[Smite Happens] 8 - Killing in the New World

Weeee! I couldn’t help but grin at the ridiculousness of the situation. The threat of death and the thrill of possibly crashing made my blood boil with excitement. Maybe this was the warrior’s fire that Wonderwerk mentioned. I hugged the wagon floor as I reached out to grab Melphor, stopping him from getting thrown off.

“Lady’s Glove!” Melphor feebly shouted. He desperately held my arm as he hovered a couple of feet above the wagon after another bounce.

The wagon avoided trees, as if we were really blessed by a god. But our luck soon ended as the forest become thicker, and we slammed into a cluster of young trees, breaking some of the thin trucks. We soared off the wagon and hit the ground, rolling downhill some more before slamming to a stop against a thick tree trunk.

To be accurate, I slammed against the tree. I protected Melphor’s head during our tumble.

Ignoring my aching back, I pushed myself up and helped Melphor to stand. I had to half-carry him as he hobbled along. Probably had a broken leg or something. If it wasn’t for Wonderwerk’s Boon raising my Constitution rank, I bet that I would’ve been injured too after that violent crash.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” I told Melphor. He could only reply with agonized groans.  

I wasn’t sure if saving him was the right thing to do. Take his ring and leave him, or bring him along and hope that he could help me fight the assassins? How much help could I expect from him?

But since I had already saved him, I might as well continue with this. I didn’t do things half-assed. And I could still leave him further along, if the situation called for it.

“We have to hide,” I said, looking up at where we came from. “Hurry, hurry!”

I couldn’t see the road from here—trees and shrubbery dotting the slope covered my view—but I was certain that the assassin who had cut our horses loose was coming down. The sternial wielder might not be too far behind. I doubted Lorwin could last long against him.

Survive until the Silver Order arrives. To survive, we had to hide.

I didn’t know much about hiding in the forest. The assassins could probably track us, looking at disturbed soil, broken branches, and whatnot. They’d find us soon enough.

Change of plans. Kill the regular guy coming down because he was near enough that he’d just find us. Should be done before the sternial wielder would come. Then leave Melphor as I’d flee the sternial wielder. By then, the Silver Order should be here.

There’s the asshat! I had a glimpse of the assassin climbing down. I headed deeper into the forest, almost dragging Melphor with me.

Since this would be my second kill, it should be easier. Okay, maybe not. The enemy had a helmet and a breastplate over a shirt made of linked chains. I also had Wonderwerk’s restriction to worry about.  

“Melphor, are you okay?” I asked. Dumb question. Of course, he wasn’t. “Can you still use your powers? We have to kill—I mean, incapacitate the man following us.”

“I-I can…” he replied, coughing. “I’d pour my last remaining strength… as the Lady wills.”

“I’ll be the bait. You hide behind a tree or something. Once the assassin’s focus is on me, hit him with the green barrier you can make. But don’t slap him with the flat side. Turn it into a wedge and stab his back. Or maybe his leg is better because it isn’t protected by armor.”

“I forbid you… from putting yourself in… harm’s way.”

“We’re already in harm’s way,” I said, looking around while squeezing my brain for a plan. “You can’t be the bait; your attack from afar would be wasted. It has to be me. And nothing bad will happen to me. Rank three Constitution, remember?”

Melphor shook his head. “A la-lady shouldn’t—”

“A lady should try everything to survive. Stay here.” I left him by a tree beside a small clearing. “Hide, okay? I’ll draw attention to myself and stand over there. See that crooked tree? The assassin will have his back to you. Strike when he’s near me.” I sprinted away, not minding Melphor’s protests.

I cut through the trees, perpendicular to our earlier path. Getting an idea from Melphor, I pretended to limp as I ran. My fake leg injury would explain why I’d stand my ground instead of continuing to run away. The assassin should spot me since he was following our trail. But he wouldn’t eagerly give chase because he’d wonder why I wasn’t with the priest guy. In the end, though, the asshat would still target me since I was the Chosen Bestowed.

A weapon! I picked up a rock the size of a pineapple and took my place at the spot I had pointed at Melphor. The tree where I had left him was in view but not him. I could only hope that he was still conscious, hiding and waiting to execute our plan.

The assassin stepped out of a bunch of leaves—good job on him for following my plan. The metal-encased piece of shit held his sword with both hands, leveling its point at me. He cautiously approached, looking left and right for Melphor.

I retreated a few steps back, exaggerating my fake limp, until I hit my back touched the tree trunk. “Do-don’t come any closer!” I raised the rock with both hands. “I… I’ll fight you!” The hesitation and fear in my voice sounded authentic enough. Add in the wincing each time I stepped with my ‘bad’ leg.

“I’m terribly sorry for what I’m about to do, young lady,” he said, sounding genuinely dejected.

“If you’re sorry, then don’t fucking do it!” I slightly leaned left, trying to look for any hint of Melphor. He should wait for the assassin to get closer to me before attacking so that I could also strike.

But what if Melphor was out for the count? I could always run, I supposed.

The assassin was only five feet away from me. I could see his eyes through the opening of his helmet. “I’ll make this painless,” he said. “May my ancestors—Argh!”

