22 - Raiders

Dust and sand streamed off the ground and into the gormedon’s mouth. If I stayed where I was, I might get sucked in too. I was terrified. My first instinct was to flee. But if I did that, the worm would simply chase me down. I wouldn’t have a running start. I needed time.

But even if I had time — the cave. The cave was made of rock. The sand worm likely burrowed mostly through sand. Even if it could go through stone, it would probably take longer. Given the choice between the sand worm mega-monster and the scorpions, I’d take my chances with the scorpions. I just needed enough time to get there before the gormedon got me.

I had to push past the fear. Act before the fear could stop me.

I heaved myself off the ground, stone chips and sand pouring off my body, and then I was running and screaming at that toothy maw, almost before I realized I was doing it. Damn thing was wider than I was tall. I pulled my arm back, spear cocked, and then stabbed it as hard as I could into the gums.

Honestly, I truly thought that was going to hurt. But the thing chewed rocks and sand. It didn’t do shit.

My momentum and the suction carried me too far. I tripped forward.

The gormedon must have sensed the spear hit. The mouth came down.

My shins hit the rim of the maw. The back of the spear tilted up because the tip was caught. I ducked as the mouth came down on the haft. And it stopped.

[Unbreakable Spear].

The gormedon reared back, head waving back and forth, probably confused as fuck. Me, fingers barely hanging on, body flying like a flag in the wind. Pretty sure I was still screaming.

The genie rolled in the air, laughing her ass off.

As I was flopping around, I managed to get my feet on the edge of the worm’s mouth. I yanked on the spear right as the worm opened up again. Once more, and this was becoming a bad habit, I went flying through the air.

As luck would have it, I got tossed in the right direction. I could see the oasis in the distance and knew where the cave would be. I thumped into a dune, bounced, and rolled, losing the spear. But I ignored the bruising pain and a twisted arm. Fuck pain; I needed to survive. I got up, got the spear, and bolted.

The worm appeared confused, giving me the head start I needed. I hoped it would be enough.

The genie floated next to me as I ran, lying sideways like she was on a bed and holding a bowl. She seemed to be enjoying herself. “Got a plan? Is it outrunning the gormedon? Because that is a terrible plan and I’m all in for it.” She popped something into her mouth.

I gave her a double-take as I ran. “Are those…dates?”

“Mmhm. Want one?” She held out the bowl, then pulled it back with a mock-apologetic expression. “Oh, never mind. You’re busy running for your life. Maybe I’ll feed one to your corpse later. Or, you know, what’s left of it after you pass through…oh, there it is. It’s coming for you again. You should run faster.”

“I’m trying!”

She ate another date. She spoke while munching, “It’s catching up.”

“Then help!”

She threw her head back. “Ha! Hahahahaha!”

A dark spot appeared in front of me. The rocky outcrop! But I was hurting from the running. I could feel the pain, my legs and lungs burning. I slowed. Worried, I looked back.

The sand worm was full steam ahead, coming right for me.

I looked back at where the cave opening was. I didn’t think I was going to make it. But I pushed as much as I could anyway.

[Passive: Second Wind]

Bodily relief and energy filled me. I ran faster. It was as if someone had instantly recharged my batteries. I panted a laugh.

The worm was still picking up speed. It was still gaining.

I ran right down the depression in the sand and into the cave — and startled a scorpion bigger than I was! It pulled back, arms crossing in defence. I instinctively leaped right over it, spear banging on the ceiling. Then I was down, behind the insect. I skidded to a stop.

The scorpion tried to turn.

The sand worm crashed into the cave mouth. The whole system shook. The scorpion and I both lost our footing as chunks of rock came down around our heads. The worm careened right off the entrance, collapsing half of it, but swiftly turned to investigate the tunnel.

The scorpion was between me and the beast. The hungry beast. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the spear in both hands and jammed it into the side of the scorpion. With a holler, I pushed, shoving the scorpion down and out of the tunnel.

The sandworm opened its mouth wide.

I thrust the scorpion off the spearhead. The gormedon bit down. That was the end of the scorpion.

But it wasn’t the only scorpion. Hearing movement, I spun.

The collision had riled up the locals. Scorpions of all sizes were clamouring toward me in the tunnel. The whole place turned into a glowing blue-green blob of pincers and tails and legs.

I took a step back, then another. Sand worm behind, scorpion mob in front. There was no way to fight either. I backed up further. At the tunnel entrance, I paused. The sand worm, perhaps sensing all the movement, began opening wide once more. Needing both hands, I flung the spear away. Then I leaped up, grabbed the top lip, and let it pull me off the ground. I scrambled higher, climbing onto the worm’s head.

Before the worm could react, the horde of scorpions flowed from the cave mouth and into the gormedon’s mouth. Instant buffet. They didn’t even slow, at first. But once they did, the worm began inhaling, pulling more and more in. Dozens of scorpions, big and small, were devoured.

