Tycoon May: Chapter 26 (Patreon)

Chapter 26

Lightning flashed, and Grant recognized the cloaked figures that had left the city after them.  He could only see four people firing crossbows, but he had counted far more that had left the city.  Both Evander and Adria were handling the ones in sight, so Grant turned to the rear of the wagons to see if the rest were coming up behind them.

It was hard to tell in the storm, but Grant thought he heard someone shout farther down the hill.  Everyone on the wagon train was standing in the center of their defensive formation, meaning it could only be more attackers approaching.  He rushed down the hill, using Adjusted Air Friction to control his descent in the slick mud.

The storm was limiting visibility, but it might have been the thing that saved their collective lives from the surprise ambush.  Heavy rain had turned the steep parts of the hill into an almost impassable obstacle, keeping the other half of the attackers from properly timing their assault.  Another flash of lightning allowed Grant to see five warriors in a staggered line struggling up the hill, the man in front using a pair of short swords like climbing anchors to pull himself up the slope.

Angling his controlled slide, Grant aimed for the leader.  The hunched figure looked up just in time to get a face-full of muddy boots, sending him flying back into the others.  Grant lost sight of them as they all tumbled away like a bunch of dominoes.

<Keep on them!  You don’t want to lose the advantage!>  Climbing back to his feet, Grant managed to make it to the bottom of the hill without falling over.  Visibility was still almost nothing, so he crouched low and kept his Uchigatana ready, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.  <Focus.  Listen for people walking, or rain hitting something different.>

Taking a deep breath, Grant closed his eyes and concentrated.  The sound of someone struggling back to their feet came from his left, and by reflex Grant used Air Friction to help him slide along the ground, keeping his feet planted until he closed with the enemy.  One draw cut with Begonia Chop enhancing his blow ended the mystery attacker’s struggles.

Rain tinkling off of metal was all the warning he had before another figure came running for his head.  Hemlock’s Bane boosted his attack power by ten percent as he executed a perfect parry, and his counter stroke meant it wasn’t Grant who lost his head.

<There’s at least three more.  Good job so far, but stay focused.>  The two unmoving bodies at his feet had both carried short swords and crossbows, and a quick check of his stat sheet told Grant they were both Vassals.  These weren’t the useless kind of Vassals that were used as fodder to collect resources.  From their clothing, it was obvious these were assassins from House Saturday.  <You’ve dealt with their kind before.  We can search them after you take care of the rest, and get some clues as to why they’re attacking a small caravan carrying grain.>

Nodding, Grant moved back to his right, pushing further uphill so he could hold the high ground.  He could feel that another level was close, the energy pulsing through his body with his heartbeat.  Lightning flashed with a boom of thunder, shaking the ground he was standing on and showing him the three remaining Vassals.  They were circling the hill, abandoning the fight.  “I don’t think so.  You started this, and I’m going to finish it.”

All three were facing away from him, so there was no warning as Grant laid into them with a vengeance.  The first one fell to an Oleander Thrust, dropping silently to the mud as Grant flicked his sword clean of blood.  Somehow, the second assassin in line sensed him and spun with a loaded crossbow in hand.  A quiet twang was followed by a bolt punching through Grant’s breastplate.  It lodged in his ribs, sending a lance of pain through his body fierce enough to make him stumble.

“He’s behind us!”  The third attacker spun and shot his crossbow at Grant as well.  Whether it was luck or skill, somehow Grant managed to duck enough that the bolt reflected off his helm.  It still hit hard enough to make his eyes cross.

“Thundering Step!”  The heavens answered his call, and lightning struck all around Grant.  It was meant to buy him time to get his bearings, but with the storm enhancing his spell, both enemies were hit several times.  He shook his head to clear it and pulled the bolt from his ribs with a wince.

Both of the remaining assassins were down, one with his face in the mud.  Grant ended his life with a quick thrust and stumbled over to the final enemy.  “Why?  What was all of this for?”  His only answer was a groan of pain.  The man was trying to roll onto his side, so Grant got closer.  “Answer me!  Why would assassins attack us?”

