Henrik Saetre

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 34: Golems

Qing stood by the door in the library room, clenching his fists as he listened to Tariq beating up Rendal on the other side. But the princess hadn’t been mentioned, so maybe she wasn’t there. If Tariq would let Rendal go with a beating, then Qing would heal him afterwards, and their cover wouldn’t be blown. Morgana held Qing’s arms firmly, eyes imploring. 

“It sounds like a small man,” she said. “Someone who has to assert themselves by pushing other people down.” Qing nodded. He’d known his share. Blaise’s face sprang to mind, and Qing felt sick to his stomach at standing idle by as Rendal was bullied.

“Use the time,” Knut said, and held out the palace guard armour. Qing took it into his inventory and handed back Knut’s regular equipment, keeping his hands busy. He handed over the stolen helmet to Knut. 

“Isn’t this from Jorik’s basement?” Knut asked. 

Qing nodded, but winced as Rendal cried out in pain, begging Tariq to stop. 

“It might come in handy when we free Jorik,” Qing said. “It’s epic quality, with excellent defense, and increases your attack speed by fifteen percent. Once per hour, you can trigger it to look at distant targets up close, enhancing your shot accuracy, once per hour.”

“That might come in handy,” Knut said, grudgingly, though he was less happy than Qing had expected.

He must be worried about Jorik. And why doesn’t Ghida say anything? Is she not there?

“The Grand Vizier himself lifted the ban,” Tariq said. “And, he put me in charge of library security. 

Qing’s blood ran cold. This wasn’t a random guard who would leave Rendal with a beating.

“Don’t hurt me, please,” Rendal said from outside, whimpering. “And be careful of the books.”

“Books, books, books! That’s all you ever care about, isn’t it?” The sound of a fist meeting flesh and a body tumbling to the ground followed. 

Qing handed Knut his bow and quiver. 

“Yell as loud as you want,” Tariq said. “Nobody can hear you over the alarm, nor will they come for you. Not even your precious golems. They only care about what we bring out, don’t they? So if your corpse stays here...”

“Please, no. I just—” Rendal said. 

“Sir!” another voice said. “We’ve searched every room. There’s only librarians here.”

“And this sniveling worm,” Tariq said. “Go turn off the alarm. I’ll find out what he’s hiding.”

“Yes, sir!”

At the sound of a sword cutting through air, Qing looked to Morgana and shook his head. She sighed and let go of his arms. 

He won’t leave Rendal alone. And if he carves him up, my heals might save his body, but he’ll keep the mental scars for life.

He pulled on the door. It was locked. He pulled harder, and it rattled. 

“Is someone there?” Tariq said.

“No!” Rendal screamed. 

Qing leaned into a kick, hitting right above the lock, and the door splintered open.

Rendal lay in a fetal position, body covering two books as he shielded them with his body.

Tariq stumbled away from the door, curved sword raised. He was no small man, but looked like a rat ogre, towering over Qing. His face was narrow, dark eyes beady, and he had a long, drooping mustache. Fine clothing hung on his body, reminding Qing of second-generation rich kids in Chicago with their luxury clothing treated liked rags.

“Who are you?” he asked. 

“Someone who hates bullies,” Qing said, stalking out of the room.

“Not a step closer,” Tariq said, putting his sword to Rendal’s throat. 

Qing hesitated, and the man grinned. “Ah, I see. Friends. I don’t know how he smuggled you in here, or why we didn’t find you, but you will tell me everything.”

How can I kill him before he kills Rendal? Maybe I can heal him fast enough that it won’t matter, but…

The bells quieted, and Qing walked into the hallway. It ran straight and was broad enough for two people to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. 

Maybe it is long enough…

Doors lined the corridor. 

“They offer no escape,” Tariq said, looking at Qing’s eyes. 

“Please,” Rendal said. “Don’t do this. They…they’re just here for a book.”

“If that’s what you think, you’re as stupid as I always thought you were. These are the foreign collaborators of Princess Ghida,” Tariq said, before adding, “but you knew that, didn’t you. You were always her personal little library monkey, weren’t you?” A grin spread across his face. “She must be hiding in here somewhere too.”

Qing stood in the middle of the corridor, looking down along it, with Tariq directly in front of him, standing over Rendal. 

The massive man reached inside his billowing robes. “Capturing the rebel princess and killing several spies? It’s a good day to be me.”

Qing leaned his shoulder forward, tucked in his axe, and triggered his sandals. 

It felt as if he’d run straight into a brick wall, but the axe buried itself into Tariq’s chest, blood spraying, and the man was flung down the hallway as Qing staggered to a halt. 

“Ouch,” Qing said, nursing his shoulder.

“What have you done?” Rendal shrieked. 

“Saved your life. Where’s the princess?”

“You idiot,” Rendal said. “You just killed us all.”

“Not very appreciative, is he?” Morgana said from the doorway.

Qing felt something underneath his feet.

“You murdered the head of security! The golems will kill us all now,” Rendal said. “She was safe, but now…Can’t you feel them?”

“Tariq said they wouldn’t care about a dead body,” Qing said. “Only if the body was brought out.”

“He was an idiot,” Rendal said, scrambling to his feet. “One who didn’t know how they truly work. We need to get the princess.”

“Why isn’t she with you?” Qing asked. 

“I put her in another room to keep her safe. I just knew you’d do something stupid like this. Now she’ll have to leave as well.” 

“Let’s go back out through the shaft,” Morgana said.

“No,” Randal said. “They’ll find the princess.”

“With this clown dead, they’re unlikely to kill her,” Qing said. “They’ll put her in prison, but we can rescue her later. Do any of you know which pyramid is the Augrian? I got a new quest.”

Knut and Morgana shook their heads. “Never heard of.”

“The Augrian pyramid?” Randal asked, licking his lips. “I can tell you anything you need. I’ll take you there myself! But only if you save the princess.”

“Must be others who know the pyramid,” Knut said. “How time sensitive is the quest?” 

The floor rumbled. 

“We need to go tonight.”

“There are over thirty pyramids just in the city,” Rendal said. “You couldn’t even visit them all if you had a full day.” 

“Someone else must know the name,” Qing said as the ground shook more noticeably.

“It’s an ancient name, known only to scholars.” 

“Tell me which pyramid it is, or I’ll cut your fingers off,” Morgana said, flourishing a dagger as she stalked towards him.

“I’ll never betray her,” Rendal said, brow furrowed. 

Morgana shrugged and sheathed her weapon. “I tried.”

Qing hoisted him to his feet. “Fine. Take us to the princess.”

Randal nodded, and started walking down the corridor, but stopped to throw a glance at the bleeding corpse. “Maybe…” He shook his head. “No, not even he would be so dumb.” The two books clutched to his chest, he hurried down the corridor. 

“Are those the books we came for?” Qing asked. 

“No. Spell books the princess asked me to pick up,” Randal replied.

Spell books?

“Let me see them for a moment.” 

“Be careful,” Randal warned, handing them over as they rounded a corner, heading away from the stomping.

Item: [Level Two Skill-book] x 2 has been added to your inventory.

Qing chuckled.

“Where did the books go?” Randal asked. 

“Safe in my inventory,” Qing replied. 

“What’s that?” Randal asked as he led them in one door, through a room filled with iron shelves stacked with books, and out into another corridor. From three doors, people poked heads out, faces white in fear, but seeing them, they slammed the door shut and locked the doors.

As they rushed on, the heavy stomps faded, somewhat.

“A magical storage,” Qing said. 

“Can you keep anything in it?” 

“Not everything. But equipment, money, potions, gems, books, fo—”

“How many books?” 

“I don’t know,” Qing said.

Randal screeched to a halt. “Maybe you can bring the banned books out of the library.” The stomping came closer. 

“I thought you were all about the princess?” Knut asked.

Randal clutched his worn brown leather satchel, fingers working the leather as he bit his lips. “Yeah, of course. The princess. But the books... They’ll throw me out after this, if they don’t kill me. It might be my last chance to save a few books.”

A loud gravelly voice filled the air. “Stay in your designated rooms for processing. Anyone found roaming will be judged.”

“Too late,” Qing said, and he push Randal into motion. “Take us to the princess.” 

“But—” 

“No buts. If you don’t hurry, you’ll loose both.”

Randal grimaced as he staggered into motion, but he unerringly led them through several hallways before drawing to a halt in front of a door like any other. He smoothed his clothes and ran a hand through his hair, before knocking twice and opening the door.

Inside stood princess Ghida, dressed in a pair of brown loose flowing pants, matched with a burgunder silken top that hugged her figure.

“Where have you been?” She said. “What was the alarm about? And why are you frowning at me like that?” The last she said at Qing. “Is something wrong with my clothes?”

He looked away, surveying the room. “No. Rendal got assaulted by a rat ogre, and the golems are coming.”

“Because you killed him!”

“Would you have preferred I let him kill you?”

“For the sun’s sake… I leave you alone for a few minutes,” Ghida said, shaking her head as everyone spoke at the same time.

“Shut it, princess,” Morgana said. 

“Which pyramid is the Augrian?” Knut asked, closing the door. 

“We need a plan to deal with the golems,” Qing said. 

“He can help us save books!” Rendal said. 

“Quiet!” Ghida shouted, raising her arms. “How long do we have until the Golems find us?”

“Five minutes, maybe?” Rendal said. 

“Are you sure we can’t kill the golems?” Morgana asked. “We are good at killing things.”

“They are resistant to both spells and physical damage,” Ghida said. “My spells wouldn’t even scratch them.” She turned to Qing. “Unless you’ve been hiding some secret abilities, I doubt yours would either.” 

“How close are you to leveling up?” Knut asked.

“Too far. Besides, there are no other enemies to defeat, unless I’m to start slaughtering librarians.”  He noticed Ghida and Rendal staring. “Which I won’t, of course.”

A slam rocked the room, as a nearby door was crushed open by an undeniable force.

“I might know a way out,” Ghida said. “It’ll be risky, but.”

“Shiha, he has a magic inventory. He can save more books than I could in a month!”

“He won’t need to if we just get out and remove Wazir from power,” Ghida said. 

Another loud crash filled the air. 

“Take us to the map room.”

“Why?”

“It overlooks the ocean.”

“You can’t swim!”

“I can’t fight a golem either.”

Rendal hesitated only for a moment before ripping open the door, sprinting out and to the left. The others followed, with Qing bringing up the rear.

As he stepped out, a roar filled the corridor as a massive golem came around the corner. The top of its lion mane nearly brushed the ceiling, and its hands looked large enough to envelop Qing’s whole head. 

You’re already pissed off, so let’s see if the princess was right. 

As Qing retreated down the corridor, he cast Magic Missiles. They flashed forward to slam into the stone, hitting the golem’s stone sixpack. With a loud fizzle, they disappeared, leaving not a scratch. 

“Damn. This is like aggroing city guards in online games,” Qing said to himself as he set off after the others, grabbing the corner for traction as he spun around. 

They rushed through libraries, down long corridors, and two archives. But the golem never lost their trail. It didn’t catch up as they ran flat out, but neither did it fall far behind. And each time they stopped for even a second, it gained. 

“Are we nearly there?” Morgana asked, heaving for breath as they rounded a corner.

“Not sure,” Ghida said. “The direct route was back three rooms, blocked by golem. We’re further away now. Almost at the entrance.”

With a curse, Rendal set off again, huffing and puffing, but a crash filled the air and a golem stepped into the hallway in front. Blood splattered with each step, and it held the remains of half a librarian in one hand, legs dangling.

They turned as one and retreated, but the a second golem stepped out, blocking their path, trapping them between the two. This one was clean, so far.

Qing turned in a tight circle. “The two doors here, where do they lead?” 

“Dead ends,” Rendal said. 

“Then all we can do is fight.”

Without holding anything back.

Qing opened his skill tree. 

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 33: Injustice

Qing stared as Rendal slapped his hand on a brick and stared up at a metal grate, proudly saying, “This is it.”

Knut, arching his neck to stare up, said, “That’s barely a vent for air.”

“I thought you had a secret entrance, like hidden behind a bookcase, a trapdoor hidden in the floor or something like that,” Morgana said, hand on hip.

“Rendal, you know I won’t be able to fit in there,” Ghida said, “My hips, they—” 

“Of course,” Rendal said, interrupting her. “I won’t fit either. But your friends, they are small and slim. Besides, you can just walk in with me past the golems like always.”

High on the wall, the metal grid looked like the entrance to a medieval air duct. And Rendal was right. Neither him, nor the princess would fit inside. But Knut, Morgana, and Qing might all get through, but it would be a tight squeeze.

“If there are soldiers looking for me, wouldn’t they have changed the golem’s scripts already? Make them look for me?”

“No. I checked that earlier today and nothing was added.”

“What if they’ve changed after you checked?”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Rendal said, shaking his head. “They’ve never changed the golem’s scripts twice in a day before.”

“Not exactly something I’d like to bet my life on,” Ghida said.

“Since you can’t fit, how do you get books through here?” Qing asked.

“Oh, there’s a room on the left when you head straight into the vent. From that room, I open the grate, slide the books over here, and grab them from this side. I have to walk through an exit, or the golems would know something was up. They keep a record of who has entered and exited, and with what.”

“So, once you are inside with the princess, if anyone checks with the golems, they will know she’s here,” Knut said.

“That is true.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to go get the books and slide them out to us here? Then we don’t need to deal with the golems?” Qing asked.

“There are too many soldiers and librarians here. We’ll run into someone sooner rather than later. You heard the officer outside. Your friends need to get out of the guard uniforms before they get Shiha caught.”

“Anyone got any better ideas?”

“I’m still not—” Knut started saying, but the sound of marching sounded filtered down the corridors, cutting him off.

“Shit,” Qing said. “We need this book. Seems we have to go get it. But we can’t stay long.” He turned to Morgana. “Hurry inside.”

“You two go first,” she said.

“Why?” Knut asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier for us to lift you up?”

“Let you stare at my arse the whole way through? Hell no. You two get up.”

Knut shrugged at Qing. “She’s not wrong.”

“They’re nearly here!” Ghida hissed, and Rendal brought a tiny ladder from nearby, propping it up against the wall.

From nearby, Rendal brought a tiny ladder and propped it up against the wall.

Knut rushed up, flipping the grate down, and slipping inside the thin space. “Remember,” Rendal said, “head straight, then right at the second fork, then the first left, and then the room should be on your right. And be quiet. I don’t want anyone to figure out you’re in there.”

Qing nodded to the princess and scampered up. “Don’t get caught, and hurry. I’m not spending a moment inside that cramped shaft than I need.” Then he reached inside and pulled himself through.

Yippee-ka-yay…

His head touched the roof when he looked forward, and he couldn’t get both shoulders to stop touching the sides at the same time. When crawling, his elbows slid along each side, one at a time, and claustrophobia scratched at the back of his mind. This was no vent made from thin sheet metal that he could push his way out of if needed. This was a tiny tunnel built as part of the stone walls.

Morgana climbed in behind.

The grate shut.

Ghida and Rendal’s footsteps receded.

His breath was loud in his ears as he pulled with his hands and pushed with his toes, following Knut as silently as he could. After a minute, he came to a metal grate sat to his left, and he paused to look into the room. About the size of a dining room at home, it had a round table in the middle, and iron shelves covered every wall, even framing the door that sat opposite the vent. This had to be the room from which Rendal would slide books in and out.

Three men sat around the table. Two wore robes, like Rendal, and the third looked like a nobleman, dressed like those in the throne room. He even had silver slippers with golden brocade.

“…nd Vizier’s guest from the East has left the palace. I had to hand deliver several books to him. Disgusting man,” one of the librarians said.

“Which books?” asked the second.

“Several key works on the Augrian pyramid and its inner workings.”

“Why would they entrust him with that knowledge?”

“You are right to question. He is a foreigner. It makes—”

“He has Wazir’s favour,” the nobleman said. “That’s enough for you.”

The two librarians practically fell over themselves to agree, but Qing stopped listening as a window appeared in front of his eyes.

New Quest: [Investigate the Augrian Pyramid]

You’ve heard rumours that the enemy may be working in the Augrian pyramid.

-Objective: Scout the Augrian pyramid

-Reward: 1 skill-point

They must be talking about Rufus! But which of the dozen pyramids is the Augrian? The princess must know.

Should they turn around and leave, hurry to the pyramid? Was getting this quest the only thing for them in here?

Qing forced himself to take a slow breath, thinking of GG’s advice.

Don’t be too hasty. The princess has headed inside already. Even if we go back out, it’s not sure we’ll catch her in time. Let’s go in and get the book first.

The three men prattled on about how the princess chase interrupted their work, and Morgana tapped on Qing’s heel. He continued, passing first one junction, and then catching up to Knut, who had just finished slithering around the corner. 

Was the pyramid why Rufus hadn’t been in the quarters? He’d already left? Or was it our attack which made him move? 

Each laborious movement felt like torture as he slid through the vent at a snail’s pace.

I should be out there fighting. Not hiding. 

He knew it was stupid, but being stuck in here made him feel so impotent. Unable to impact the situation.

He leaned onto his left shoulder, twisting his body, and grabbed the corner.

Then he pulled.

And promptly got stuck, wedged in worse than a sofa up a pair of stairs. He tried pivoting, but the walls held him rock steady. 

“Move,” Morgana said, hissing from behind. 

“I’m stuck.”

“Suck in your belly.”

“I tried.”

“Breathe out then, and I’ll push from behind.”

He let all the air out of his lungs and pulled with his fingers while pressing with his toes. Morgana grabbed his leg and pushed him forward, one inch, where he got even worse stuck. He could barely breathe, filling a tiny part of his lungs. 