Seizing my chance, I slid off the worm’s head, got my spear, and raced off to the oasis. There, I dove into the water and swam until I could float. I doubted it would follow or sense me that way.

Sure enough, the sandworm gorged for a while. Eventually, either full or out of food, it closed its mouth and meandered off, definitely in no hurry. It reached a spot that it somehow recognized or understood, and the desert opened up into a wide hole. The sand worm slid into it, then into wherever it lived below the surface. Somehow, a creature the size of a subway train disappeared without a trace in moments.

Relieved, I swam to shore and finally relaxed.

The genie said nothing. At some point, she’d followed me to the oasis. As I lay on the ground, she gave the spear another oddly appraising look, then took a wide detour around it. Ignoring me, she drifted over to the mimic and began giving it attention. She pulled out a basket of baby scorpions, and when the mimic opened wide, she dumped them inside, still alive. The mimic’s mouth closed, and it seemed happy, quivering like jelly.

I watched the two of them for a while. The genie treated the mimic with what looked like real affection. It was easy to tell because she was being much nicer than she was with me. Guess it made sense. They must have known each other for a long time. Mimics apparently lived very long lives.

At some point, I drifted off, likely from sheer exhaustion.

~

I woke up the next day after not enough sleep, but the morning sun was pounding down on me. I was burning fast. Groggy, sore, and grumpy, I rose and fetched water to filter. That’s when I glimpsed my reflection.

I looked like a wreck. I barely recognized myself. After weeks out in the desert, largely unprotected, my hair was shaggier, I had an unkempt beard for the first time in my life, my skin was dark red and peeling and turning leathery in places, and my eyes… I didn’t know how to describe it. They were haunted. But also wiser, perhaps? Just different. It felt like looking at some unknown homeless person who’d been living hard.

I made myself some shade, then ate and drank in a hole in the beach next to the water. I stared at the oasis, lost in thought. There was no way to deny it: I was changing. Conflicting feelings swirled within me. It was difficult to tell which was stronger, my uneasiness or my excitement. Movement caught my eye.

The genie was sitting in the air, her lower half trailing and weaving in the dry air. Oddly, she appeared to be entirely translucent. Her face was expressionless, and she stared at something behind me. For a few minutes, I did nothing, assuming she was just staring out into the distance and wondering why she was translucent. Then noises caught my attention. I froze.

Animal sounds. Walking in the brush. Jingle of a harness. Then — voices!

“Curses of Sadom! There’s a kepiir corpse in the water. It will be filthy.”

“It is why our skins have cleansing spells, Rimheyr. Do not bellyache.”

“I will bellyache as I please. Who are you to tell me what to do? Hatchling fool.”

Without realizing it, I stood and smashed through my palm-frond shelter, whirling to see people for the first time, not including the genie.

My sudden appearance shocked them as much as theirs had shocked me. We all stared, unmoving.

Three reddish-brown lizard people had begun entering the oasis greenery. Unlike the dead one I’d found in the water, these three were dressed in black outfits: looser robes than mine, very long daggers on their belted waists, and with hoods like beekeeper helmets. The screen in the front probably kept out the desert sand, though the screens were currently tied up and out of the way. Two of the newcomers were dismounting from tan-colored, two-humped camel-type things with thick necks and wispy, curly hair. Even more bizarrely, they had wide, moose-like horns. Camel-moose hybrids. Figured I’d call them camoose. The third lizard person was already leading his mount to the water. He and I were only a few paces apart, close enough for me to see the navy blue of his irises.

The two of us stared at each other for long seconds.

The lizard person’s mouth split into what was probably a grin. A long, flat, and forked tongue flicked out. He slowly dropped the reins to his camoose and then drew the knife from its sheath. The blade was bent in the middle so that the wider tip was weighted forward. Probably for decapitating enemies. The polished steel was covered in ornate patterns. His eyes never left mine.

My gaze, however, flickered over his shoulder to the two lizard people behind. And to the figure draped over the back of one of the camoose. Perhaps sensing me, it craned its neck and looked up at me. While the others were humanoid lizards, this was a slightly less humanoid ringtail cat about the size of a small human woman. It had black and white fur and overly large ears. Two round, solid-black eyes gazed at me with a mixture of hope and despair.

A metal collar had been fixed to the bound ringtail’s neck. A chain led to the camoose’s saddle. A prisoner?

The lizard person in front of me dispelled that notion. It gloated, “Well, well. It is Rimheyr’s lucky day. Fresh slaves are just falling into his lap today. I love it when profits come easy.”

Slave? Oh, hell no.