A glowing green object hit the back of the assassin’s leg. He got down on one knee and stopped his fall by stabbing his sword into the ground for support. I rushed at him and bashed his bowed head with the rock. The sound of rock crashing into metal reverberated through the trees. The assassin let go of his sword felt face-first into the ground.

That fucking hurts! I thought while hissing through gritted teeth. Intense pain radiated from my temple. Everything went white for a moment. But I remained conscious. A slight golden glow covered my arms. No, it covered all of me. I felt a bit better. This must be Wonderwerk’s gift of healing when up against stronger opponents.

BAM! I hit the assassin’s helmet with the rock again as he struggled to rise.

But this time, he stopped himself from falling back to the ground with stretched arms. He grabbed the handle of his sword. His domed helmet had a huge dent, but I felt for myself that my second hit didn’t do much damage.

That stupid helmet! Not only that. I was also holding back. I shouldn’t hesitate to hurt myself!

I dropped my rock, grabbed the sides of the assassin’s helmet, and pulled it off his head. Good thing it wasn’t strapped on or anything. He had a moment to exclaim in surprise and figure out what I had done before I smashed him with his own helmet. This time, he fell into a crumpled heap.

With clenched teeth, I endured the pain radiating from my crown. Another bash. And another!

This all came down to who could last longer. I was betting the answer would be my fucking awesome self!

I felt warm trickles running down my forehead. One of them passed by my eye, coloring my vision red. I blinked rapidly to keep my own blood from my eyes. I alternated between bouts of wooziness and concentration as I kept healing from my self-inflicted injuries.

“This’ll hurt you more than it hurts me!” Even as my consciousness wavered, I focused on a singular thought—bash this asshat!

I stopped when the assassin hadn’t moved for a few seconds. The hair on top of his head was matted with blood, and so was mine. But he was down—could be dead—while I remained conscious. I was victorious!

Glancing at his sword, there was the temptation of taking it to chop off his head. What would that look like? Could I separate his head with one strike? That would be so cool! Would blood gush like a fountain out of his neck? I wanted to watch that.

This guy was likely dead, so I didn’t think that Wonderwerk’s restriction would take effect. But I shouldn’t risk it. This was also wasting time.  

I shambled like a drunk guy to Melphor, my aching head plaguing me as if I had stayed up for three nights. I found him slumped against a tree, his head bowed low so that his chin met his chest. A patch of red dirtied the white of his clothes—he had coughed up blood.

“Melphor! Are you okay? Dumb question again.” I knelt beside him. “I killed one of the assassins! We have to go!” I should leave him. I didn’t even take the assassin’s sword because it’d slow me down.

“You go,” Melphor feebly replied, keeping his eyes closed. “I stay. This is… my end.”

“But I can’t just leave you.” I took his right arm. Where was that stupid ring? Do I just snatch it away from him? He probably wouldn’t get angry if I asked for it, right? I’d promise to return it to his church or something. If that wouldn’t work, I could claim that this was god’s will.

But I didn’t need to worry about how to take the Ring of Fortitude. “Take this…” Melphor dropped a tiny object into my palm. It was the ring! “May it serve… you well. Now, go!”

I left Melphor behind, swearing that his sacrifice would also be included in my bible. It’d benefit me if I spoke well of him, garnering sympathy and support from the other followers of the Silver-Gloved Lady. Probably another deity.

I wore the Ring of Fortitude and was covered in white light for a moment. I did feel healthier, and the pain I was experiencing ebbed, allowing me to run straight instead of tumbling over the exposed roots of old trees.

Where to go? In the direction of Belldale, obviously. But do I go back up to the road or stay here and hide amongst the trees? I decided to take the middle route, climbing to get near enough to the road to hear the Silver Order, but not reveal myself to the assassins.   

“This is it,” I whispered to myself. “I’m alive. Everyone else is probably dead, but not me. My journey as a saint is starting.” I was tempted to cackle like a witch, but that was unbecoming of the savior of humanity.

The uphill climb was treacherous. A couple of times, I slipped on moss-covered rocks, rolling back on the dirty ground. My hair, sticky with blood, was also annoying me. I’d very much want a shower.

Hang on… They wouldn’t have modern plumbing in this world. Oh my gosh, it was probably better to rest in peace forever! What would I do without hot water? And without a toilet with a flush?!

“What did their toilets look like? I’m not going to—Wah!”

A cluster of rocks above me exploded, spreading dark tendrils and debris. The strike came from behind me. It was the sternial wielder! His armor was covered in blood, which must be Lorwin’s. My otherworldly parents cared more about me than my real parents back on Earth.

“How dare you kill my brother!” shouted the sternial wielder as he gathered the black energies once again.

“How dare you try to kill me, idiot?” I ran to the cover of a tree as the sternial wielder sent dark waves my way. I was cursing my luck when I heard a truly glorious noise—neighing horses and stampeding hooves. It was the Silver Order! I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Help! Help me down here!”  

(Author's Notes: There we have Emery's first kill in the Splintered Reach. I'd say she did pretty well. We also saw how her Boon and its restriction operate. Many thanks to the sacrifices of Melphor, Lorwin, and his wife. Emery will remember them in the future sacred texts of her cults. We can already see Emery's differences with Erind, and it'll give us a different sort of fun plot.)