Panic clawed at him. 

He was going to die here.

Suffocate to death.

His leg cramped, and he bit his teeth to keep from crying out. The guards or golems would hear him.

Knut peeked behind, saw him stuck, and started shuffling backwards. But he moved so slow.

He won’t make it in time. I’m going to die!

Qing closed his eyes and reached for the arcane power, pulling on the universe’s energy. He placed his hand on the corner, right next to his chest, and cast Magic Missiles. They popped straight out of his right hand and carved three fist-sized globes out of the stone, freeing a few extra inches of space for him to squeeze through.

He popped free, sliding in after Knut. 

Elbows tucked tight, he leaned his forehead on the floor and let his body shake, releasing the fear.

A loud blaring filled the air, filtering into the vents.

“What the hell did you do?” Morgana said, hissing.

Knut didn’t wait around, but started sliding rapidly through the vent ahead.

Qing followed. At the next corner, he stretched one arm in first, gaining an inch, and he got through without getting stuck. Knut was already glancing into a room up ahead, hand held up, palm facing Qing.

He wants me to wait.

Qing crept ever so slowly forward, making not the least sound.

“Nothing here, sir,” a voice said from the room. “Not even Rendal, the librarian. Room’s registered to him.”

“Go find him, and bring him to me,” another voice said. This one had an oily feel to it. Any further orders were cut off as a door slammed shut, and Qing heard a lock being turned.

Knut smoothly opened and lowered the vent, before continuing past the opening.

“You first,” he said. “I’ll need help.”

Qing crept forward and looked into the room. Similar to the previous one, it had iron shelves filled with books lining the walls. But it looked as if a group of teenage geeks had filled the round table with every book they’d ever read, in absolutely no order. There were stacks upon stacks on the floor, and barely a path lay clear to the door.

“Not how I had envisioned his working style,” Qing said to Knut as he lowered his torso into the room. Goosebumps crawled across his arms and shoulders as the mental weight of uncountable tons of stone lifted from his skin.

Careful of making the least amount of sound, Qing wedged his feet, and lowered himself, arms first, before dropping the last part, landing in a handstand. He nearly toppled over, but swiftly walked his hands out onto the floor and his legs down the wall.

After breathing a sigh of relief, he helped both Knut and Morgana down.

While waiting for Rendal and the princess, they changed out of their stolen uniforms, as any guards inside would be immediately suspect. Qing guarded the door, ear pressed against the wood, trying to make out what happened outside. As he closed his eyes, the scent of old leather and parchment that hung in the air intensified.

He held up a hand.

Footsteps.

“Rendal. How kind of you to join us,” said the oily voice.

“Please, Tariq. I—”

“Shut up!” 

Qing jerked back from the door at the sudden scream, eyes going wide. In a flash, Paulhandler’s Keg-smasher appeared in his grip, and his hand moved for the door’s handle. But Morgana stepped in front of him, shaking her head. 

“Let him handle it,” she whispered, low enough not to be heard over the blaring bells. 

“I know it was you who reported me,” Tariq said. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for me to be banned? How much it set back my research?”

A slap sounded from the corridor, and Qing closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

“Would he want you to risk her life to save him pain?” Morgana asked. “Let him do her this favour.”

Qing slowly exhaled, but nodded. 

He would try. 

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 32: The Grand Library

Ghida knocked on the side door of the library as Qing put down the crates he’d picked up in the city. They had got them through the front gates, and the trip through the city had gone smoothly. Knut and Morgana’s uniforms had people scrambling away, and Ghida’s confidence shone through the fabric wrapped around her, and people rightly assumed her to be nobility.

From a distance, the Grand Library looked like a Mediterranean fortress topped with spires that reached for the heavens and one blue-tiled dome that shimmered under the desert sun. Up close, they’d spotted the main entrance with its massive wooden doors, flanked by two massive stone statues, the guardians of knowledge. They looked like oversized men, with abs rivaling Jesus’, and their faces had been painted white. The one on the left held a book and a quill, and the one on the right a two-handed sword, whose point rested on the ground. A vibrant green garden encircled the entire complex, starkly contrasting with the surrounding desert city. Fountains bubbled throughout, and it felt like a tremendous waste of water. Regular citizens kept a wary distance, not even approaching the walls to sit in its long shadow. But uniforms, carrying crates, and acting like they belonged there, had got them in the gate and through the gardens to a side entrance.

The plan was for Ghida to talk their way in with a delivery of books. Once inside, they’d locate one of her allies, and it should be fine from there.

The door creaked open, and a flat voice spoke before they could be seen. “What do you want?” The door opened to show a tall and strong man, wearing brown and dusty robes, with possibly the worst posture Qing had seen in his life. His eyes went wide in recognition as he looked at Ghida, despite only her eyes being visible. “What are you doing here? Soldiers are looking for you!” he said, stepping out and glancing around. 

“Figures,” Ghida said. “Wazir knows how much I enjoy the library.” She pulled herself up and spoke with command. “I need your help, Randall.”

“Anything for you, Princ—” 

She interrupted him, “Hush! Just call me…Shiha.”

He nodded fervently and smiled. “Like the dragoness, of course.” 

“There is a book we need. And it would be good to have a place to hide, just for a while.”

“But the soldiers…Shiha, they are still in here,” he said, and as he he did, a voice rang out from behind.

“You there! What are you doing?” 

An officer headed straight for them, four soldiers marching behind. 

Randall closed his eyes and ran a hand through his brown hair, while stroking the neatly trimmed full beard that ran from ear to ear. 

“Escorting books,” Randall said. 

The officer stepped up and addressed Knut and Morgana. “Well? Answer me.”

Randall stepped outside. “They are the escort for these books,” he said, resting a hand on the crate Qing had brought. “Valuable and dangerous books found in the homes of despicables.” The librarian waved at the four of them. “You four, get in before anyone else is exposed to its filthy contents.” 

Qing picked up the crate, grateful that a lid covered the grapes contained within.

The officer put a hand on Knut’s shoulder. “Don’t you know there is a manhunt going on?”

“Our orders are to secure the books, sir,” Knut replied. 

“There is a city-wide notice for four outlaws, one of which is the former Princess Ghida. Every able-bodied guard has been called in.”

Knut shrugged. “If you want to countermand the Grand Vizier’s orders, you are more than welcome to do so. But until I hear from him personally, I’m going to do as he commanded. I value my life and that of my family.”

“The Grand Vizier himself told you to get these books?” the officer said, stammering.

“These contain dangerous secrets and spells of bonecallers,” Knut said, managing to convey a shiver through the layers of padding and chain mail armor. “We are to lock them in a deep and dark hole. Hopefully, this librarian will then throw away the key.”

The officer nodded. “Carry on then,” he said. “But hurry. Once you’re done, report to the front gate for your next assignment.”

After entering, Randall slammed the door shut behind them and twisted a key, locking it tight. Then he seemed to shrink, as a sigh of relief ran through him. 

Qing felt a tension leave his shoulders too.

“Follow me,” Randall said. “I know of a room that should be empty now. We can talk there in peace.”

They had entered through a kitchen side door and Qing left the crate behind as they walked up a long stair, through a corridor, before entering the library’s main hall, high on the walls. They had a fantastic view as they crossed a walkway, looking down at the massive entrance. Two wooden doors towered over the people below, intricately carved with what looked to be historical scenes.

The main hall itself was vast, the ceiling supported by rows of thick columns, which doubled as bookshelves brimming with ancient tomes. Each had a ladder, fastened at the top with a thick rope, that could be rolled around. Circular tables made of dark wood stood spread around the hall, inviting scholars and citizens to delve into knowledge. They all stand empty. 

“Where are the visitors?” Qing asked in a whisper. It was a library, after all. 

“Seems none made it in today,” Rendal said. “See the masked librarian sitting on the pedestal?” 

“Inside the oval desk with the three guards?”

“Yes. Any who wishes to visit the library must pass a test of knowledge in order to enter. We change the questions every day. The guards take those who fail outside and whip them in public. We take our duty of keeping knowledge safe very seriously.”

Only the shuffling of four pairs of feet could be heard, until Knut said, “That’s insane.”

“No. It’s genius,” Morgana said. “Gives the people hope. Anyone can come for knowledge. All that stands in your way is a simple question. Then you can learn. They do not keep knowledge from you, only keeping it secure while ensuring that the wisest people get to learn.” She chuckled. “And I’m sure the daily question works like passwords amongst the thieves’ guilds, doled out to those in power.”

Rendal sputtered and missed a step. “That’s preposterous!” He grimaced at his own exclamation. “The knowledge contained here fuels the world. It is not for the everyday man, nor for political manoeuvring. Tell them, Ghida.”

The princess winced before scowling at Morgana. “Leave him alone.”

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“You mentioned books, your…Shiha,” Randal said as they walked.

“Yes. We need…a few books, and a place to stay while we figure out what to do next. 

“Tell me of the books first.”

“The book of the Ashen Witch,” Qing said.

“By whom?” 

“No idea.”

“What is it about?”

“Don’t know.”

“Age?”

“Old?”

“All our books are old.”

“Rendal,” Ghida said, voice going soft. “Are you saying you can’t find it?”

“Of course I’ll find it. But it’ll take time. With the soldiers bumbling about…there is so much change, pri—Shiha.” He stopped and looked at her imploringly. “You know I don’t like change. Can’t you stop it?”

“I know. And I am trying to. Kind of. But, I’d also like you to bring me…let’s see. What was the book about elemental imbalance? The earth and wind and fire one.”

“You mean ‘Earth, wind, and fire: Water as the equilibrium for elemental imbalances’?”

“Yes. And the one for bonecallers by that Drexler writer. The dry one.”

“Ah. Drexler Hawthorn’s ‘The Thinning Veil: Bonecallers and the Thaumaturgic Threat’?”

Ghida gave him a beaming smile, and Rendal’s cheeks reddened. “Yes!” She put a hand on Qing’s arm and leaned over. “Is he not amazing? He remembers everything. Literally.”

Qing gently removed her hand, and Rendal’s scowl disappeared. “Impressive indeed. We are fortunate you have such capable allies.”

That made the librarian’s chest puff up, and he stood a little less crooked. “Oh, that’s nothing. You remember the time you wanted ‘The Rise and Fall of the Ember Throne’ by Elara and Cassian Marrowhart? All you gave me was the line ‘The silent resolve of two hearts standing against the tempest of change’ from ‘The Whisperwind Covenant’. Best week of the whole year, that was,” he said with a wide smile, but it swiftly faded. “These days, the ones in charge seem more intent on destroying knowledge than finding and maintaining.” 

“Do not trouble yourself, Rendal. I will fix it. You just take care of things in here and leave the outside to me.”

“Of course, Shiha.”

“Where will you take us?” Ghida asked.

“I’ve got a room set aside for research in the restricted section, far in the back. The soldiers shouldn’t come there, nor any other librarians.”

“Restricted section?” Morgana asked. 

“It is where the majority of the library’s books are kept,” Ghida said. “The shelves are all metal, to which the individual books are locked. It protects them from both fire and theft. Though, the golems do protect against both.”

“Golems?” Qing asked.

“Yes. The guardian golems which protect our library. There’s two over there,” Rendal said, smiling and pointing. Along the balcony of the main hall were several doorways. Most with shut doors, some with open doors, but one simply featured an archway. Two stone statues flanked the opening, standing head and shoulders taller than Qing, they were chiseled as heavily muscled men. 

Are they wearing short skirts or is that kilts?

Qing looked at their lion-shaped heads, mane standing proud. It didn’t look as if they had moved in millennia, if ever. 

“Have you ever seen one move?” Qing asked. “Maybe they are just statues?”

Rendal shivered. “Believe me. They move. And they are as strong as they are fast.”

“Have you seen it with your own eyes?”

“Never seen them move, no. But…” The man’s voice lowered, and he sunk together even more. “One time the head librarian made me clean the remains of a colleague off them. Everyone has to, at least once.”

“That’s horrible,” Ghida said. “How come you never told me?”

“Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble, would I?” He shrugged. 

“If everyone has to do it once, how regularly do the golems kill?” Morgana asked as they walked past the doors, leaving the golems behind. “If they are so strong, you’d think people had grown wise to them and stop trying to…well, stop doing whatever makes the golems kill.”

“A single book sold on the black market could feed a family for a decade,” Rendal said. “Desperation breeds stupidity.”

“Many desperate souls make it past your test each day?” Knut asked. 

Rendal stopped for a moment, tilting his head. “I guess not.”

“So who are they killing then?”

“The ones I know of were librarians and researchers heading to the archives with forbidden books, and they’d forgotten to get the right authorisation. Never thought of that before.”

Morgana and Ghida both looked back at the golems in dread.

“And just how are you planning to get us into the restricted section? Can we pass the golems?” Qing asked.

“Oh no. Princ—Shiha could. But you would…stopped. But don’t worry. I know a way we can slip past the golems,” he said.

“How?” Ghida asked. 

“I’d rather not say.”

“My life is on the line, Rendal. I have to insist you tell me.”

He squirmed for a moment, face scrunched up, until the princess reached out and touched two fingers to his shoulder and said, “please.” 

With a sigh, he melted. “Of course. The book burning. They don’t care what they are destroying. So I’ve taken some books and…misplaced them. But I had to get them out and in without triggering the golems. I looked at some old maps of the library and found a hidden path that circumvents them.”

“Excellent,” Morgana said, hand on whip. “We’ve got such an excellent track record with secret passages.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 31: Princess Power

As soldiers chased them through the sewers, Morgana led the way, following markers carver into the walls, keeping a high tempo. Knut brought up the rear, loosing arrows now and then, while Qing and Ghida kept the middle. He kept an eye on his map, looking for any red dots that would signal enemies in front or to the side.

“Now!” Knut said, and Qing turned, casting the Firebolt he had prepared. It hit an archer straight on and the man’s chest imploded, blood gushing from his mouth. The other guards fell back. 

As they continued down the tunnel, Qing winced and shook his hand. “You mentioned an elemental imbalance and…something else,” Qing said to the princess. “What is it, and how do you know?”

Ghida ran with the hem of her dress in one hand, and a dagger she’d borrowed from Morgana in the other. “Not much to do in the palace growing up, aside from studying.” She panted. “And for all my father’s faults, he got me the best tutors that money and power could secure. I am far from our strongest elementalist, but few match me in theory and general knowledge.” She said the last with a grim determination.

“What is the imbalance thing?” 

“Where did you learn to use magic?” Ghida asked, ignoring his question.

“I’m…self-taught,” Qing said, hopping across a pile of sewage, glancing back.

“That would explain your lack of knowledge,” she said.

“Why don’t you enlighten me, then?” Qing said, frustration leaking into his voice.

“My pleasure.” She gave him a sidelong glance and chuckled. “Far be it for me to ignore the plight of the weak.”

“What’s so funny?” Morgana growled, keeping her eyes forward.

“Me calling him weak. An elemental imbalance is something I’ll never experience,” Ghida said. “Only the strongest practitioners ever face such problems. It’s your powers. Your Firebolt killed the guard, despite hitting his armour. The elemental forces are ripping you apart from the inside. Your body is not strong enough to handle them all. That’s why spell-casting balance is so important.”

“What’s that?” Qing asked.

Ghida froze in her steps. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Okay, I’m joking, I’m joking,” Qing said, pushing her back into motion. “Now, tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

“You…you really are self-taught, aren’t you? How did you even get your first spell?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

“Try me.”

Qing took a deep breath, nose crinkling at the stench. “When I kill monsters, I get experience points, and with enough of those, I gain a level. For each level, I get a skill point, which I use to unlock skills in a skill tree, granting me access to spells or abilities. Once I have access to the skill, the last part is for me to figure out how to cast it, which was really hard at first, but now I seem to have gotten the hang of it.”

Ghida gaped at him as if he told her camels were born from unicorns. “That’s insane,” she finally said. 

“But true.”

Ghida turned to Knut. “Is it?”

“Hell if I know,” Knut said grumpily, keeping up the barrage of covering fire from his never-ending quiver. “What I can tell you is I’ve never seen man or beast grow faster in strength than he has.”

“Seeing is believing, princess,” Morgana added. “Just wait until he levels up. That’s quite the show.”

“Enough,” Qing said. “What is the spell-casting balance, and how can I overcome this elemental imbalance?” He grabbed Ghida under her arms and tossed her across a sewage channel. 

She didn’t scream, only saying, “Ergh…” as her shoes slid across the slippery stones. “Three components. First, you must diagnose which way the elements are out of balance.” She shooed him away, jogging on her own. “Second is to learn and use spells on the other side of the elemental spectrum until you regain equilibrium. And the third is to stay there long term by balancing your spell output.”

“You mean I need to cast one ice spell for every fire spell?”

“A water spell, but yes. If you want to overly simplify it, that is kind of how it works. But it doesn’t explain to me how you are showing signs of thaumaturgic thrombosis.”

“What is that?”

“It only affects bonecallers,” she said, hopping over a smaller river of sludge, face twisted in disgust. Whether at the name of the class or the sewage, Qing couldn’t tell. “I know less of bonecaller magic,” she said. “But I know they use two resources besides mana. Their willpower and the very life of their own spirit. The longer you stare into the land of the dead, the weaker your connection to the world of the living grows. Your very life is sapped from you. To my barely trained eye, your spirit looks…stretched. As if you have overextended it and not fully recovered.”

“Damn Cedric,” Qing said, kicking a pebble into the sludgy river. 

He could have at least pointed me in the right direction for recovery. But no, he had me hurry off with not a care.

“So if my elemental magic requires me to balance, how do I recover after using the magic of the bonecaller?”

