’s shout snapped him out of his thoughts.  He reached into his storage bag and pulled out his strongest potion from his dwindling supplies. Grant struggled to lift it to his lips.  His arm didn’t want to listen.  <Just drop me.  Use your other hand to help.  You are suffering from mana exhaustion, internal bleeding, and more torn ligaments, tendons, and muscles than I thought possible for a person to cause at one time.  If you don’t get that potion in you now, you have an even chance to run out of blood on the inside before the monsters even get here.>

Following orders, Grant dropped his Uchigatana in the dirt.  He wavered without its support, but he managed not to topple over.  His hand was stuck in a claw shape, so he used his forearm to help tip the vial’s contents into his mouth.  It burned the whole way down his throat, and Grant felt it hit his stomach like a spark touching off an oil-soaked cord of wood.

<Now, pick me up and move back to the wagon train.>  Grant tried, but he couldn’t get his hand to close around the hilt.  He must have torn the muscles in his forearms that controlled his grip.  He gave up, and tried to stand instead.  <Come on, Grant Monday!  Get up!>

He couldn’t.  Grant lost his balance, and he felt more blood running from his nose down his face.  At some point, his ears had started bleeding as well, and more blood trickled down the sides of his head as he fell on his side.  In front of him, the remaining Greenlock had finally finished their feeding frenzy, and were massing together for another charge.  Grant could feel the potion flowing through him, repairing his body as it went, but it was taking too long.  This time, he didn’t see a way out.

Chapter 15

“My, you sure know how to make an entrance, mate.”  Grant could barely move his head far enough to see Junfa April walk up beside him.  The Greenlock noticed her as well, and they paused their advance.  They were at least smart enough to recognize the danger she represented.  “Thanks for stopping this one.  I had to handle a wave twice this size waiting for us up at the front.  Nothing I couldn’t handle, but killing that many of these corrupted beasts takes time.”  Her two tigers moved to either side of Grant, standing sentinel over his prone form.  “This is my fault.  I underestimated them this time.  One of the old ones must have gotten tired of us moving through their territory, and they planned this to be the final time we trespassed.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they have been scouting us since we turned this direction.”

“Grumfruba.”  The healing potion’s effects hit Grant’s brain, and he wasn’t able to form words for a second.  His body was still throbbing with the beat of his heart, making his molars vibrate in the back of his head.  He took that as a good sign.  At least his heart was still beating.  Grant opened his mouth to try and say something again, but he was interrupted.

“Junfa!  They are hitting the rear!”  April Second came sprinting down the side of the wagon train from farther forward, his armor covered in smeared blood.  Most of it was the blue blood and yellow guts from the Greenlock, but Grant could see some splatters of red mixed in.  “They are going to roll right over them!”

Grant managed to sit up far enough to watch in horror as a flood of Greenlock swarmed over the last two wagons.  They disappeared into the ravine Grant had been in charge of only a few minutes earlier, leaving nothing but empty wagons behind.  Grant’s wagon had been tipped on its side, the ballista shoved into the dirt, still cocked and ready to fire.  His team was gone, along with all of the Anti-Flame Fanatics.  The Prairie pullers were just smears on the grass, and only the horns of the Meatballs remained as testament to their existence only seconds before.

“No!” Grant found the energy to stand, his sword in his hand.  He didn’t even remember picking it up.  He wasn’t steady, but he was up off the ground.  For some reason, he found it funny that he didn’t even notice the weight of his storage pouch.  Either he was getting stronger, or his body was very messed up.

“Second, get the convoy moving!”  Junfa April pointed to the rear of the convoy.  “Pull Team Five from the front and have them take the center.  Team Two takes the rear.”  He gave her a sharp nod, and turned to go.  “Leave the wagons.  We don’t have time to hook up any of the spare animals.”  April Second didn’t acknowledge her orders, but Grant could tell by the set of his shoulders that he had heard.

<Grant, they have found their nerve.>  He turned to see what Sarge was talking about.  April Second leaving must have seemed like they were retreating.  <Get ready.  They come.>

“Eyes front, Junfa.”  Grant crouched, setting his feet for his Floating Lotus Chop.  These monsters owed Grant a blood debt, and he had only just started to collect on it.  He ignored the throbbing pressure in his head caused by the potion still repairing his brain damage.  “It’s time to make them pay.”

Just then, the three chariots finally thundered past.  They raked the front edge of the Greenlock lined up in front of Grant and Junfa April, causing the monsters to fall back under the onslaught.  The white hair of April Tenth marked the center of the storm of death aimed at the monsters, and they faded away like dust before a stiff breeze.  The cluster of spider creatures trying to run down the chariots must have been tired of running, because they detoured toward the two stationary targets, and it was Grant’s turn to be swarmed.

There was no doubt in Grant’s mind that he would have been killed instantly if it weren’t for Junfa April.  She went from standing - with her forearms resting on the handles of her whips where they were fastened to her waist - to a whirlwind of destruction faster than an eyeblink.  Her whips must have been made of something other than plain leather, because they tore through the chition bodies swarming over them like they weren’t even there.  Grant saw a faint blue glow running along their length, a tell-tale sign of a skill or spell in use.  Either that, or the pressure inside his head was causing him to hallucinate.

Junfa April’s grass tigers weren’t idle, either.  They were like fish swimming up a stream.  Except they were vicious predators instead of fish, and instead of water it was blood from the Greenlock they shredded.