Rimheyr sprang forward at a run, lifting his knife high. “On your knees, hu—”

He never finished that sentence. I launched myself at him a second after he attacked, activating [Fists of Fury]. I was a blur of speed and power he had not been expecting. I closed before he could react, my fists punching his lizard face like a machine gun. His face deformed before my eyes, and I could feel his bones shatter under my fist. His lower jaw broke first, then his nose and upper jaw. But [Fists of Fury] didn’t stop there; it now did ten punches. The lizard person’s skull crumpled like an aluminum can, each break like celery crunching under my knuckles. Blood spurted, and I mashed the face and skull into a loose mass of unrecognizable gunk in about two seconds. Then the skill ended.

I stood there in flat-out shock. I glanced down and saw the blood and bits of bone on my fists. My gorge rose.

The body of the lizard person fell like a sack of potatoes on the ground.

I had killed someone. My mind blanked. I was a killer. I soul-deep sense of wrongness filled me. I doubled over and vomited, which was mostly dry heaving with so little in my system. I vaguely heard noises, but it was like everything was too distant to make out. I looked at the corpse. I had done that. I’d done the worst thing any person could do. I began hyperventilating in horror.

I was no longer human. I was something far less.

Someone spoke.

I didn’t react. My hands were covered in blood. The blood of the dead. Murderer.

A hand on my shoulder.

I jerked like it had been on fire. Eyes wild, I looked up into the translucent face of the genie.

Her expression was hard to figure out. She studied me a moment. Then she turned and looked out at the desert. “Just going to let them escape?”

I looked over. The two remaining lizard people were on their camoose and galloping away, their slave bouncing on the back of the lead animal. I was panting so hard from a panic attack that I could barely speak, “I killed someone.”

The genie sneered without looking at me. “There goes your only hope of finding another clue about your wife.”

My heart twisted. I was drowning in self-loathing and regret. But the genie was right. Those other lizard people might be the only way to find out where Cerise had gone, or to find people who did know. With an anguished cry, I forced myself to run, knowing that if I caught up to them, I might kill again. I hated the idea.

I was fast thanks to my stat increases. The same stats that had made me so overpowered that I’d bludgeoned someone to death in an instant. But the camoose were faster. Part of me wanted to let them escape so they would live. But I couldn’t waste a chance to find Cerise’s trail. I pushed harder. Then I recalled another skill and used it, just to see what would happen: [Lightfoot step].

I shot forward like a cannonball. I no longer had to run through the soft sand, sinking with each landing and struggling to push off. Now, my toes barely touched the surface, and I could sprint unrestricted. In seconds, I was gaining.

The rear lizard person looked back and saw me coming. He faced forward again, shouting something at the other, and struck the camoose, urging it even faster. But it was no use. I kept gaining. The lizard person in front shouted something at the trailing companion. The latter looked back, pulled hard on the reins, and turned the camoose in a wide arc back toward me. He drew his long knife with a scowl. Holding the weapon wide, he galloped at me. His mouth opened, and his forked tongue flickered. His brows creased in a frown like he couldn’t believe I was capable of this. His eyes filled with hate. He screamed at me.

The two of us were on a collision course, hell bent on destruction. He raised his blade, anticipating cutting through my neck.

I made a running leap, sailed over the head of the camoose, right between its vast horns, and side-kicked my attacker in the chest.

The lizard person gaped at me in shock as he flew backwards off the camoose. I went with him, my foot half inside the smashed ruins of his rib cage. We landed hard, him on his back on the hot sand, and my foot went even further through his body, breaking his spine. I’d killed again.

I threw myself off him, disgusted at myself. Panic attack returning in full force, I desperately dragged my foot through the sand to get the blood off. I’d killed again. And so easily. I was a fucking monster! Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt myself falling to pieces. My whole body trembled.

But at the same time, I looked up in my agony at the last lizard person still fleeing.

The collared ringtail was bouncing on the back of the camoose, looking back at me. I was too far to see their face, but I could imagine the sense of heartbreak as they drew further away from the one person who might have helped free them from slavery.

I looked down at the corpse. A sob burst up out of my chest. But I put one foot forward, then another. I started walking toward the fleeing camoose. Weeping, I began jogging. With a scream of rage and hellish emotions, I ran as hard as I could.

The escaping lizard person was a long way off. I used [Lightfoot step] again, then a third time. When fatigue hit me, [Passive: Second Wind] kicked in, and I surged forward again. Gaining.

The lizard person looked back and did a double-take, completely flabbergasted that I was still coming, and that I was catching up fast. He whipped his beast harder and harder, clearly freaking out.

I screamed at him without slowing, “Stop!”

He looked back, eyes wild, and whipped the reins again.

“Fucking stop!” I was breathing hard. “Don’t make it hard. Please!” I wished with every fibre of my being that we could resolve this without anyone else dying. I just wanted him to pull up, to give up the slave, and to tell me anything he could about where to find Cerise. I didn’t want to kill again.

The rider looked back and saw me only a few paces behind. He panicked and jerked the reins hard to the right.

That’s when I saw the cliff in front of me.