“Time and life. Do that which makes us human. Live, eat, sing, laugh.” She glanced behind, fear etched on her face. “Love. Be with friends. That is the only way I know for a bonecaller to recover. That, and to not lift heavier metaphysical weights than you can should in the first place.”

Qing nodded, as much to himself as to her.

“Quiet,” Morgana said, holding up a hand. “I hear something up ahead.”

“We can’t stop,” Knut said, catching up.

“We can’t just walk into an ambush either,” Morgana snapped back.

“You check it out,” Qing said, waving Morgana on. “We’ll hold them off.”

Knut walked into the mouth of a crossing tunnel, taking the right side so he could easily fire from cover. Qing and Ghida went around the corner to the left, and waited for the enemy to appear. 

Where should I place my skill point? Unlock a new ability or strengthen any of the current ones? And should I go with bonecaller or elementalist? Are there any skills from the Templar I need? Why hasn’t using Divine Light and Smite affected me as negatively?

“Ghida, do you know why I get a splitting headache from casting too many arcanist spells?”

“No. Never studied.”

“Could it be anything like the Elemental Imbalance or—” 

“I do not know,” she said, interrupting him. “This is like asking a goldsmith why a ship is listing to the side when it’s full of barnacles. And…can you cast arcanist spells as well?”

The soldiers appeared down the tunnel and Knut released an arrow. But it slammed into a shield as they jogged in a tight defensive formation. 

Qing leaned out to cast a spell. “Don’t worry, princess, we’ll—”

He was so surprised when she hauled him back, he didn’t resist. “Let me,” she said and straightened, pulling her shoulders back, and breathing deep. Power gathered in the air around her, and a puddle by their feet rippled. Then she stepped into the corridor and punched her hand forward, palm out, and the energy flew out. Like a mini tsunami, the river of sewage sped forward, rising to overflow its limits, sweeping the soldiers off their feet, and the formation collapsed.

“Now,” she said, as she threw a Firebolt that struck a soldier’s armour. Unlike Qing’s, it didn’t burn through. So Qing added a Firebolt himself, blasting the man’s arm clean off. He followed up with Magic Missiles. A soldier screamed for a second as a missile bored into his chest, but it stopped as another burned away his brain, and he collapsed. Another died with Knut’s arrow through his throat, and the rest retreated around a corner. 

“That was…”

“Unexpected?” Ghida asked. “My spells are not for self-defense. Thrones are held by might as well as right.”

Qing nodded to himself, and asked, “I can learn a new spell. Any advice on what to pick?”

“You might consider a water-based spell to counter your fire imbalance.”

“How are the elements balanced?” 

“Water versus fire, and air with earth. Simple. But bonecaller spells are easier to cast and more potent here in the city because of the pyramids. Wazir is using them to siphon in magic. But, bonecaller spells might not serve you well again him in a fight.” She shrugged. “He might be immune.”

“The coast is clear,” Morgana said as she came sprinting back, and with Knut loosing arrows down the tunnel, they set off. But a minute down the tunnel, they passed the remains of two tunnel stalkers. Their elongated human limbs laying severed on the floor.

“Thought you said the coast was clear,” Knut said as they ran past.

“It is now, isn’t it?”

From behind came a whomp, and hot air rushed in from behind. Morgana went flying, cursing as she crashed to the slimy stones. Knut kept to his feet, thanks to his bow. Qing reached for Ghida, but she was out of reach. As she fell, magic gathered around her, and before she hit the ground, a layer of stone had covered her skin like armor, and she slid on all four like a car on ice. 

“What?” she said, glaring as she picked herself up. “This is not a waste of mana nor spell. I’d gladly pay twice the cost to avoid infection.”

“And getting your hands dirty, I’m sure,” Morgana added. 

“Shut it,” Knut said. “That was a damn Fireball. We’ve got mages behind.”

Spells flew at them as they continued through the sewer, but Knut, Ghida, and Qing provided enough covering fire to keep them at bay. 

“There’s the exit,” Morgana finally said, running over to kick at a sewer grate, but it was rusted shut. Outside, they heard and saw the sea.

“Move!” Qing cast Magic Missiles, blasting apart a hinge before he kicked the metal covering with his full force. It spun away, splashing into the sea. 

Stairs ran from the sewer and up the side of the docks, the top twice Qing’s height above them. They stepped out and to the side, avoiding the guards’ bolts and spells. 

Fresh harbor air, with its stench of fish, tar, and seaweed, replaced the stench of sewage, as waves slapped against the sea wall, splashing salty air around them. 

Qing stopped them before the top. “Quick. Give me your uniforms. I’ll clean them.”

“What?” Ghida said. “We don’t have time for laundry!”

But Knut and Morgana were ripping their guard armor off, handing it to Qing. After taking it into his inventory and back out, they were good as new. 

“How?” Ghida asked, staring at them dressing. 

“Magic,” Qing said with a wink as he blindly tossed a Firebolt into the sewer. A yell rewarded the mana use. “Do you want to...?”

She stared at him, shocked. “It might be fine for her to stand in front of two strange men in her underwear, but I am a princess!”

“Fine,” Qing said, pushing past and up the stairs. “But keep in mind that the entire city is full of soldiers looking for said princess.”

With Knut and Morgana finished dressed, they ran up, the racket of a charging guard squad sounding from the sewer. The harbor was bustling, and nobody paid them much attention as they jogged into the narrow streets. On the way, Morgana stole two large pieces of clothing, which Ghida used to cover herself from head to ankles. Qing pulled up the hood of his thawb, and they headed into the city, angling towards the grand library. All the while, soldiers sprinted by, heading for the waterfront and screaming orders, looking for an outlawed princess.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 30: Hands off

Qing’s shoulder slammed onto the floor, and he slid to a halt. His light pushed back the darkness, joining orbs of light that illuminated shelves lined with curiosities that glinted and shimmered, and crates. Each shelf was meticulously labeled with a name, a date, and a number. While the dates made no sense to Qing, the numbers looked to be the value of the item. 

It’s an underground stash. A mix of a vault, a warehouse, and…a smuggler’s den?

If the kirathaane was the heart of Jorik’s operation, this was its belly. A hushed silence fell, broken only by their muted breaths and the sounds from above. The rich scent of earth mixed with the mustiness of old books, and a mix of spices that could only come from a stockpile, and the air felt clammy on his skin. The last time he’d felt such air was beneath Giza and Petra’s store, where the butchers had kept their store full of meat.

Morgana picked herself up from the floor. Her tight leathers had protected her skin from the fall. Knut and Ghida knelt next to the ramp, staring up at a barely visible square outlined in the roof, where the ramp had disappeared. 

Muted footsteps sounded from above. Dozens. Then cracks, as the ends of spears were driven into the floor.

“Gentlemen,” Jorik said, his voice drifting down from above. “How may I help you? A cold beverage on this most hot of days?”

“Where is she?” a rough voice asked. 

“Who?”

“Princess Ghida.”

“How would I know?”

“There is no hiding, jester,” the man said with a snarl. “The mages know the direction of the portal and we saw blue flickering on your roof. Spit it out or face the consequences.”

“Consequences? For helping our royal family?”

“Princess Ghida is no longer protected. King Sharyar has signed the documents outlawing her for crimes against the crown. Anyone harboring or helping her is to be gathered and fed to the Nethermaw.”

Ghida gasped, and latched onto Qing’s arm.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about, Shogan” Jorik said. “If she was here, I would tell you, but she is not, so I won’t.”

A slap sounded so loud it filtered down to them hiding in the basement. 

“I never liked you,” Shogan said in his rough voice. “You always thought of yourself as above the law. So sly. Skirting along the line, but never quite stepping over. But this time…This time I got you. When you try to stand in Wazir’s way, you’ll find levity is a poor shield against true might. Last chance. Where is the princess?”

“Not here,” Jorik said, voice thick with anger. 

“Excellent,” Shogan replied. “I never figured out how you could juggle your own hand. Well, after today, you’ll be twice as impressive.”

Knut’s face went white, and his knuckles were tight around the bow. Morgana held both his arms, restraining him. 

Jorik screamed in pain, and nausea bloomed in Qing’s chest. 

“Take him away,” Shogan said.

As Jorik’s cries faded, Ghida shoved her face into Qing’s shoulder, and her nail dug at his armour. Her body lightly shaking as she struggled to keep her tears silent. 

“Tear the place apart,” the rough voice commanded.

I can’t fight. I don’t know how many there are, and they will take Knut, Morgana, and Ghida.

Qing patted Ghida on the back, feeling impotent and useless as bottles smashed. Dripping filled the air as liquids filtered through the cracks of the floor, falling around them. They sat quiet.

“The portal is on the roof,” another voice said.  

“Go get the mage,” Shogan said. “They must have left tracks.”

At that, Qing gently extracted himself from Ghida and snuck over to Knut. The man shook in anger. “We can’t wait around,” Qing said. “There has to be an exit.” 

“Shouldn’t we wait and plan with Jorik?” Ghida said. “They won’t kill him. They can’t. And he’d never give us up. I swear.”

“We can’t take that risk,” Qing said. “Who knows how long they will interrogate him? And what if they find the entrance by themselves? The best thing we can do for Jorik is disappear.”

Morgana shrugged. “We should find the exit, in case they find the ramp. God knows how many of them there are.”

“And then what?” Ghida said. “Say we find an exit. What would you have us do?” 

“We complete my quest,” Qing said. “We need that book. If we can find out how Rufus plans to free the devil, we can stop him. And completing the quest will strengthen me for facing Wazir.”

“That is fine and all, but where the hell do we find it? It could be anywhere,” Morgana said, hissing.

“It only makes sense that it be in the city,” Qing said. “If not, there quest should have pointed out a closer location.” 

“Well, it could still be anywhere in the city then, couldn’t it?” Knut said. His tone was more desperate than Qing had ever heard. Knut had always been positive, upbeat, even in the face of an undead assault. But now he sounded defeated.

“Not anywhere,” Ghida said. “Wazir banned books among the people five years ago, so unless it lays hidden in some obscure basement…” she looked around but then shook her head. “No. There’s only one place I’d expect to find any book of value. The Grand Library.”

“Fine. Let’s wait for night and break in,” Morgana said.

“You’ll never find it at night,” Ghida said.

“Why not? How many books can there be?” Morgana said. “Qing can read, you know.”

“There are more books in that library than any single person could read in a lifetime. No. We have to go while the librarians are there to find it for us. And before any of you even suggest it, I am not staying behind. I know that library like the back of my hand,” she glared at them, waiting for any challenge. None came. 

Knut stared at the floor, Morgana looked away, and Qing nodded. 

If the princess wants to risk her life to help us, who am I to say no?

Morgana flinched as a loud crash sounded from above. “Great. We have a plan to find an old book. Then what?”

“I have friends in the library,” Ghida said. “Close friends. They will help us find a place to hide, and we can plan from there. Get messages to my friends in the palace. Find out how where Rufus is, and where Wazir will be.”

“That’s fine and all,” Knut said. “But it won’t help us a damn bit unless we get out of here.”

“Well, actually,” Morgana said, “I just realized I’ve been here before.”

“What?” Ghida said, a bit too loud, and she clamped both hands across her own mouth, eyes going wide.

They all froze. 

Did they hear?

The destruction from above continued unabated.

“I recognize that gargoyle,” Morgana said, barely audible, pointing to the back of the cellar. “Inside, there is a handle. Twist that, and a staircase opens, leading to the sewer. From there, we find our way to the harbor.”

“How do you know that?” Qing asked, opening his map. It still only showed him the room he was in. Nothing above, nor any hidden corridors. 

Morgana’s eyes flickered to Ghida, and she took a deeper breath. “My father… he used to work with Jorik, smuggling. Mostly bringing goods out of the city, but sometimes back in. It’s been over a decade since I was here, or I’d recognise it earlier. Much has changed. But not that gargoyle.” She pulled her leather armour to the side, revealing her neck. “Learning of that gargoyle nearly cost me my life.”

“How old were you?” Qing asked, but Knut interrupted. 

“As interesting as this is, we should be away while we can. Qing was right in one thing. If they find us here, it will cost Jorik his life. From the sound of it, he has paid enough for my friendship already.”

As they snuck through the room, Qing peered closer at the items stored on the shelves. But when he did moved towards a silver helmet covered in glyphs, Knut hissed at him. “Do not touch. They are protected. Try to steal and you’ll either lock us in here to starve to death or wait for Jorik’s return, open the ramp, or set off an alarm. Either way you’ll set the palace guards on us.”

Qing looked forlorn at the items just sitting there. “Maybe we can disable it?”

“Don’t,” Knut said. “It’s not worth it. No item is worth our lives, nor that of Jorik. Let us be away while we still can.”

“But what if the power of these are what tips a battle in—”

“Keep your goddamned hands to yourself,” Knut said, snarling. “Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?”

“I…” Qing retracted his hand and closed his mouth, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

Morgana’s hand shook as it hovered by the mouth of the gargoyle.

“What’s wrong?” Ghida asked.

“The last time I stuck my hand in here, my father nearly killed me.”

“That’s horrendous,” Ghida said. “Why? Who is your father?”

“Nobody of importance,” Morgana said. “Just…” She sighed. 

“Let me then,” the princess said, shouldering by Morgana and shoving her hand inside the gargoyle. Metal scraped on stone, followed by a click.

Ghida looked at Morgana, who nodded. “That’s how—”

A loud blaring filled the room, as if someone had dropped twenty squeeling pigs into scorching hot sand. They clapped their hands over their ears, grimacing.

“That wasn’t there last time!” Morgana shouted, barely audible over the alarm. 

The room shook, and every so slowly, the ramp to the kirathaane descended. 

Damn. We’ll have to—

Ghida dropped, screaming, as the floor disappeared underneath her. Morgana grabbed her hand, saving her from rolling down the spiralling staircase that had appeared, disappearing into darkness. 

A horrendous stench of human waste flooded up, and Ghida gagged, whipping her face away. 

“What is that?” she asked.

“Remnants of your people!” Morgana replied. 

“Go!” Qing said. “I’ll hold them off a moment.”

Knut met his eyes and nodded.

As the trio descended the stairs, Qing walked back into the room, hefting his axe. 

A soldier lay flat on the ramp, crossbow aimed through the opening. 

He fired.

Quick Reflexes proc’ed, and Qing sidestepped, calling on the heat of the air, sending the soldier a Firebolt in reply. He died, screaming. 

Knut was right about the alarm, but since its blaring anyway…

Axe smashing through the glass case, Qing snapped up the silver helmet, and sprinted towards the staircase.

Item: [Silvershade Helm, Level 30, Epic]

Crafted from silver grown in the moonlit groves outside Sylvanwatch, the Silvershade Helm was designed for a master archer. Its light weight makes it feel like a cap, yet it provides the protection of a full helmet. The black and yellow engravings increased attack speed, and allows the wearer to see things at a distance more clearly. Adorned with the legendary Silver Stag, the ultimate hunter’s trophy.

+350 Defense

+15% Attack Speed

Eagle Eye: Once per hour, the wearer may zoom in on distant targets for a brief period, enhancing shot accuracy.

(Helmet)

With a glance behind, he dropped to a slide, a crossbow bolt flashing above him, ricocheting off the far wall. He blinked and pulled on the charge of the air, and Chain Lightning ripped through the air, hitting the second crossbowman before continuing into the room above. 

Sliding into the staircase, he barely touched the steps as he descended, grinning.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 29: My friend's enemy

Qing shook his head at Princess Ghida’s question, feeling Knut, Morgana, and Jorik’s eyes on him. 

“No. Mana isn’t currently my bottleneck.” 

Her sculpted eyebrows shot up. “Is your regen so high?”

“No. What stops me is the cooldown of my spells. That, and Wazir…his power. It was overwhelming. The combat didn’t last long enough for me to use my spells multiple times. But, what do you know of magic?” Qing asked her. 

“I am an elementalist,” she said. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. Why? Does it surprise you a princess can cast spells?” 

Qing sputtered. “An alien plucked me from my world, sent me to another planet, and given a quest to defeat the literal Devil. I’ve seen demons rise from the earth, souls melded like clay, and had my name written across the sky. A princess casting magic spells? Doesn’t even break top twenty for me this week.”

“Well…” She shifted in her seat. “In that case. I hope you can help. Wazir is siphoning magic from the land, gathering it in the pyramid. With it he plans to raise an army of the dead that will let him conquer our three neighbouring kingdoms.” 

“An army of the dead,” Morgana said, looking to Knut, “how original.”

Jorik picked up the story. “Zylphadia faces an alliance of Pearlhaven, Thulenore, and Torildheim. After King Sharyar forged Zylphadia into one kingdom, it was his strength of will, and frankly, the economy, that held them at bay.”

“Gold, dug by slaves, flowed to the kingdoms, with goods flowing back,” Knut said to Qing. “In essence, he paid them to stay away and fight amongst themselves instead. Trade with Zylphadia became too profitable to disrupt.”

“True,” Jorik said. “But Wazir has put a halt to it all. The flow of gold stopped and goods were seized. He even killed ambassadors. He’s baiting them into attacking. To send their armies onto Zylphadian soil. And when they do, he will unleash an army of the ancients. Their mortal warriors won’t stand a chance. And with their armies dead, none may oppose him. Zylphadia will grow until it’s taken over every realm known to us.”

“I might sound like an asshole, but isn’t this general politics?” Qing said. “Not exactly end of the world stuff, but more like the beginning of a shit period in your history. We’ve had plenty of those periods where I’m from, and while it would be good to stop, there won’t even by any kingdoms for Zylphadia to conquer unless we stop the Devil’s return.”