Grant was relegated to picking off the stragglers that somehow found a way through the blender of claws and cracking whips.  That didn’t mean he got to stand there while his brain tried to throb out of his skull.  There were plenty of bugs to go around.  The pressure was so bad he fell into a daze, his body reacting by instinct more than conscious thought.  Time seemed to pass without Grant being aware of what was happening beyond what was right in front of him, his sword dancing around him as he floated outside of himself.

“Floating Lotus Chop!”  Grant slammed his Uchigatana down onto a claw reaching for his throat, the impact jarring him back into himself.  The claw of the Greenlock flew free, and Grant stepped into the opening caused by the missing limb.  Pressed up against the monster, Grant sliced the edge of his blade along the underside of the creature, along a fold of exoskeleton where the chitin was thin enough for him to penetrate without a special ability, spilling its hot intestines onto the ground in a steaming clump.  Piled around him were the carcasses of over thirty of the dog-sized creatures.  “Wha.. what happened?”

<The healing potion you used must have been a very special gift from Suki.  It healed the worst of the damage without pulling from you or your mana.  A self-contained power source.>  Grant could feel Sarge poking around in his head.  It was a familiar sensation.  <Trying to control all that lightning hurt something inside your brain.  It took a lot longer to repair than the rest of you.  If you hadn’t leveled up - twice - you might be drooling instead of listening to me.  The small healing boost you get from it was what made the difference.  These last few kills are what pushed you over the edge.  I think it’s okay now, but don’t try that again until you have a lot more mental cultivation.>

“Good to know.”  The pressure inside his skull was fading, along with his energy.  He wearily sheathed his sword, and sat down on the carcass of the Greenlock he had just killed.  The potion might not have taken anything from him, but fighting for as long as Grant had been took a heavy toll.  “I think I need to lay down for a little bit.”

“No time for that.  Drink water.”  Junfa April shoved a water skin into Grant’s hands.  He hadn’t even seen her approach.  His brain may have healed, but he wasn’t back to normal yet.  “We only have about thirty minutes to rest before we go in.  Any longer than that, and we won’t have a chance to save any of them.  Two hours, maybe three, and there won’t be any hope left.”

“What?”  Grant shook his head to clear it.  That didn’t work, so he poured half of the waterskin on his head.  After taking a few swallows, he passed the almost empty skin back over to Junfa April.  “What do you mean, ‘save any of them’?”  Before she could answer, one of the chariots came rumbling up from the direction the convoy had gone.

“Lady Junfa, the convoy is clear of the kill zone.”  The passenger that spoke was April Tenth, the archer Wielder that had Skor as a Vassal.  Up close, Grant could see he was so old he was hunched over.  That didn’t diminish the air of authority that hovered around him, and his arms - while thin - looked as hard as iron.  “We will run a perimeter screen until you return.”

“Good.  And see if you can do something about recovering the water wagon.  Six Saunterlings can do the job of two Meatballs, and you can get them here quickly while we cause a distraction.”  She pointed to the overturned wagon that had belonged to Team Three.  “Push that one into the ravine that leads to the ruins.  After you light it on fire.  If the webs catch fire, it might provide enough chaos for us to slip away without a fight.”

“If it lights it all up, you could get trapped by the flames.”  April Tenth’s chariot driver was waving down another of the chariot teams to come help while he talked with Junfa April.  “I would hate to be the cause of your death, Junfa.”

“There is a chance Team Three and the Fanatics are still alive.”  She looked over to where the convoy was disappearing into the distance.  “If we need, the Fanatics will be able to get us out of the fire.”

“And if it spreads to the plains?”  Grant saw Junfa April’s face twitch at his question, but she waved her hand as if brushing away a fly.

“We will deal with it.  There are streams only a hard ride away in all directions, so we won’t risk burning the entire District to a cinder.”  She motioned for them to leave.  “Enough discussion.  There isn’t time for a debate.”  As they left, Grant finally had a chance to speak.

“Junfa, I saw what the monsters did to the animals.”  He shuddered at the speed they had disappeared into the bellies of the Greenlock.  “How are any of them still alive?”

“Greenlock don’t just look like stretched-out spiders.  They act like them too.  Heavier prey are eaten on the spot, but the victims they can carry are wrapped up in their cocoons to snack on later.  The webs are coated in a numbing agent that will eventually slow down the heartbeat of whatever they catch, putting it into a kind of sleep.”  She kicked the dead monster Grant was resting on.  “Once they fall asleep, they never wake up.  That’s why we have to hurry.  Now that the wagon train is clear, we can go after them.  Are you up for it?”

Grant didn’t answer right away.  He had experienced enough by now to know that he could end up hurting their chances more than helping if he couldn’t pull his own weight.  He levered himself back to his feet and stretched out his arms and legs to test their range of motion.

<There is nothing physically wrong with you at the moment.  You just went from level twenty three to twenty five in less than thirty minutes, and that isn’t even counting almost dying.  Any person would understand if you didn’t go.>  Grant thought about what it would mean if he didn’t go.  Junfa April might be able to save some of them without him, but there was no way she could save all of them if they were still alive.  It was just too many people to protect, and her whips were only so long.  He had only known these people for three days, but he already felt like he belonged here.  Grant wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t go.  Finally, he looked Junfa April in the eye, his jaw clenched in determination.

“You would have to stop me.”