Another flash of lightning lit the sky.  The storm seemed more angry after Grant had stirred it up.  He looked back down in time to see the Vassal slip something into his mouth.  <Stop him!  He’s trying to take poison!>  Grant took a quick step forward and kicked the man in the stomach to make him spit it out.  Instead, he heard a ding.  <It’s too late.  He’s gone.>  Grant growled with frustration as he put pressure on his wound.  <Look on the bright side.  At least you got another level.>

“I would rather have answers.”  After checking his wound, which wasn’t bad enough to slow him down, Grant started looking for clues.  The only thing he found, besides a few Day coins, was a slip of parchment that the rain had already ruined.  Hunching over it, he thought he saw the symbol of House Sunday at the bottom.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  Why would House Saturday take orders from House Sunday?”

<Why would assassins take orders from spies, you mean?  I can think of many reasons, but it’s hard to say which one is correct.  And more importantly, why would either of them care about this convoy?  House Thursday is in charge here, meaning they would only make a move like this—disrupting trade—with their permission.>

“I’ll check the other two.  Maybe they have more clues.”  As Grant made his way back around the hill, he immediately stopped in his tracks.  They were gone.  Tracks in the mud were already being washed away, but it was clear something very large had taken them.

<Maybe it’s time to go back to the wagons.  Whatever took the bodies might still be hungry, and you’re still leaking blood.>  Silently agreeing with the sword spirit, Grant hurried up the hill, only sliding back down a few times.  He felt a tingling feeling in his chest as he used his Uchigatana to keep him from sliding, but figured it was just the energy from the level-up healing him.  <Grant, what are you doing?  Get back here!>  Ignoring the sword spirit, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other to avoid slipping.  The sword spirit’s shouting fell into a quiet buzz while he climbed.

As Grant crested the hill, it was obvious the fight here had ended already.  A few people were being tended to, while members of the guard team were coming and going from the edges of the firelight to report to Adria.  The camp was controlled chaos, with several more fires providing flickering light that made shadows seem to jump around the wagons.  The leader of the guard team seemed to be the anchor holding them at bay.

“Don’t follow them any farther.  I don’t want people getting lost in the dark.”  Adria motioned to the tarp where three wounded people were laid out on the ground.  “Tell the others.  After that, go and have that head wound looked at.  You don’t want an infection setting in.”

Grant didn’t know the warrior Adria was speaking to, but they gave her a sharp salute before following her orders.  His mind felt sluggish as he checked over the wounded.  Two of the people on the ground were wagon drivers he didn’t know, but the third was Evander.  The big man had half his torso wrapped in bandages stained red.  He still seemed to be in good cheer, drinking something from an oversized mug that Grant could smell from across the hilltop.  Evander was the first person to see Grant as he stumbled into the firelight.

“Well, I’ll be a honey-smothered Thunder Chicken!  He didn’t run!”  The big man tried climbing to his feet before one of the attendants easily pushed him back down.  “You missed a glorious fight.  Songs will be sung of our mighty defense of this hill!”  He looked Grant over, snorting at his appearance.  “We’ll be sure to leave out the part where the young warrior decided to play in the mud while the more experienced members fought off the ambush.”

“Shut up, Evander.”  Adria walked over to check on Grant, who was wiping off the mud covering him from his climb.  “What happened to you?  Did you fall down the hill?  Are you hurt?”

“I didn’t fall.”  Grant shook his hands, trying to get the sticky mud off so he could wipe more free.  The rain was helping to clean him more than anything he was accomplishing, so he gave up and dropped his hands to his side.  “I went to check the back side of the hill to make sure we weren’t being pincered between two groups.  There were five more of them trying to sneak up behind us, but I took care of them.”

“You took care of them?  Just like that, huh?”  Evander waved his mug of alcohol in Grant’s direction.  “All of us combined barely fought off four of those well trained and experienced ambushers, and you expect us to believe you took care of five more?  Ha!  A monster-meat eater, and a mighty warrior!  It’s almost too much to believe!”