“Don’t you want to make sure there is a world left that is worth saving?” Ghida asked, leaning forward, tapping a delicate finger on the table.

Qing leaned back and crossed his arms, looking at the four people surrounding the table. Knut was his friend and ally. Jenny wasn’t here, but he would save her, no matter what happened. Morgana…she was still a question mark. The others were strangers. One frightening oddball with loose hands, and the other a beautiful princess. He thought back on the movies and the books he had consumed.

He shook his head. “Don’t overestimate a person’s ability to take over the world. If Wazir succeeds, it might be horrible, but it is doubtful to be the end of everything. You and everyone you know and care for might be in deep shit, but eventually, his reign would end. Wazir would grow old and die, or someone would kill him. Humanity would rise again. But if hell spills over onto earth, you would be left with a bare remnant of humanity from which to rebuild. If the Devil so chooses. But considering they locked him up and threw away the key, he might not show any restraint this time around.”

“But—” the princess started saying, but Qing held up a hand. 

“Despite this, we have a saying, which is that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Too often, that means you work with assholes. In this case, the enemy of my friend is my enemy, and we can both benefit from helping each other out. Also, our enemies seem to be friends.”

Ghida chuckled. “The friend of my enemy is my enemy?” 

“Let’s make this easy,” Morgana said. “You help us stop Rufus and get Cleo back alive, and we will help you take down Wazir.” 

“We could use a princess and a former court jester with knowledge and allies in the court,” Knut said. 

“And you need raw power and the sharp edge of a stick,” Qing said, cracking his knuckles. 

Morgana grinned at the princess. “You hear that, Knut? You get to be her sharp stick.”

A look of disgust passed across the princess’ face. “Jorik, will you come with me for a minute?” She rose gracefully and elegantly strode into the kitchen. Jorik followed.

Morgana waggled her body, fingers walking in the air. “Look how she traipses around, as if she’s born to walk on air. Ridiculous.”

“Is this the time to take on another challenge?” Knut asked, ignoring Morgana.

“Something tells me our goals are more closely aligned than we think,” Qing said, leaning in. “You were both right. We lack information, and if anyone can provide it, it’s them. With Wazir protecting Rufus, we need the allies.” 

“But dragging a spoiled princess along?” Morgana asked. “How is that not going to get us all killed? She’s not exactly…anonymous.”

Qing looked up at the ceiling.

Wonder what meimei thinks of me running around with a literal princess. If only this was a video game and she’d be in the chat…

Qing sighed.

A few minutes later, the princess and Jorik returned. “Agreed,” she said. “We will help you with Rufus, and in return, you help us dispose of Wazir.”

“Excellent,” Knut said, clapping his hands together with a smile. “And to start off our newfound friendship, would you please explain to me why we are here? It sounds nearly like a joke. When does a princess call a jester, uncle?”

Ghida’s dark eyes turned to Jorik, and for the first time since Qing had seen her, she beamed a smile. “He was always there for me growing up, protecting and caring for me, like an uncle from the stories, those who put you ahead of themselves. He defended me from the more unpleasant sides of the court, like my real uncles. They only ever wanted something for themselves.” Her face darkened, and she took a deep breath. “Every single one of them support Wazir. But when they forced Jorik out of the court, he gave me the scroll of astral teleportation. It was my get-out-of-palace-free card. One I did not expect or intend to use so soon, nor in such poor circumstances.”

“With your close connection, will they come searching?” 

Ghida and Jorik exchanged a glance. 

“They will,” she said.

“But they will not find you,” Jorik added. 

“What is your plan for stopping Rufus?” Ghida asked. 

Qing scratched the back of his neck and looked at Knut, who shrugged. “Well…”

“Please, tell us.” 

“I was going to chop his head off,” Qing said. 

“That’s your entire plan!?” 

“Well, so far, we’ve focused on finding him,” Qing said, shifting in his seat. “We got pretty close, getting into your court, but then…” He trailed off.

“That’s not a plan. It’s a wish!” she said, looking shocked. “Not only that, but from your aura, I can tell that your elements are imbalanced.” She leaned forward, and Qing forced himself not to glance down. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re showing early signs of thaumaturgic thrombosis. How you can have both, I have no idea. But you’ve also managed to get the entire kingdom after you.” She sighed and turned to Jorik. “Did we gain allies or an anchor?”

“I didn’t bring them here, little sister,” Jorik said. “You did.”

“Yes. I did, didn’t I?” she said, slowly nodding. 

Silence spread as they all looked at each other.

“We need information,” Ghida said, pursing her full lips. “If we can find out what Rufus is trying to do, then we can anticipate their actions.”

“How can we—” Qing trailed off as a window appeared in front of his eyes. He balled his hands into fists and punched the air. “Yes!”

Quest: [Find the book of the Ashen Witch]

To learn about the Devil’s prison, find the book of the Ashen Witch. 

-Objective: Find the book of the Ashen Witch (0/1)

-Reward: [A level two skill-book]

-Reward: 1 skill-point

His shout filled the room, and he jumped up. The others scrambled to their feet, looking around. Qing grabbed Morgana by the shoulders and shook her in excitement. 

“I got a new quest!”

Thank you, GG. Finally, some guidance.

The others settled, seeing no threats. 

“Does this happen often?” the princess asked.

“Yes,” Morgana said, fixing her hair. “He’s something unique alright.”

As Qing sat down and re-read the text, sharing the details with the group, Morgana trailed her hand up his neck. He waved a hand at her, not really paying attention. “We need to find something called the book of the Ashen Witch,” he said after Knut had explained to them that Qing sometimes got premonitions from the Gods. “But it doesn’t say where we can find the book, only that it can teach us off—”

“Boss!” A skinny kid sprinted into the room, shouting for Jorik. He skidded to a halt, hands on knees, gasping. “Soldiers…running…killing…searching,” he bit out each word, fighting for breath. “Bad company!”

“This way,” Jorik said, leaping to his feet and rushing towards the bar. On the way, he flicked a coin to the boy, who snapped it out of the air before disappearing back out.

The group scrambled over, and Jorik placed his hands on the shimmering glass orb that sat on the bar desk, and it started humming. Then, with a shake of his shoulder, he pulled his arm back, but it now ended in a stump, the hand having stayed attached to the orb. He pushed the stump inside his clothes, and when it reappeared, another hand was attached. He placed his hand next to the other two, and the hum deepened to a thrum. With a rumble, a section of the floor lowered, settling into a ramp. 

“Get down and be quiet,” he said. “And…don’t touch anything!”

Morgana stared wide-eyed at the three hands. Bones, flesh, and blood vessels, everything in the wrist could be seen clear cut as if sealed within a glass pane. Ghida was the first to descend, skirt held high. 

“Be smart,” Jorik said as Knut passed him. “Just stay quiet and wait for me.”

“Where is the jester?” they heard from outside. 

Qing grabbed Morgana’s arm and pushed her down the ramp. Beads of sweat ran down Jorik’s face, and he gritted his teeth as if in great pain. 

“Thank you,” Qing said, walking down.

Jorik winced in pain and removed his hands.

The stairs ascended, and Qing dove forward, pulling his feet in, narrowly avoiding being crushed.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 28: The Weight of Regret

The sun baked down upon the four of them as they stood on a roof, in front of the portal’s blue glare. Qing’s fists tightened, and his skin hurt, as if his skin was too dry, and he glared at Morgana.

“How can you joke at a moment like this? We gained nothing!” Qing shook with anger. “And Taj is dead!” 

Morgana met his gaze, not backing down for a moment. “We gained a princess,” she said, flicking her head at Ghida. “A hostage to exchange for Cleo?”

“You think about as well as you see, one-eye,” the princess said.

Morgana raised her whip with a snarl, but Qing grabbed her wrist, holding it firm without straining. He turned to the princess. “Tell me where in the palace Rufus would stay. He wasn’t in his rooms.”

Morgana pulled on her wrist and kicked his leg. Qing let go with a push, and she stumbled backwards. 

“I’m not sure,” Ghida said. “But he is frequently seen entering the grand vizier’s quarters, but few other places.” 

“Where is that? Give me details.” 

“Why?” Knut asked, stepping forward.

“We need to go at once,” Qing said. “The palace guard will still be dealing with the monsters and nobody will expect us to attack again so soon! Don’t you see? This is the perfect opportunity for us. You already have guard uniforms, and I’ll be at full mana and health by the time we get there. With the princess’ help we can—”

“We should have gone for Jenny,“ Knut said, voice calm but firm. “Heading straight for Rufus’ apartment…we couldn’t have made it any easier to trap us if we’d tried.”

Qing’s hands fell to his side. “I…”

“And you should have let me contact my network first,” Morgana said. “If we had more knowledge about the target location, we wouldn’t have been stumbling around inside like horny camels.”

“No,” Qing said. “That’s not it. I…was just too low level. If we hadn’t lost Taj, he’d lead us straight. That’s where it went wrong. If I’d been stronger, it wouldn’t matter if we walked into a trap. I’d have cut the mages down and forced Wazir to take us to Cleo, and then we could have gotten Jenny and walked out as planned.”

“No! You—”

“Enough!” The princess’ eyes glared and she stalked towards them, finger pointed like a sword. “Your reckless bumbling has ruined everything! Years of work gone to waste because you couldn’t wait one scorching day to throw yourselves onto the weapons of your enemies!” Her chest heaved as she stared at them. “Now shut up and let me think. I didn’t even get to bring my bag…”

“Already missing your makeup?” Morgana asked. 

Princess Ghida’s eyes narrowed, and she took a deep breath, looking down her nose at Morgana. “Even if I’d need makeup, your face has enough for any three women.”

They glared at each other, until Ghida sighed and looked away, waving a hand. “But no. My bag contains items needed to survive outside the palace. Items crucial to continue the fight against Wazir. Now…” She shook her head. “I’ll have to rely on Jorik.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Knut said, peering over the edge. “Why would a princess’ portal lead to Jorik’s roof?”

***

Qing rolled a cup between his hands. After appearing from the stairs with Ghida, Jorik had whisked the princess away and told his guards to clear the kirathaane, commanding the trio to wait. They had settled at the corner table where they had been only some hours earlier, except Taj had been with them.

Knut had taken a bottle from behind the bar and sat nursing a drink with Morgana. Qing had accepted a cup. The liquid burned his nose and went down even worse, but it felt appropriate. He owed it to Taj.

Qing’s anger had evaporated, and he missed it. He wanted to take out his feeling on someone, anyone. But he had been the one to push for attacking the palace at once. Knut and Jenny were right. He hadn’t wanted to wait, even for a moment. Even now, the thought of Cleo in Rufus’ clutches, what she must be going through, it made him want to get up from the table and rush to the palace, cutting down anyone who stood in his way.

GG’s words came to mind. To overestimate one’s abilities had been the downfall of many champions.

How did it go so wrong? We hadn’t counted on monsters in the sewer. Maybe we should have turned back then, after meeting the mud golems. Or maybe I should have grinded EXP, cleaning out the sewer. And the combat with the palace guard…it was too risky. They were heavily fortified and numerous. We could have turned back before pulling all the monsters, or even backed off after de-aggroing the mobs. 

He sipped the strong liquor and grimaced. 

And in the palace, I could have closed the door to the sewer and restrained the guards. Then we could have forced information from them before anyone knew we were even there. Why did we hurry so much? Why…

Qing squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head. “I panicked,” he said. “I thought I was in control, but it was all a rush. No time taken to consider the options. This is all my fault. I am so sorry.”

The table was quiet for a while until Morgana cleared her throat and said, “it’s ok.”

“To Taj,” Qing said, voice struggling, and raised his cup.

“It’s too soon,” Morgana said, shaking her head.

Guilt welled up in his chest. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know the man’s family. He’d said they were dead or moved on.

“But—” 

Knut waved a hand, cutting him off. “The time for remembering and honouring the dead will come. But this is not that time.”

Qing slowly nodded, lowering the cup.

“Damn right it isn’t,” Jorik said, stomping across the floor. The eyepatch covered his left eye, and he glared daggers at Qing. Ghida glided along behind him, as if they were in a throne room.

“How reckless could you be,” Jorik said. “If you’d told me what you had planned… Knut, you used to be clever. What happened?” 

Knut just shrugged, not looking up from his cup.

“I ought to call the palace guard myself. Maybe we can convince them they kidnapped you,” he said to Ghida, but she shook her head and gently touched her fingers to his arm.

“It is too late for that, uncle.” 

Uncle?

“Wazir knows it was me. We escaped from inside the maze, and there is no way they would have made it without me.”

For a moment, Jorik looked about to explode. His jaw clenched so tight it trembled, and his whole body shook. Then it was as if someone let air out of a balloon, and he collapsed onto a chair. 

“This is terrible,” he said. “There will be no stopping him now.”

“Stopping who?” Morgana asked. “Rufus or Wazir?”

“It is time for another story,” Jorik said. “But first…Knut. Get me a glass and bring me a bottle. The one on the top shelf, third from the left.”

“You mean…”

“Yes. Saving anything for the future now is folly.”

As Knut did as requested, Princess Ghida looked around, hands clasped delicately in front of her.

I guess it’s my fault she’s here.

He stood and fetched the cleanest-looking chair in the room, sat it down by the table and wiped it off for her before returning to his seat. She gave him a thin smile before lowering herself onto the seat and arranging her dress, posture impeccable.

“This is no longer the land you once knew, Knut,” Jorik said as he grasped the bottle. It stood a meter tall and was so large that a child wouldn’t be able to close its arms around it. The big brother of any magnum bottle Qing had seen on TV.

With a pop, the cap shot off, pinging against a mirror, before spinning on the floor. Foam bubbled, and Jorik poured himself a crystal cup, using two hands while leaning the bottle on his leg. He licked his lips and took a sip.

“Damn the sun and spank the camel, that is good,” he said, closing his eyes and smacking his lips. “Its so good, in fact, that it can mean only one thing. The end of the world is here.”

Qing shared a glance with Knut, and Morgana before they all spoke in unison. “We know. That’s why we’re here!”

Qing continued. “Rufus Grimshaw is an agent of the Devil, working to free the ancient evil from hell and let him once again roam Elrydisan.”

“What is he doing in my palace, then?” Ghida asked, and he told them what happened in Shadowgrove. How they’d kept Cleo out of Rufus’s clutches, interrupting the summoning rite, and defeating the army of darkness.

“…But in the end, Rufus snatched her and jumped through a portal to the Gilded Hold. And we’ve followed here, hoping to make it in time before Rufus regains enough strength to complete the ritual.”

“This could not have come at a worse time,” Ghida said, shaking her head, and Jorik took over the story.

“After your banishment, Wazir started growing in power.” Jorik stared into his bubbles as if they offered the solution to all worldly troubles. “It was subtle at first. Your…meetings with the queen…the king took it hard. They started talking less. He started frequenting his harem more, ignoring his first wife. And Wazir was there, egging him on, enabling him. The man brought beautiful women, virgins and professionals both, from across the realm, building a harem unlike any seen before. Slowly but steadily, the king’s attention retreated from the realm, focusing on that narrow point between his legs. Forgive my Moorekeeshian phrasing, princess,” he said, with a seated bow. She waved a hand for him to continue.

“I tried to rebuild the bridge between him and the queen, but I failed. She climbed onto the green dragon, and he descended into the dungeons. And Wazir was there to snap up each scrap of power left behind by the king. I didn’t see how dangerous he had become before it was too late. The troubles of the court seemed natural, considering the king’s inattention. But then Wazir, who had by that time been raised to grand vizier, whatever that means, cornered me and gave me the choice. I could swear fealty to him or face banishment. I couldn’t believe he’d grown so bold, and I rushed to the king’s side, telling him everything. He brushed it off, said I was paranoid, that Wazir only acted in the realm’s best interest. Then he thanked me for many years of service and offered me an early retirement, which I grabbed and fled, careful not to speak one ill word, lest Wazir’s men would arrest me.”

“That is a tragic story, and while unfortunate for you, it doesn’t exactly sound like the end of the world,” Qing said.

“You didn’t notice your mana draining swifter than usual, did you?” Ghida asked Qing.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 27: Miss Molly

Darkness enveloped Qing as he hung in the familiarly endless void.

About bloody time I got another meeting.

He looked around for GG, but everything was dark.

Where is that bastard?

He tried turning, but no matter how frantically he waved his arms and legs, he couldn’t turn. He just hung there, weightless.

“Where are you?” he said, shouting into the blackness, but no answer came. Could GG simply have vanished? Maybe he hadn’t arrived here because GG had pulled him through, but simply because he’d stepped into the portal? He’d never asked if the portals were safe for him to use.

His grandmother’s neighbor had mentioned it only took a second for him to reappear after stepping through a portal, yet GG had held him there for what felt like hours after the second battle of the cemetery and said time moved differently in this place.

Qing began to sweat, panic breaking at his mind as he imagined floating here alone, staring into the abyss for hours before arriving wherever the princess had sent them.

“What if I’m stuck here forever? Will I starve and die? Do I feel hungry? Am I—”

Just then, a bright light appeared in front of him, and relief flooded through him.

“Thank God,” he said.

“Hello, Qing,” GG said.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Things changed after you made it back to earth. Nobody expected that, so there was an investigation.”

“Are you back now, then?”

“Yes. Everything went according to my plan, and now the intense scrutiny on you has passed.”

“How come you gave me the quest in the desert?”

“If the sorcerer had summoned that demon, then Elrydisan would be doomed. It was worth the risk.”

“So, will I get more quests now?”

“I will do what I can.” GG seemed to…sigh. “Now that you have seen Earth and the many who require my attention, do you understand why I can’t help you too much?”

Qing nodded. “It’s annoying, but yeah. I do. You are splitting your risk.”

“Correct.”

“But you can tell me of Quaxinor’ay, right? Who the hell is he, and why is he doing this to us?”

“No. The investigation looked into whether you could have succeeded on your own, or whether you knew things you couldn’t have at the moment you were portalled from Earth. Therefore, I cannot risk telling you things you cannot have figured out by yourself. If you slip up and they catch it…if it is proven I am helping, then I will be gone forever. The most likely outcome of that is the total cleansing of Earth’s organic life.”

“Will you at least tell me why he’s doing it?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Maybe we can strike a deal with him.”

“With what? There is nothing you may offer except the collective suicide of your entire race.”

Qing took a deep breath.

Stay calm. Ask the right questions.

“How do I bring healing powers with me to Earth?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Is it possible?”

“Yes.”

Hope blossomed in Qing’s chest, and he tightened his fist. “My divine light, can it cure cancer?”

“Yes.”

Qing breathed a sigh of relief. There was hope. All he had to do was save the world and figure out how to bring magic to Earth. Easy peasy.

“Why do they make people watch us?”

“It has been deemed humane for the planets’ populations to watch their fate unfold.”

“Isn’t it just cruel?”

“Would it be better to have you all disappear without your kin and friends knowing where you had gone? That is how it used to be. Many have fought hard and sacrificed much in order for entities to see their fate being determined.”

“How it used to be? This has happened before?”

“I…cannot answer that.”

That’s not a no.

“Is there life in the galaxy outside of Earth?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“What do you want? Why are you helping me?”

“I want you to win.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Qing’s eyebrows rose. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I won’t. My reasons must stay hidden.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire me with a ton of trust.”

“Have I not led you well so far?”

“For all I know, you are Quaxinor’ay.”

“That is illogical. Why would I work to make you survive a challenge I set up in order to prove your worthlessness?”

So Quaxinor’ay set up the challenge to prove our worthlessness.

“Maybe you’re just sadistic and want to see us suffer.”

“I don’t have such feelings.”

Do you feel at all?

“Will you give me the power I need now? The monsters I am facing, they are too powerful, I am—”

“Underlevelled for this part of the world, yes. Solve it.”

“When you gave me the quest to kill the butchers, the amount of stat points I gained was tremendous. Can’t you do something similar?”

“I have limited power to spend. Like credits at the racetrack, I can only bet on so many. And in this case, the donkeys are not racing each other, where one is guaranteed to win. No. Here, each donkey has to make it through a maze littered with traps, chased by elephants, rabbits and other predators, without knowing where the finish line is. Even with my help, your chances are low. Too low for me to invest heavily.”

“Why give me such a big reward previously?”

“If you could defeat the butchers, then you were a donkey worth investing in. So I did, and here you are.”

“You are a terrible motivator.”

“I thought that was an apt metaphor.”

Definitely an alien.

“Why didn’t you talk to me when I went to Earth?”

“I tried. To remind you not to mention me. But the scrutiny started, and I could no longer risk disappearing for the split second it takes for us to converse. Fortunately, you good.”

“Can you tell me how humanity is doing now?”

“Will it affect your performance?”

“I…”

What if there’s barely any left? Wouldn’t he have told me if only a few had died?

“How many started?”

“Eight million.”

I need to know.

“How many left?”

“Five.”

“People?!”

“Million.”

“Jesus! Don’t scare me like that.” Qing put a hand on his chest, breath heaving. “Five million people aren’t too bad.”

“Three million humans have died in a just over a week. Worse than your battle of Stalingrad, which lasted for half a year.”

“That…” Qing shook his head.

Not thinking about that.

“What should I do now?”

“Find Rufus. Rescue Cleo. Stop the summoning of the Devil.”

“I already know that! Tell me something new!”

“Ask better questions.”

Think…He said that this has happened before. He seems to respond better to open-ended questions where he can choose how to reply. Maybe…

“What are the most common mistakes individuals in my position have made in the past, and how can I avoid repeating them?”

“You have grown. This is a useful question. Too many have failed because they overestimated their capabilities and took on too much. Simply look to your current level. To avoid this, assess your abilities and seek help where needed. Others have failed because they overlook the importance of building and maintaining strong relationships, so cultivate your alliances. And be careful in prioritising short-term gain over the long-term stability and success.”

“That…is sound advice. But…”

“What?”

“I was hoping for something more actionable and tactical?”

“Like always explore the entire cave before you sleep in it?”

“Well…”

“Two demons at half health hurt twice as much as one untouched demon and one dead demon.”

“True, but—”

“Master the art of ventriloquism. Confuse your enemies by having their weapons give them life advice.”

Qing rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“See? A joke to life your spirits, but also good advice.”

“Thanks,” Qing said, drily.

“Our time is up,” GG said, voice serious. “I leave you with one key tip. Do not treat this as an adventure on Earth. It is not. Remember to use the System.”

“That…is actually decent advice.” Qing smiled. “Thank you, GG. I’m glad to have you back. Oh, and don’t forget the quests, yeah? I expect some pretty sweet rewa—”

***

The void disappeared, and Qing stumbled into glaring light, the sun baking down from above. Princess Ghida stumbled forward, letting go of his arm to catch herself. The dress hiked up her legs as she fell flat, skidding to a halt. Qing turned his back to her in a flash.

Just in time to catch Morgana full on. He staggered backwards, holding her tight, trying not to step on the princess. Last through was Knut, who stepped immediately to the right and drew fletching to ear as his eyes roamed around them.

“Thanks, handsome,” Morgana said with a grin, and Qing let go of her leather clad waist as if he had touched a hot plate, stepping back. “Never thought I’d live to see the day a man drop a princess for little ‘ol me.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 26: A new hope

Qing felt the energy building inside the surrounding corpses, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. No way to counter all five. They would blow and splatter him against the walls. He’d come so close to the exit. A sadness welled up as he thought of the screen in the sky at home. His family would have to watch him get blown apart. It would break meimei’s heart, and Cleo would be sacrificed, and…

Qing dove towards the doorway. He’d never make it out, but maybe he didn’t. In the split second before the spell finished, he triggered Petra’s Tear, his amulet, spawned from Cleo’s mother. When activated, he felt a sense of direction. He’d have to choose where the shield would face, and he angled it behind him, towards the bodies.

The corpses exploded, and Qing was thrown forward, propelled by the shield. His foot clipped the door’s frame, snapping, and he twisted in mid-air to slam into the railing. Ears ringing, he couldn’t move, but he felt energy around him. Wazir gathered death energy for another attack, but the shield was active. Only a moment had passed. He tried to move. To get away from the doorway, but his body wouldn’t react.

There was something he needed to do. A spell he should cast. Somewhere he had to go. But his brain was all cotton, and his vision black.

Suddenly, something cold and sweet entered his mouth, and he inhaled in shock, before coughing, trying to get it out. His hands waved weakly, but were slapped away, and his mouth forced shut. He swallowed, desperate to clear his airways. Then the panic receded, as he felt his bones heal and the taste of strawberries spread. A health potion.

Sight and sound returned as his most grievous wounds healed. Screams filled the air, together with the twang of a bow and the cracks of a whip.

“Up! We’ve got to go!” said Knut.

He’d recognized that voice anywhere.

But energy still gathered within the apartment.

How long has passed?

Qing flinched and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Wazir cast Bone Needle Volley, expecting pain to flare across his body once again, but the shield held, and the needles clattered harmlessly against it. Qing looked into the apartment. It was like looking through a see-through plastic umbrella, angled towards Wazir, yet it had held back a tremendous amount of damage. The grand vizier glared at him. It seemed connected to Qing, as it had pushed him out with the explosion, and he felt it disintegrate.

He rolled from the opening, breaking line of sight and clambering to his feet, taking stock. Rufus’ apartment had been in the corner, and both the left and right walkways were choked with palace guard soldiers, standing in thick ranks, shields-layered and spears lowered, moving inexorably closer. Knut faced those on the left, their shields riddled with arrows. As Qing watched, an arrow slipped through their defences, and a man screamed. But a new shield filled the hole before Knut could fire again. But downing one was like spitting on a wildfire.

Can we jump?

Qing looked below, and maybe they could swing into the walkway below, but there were soldiers waiting. And if they pushed them off, the drop to the ground might not kill them, but it would break every bone in their legs.

Not that way.

On Morgana’s side, there were slightly fewer soldiers.

“This way,” Qing called, and sprinted towards them. If he could break their formation, maybe they could force their way through.

“Any windows in the apartment?” Knut asked, as he leapt past the open door, loosing an arrow in, forcing the mages back.

“None we could exit,” Qing said. “We are too deep in the palace. Only way out is to—”

An apartment door opened between them and the guards. “Come quick,” a female voice said. There was something familiar about it.

Morgana cracked her whip, again and again, tearing through spears, splintering shields, biting into calves. Qing sprinted in, followed by Knut, but saw no one. The apartment was just another luxurious guest room similar to that of Rufus, but it looked uninhabited.

“Hello?” Qing said.

“Here,” the voice called. It came from the alcove with the bed. He rushed forward and saw the bed had pivoted sideways and a part of the wall stood open. Waiting for them there, torch in hand, was Princess Ghida. She looked down at him, her dark eyes urgent. “Close that door and hurry inside,” she said. “Push the furniture against it.”

Qing nodded and grabbing the desk off the floor. Morgana pivoted into the room, rolling along the door, snapping the whip with her as spears flashed by. She slammed the door shut, and Qing placed the desk against it. Knut followed with a heavy chest, before Qing wedged the two sofas against it.

“Now what,” Morgana said, “we’ve trapped ourselves.”

“Not quite,” Qing said with a smile and nodded inwards. Morgana stalked through the room, freezing as she spotted the secret path and the person standing there.

“What? Who? Why?” she said.

“No time now. We must go,” Ghida said. “That will not keep them long.” She descended into the darkness, and Qing followed, turning his light to the maximum brightness.

The secret passage was just wide enough for him to walk normally without his shoulders touching, and he fought to keep claustrophobia at bay. They were in a tight spiralling staircase, and he had unequipped his axe. There would be no space to swing it here, anyway. His gauntlets would work better. Then he reached out and trailed the palms of his hands against the stone walls as they descended, as if he could push them away in case of collapse.

Behind him, Morgana walked close, one hand on her whip, the other tracing through the air, close to the walls but never touching, eyes scanning as if to look for traps.

“I’m in,” Knut said from behind. “Close the door.”

The princess paused and held up a hand. Qing felt a disturbance in the air, and then a rumble came from above, followed by a muted slam, as the door slid shut, sealing them in.

She must be a mage.

Relief settled over Qing’s shoulders as the door closed behind him. They had escaped for now. But a tight ball of tension still sat deep in his stomach. The air was cool yet musty, and filled with the scent of stone untouched by the sun for centuries.

Maybe with her help, we can still save Cleo.

He took a deep breath, calming himself for the storm that would surely come. At the bottom of the stairs waited a crossroads, eight tunnels leading out.

“This is a maze,” he said.

The princess waited patiently, her presence commanding. She nodded.

“You are quite right, Qing. It is a maze, one which I am familiar with. I am Princess Ghida, and although there is little time, if we work together, we may yet save what is dear to us both.” Her voice held a calm authority. Not that of a spoiled rich second-generation kid who had never grown past the child stage, but more like an actress who knew the power of her beauty and renown.

“Where are they keeping Cleo?” Qing asked.

“Come,” she said. “We must leave. We may talk as we walk.” She set off down a pathway, seemingly unconcerned about the dust her dress gathered as it brushed against the walls. “Who is Cleo?” she asked.

“A young girl, blonde, kidnapped by Rufus Grimshaw. He using her to summon the Devil to destroy the world.”

Ghida froze in her steps, turned, and stared at him. He held her gaze unflinchingly. He’d never be able to do so back on Earth. She was too gorgeous.

“You’re serious,” she said. “That is worse than I feared.” She continued, leading them through the corridors, seeming to pick them at random, but surely there was a rhyme and reason to it. “I do not know of Cleo, but this Rufus I have seen. A distasteful man.”

“Why are you helping us?” Morgana said.

“Our paths align. Wazir poison to my family, and the nobles are in his pocket or too scared to stand up. At this point, I’m not even sure my father would care if Wazir ordered me flayed.” She walked on in silence for a few moments, caressing a locket hanging on her chest. “Something is wrong with my father. Wazir is behind it. I am sure.”

“What do you want from us?” Morgana asked.

Ghida turned, eyes blazing. “I saw what you did to that vampire…” Hunger obvious in her voice, and her face twisted into a grimace. “We can help each other. I still have some friends here in the palace. They warned me of your intrusion and of the trap Wazir had set.”

“Help each other how?” Qing asked.

“Where are you taking us?” Knut asked.

Ghida set off again, ignoring Qing’s question. “I lead you to an exit. For now, you must escape. Tomorrow, we meet in the Zylphadian library, elementalist section. We may talk there in peace.”

“We cannot leave now,” Qing said. “We have to—”

“You have no choice.”

“But these paths, surely one must lead to Rufus?”

“Or the prison,” Knut added. “Our friend is imprisoned there. Jenny. What do you know of her situation?”

“Killing Rufus is as crucial for the safety of your kingdom as dealing with Wazir. Believe me,” Qing said.

Ghida’s brown curls moved in waves as she shook her head. “The maze is massive. I do not know it all, nor do I know where he is. And even if I did, we—”

An explosion filled the air, and the princess shrieked as dust and warm air enveloped them. Qing reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her steady.

“I think they know where we are,” Morgana said, tone dry.

“Quick, this way.” Ghida jogged, heels clacking against the stone, one hand still holding aloft the torch, one hand holding her skirts aloft.

They darted down the narrow corridor, then left, right, up a set of stairs, and into crossroads with four exits. They headed straight, to a t-fork, and went left. But shouts filled the air, commands called, boots tramping. Sounds moved weirdly in the maze, and it felt like they were surrounded. As they headed right at another crossing, Ghida screeched to a halt as torchlight flickered ahead, and she pushed against Qing’s chest.

“Back!”

They headed straight instead.

“They’re gaining,” Knut said. “Where’s the exit?”

“I... I do not know,” Ghida said. “This is not the planned path.” She was sprinting now.

“We cannot fight them in these corridors,” Morgana said with a snarl. “They’ll overrun us with numbers. Without an exit, we’re doomed.”

Suddenly, they came to a dead end, but Ghida ran her hand up and down, back and forth, in front of the wall. It rotated on an axle, letting them slide past.

“Unshaven camel balls!” she said. “I don’t know how to get to the exit from here.” She turned and met Qing’s gaze.

“Thank you for trying,” he said with a sigh, and started limbering up. “If they think we’re going down easy, they are in for a big surprise. If they can’t get mages in here, we might buy the time needed to find the exit.”

“You misunderstand,” she said. “I will get you out. But I did not want to use this yet.” She sighed. “It was my only hope.” She took out a scroll, and Qing gasped. He’d seen such a scroll once before in, Rosewood Forest’s cemetery. A scroll of Astral Transport. A sapphire blue portal opened, covering the entire width of the passageway.

“You first,” Qing said, but the princess shook her head.

“No. I cannot leave. If I do, any power I yet retain will be lost. Once you leave I’ll find my way out. While the guards fear the vizier, many are still loyal. And they won’t know for sure that it was I who...”

“Ghida, I know you are in here. Bring them to me or you will face the dragon!” Wazir’s scream reverberated through the tunnels.

Ghida’s face blanched, and she grabbed Qing’s arms, diving through the portal, pulling him along.

For a split second, he was both there and not there, snagged between moments. Then he felt the princess’ grasp disappear, and he lost himself in an all-encompassing void.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 25: Power of a bonecaller

The door splintered as Qing’s foot kicked it inwards, slamming into the wall with a bang. It revealed an opulent room, like those found in a five-star hotel, and shaped an ‘L’ with the door at the top. In the far corner, two sofas faced each other over a delicate wooden table laden with tea and fruits. A silk screen separated the little alcove from the main room, but Qing could just see the end of a bed covered in a red blanket. A wooden desk with a bookcase filled out the room.

But all of this barely registered in Qing’s mind as his eyes were drawn to the room’s inhabitants, energy jolting through his body, preparing him for a fight, and Chain Lightning crackled in his hand, ready to be let go.

But it wasn’t Rufus who awaited him. Nor Raul’cad, the succubus, or Cleo.

“Welcome,” said Grand Vizier Wazir, grinning as he stroked his bearded chin. As he rose from the sofa, so did two others. They wore clothes similar to the mage in the sewer, and both carried a wooden staff. The man wore green and blue, and a rainbow-collared desert salamander sat on his shoulder. The other wore gray clothing with splashes of red, blue, green, and white, and her narrowed eyes radiated danger.

And lined up in a ‘V’, with Wazir at the center, stood ten palace guards, armed to the teeth.

Trap.

He screeched to a halt, and with a mental effort, let the Chain Lightning dissolve in his hands.

“Where is Cleo?” Qing asked.

If these are Rufus’ quarters, then Wazir must know where they are. But, has the king commanded him to capture us, or is he acting on his own?

Wazir waved a hand and said, “Take them.”

“Wait,” Qing shouted, holding up a hand as the palace guards stepped forward. “Can’t we talk first?”

“Will it make you give up without a fight?” Wazir said.

“Just…give me a chance to explain why we are here,” Qing said, stepping back.

“Fine,” Wazir said, and commanded the troops to halt in a half-circle around the doorway, spears angled towards Qing.

“Guards coming up behind us,” Knut said.