“Shut up, Evander.  You’re drunk.”  Adria shook her head before looking back at Grant.  “Look, I’m not saying you’re lying, but what he said is true.  They were very good.  Are you sure there were five of them you fought off?”

“No, I didn’t fight them off.”  Grant motioned back down the hill.  “I killed them.  I would show you the bodies, but something out there already picked up two of them and took off.  The rest might be gone by now.”

“How convenient!  Your proof got eaten by a monster!  Why don’t you track it down so we can eat it, then?”  Evander tried struggling back to his feet again.  “I’ll help!”

“I found this on one of them.”  Grant ignored the big man.  “The rain washed away most of the ink, except for the imprint on the bottom.  It looks like the House Sunday symbol.”

Adria took it from him.  It was hard to see in the dim lighting, but she gave a slight nod.  “It looks like it could be… but why would a bunch of healers attack us?”

“The attackers were from House Saturday, probably hired by House Sunday.”  Adria paled at Grant’s statement.  “So, you know about the assassins in House Saturday too.  Then you know I’m right.  The five I killed were all Vassals, and not the weak kind either.  If it hadn’t been so dark and slippery, I would have had a much harder fight.”

“Sure, kid.  We’re just supposed to believe a bunch of alchemists and healers decided to come after us?  Especially with a former member of their House here?”  Evander opened his mouth to say something else, but he stopped.  “What happened to your chest?”

Grant looked down, seeing the rain had finally washed off enough mud to make it clear he had taken a crossbow bolt to the chest.  He poked at the wound, strangely feeling no pain.  “One of them got a lucky hit.  It’s okay though.  It doesn’t really hurt.”

Adria grabbed Grant and pulled him close, staring into his eyes.  “You were hit?  Look at me.  Not every bolt was the same.  What color was the one that hit you?  Was it black, or silver?”  Grant shrugged.  It had been dark, and he had no idea.  She pulled back Grant’s eyelids, roughly handling his sore head.  “I need a potion!  He’s poisoned!”

“By the Regents, he was telling the truth!”  Evander’s mug sloshed as he finally got to his feet.  “How did that—”

“Shut up Evander!”  Adria was dragging Grant over to the covered area, her hands pushing hard against his wound.  The bottom half of his breastplate was stained pink as the rain washed away the blood leaking from the puncture in his armor.  “He’s losing blood, and the poison is already advanced enough in his system that the whites of his eyes are turning yellow.  We’re going to need two potions!”

Grant let himself be dragged forward.  He didn’t understand why Adria was freaking out so much.  He felt fine.  “It’s okay.  I’m good.  Save the potions for people who need them.”  Grant tried to lift his hands to push her away, but they didn’t want to work.  “Huh.  That’s odd.  I can’t move my arms.”

“Sam, I need you over here!”  Adria helped guide Grant to the ground as his legs decided they didn’t want to hold his weight anymore.  “Hurry up!  He’s fading!”

“Sarge, what’s happening?”  Grant looked down at his sheath, and was shocked.  Where was his sword?  He hadn’t been separated from his weapon in a long time.  “Where did my weapon go?”  He looked up at Adria as he seemed to sink into the muddy ground.  “Adria, I lost my sword.”

“We’ll find it, Grant.  You just drink this.”  She tilted a blue-glowing potion that tasted like the color pink into his mouth.  He swallowed reflexively, coughing as its terrible taste hit him.  “Good.  One more, okay?”

“How does a potion taste like a color?”  Grant tried to move his head away but her hand was like a vice, not letting him get away.  “Ouch.  Careful, my head hurts.  They shot me in the head.  I didn’t let it stop me, though.  Sarge always says I don’t use my head very much anyway.”

“Regents!”  Adria dropped his head into the mud.  “Help me get his armor off!”  Grant tried to stop the hands that were suddenly everywhere, but his hands still didn’t work right.

“No, it’s cold outside.  Don’t take my clothes off.”  Grant was suddenly shivering, and the shadows around the clearing seemed to deepen as they closed in on him.  “I don’t feel so good.”

“Sam, get over here now!  I need you!”

Grant closed his eyes as the shadows washed over him.