“Both staircases,” Morgana added. “Over twenty on each side.”

“Grand Vizier,” Qing said, looking between the heads of two soldiers to meet the man’s eyes. “I apologize for barging into the palace unbidden, but the Devil is stirring, and Rufus Grimshaw is working to unleash him upon the world. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s the truth. We barely stopped him in the whispering woods. The man I fought in your court is his servant.”

The more Qing spoke, the angrier the Grand Vizier looked.

Am I not saying the right things? Does he not care?

“The Devil has been locked away for centuries. So long that he has faded almost to a mythological status, but he is real, and if Rufus gets his way, it will mean the end of your civilization. We’ve come to stop him and save your kingdom from—”

“Enough!” Wazir said with a chopping motion. “Such a typical foreigner. Always thinking you know more than us, yet so clueless. You are nothing but a bargaining chip, yet you do not know it. While worth slightly more alive, I do not mind you dead. It is time you understand the cost of interfering with your betters.”

He’s working with Rufus.

A chill ran down Qing’s spine and the hair on his arms stood up as the Grand Vizier’s eyes suddenly went completely white. Only one thing he knew had that effect. Knut and Jenny had commented on it frequently. That was Shadowsight. Wazir was a Bonecaller.

“If they resist, kill them,” Wazir said, and clenched his fist.

“Qing, I think it’s time to leave,” Knut said.

“Hold them back,” Qing said. “Buy me a moment.” He activated his own shadow’s sight and stepped back to the doorway.

Between the approaching palace guards, Wazir’s eyes glowed, shining like miniature white dwarves to Qing’s Shadowsight. And the man radiated energy. He was casting a spell, one Qing recognized. As Wasir finished casting Grasp of the Dead, undead spirits rushed towards Qing, but as he stumbled backwards, he pushed out with all his will. Only to feel like he’d smacked his forehead against a truck. He couldn’t stop it.

But maybe…

He added his own will to the spell, and instead of dispelling, he redirected it, causing it to trigger early.

Right underneath a palace guard.

Ghostly hands reached up to grasp a palace guard, pulling him screaming and kicking to the floor as ghostly hands tore at his soul. The other guards stumbled backwards, giving Qing a split moment to decide.

Fight or flight? If we leave, we learn nothing, and Taaj died for no reason. But, they have us trapped…

Qing’s fists tightened around his axe, and he gritted his teeth.

Or do they… When you expect to trap a fox but find yourself with a tiger, who is the trapee?

“Buy me time,” Qing said to Knut and Morgana.

He held the axe handle across his chest, axe-head out to the side, and angled towards Wazir. The man stood bent over, one hand to his temple, as if experiencing an intense headache.

Qing activated his sandals and everything became a blur as he flashed over the rooted guard. In that split second, his axe tore at his muscles as carved through the neck of the closest guard, but then he was past, slamming into Wazir and then the stone wall. Qing’s bones cracked, but he had expected it, and triggered a health potion.

Surprise was his weapon, and he simultaneously prepared Chain Lightning while he jabbed out with the axe, knocking the female mage off her feet and interrupting her spellcasting.

The desert salamander, about a meter long, lunged at him, scratching across his plated chest piece. Qing ignored it. He had to decide between stunning the three spellcasters or the melee warriors. To avoid being trapped between two forces, he threw the chain lightning behind him. Thunder filled the room as another five soldiers dropped, leaving three standing. The others should live, but it bought him time.

Pain shot through him as the salamander bit his neck. He ripped the animal away, a piece of his own flesh tearing off, and threw it at a stone wall. The male mage stood, eyes closed, a green light shining between his hands, arms pointed at Wazir.

Great. A healer.

Qing pulled on the heat in the air, casting Firebolt. But as the bolt of fire crackled in his palm, Wazir’s eyes burst open, and with a growl, he kicked Qing.

It wasn’t a hard kick, but enough to make him stumble backward, away from the mages. Qing changed target, throwing the Firebolt at Wazir instead of the healer.

If I can burst him down, overcoming the healing, then...

But his thoughts short-circuited in surprise as the Firebolt hit Wazir and just fizzled into nothing, as if it was nought but a piece of paper lit on fire, drifting in the air, disappearing into ash.

The man had resisted the spell.

Wazir was down on one knee, clutching his middle with teeth gritted. But before Qing could cast another spell, a green light covered the vizier, and he rose.

Quick reflexes proc’ed, and Qing dove to his left as a spear passed by his neck. Outside the apartment, Knut’s bow sang again and again, and Morgana’s whip cracked through the air. Neither of them could hold a massed assault at bay for long.

As he rolled, Qing swept his axe along the floor. It slipped beneath a shield and separated a foot and leg, sending a soldier down screaming.

But before he could celebrate, something hit Qing’s hip with the force and heat of a glowing frying pan, knocking him into a roll. The female mage had thrown a Firebolt, and his skin sizzled where it had burned through his leather pants, pain assaulting his brain.

He only had one remaining health potion, having given one each to Knut, Morgana, and Taj.

“Just wait,” Qing tried to say, as got a foot underneath himself. If he could just get them talking…

But Wazir raised his arms, and the energy of the dead gathered. It built and built around his splayed fingers. Qing staggered up, swinging his axe at a guard, his strength propelling the edge through the blocking spear, shield, and into the man’s chest. He dropped dead.

The last standing guard halted and took a step back, out of Qing’s reach. But before Qing could take advantage of the room, Wazir cast his spell.

Dozens of needle-sharp bone fragments flashed from his fingers in a fan, showering Qing, who barely managed to pull a gauntleted hand in front of his eyes. All across his body, needles sank into his skin, damaging his flesh and spirit both. It was as if a hundred sadistic acupuncture artists worked in unison to torture him, and he screamed. But as he fell, a wave of water surged from thin air, sweeping up Qing, a dead guard, and the pillowed bed, to splinter against the back of the alcove. Every contact pushed the needled further into his skin, and Qing felt his consciousness fading as the water evaporated like magic and he collapsed to the floor. His head fell so that he looked at the three mages. Stones hugged her skin as if she wore a stone elemental suit. It had to be an armour spell.

Wazir laughed and clapped his hands. “You think you can stand against me? The only thing worse than a fool is a weak fool.” He shook his head. “Goodbye.”

Next to Qing lay a dead palace guard, and he could feel the magic building up inside the body, but with no release, it would burst. That seemed bad. He had to do something. Anything. So he opened his Shadowsight and pushed past the pain, reaching out to the spirits that filled the room, fighting to cast Raise Skeleton. The dead, while not as prevalent as in the sewer, were still many. The spirit of the corpse laying next to him was inflating like a balloon. But then, Qing found the right spirit and cast Raise Skeleton. The mental struggle was over nearly before it began, and the freshly dead spirit reacted to his commanding will.

“No!” screamed Wazir as Qing’s spell took effect and the dead man’s skeleton rose from its corpse, shedding flesh and skin like an old suit. But the Grand Vizier’s spell had to go somewhere. The energy was already summoned. Qing followed it with his eyes as Wazir pushed it towards the other corpses. It sipped into the first guard he’d killed, which happened to lie in the middle of the five stunned guards. The corpse grew, stretched, and then exploded. Death energy flayed the souls of the surrounding guards, while shrapnel from the man’s body—chain mail, belt buckle, jewelry, and bones—splattered across the room, blasting their bodies away to slap against the walls.

Wazir glared at Qing. “Luck will not save you twice.”

Qing checked his character’s screen.

Health: 70/300

Mana: 260/300

Shit. That was too close.

“How’s it going in there?” Knut shouted. “We almost done?”

“Wouldn’t say no to some help here,” Morgana added.

He popped a potion and commanded the skeleton to charge Wazir, and the pain eased as healing took effect across his body, but he felt the elementalist preparing another Firebolt.

“Where is Cleo?” Qing growled as he stood.

Wazir just smiled, gathering energy between his hands.

The mage threw the Firebolt, blasting apart the skeleton Qing had raised.

Wazir just smiled and finished his spell. A band of energy flashed from him to strike Qing over the heart. For a second, he felt his resistances push back against it. But then it was through. This was no Mana Siphon. He felt his life leech out, and the connection turned red as life was sucked towards Qazir. Qing stumbled to one knee.

“If you’re going to kill me anyway, just tell me before I die,” Qing said, tempting the man’s pride.

“It’s been a while since I got to stretch even some of my abilities,” Wazir said with a grin. “But no, I will not tell you my plans. A Bonecaller never reveals his secrets, not to the dead nor those about to die. You should know, few are as eager to speak as the dead.”

“The Devil will destroy you all,” Qing said, as he pulled down energy from above, casting Divine Light on himself through gritted teeth.

Do I charge to strike them down or use this as the opportunity to flee?

Not counting the guards, it was three against one. Wazir had resisted his spell, but physical damage had hurt him. If he carved the man in two with a smite, he should be able to deal with the two others, pulling the information from them.

I’ve got to try.

He rushed forward, but the male mage, salamander held close to his chest, raised a hand and closed his eyes. Qing felt the energy gather and flash out towards him. Only two more steps, and his feet sank into the stone as it turned soft, and he stumbled. The man had cast Nature’s Grasp, trapping Qing in the middle of the room.

“I’m ready in a second, sire,” the elementalist said. She stood clasping her forearms, breath calm, squinting at him.

I won’t win. I need to get out of here. But how?

There was one spell Qing hadn’t used yet. Even while Wazir leeched the life from him, Qing blinked and peeled back the fabric of the universe, siphoning off arcane energy.

Wazir just grinned at him. “Defiant to the last?” he asked Qing, arching an eyebrow.

“Screw you,” Qing said, casting Magic Missiles. Three bolts flashed out, and where Firebolt had fizzled to nothing against the man’s resistances, the Magic Missiles burned through as if nothing had stood in their way but a paper-thin layer of silk. Wazir screamed as three fist-sized globes seared into his chest and stomach, blood spurting out. Life leech collapsed as he sank to the stones in pain.

The elementalist staggered back, mouth agape, while the healer immediately started casting a heal.

“Qing,” Morgana said, “we’re out of time!”

With an inhuman effort, Qing ripped his legs from the floor, leaving behind one sandal, and plenty of skin. He stumbled towards the door, every left step leaving a blood footprint, the last guard staying well back.

Nearly there…

But then he felt the power of undeath gather around him, and he turned to find Wazir’s eyes boring into him, both hands raised despite his wounds.

Qing looked down. He stood among five corpses.

“Oh shit.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 24: Palace chaos

Morgana ran her hands along the wall that blocked the stairs. Qing looked behind to where monstrous noisy filled the stairwell.

“Didn’t Taj say anything about how we got into the actual palace?” Morgana asked.

“No!” Both Knut and Qing shook their heads.

“Push on every brick,” Qing said, and they started. The wall was a whitewashed wall made from thick bricks.

Morgana and Knut leapt to it, pushing and pulling, while Qing looked at the walls. They were just the same. He touched every brick within reach.

The garrison downstairs had been large. Would they all have known how to open this? Maybe only the mage knew.

“Taj only mentioned knowing about this in case they needed to flee, which means he would have come from the other side,” Knut said. “Maybe—”

“Quiet,” Morgana said, holding up her hand.

“What is it?”

“I hear voices.” Before Qing or Knut could say anything, she shouted, “Help! We’re under attack! Reinforcements!” Then she banged on the wall with the hilt of her whip. With the sound of monsters closing behind them, Qing shared a glance with Knut before joining her, hammering away.

Suddenly, a loud click rang out, and the door swung in. They tumbled into a square room, five paces wide. A table with four chairs stood to one side, three soldiers sitting around it, playing cards.

“What’s going on?” a fourth soldier said, sword held tip towards the floor, hand on the door.

“Monster attack,” Knut said, brushing past. “Sound the alarm.”

“Where’s Salem?” the guard asked.

“Listen,” Knut said and pointed down the stairs. Morgana and Qing followed.

“Big monster,” Qing said, making sure his hood stayed pulled down over his face and the cloak pulled tight.

“Who are you?” a guard asked Qing, but Knut snapped at him.

“On your feet and raise the damn alarm already! There are hundreds of monsters attacking the palace.” Then he pointed at the three seated soldiers. “You, help hold the door. You, raise the alarm and get reinforcements. And you, fetch the commander and meet us at the infirmary.”

“Are you wounded?”

“You think none of this blood is mine?” Knut indicated his blood-splattered uniform. For a moment longer, the guards hesitated, but then a horrific scream flowed up from the sewer and they sprang into motion, two of them dashing through the door.

“I’ll get the commander and meet you at the infirmary,” one said, as the other screamed, “Alarm!” and dashed through the door.

The two remaining guards rushed to close the door to the sewer. On this side it was a massive bookcase.

“Be careful,” Morgana said to the two guards. “There are a lot.” One guard suddenly froze.

“Who are you?” he said. “There are no women in the palace guard.” Morgana sighed, stopping halfway through the room.

Qing and Knut shared a glance.

“You better close that door,” Qing said, nodding towards the sewer.

“Hold it right there,” the guard said, drawing his weapon. “You’re not going anywhere until reinforcements arrive.”

“A bit of chaos in the palace might be beneficial,” Knut said and nodded to the guards. Qing sighed.

“Fine.”

Knut drew and released in one smooth motion, the arrow striking the guard right above the knee, and he collapsed with a scream. The other turned from the door and looked at them in horror. Morgana’s whip cracked out, wrapping around his leg. He pushed on the sewer door, having nearly closed it.

Morgana held the whip towards Qing, who grabbed it and gave it a yank. The man slid across the floor. With a snap of her wrist, Morgana freed the whip, and the trio sprinted out of the room and into the palace hallway.

As Qing closed the door behind them, he saw the door to the cellar push open, a muddy hand reaching inside.

“We better hurry,” Qing said.

“Which way?” Morgana asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Knut said.

“Of course it does,” Morgana said, snapping. She held her whip in one hand and a guard’s two-handed axe in the other.

“We don’t know where Jenny and Cleo are.”

“What do you mean?” Morgana asked. Wearing the metal coif of a palace guard, only her eyes could be seen.

“When you don’t know which way to go, just pick one, and you’ll find out sooner or later whether it’s right.”

“I guess that makes some sense,” Morgana said. “Anywhere is better than here when the monsters come out.”

“This way then,” Qing said, and they headed left along the corridor at a jog, the guard screaming in pain from the room they just left.

As they rushed away, the sound of footsteps seemed to surround them and shouts of alarm rang through the palace.

Suddenly, five palace guards sprinted into the corridor from an adjacent door.

“Where are you going?” the leader said, “Haven’t you heard the alarm?”

“Quick,” Qing replied. “Reinforcements against the monsters from the sewer. We’re all that remains.”

“Why have you left your post?” a guardsman asked.

“We’re here to get reinforcements,” Knut said, while Morgana added, “and to secure the guest quarters.”

Qing placed a hand on both his friends’ shoulders, pushing between them. He’d try the same as in the guard room. “The three of you, go hold the stairwell. You, run to the commander and ask him to send all reinforcements. The palace is under attack. And you,” he pointed at the shortest guard, “escort us to the guest quarters.”

“The guest quarters?” the shortest guard asked. “Why would you need an escort.”

“And why are you running the opposite way?” another asked.

“What’s your name?” the leader asked, the tip of his spear lowering towards Qing. “Pull back your hood and show your face.”

“Isn’t that a woman?” a fourth asked, pointing with his spear.

Qing sighed. “God damn it.”

Two minutes later, they jogged the other way, having disposed of the guards swiftly. Four were left alive, but one had choked to death after being stunned.

“See? Now we’re going in the right direction this time,” Knut said, chipper.

“But if we’d picked this direction in the first place,” Morgana started saying.

“Oh, but we wouldn’t. We’d still be arguing about which direction to go,” he said, as they doubled back, taking a wide detour around where they had entered, staying far away from the monsters and the fighting.

Every time they heard guards coming, they limped and groaned, sending the guards off towards the monsters. A monster invasion was the perfect distraction, causing enough chaos for them to roam around the palace as they saw fit.

But then Knut grabbed hold of a servant, pulling him close. “From here, which is closest? Guest quarters or the prison?”

“How can you not know this?” the man asked, glancing between them.

Knut slapped him across the face. “Answer my question,” he said. “I’ve seen too much battle today.”

The man apologized and dropped to the floor. “The guest quarters are straight ahead, only three corridors over. You’ll be entering the prison quarter if you turn around and to the right, honored sir.”

“Good,” Knut said, releasing the man. “Now, run to the head of the palace guard. Tell him the monsters are targeting the harem and the guard there needs to be reinforced.”

The man’s face blanched, and he nodded. “Of course, at once,” and he took off sprinting as if the devil himself was on his heels. “That might buy us some extra time,” Knut said and turned back the way they came.

“Where are you going?” Qing said.

“The prison. Let’s free Jenny so we can go get Cleo.”

Qing shook his head. “We have to get Cleo first. With her safe we have all the time we need to go get Jenny, but not vice versa. After today…we’ve really kicked the ant hill. Who knows where they’ll take Cleo next if we don’t get her now.”

Knut’s face darkened.

“And think about it. Jenny would want us to free Cleo.”

Morgana kept quiet, looking between the two.

“We’ll get her too, Knut. I promise.”

How have your promises turned out recently?

Qing pushed away the thought.

“Fine,” Knut said. “Guest section first, but we are not leaving without Jenny.”

“Agreed.”

***

There was no doubt of when they arrived at the guest section of the palace. It went from an ostentatious corridor to a set of double doors outside of which stood six palace guards. Inside was a massive area the size of a football field, filled with robed nobles and retainers standing around in clusters. Everyone's body language looked anxious, which was understandable. The entire area sounded like a school cafeteria.

When confronted by the guards, Knut took the lead. “We’re escorting this noble back to the guest quarters.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “We barely rescued him from the monster invasion.”

At the mention of a monster invasion, the guards’ eyes went wide, and the leader whispered back. “Tell me, what news do you have?”

Knut straightened and said to Morgana, “Show him inside and wait for me.”

As Qing followed Morgana in, he couldn’t help a tiny smile as Knut started spinning a tall tale, and the palace guards gasped.

Where would they have hidden Rufus?

Qing stared around the wide room. The sky showed in the middle, the sun beating down on the floor. Groups of people had gathered around the sides, keeping to the shadows where it was cooler. Three stories rose towards the sky and the walls were lined with doors. The whole place reminded him of luxury hotels he’d seen on TV shows, except for the palace guards stationed throughout the room.

“I’ll go ask them where Rufus is staying,” Morgana said.

Qing grabbed her arm and shook his head. “You’ve been outed once already. We are too close now to attract attention. Let Knut ask them. For now, let’s try the nobles.”

Qing led the way to the nearest group, nodding at them, asking if they had news of what went on.

“A training exercise they told me, pulling me from my dinner,” an old man with a long grey beard said. Another man nodded in agreement. “Wouldn’t even let me finish my coffee.”

“I heard they’d caught an assassin in the palace,” a third said, voice low. “They had found several slaves murdered. That’s why they brought us all here, you see, to keep us safe.”

Qing glanced to the exit behind before leaning in. “Actually, there are monsters attacking the palace from the sewer.”

The three shared a glance before snorting with laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one. My friend needs to hear this one,” said the old man, and he called at a man, waving him over.

Not quite the response he’d looked for, and Qing shared an uncertain glance with Morgana.

“He’s not joking,” she said. “Look at my uniform. Think it came this way?”

When she spoke, it was as if they saw her for the first time, and they grew serious.

Please don’t be sexist…

“I need to find my friend,” Qing said. “Rufus? Maybe you know of him? I’m not sure where he is. Rufus Grimshaw. A bald and rotund man. A foreigner like me.” He pulled the hood back, showing his face.

As he asked, the men stiffened. “Oh,” they said. “I see. You’re his friend.”

They shared glances. ”His rooms are up in the corner. Third floor,” the bearded man said, pointing to the back end of the guest quarter.

“I haven’t seen him all day,” the second said. “So he should be in his rooms.”

“You should go look,” the third one said, before they excused themselves, hurrying away. The bearded one intercepted his friend, who was hurrying over, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away, head leaned close and whispering in hushed tones.

“What was that all about?” Knut asked as he walked up behind them.

“I think they’ve met Rufus in person,” Qing said. “Seems he’s about as popular as we’d expect.”

Qing looked around. The nobles had all drifted away from them, some urgently, some not so. “Something’s wrong,” he said. “We need to hurry.”

“Let’s go grab Cleo and get back out before they lock down the whole quarter,” Knut said. “Doubtful they want to risk the lives of their guests to the monsters.”

Qing nodded and pulled his hood back up. The nobles shouldn’t be able to recognize him, as his cloak covered his armor and pants. Then again, how many Asians had he seen here?

I hope they’re just nervous because of Morgana’s bloodied uniform, or that Rufus has a certain reputation here. He’s living with a succubus and a vampire, so it wouldn’t be too strange.

“Time to go,” Morgana said and pulled on Qing’s arm, nodding towards an approaching group of nobles. There were five of them. Qing couldn’t recognize any, but they were walking straight for them.

“Agreed. They might have recognised me.”

They headed straight for the stairs, walking sedately, as if nothing was wrong, nodding to the two guards. But after ascending, as soon as they were out of view, they leaned into a run, sprinting up the stairs and pulling themselves along the railing.

The top floor was empty. Not a single person stood along the balconies, nor any of the door standing open.

They must all be down in the square.

They stayed close to the walls so they wouldn’t be seen from below as they sprinted.

But why no guards?

He slowed down as they approached the corner apartment. Its vibrant blue door stood in crisp contrast to the white wall, and it had a golden doorhandle that shone.

“I’ll kick the door in,” Qing said in a whisper, “and open with chain lightning, stunning everyone inside. Then I’ll cast smite on my claws before smashing him into a wall with Dash. Then I’ll pop a potion and follow up with Magic Missiles to his face. You two protect Cleo from anything and everything in the room, and remember your health potions. No hoarding, got it?”

“What if Cleo isn’t there?” Morgana asked.

Qing hesitated.

Should we interrogate Rufus? But…no.

“We’ll find her another way,” Qing said. “We kill Rufus. He is too dangerous to leave alive.”

Knut nocked an arrow, and nodded.

“Here we go.”

Qing rushed forward and kicked the door open.

For patreons only

Heya all!

Hope you are having a wonderful day. 

Here in Shanghai it is sunny and warm, with what feels like the first taste of spring.

As mentioned in yesterday's post, I'd like to send you a e-book version of the edited and improved Qing's Quest book one. 

You should be able to open this both in your kindle, or apple books (if you are on iOS). 

Let me know if you have any challenges, and happy reading!

I'll delete this link tomorrow, because I'd rather not have it floating around. So please do keep this file to yourself, because it matters a lot to me :) 

Here is the link to the dropbox where you can get the file:
https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fo/wxtkwfbc7jm485enis45g/h?rlkey=bvw3urd1g2wcyb7urdf7apevx&dl=0

Best regards,

Henrik

Qing's Quest 1 Amazon Launch day!!!

15th March is the day Qing's Quest book 1 goes live on Amazon!

This is the edited and updated version with A LOT of changes. 

As mentioned in the videos I've recorded to you, I'd like to offer you the book for free as a thank you for your support here on Patreon. 

Tomorrow (15th) I'll put the book as a file on dropbox and then send you an invite to download the book. 

I will delete it on the 16th March, so you'll have a day to download it. 

If you can't access it, or are too late, just reach out to me directly and well solve it. 

I have also finished the art compendium for Qing's Quest 1, which is now downloadable for people who sign up to the newsletter list on my website. 

I've attached it here for you all! 

Would love to know what you think about them all. 

SPOILER! Don't look at the compendium before reading book 1! 

Some of the characters might be quite obviously suspicious :p

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 23: Taj

The metal door shook in its foundation as something heavy slammed into it.

“We’re trapped,” Taj said, rifling through the two guards’ pockets again. “Yet again!”

The elite growled and slammed on the sewer door.

“That door won’t hold for long,” Knut said.

How many more monsters were out there?

Qing stared through the metal bars at the dead guard by the stairs.

The key should be on him. All we have to do is catch the body…

Morgana’s whip cracked through the air, but came up short, fragments flying from the floor.

“Anyone have a rope?” Knut asked. “We can tie it around an arrow and I can shoot it into the guard.”

“Here.” Taj pulled out a piece he’d had wrapped around his waist.

As they tied it on, Qing went to stand by the iron bars, and grabbed one in each hand. Muscles straining, he pulled them apart, as if he was a circus artist. Ever so slowly, the metal bent, creaking. But then the back of his hands met the next bar. He let go, unable to bend them any further. There wasn’t enough room between the bars, only a hand’s breath. Even when bent, there wasn’t room to squeeze through. Instead, he put a foot on one bar and pulled on another.

Can I rip it out of the ceiling or the floor?

But, even standing on the bar and pulling the other, it bent, but wouldn’t give. He let go and dropped to the floor, panting.

Another slam on the door behind.

“Hurry!” Taj said.

“Strip the bodies,” Qing said. “We need the uniforms.”

“What we need is to get out of here!”

“We’ll get out. Just do it.”

The man hesitated for a moment, struggling with his fear. But Qing met his eyes calmly, and the man nodded, kneeling to undress the palace guards, all while saying a prayer for the dead.

Knut loosed the arrow, and it sank into the guard, trailing a rope.

“Great shot,” Morgana said.

But as they heaved on the body, metal clattered on stone, falling out of the man’s hand. The key lay flat on the ground.

“Damn it,” Knut said. “I can’t get an arrow through that. Can you toss something to pull it closer?”

“My whip isn’t long enough,” Morgana said.

“Can you pick the lock?”

“I’ll try.” She took out a tool kit, but with the lock set on the outside, she had to stick her hand out between the iron bars and work the lock reverse and blind. Metal scraped inside the lock. “I don’t think this is going to work,” she said through gritted teeth.

Qing shivered, and looked at the door. Frost covered it. Again it rang out like a gong. The colder it got, the stronger the metal would be, but also more brittle. And the frame was starting to bend.

Think… How to get out of here? Heated metal bends easier, maybe…

Qing blinded and called on the room’s remaining heat, feeding mana into his hand. With a snap of his fingers, he cast Firebolt, lobbing it straight at a metal bar. But it glanced off, leaving behind just a scorch mark. He couldn’t maintain a fire to warm the metal.

Maybe arcane energy?

He closed his eyes, ignoring the desperate chattering of his comrades and the screech of metal, and lifted the veil of the universe, siphoning off enough arcane energy to cast Magic Missiles. His palm nearly touched the metal as he cast, and one missile flew true, burning a fist-sized hole through the bar.

“Yes!” He bent the bars inward, one up, one down.

“Great,” Taj said. “Again!”

“I’ll have to destroy two more bars to make a hole big enough for us to get out. But, it’ll work. Just need a little time for spell cooldown.”

“Can’t you cast it here?” Morgana said, indicating the door’s lock.

But just then, metal tore as Frostfang smashed into the door behind them, and it bent inwards. The monster hissed and four fingers reached inside, each the length of Qing’s arm.

They scrambled back, squeezing their backs against the metal bars. The monster’s fingers scratched the floor as the hand retreated.

An eye appeared in its place, peeking through the opening.

Knut drew and fired in one smooth motion, but Frostfang dodged, and the arrow slid off the chain mail coif.

“We’re out of time!” Morgana said. “How long for the spell?”

“Too long! Are you sure you can’t get the lock open?”

“Give me an hour and I can do it,” she said. “But with that scratching at my back?” she shook her head.

Is there another way to get the key? He hadn’t tried smiting through the bars! But it would also destroy the cell, and then the monsters would swarm them. The bars won’t hold them, and we need a few minutes head start or we’re fucked. Maybe I can cast Grasp of the Dead to hold Frostfang, buying them some more t—

Qing’s eyes went wide.

“I’ve got it!” He activated Shadowsight, and pain clawed at the inside of his skull as if bits of ice had replaced his eyes. The dim light of the palace cellar dimmed, and Qing gasped, stumbling against the bars. Around him stood hundreds of ghosts, if not thousands. So tightly were they stacked, he had trouble seeing the room. One and all were staring at him.

How many have died here? Are these from across the whole palace? The sewer only?

They looked hungry, defeated.

These are the ghosts of slaves…

More and more flooded into the room, staring at him with naked hunger, and dread clawed at his neck. He had to be careful. There was more death energy here than he’d ever felt before. Even after the final battle in Shadowgrove when he had dissected the butchers, it had been nothing compared to this.

Ever so carefully, he searched among them, swiping his hand left and right like brushing apart curtains. Finally, he spotted his target and threw his will forward, careful of calling only on the one he wanted, challenging none other. The struggle was brief, and after casting Raise Skeleton, he release Shadowsight and breathed a sigh of relief.

Taj screamed, voice pitched high, and the scrambled for his spear. The guard by the stairs split open, flesh falling to the ground with a wet splatter, and his skeleton rose, blood spreading across the ground.

“Qing?” Knut asked. “Is this your doing?”

“Yes. Quiet.” Two fingers touching his temple, Qing sent mental commands. Bones clicked on the ground as it walked over and picked up the key.

“Oh, brilliant,” Knut said, “just brilliant.”

“Let’s see if this works too,” Qing said, sending another command.

Taj had crept into the corner and lay shaking.

Qing grabbed him by the arm, hauling him up. “Get ready.”

The skeleton unlocked the door, and Morgana burst through, followed by Knut, who had gathered the guards’ equipment. But as Qing moved to follow, a fist hit the metal door, bursting it wide open. Frostfang’s entire arm come in to swipe the room.

Qing’s quick reflexes proc’ed, and he threw himself down, pulling Taj with him. The arm flashed over their heads and Taj kicked at it while Qing grabbed at the metal bar next to the door, pulling them across the floor.

“Move!”

Frostfang’s arm slapped to the floor, narrowly missing them. Qing rolled, pulling Taj with him as Frostfang pulled its arm out. This was their chance. He jumped up, pulling Taj to his feet, and rushed through the open gate.

“Watch out,” Knut said, loosing an arrow.

Qing dove right while pushing Taj left, turning in the air to look behind. The monstrous, long-limbed hand of the elite tunnel stalker flashed in through the door. It was no longer a blind grab, as the tunnel stalker had laid down, looking along its right arm. The wrist bent, long fingers snatched, and Taj screamed, fingers closing around his legs.

Qing scrambled up, blinked, and cast Smite.

“No!” Morgana shouted, cracking her whip, but it glanced off the monster’s armor as it retracted its arm, Taj gliding across the floor. Qing rushed forward.

If I can just…

But by the time he was ready to strike, Taj’s entire lower body was through the opening.

“Save me!” he screamed, but Qing couldn’t. Magic missiles were still on cooldown and all a strike with the axe could reach was Taj’s head.

Should I kill him to save him the pain?

He couldn’t make himself do it, and Taj disappeared, pulled out through the destroyed door, into the monster-filled sewer.

Sadness and a feeling of failure struck Qing in the belly.

A black and yellow fletched arrow tipped with fire flashed past him and out the door, and Taj’s screams stopped.

Morgana ripped the key from Qing’s raised skeleton and slammed the door shut, locking it in a smooth motion.

Qing just stared into the sewer. It crawled with monsters.

How can we—

A roar interrupted his thoughts, and the lower half of Taj’s body came flying through the door. It slammed into the bars, blood splattering across the trio.

“We need to go,” Knut said, placing a hand on Qing’s shoulder.

“The bars won’t hold them for long, if at all.” Morgana gathered the equipment from the guards. They had two complete sets, and she was the first with a foot on the staircase.

“Qing,” Knut said, “snap out of it. We need to go.”

I was too slow. And now he’s dead. The monsters here…they are so powerful.

He felt his shoulders being shaken.

“Hey! Think of Cleo,” Morgana said. “Rufus is up here and this is our chance, but we’ve got to go now!” At the mention of Rufus’ name, anger flared through Qing. If it wasn’t for that bastard and whatever deal Rufus had made with the devil, Taj would still be alive.

“Go,” Qing growled, and they sprinted up the stairs.

With his last look behind, Qing saw the monsters trying to squeeze past Frostfang to get in.

Those bars won’t hold them. Sewer serpents might slide between them, tunnel stalkers can go through the hole I made. Will mud golems even by inconvenienced? And the bone collectors…

He huffed at the thought of gates even slowing them down.

“Hurry!” he said.

The stairs were long and moved in long circles, made to be easily defended from above. Yet they met nobody on the way. On the first landing, Knut and Morgana changed, Qing standing ready to hold back any monsters. He had checked the guard uniforms, and they were all level 17. He couldn’t use them.

I’m too underleveled.

As they continued up, Qing looked through his inventory. Now that he was level fifteen, he could equip two new items. First, he swapped out the Fang of the White Wolf that he’d got after defeating Grimhowl. He’d worn it for what felt like an eternity. In its place, he equipped the amulet from the Butchers.

Item: [Petra’s Tear, Level 15, Legendary] has been added to your inventory.

The physical manifestation of Petra Chamber’s unbroken spirit, one half of the horrific fusion known as the Butchers. This radiant gem, birthed in the throes of her tragic end, encapsulates her undying resilience. Petra’s Tear shimmers with ethereal light, and is not only a memento of heroism but also a bastion of protection. It allows the wearer to cast a powerful shield once per day, capable of blocking even the mightiest of attacks.

Use: Casts a powerful shield once per day

Part of the Chamber’s Set

Set bonus (1/2)

Increases daily use to two.

(Amulet, Accessory)

He would love to test the shield and figure out how to activate it, but since it could only be used once per day he couldn’t afford to. Hopefully, it would be like the belt or the dash on his sandals, and activate with a thought.

Next, he put on the Thawb of the Moon, which he had gotten as the quest reward from the True Moon tribe. When he’d reached level 15 a new item slow had opened for a cloak.

At least this will help cover up my armor while we are inside the palace, making me less recognizable.

Thawb of the Moon - Level 15 (Cloth Item)

Description: Woven from threads blessed by lunar priests, this elegant thawb is a relic of desert nomads. It adapts to the wearer’s body temperature, providing cool comfort in daytime and warmth during cold desert nights. Its silvery sheen is reminiscent of moonlight, reflecting a serene luminescence.

Attributes:

+20 Fire Resistance

+5 Cold Resistance

Lunar Veil - Once per day, under direct moonlight, the wearer can activate the cloak to become nearly invisible for a short duration.

(Thawb, Cloak)

Qing pulled a breath deep into his belly as the cloak settled around his shoulders and he felt his resistances thicken and stress receed.

But then Morgana cursed from up front.

“Damn!” she said. “The stairs end straight in a wall!”

“There has to be an opening,” Knut said. “Look for a switch, quick.”

Horrific sounds filled the stair behind them, and panic reared its ugly head.

They were trapped.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 22: Chameleon Leg

The guards were in a fighting retreat towards the door, monsters throwing themselves at them. More creatures flooded the room, spreading out. As they did, they threatened to surround Qing and catch up to Knut, who picked himself up off the floor. Morgana engaged the two defenders, holding her off, whip cracking furiously through the air.

Fortunately, the door was still opening.

This is my chance.

Qing struck a mud golem, removing its head and left shoulder. But the totem must be in the other half because the right arm grasped for his throat. He threw himself forward, roaring, axe held diagonally in front. When he pushed into the golem, it felt like falling face-first into a puddle of mud. The muddy arm closed around his back to squeeze him tightly, but he ducked, swiping behind him. His axe carved through the spindly legs of a tunnel stalker who had been sneaking up on him. The lanky creature toppled forward, landing on top of Qing. If he had still been level one, it would have pushed him to the ground. But now, his thighs pushed him straight up, and he heaved the monster over his shoulder, crashing into the mud golem. As he did, he blinked, pulling on arcane energy, and cast Magic Missiles to his left, into the open maw of a sewer serpent, mid-strike. The three bolts carved through its face, dropping it dead by his feet. A musky damp odor mixed with the stench of sewer filled the air.

Then, something struck his breastplate from behind, sending him soaring through the air before colliding with the wooden barricade. Wooden spikes barely missed his throat, but one sank into his shoulder, sending pain radiating through his body.

Knut released an arrow drawn to his ear, flashing towards the guards that fought Morgana. Taj stood at Knut’s back, spear held ready, but the tip shook.

A ghoul swarm threw themselves at Qing’s legs, claws and teeth biting through the leather pants, drawing blood, as if dozens of tiny knives carved into his skin. Qing heaved himself off the wooden barrier, blood pumping out of his shoulder, and he swiped the axe near his leg, killing four ghouls. But there were so many of them it looked as if he was wearing fur pants that still lived.

Movement drew his attention, and with not a second to spare, he chopped his axe straight ahead, into a massive bone swinging towards his chest. The axe bit in, shattering the club, showering him with fragments.

Too close!

He pulled on the heat of the air, preparing a Firebolt, but a ghoul ripped cleanly through his leather pants, digging into his thigh. With a scream, he grabbed it by the neck and squeezed until the head popped off, black blood flowing across his gauntlets. But the moment’s pause cost him, and a mud missile slammed into the side of his face, sending him reeling.

I have to get stronger.

As he worked to catch himself, he quickly checked his character sheet.

Health: 170/300

Mana: 220/300

The experience bar was nearly full.

Just five percent left! If I can’t fight through a damn sewer, how the hell am I going to take out Rufus and rescue Cleo? It’s the only way back to meimei.

He squashed another ghoul as he stumbled away from a bone collector’s strike, trying to stop them from clawing his legs apart.

That’s wrong. This fight isn’t about sustaining health. All I need is to get enough exp before I run out of health. I’m fighting too conservatively.

With that realization, he tried to ignore the ghouls eating his flesh, and he called on the light energy, casting Smite on the axe. He stared at the throng of monsters fighting to get at him.

Let’s see what this does.

He smiled and shortened his grip on the axe and held it edge out like a halberd. With a squeeze of his fists, both claws came out, and he shuffled his feet, lining up on the middle of the pack. Bone collectors, tunnel stalkers, sewer serpents, ghoul swarms, and mud golems, all rushing at him.

This is going to suck.

Just as a massive bone collector grabbed for him, Qing activated his sandal’s Dash.

Pain flared across every part of his body as he crashed into and through the monsters like an armoured car through a mob of zombies. Claws and axe cutting, he used himself as a battering ram, his metallic breastplate crushing monsters.

He’d never been in a car crash before, but this must be what it felt like to slam into a dashboard at forty miles per hour without a seatbelt. He almost popped a health potion, as both his legs broke and his arms snapped, but then energy flooded his cells, and he laughed.

Level Up!

“Congratulations on reaching level fifteen. Open character screen to distribute new stat points.”

“Fuck you all,” he screamed as he levitated from within the pack of monsters, their attacks sliding harmlessly off the glow that now surrounded him. Golden light seemed to fill every cell of his body as he leveled up. His voice rose in pitch and his limbs stretched to their very limits as pure pleasure flooded through him. Then the excess energy exploded out in every direction, ripping the monsters apart within a three-foot radius. He dropped, landing lightly.

“Damn, that felt good.”

Five of the guards stared at him, gaping, as the monsters they had fought now lay dead. Morgana fought with another three, while two lay dead, arrows sticking from their bodies. As monsters entered the room behind him, Qing walked towards the door and pulled on the charge in the air. He made a finger gun with his left hand, pointed at the guards fighting Morgana, and said, “Bang.” He cast Chain Lightning, and with a thunderous roar, lightning struck the three guards, stunning them to the ground, before arcing in through the open door.

Morgana wasted no time in leaping across the stunned guards, ripping out her hand crossbow and unloading it through the door, before throwing herself forward onto the corpse of the mage where she ripped out the poison dagger and flipped it into the room beyond. Knut hopped up on the third wooden barrier, balancing between the spikes, and loosed an arrow into the room beyond.

“Clear,” he called.

Qing moved towards the door, the five defenders standing shoulder-to-shoulder, not moving towards neither him nor the door.

“Put down your weapons and you may follow us inside,” Qing told them.

I love it when a plan…

A guard screamed in terror. Qing turned to look behind, experience making him dodge sideways. Squeezing itself into the room was a massive tunnel stalker, clad head-to-toe in chain mail. Its joints were twisting like a human pretzel in order for it to get inside the room. It had to be at least three times Qing’s height, more like a giraffe.

It was an elite, and its name was Frostfang.

“Oh shit,” Qing said, scrambling.

As the elite moved, snow drifted off its armor like dandruff, melting in the air.

Time to get out of here.

This elite was way higher level than he was.

“Run,” he said, vaulting over the second wooden barrier. The monster reached for him, stretching its thin limbs, and only the low roof of the sewer saved him from being grabbed. It couldn’t move freely, and Qing threw himself flat, sliding before rolling to his left, and the monster’s hand slammed to the ground where he had been.

As Qing stood, the monster grabbed a guard by his leg, ignoring their two-handed axe-chops as if they were nothing more than gnats. With the flick of his wrist, Frostfang threw the man at the others, bowling them over. The chain mail hung from its limbs like clothes on an anorexic teenager, but it did its job, stopping Paulhandler’s Keg-smasher’s edge from carving through its arm as Qing struck.

The monster barely fit the room, supporting itself on two legs and one arm, leaving only one hand free to fight, but it waved it through the room like a child swiping at action figures.

Qing leapt, pulling his feet up, but Frostfang still clipped him, and he went tumbling, shoulder smacking onto the hard stones. Knut stood in the doorway, loosing arrow after arrow into the monster, aiming for its face, as Taj slipped behind him and through the doorway.

This fight isn’t worth it. I need to get out.

The swipe had crushed the last barricade, splintering wood across the room. But now the path to the door was free, and only six steps away. Qing scrambled towards it on all fours.

Quick reflexes proc’ed.

Qing threw himself to the side and lay flat. The air swoshed above his head.

The defenders had untangled themselves and run for the door, but Frostfang casually backhanded them all back into the wall with so much force that not a single one got back up.

Qing jumped up and sprinted, waving for Knut to move. “Get in!”

And he nearly made it.

But Frostfang grabbed his foot.

It felt as if he’d stepped into a frozen lake, as all heat left the limb in a flash. And without thinking, Qing chopped down with his axe, carving straight through his own ankle, severing skin, nerves, and bone in one hit. The elite rocked backward, surprised at the lack of resistance, overbalancing. Qing, blood hemorrhaging from his leg, hopped up the stairs on one leg, accepted Knut’s hand, and let himself be pulled inside.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Qing collapsed to the ground.

“Oh my god,” Morgana said, hands going to her mouth as Qing’s blood spread across the floor.

“I’ll be fine,” Qing said through gritted teeth, fighting to keep panic and the realization of what he’d just done at arm’s reach through pure force of will.

This better work.

Eyes closing, he reached up through the crown of his head, seeking the warmth of the holy energy there. With a deep breath, he pulled it down and cast Divine Light on himself. A fresh scream tore from him as his leg re-grew. Bone, muscle, nerves, and tissue sprouting from his freshly severed stump, growing until he was left looking down at five clean and wiggling toes.

Thank you, god.

The three others watched in silence.

Qing angled his head, realising that he was missing a sandal, and his leather pants left almost nothing to the imagination.

He remembered his first morning in Elrydisan, waking up in Isadora’s inn.

He opened his inventory, unequipped and re-equipped his pants and his sandals. His pants were fixed, and the missing sandal was back.

Wonder if there’s a third sandal out there now. Doubtful.

Morgana and Taj looked at him askance, as if they had just witnessed a glitch in the matrix.

Knut asked, “Are you okay?”

“No, that sucked. But I’ll be fine.”

A massive boom filled the room as something heavy hit the iron door, and the entire wall shook. Roses of frost bloomed on the metal. Taj snapped his hand back as if the metal would bite him.

“What are we standing here for?” Qing said. “We should get going.”

“Well…” Knut said.

“What?” Qing looked. For the first time since entering, he looked around the room they sat in.

Three guards lay dead, which was good.

And it wasn’t a big room, and there was only one exit, with stairs leading upwards, likely to the palace, which was also good.

Less ideal were the solid bars that rose from floor to ceiling, separating them from the stairs.

They were in a metal holding cell, and monsters were beating down the door behind them.

“Keys?”

“Not on these,” Knut two said, indicating the guards inside the cell.

“He must have had the keys,” Morgana said, nodding at a guard that lay by the stairs, well out of their reach, an arrow through his head.

Something slammed into the door again, bending it slightly.

“Oh, shit.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 21: Choo Choo!

Qing sprinted down the canal, hopping across the sewer, side to side, keeping his movements as random as he could. Missiles of mud and bone flew past him. A hiss cut through the air, and he dove into a roll, tucking his head. As he came out, he kicked off the wall, throwing himself across the sewer. The sewer serpent slapped into the stones where he’d been, fangs snapping at empty air. Its green and slick scales gliding along the sewer’s bank. He scrambled on all fours.

Keep moving! Not a second to spare.

He knew he shouldn’t, but as he kicked off into a run, he threw a glance backward anyways. He swallowed, pushing against fear.

I might have overdone it.

Several of the monsters he’d dubbed ghoul swarms sprinted between the many mud golems. Their emaciated bodies were so twisted together, crawling so furiously across each other, twisted together, that each swarm looked like a writhing, undead carpet, as wider and long as Qing stood tall. He desperately did not want to fight it in close combat. Each ghoul was tiny, but there were so many of them, climbing over one another to reach him, skeletal fingers reaching, rotten teeth gnashing.

There! An X.

That meant the tunnel would lead towards the octagonal chamber. He sprinted so fast that when he used the wall to turn his momentum, bricks cracked under his palms, and he felt his bones protest.

Worse than the pain was the massive bone, like the leg of an elephant, swung at his head like a baseball bat on the pitch. Quick Reflexes proc’ed, and the muscles in his back contracted, pulling him down and to the side, sliding underneath the bone collectors’ strike.

Freaky bastard.

The monster stood twice his height and smelled dry and dusty, like an ancient grave. In his haste, he hadn’t seen it waiting in the tunnel. Now he reached out and grabbed what would normally be a hip bone and pulled himself forward, hissing. The bone, sharp as a blade and cold as ice, sliced into his gauntlets.

Just how many monsters are down here?

The plan was working too well, and it felt like he’d gathered hundreds of monsters behind him as he’d sprinted through the sewers. It was almost as if they had collapsed on him by design, but surely that couldn’t be. He’d been running randomly.

A few minutes ago, the force had been big enough, but he’d been forced to use his Dash skill to dodge a tunnel stalker unexpectedly reaching its slim hand from a shadow. Nothing larger than a fat rat should have been able to hide in such a pipe, but the elongated, human-eyed monster that pulled itself out stood taller than him and smelled of blood and crap.

Since Dash had a key role to play in his plan, he’d been forced to do a detour, picking up additional groups of monsters.

Finally, he spotted the octagon chamber. “Watch out! Incoming!” He called loud enough to be heard in the chamber, but not all the way to the palace entrance.

If they haven’t prepared and hidden by now, then God help us.

He sprinted into the room and across the bridge, heading for the tunnel that led to the palace, seeing no sign of his three friends.

Good. Hopefully, that means the monsters won’t spot them either.

At the mouth of the tunnel to the palace entrance, he paused, turning. Monsters boiled into the room from the other side. Mud golems lumbered, ghoul swarms swarmed, and the sewer itself writhed with sewer serpents. Looming over them were the bone collectors, rubbing elbows with the tunnels stalkers.

Oh damn. This was the wrong plan. We could have filled the room with explosives or oil and lured them all in before burning them to hell. The experience points from that alone…it could have taken me to level sixteen or maybe even seventeen.

But it was too late to change the play halfway. He was committed. He conjured up a Firebolt and threw it, arcing into the back of the pack, ensuring he would keep aggro as more and more monsters surged into the room. They spread out in their eagerness to reach him.

Just a little closer…

He needed to make sure the entire room emptied afterwards, or his friends might be doomed.

As the monsters closed, he walked backwards, speeding up, but letting the monsters catch up. When they were only three steps away, he matched their speed and ran, keeping his shoulder next to the right side of the tunnel. That would keep him hidden from the defenders until he stepped into the opening.

“Please don’t step out to investigate the monster sounds,” he said, muttering to himself. “Be obedient soldiers and stay behind your defenses. Don’t be idi—”

Quick reflexes proc’ed, and he hopped, tucking his feet. A spear made of bone flashed by. If not for his passive, it would have hit his lower back, likely disabling his legs, and they would catch and devour him in seconds.

Too close. These monsters are too powerful. I need to grow stronger.

Then he was at the opening and he looked into the palace’s sewer entrance. Unlike the rest of the dankly lit sewer, this room was flooded with torchlight, shadows flickering. Its walls were scrubbed clean at the top, yet bloody at the bottom. At the opposite wall he saw the end of a wooden barricade stretching from the wall.

It’s set up like a tower defense game.

Before he stepped out past the wall, he activated his sandals, Dashing down the tunnel and past the opening in the blink of an eye, air rushing past his ears.

He looked back. If everything went according to plan, the monsters should ignore him and attack the defenders.

His legs kept pounding as the monsters closed on the entrance, still focused on him.

They ran alongside the opening, still focused on him.

They were nearly past the opening, still focused on him.

Oh shit. They’re still coming. They didn’t aggro onto the guards. What the hell do I—

A whomp followed by a flash of warmth filled the corridor as a fireball exploded in the monsters’ midst, blowing apart a dozen and knocking others to the ground. Ghoul swarms rolled across each other, fire spreading among them. Mud golems caught in the blast were blown to pieces. Those containing the tokens moved, while the rest settled onto the ground, lifeless. The one tunnel stalker hit was simply blown apart, but the bone collector had survived. While smashed into the wall and having lost half its bones, it started to put its blackened bones back together, scorched, yet very much unalive. No longer running for his life, Qing spotted a glowing, dark green object within its rib cage, like a poisoned star.

Javelins and crossbow bolts peppered the monsters, focusing on the bone collector. They clattered harmlessly off until one snuck between its ribs to pierce the green star. Light erupted, and it exploded like an unholy hand grenade, pieces of bone working like shrapnel, tearing apart more monsters.

The train of monsters he’d gathered funneled into the room, engaging the defenders.

That did it.

He sank down on his haunches. While he had plenty of stamina and felt as if he could run for hours still, the mental strain of avoiding getting lost in the sewer while avoiding attacks and ambushes made it feel as if he’d been raiding with his guild for twelve hours straight with no break.

Screams, roars and explosions filled the air as more and more monsters charged into the room.

“How many did you bring?”

Qing jumped in the air, his heart nearly bursting from his mouth as he twisted in the air to find Morgana standing right behind him.

“What? You didn’t hear me approach?” She raised an eyebrow and twisted her hips, lifting one leg to show off her boots. “I’ll definitely get used to these.”

Knut walked further behind, arrow nocked. Taj brought up the rear, mouth agape, as he stared at the train of monsters.

“My eyes must be lying,” Taj said.

“Yeah, this is a new record in pissing off monsters, even for you,” Knut said.

“How are you here?” Qing said.

“What?”

“I thought we agreed you would wait in the octagonal room.”

”And risk you doing something like, well, this?” Morgana said, pointing at an abnormally large ghoul swarm.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of monsters down here,” Qing said, scratching the back of his head.

“What is happening in my city?” Taj said, spear held limp by his side.

Another fireball blasted into the monsters, followed by a loud and commanding voice. “Re-form the lines and gather the wounded!”

“I think we need to get ready.” Knut said, stretching his back.

“I can’t believe this might actually work,” Morgana added, uncoiling her magical whip.

“You are crazy,” Taj said. “How can we…” He indicated the seemingly never-ending train of mobs.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet.” Morgana gave him a smile. “Just wait until Qing gets going.”

“Enough,” Qing said. “There’s too many for the guards to stop. We need to get close, without attracting any monsters, so we are ready when they open the door. Now, one more time. Morgana, your only job is to get through the room and hold that door. Got that?”

“Hold the door.” She nodded.

“Hodor,” Qing said, fighting back a smile as he turned to Knut. “You make her a way. And Taj, you just get to the other side without dying. I suggest following Knut closely.”

“What’ll you do?” Taj asked.

“I’m gonna grind some experience,” Qing said with a grin as they moved closer.

Then came the command Qing had been waiting for.

“Retreat to point A! We can’t hold.”

Qing held up a hand, three fingers up. Three seconds should be enough for the soldiers to start retreating, focusing less on what came into the room and more on escaping it. Whoever stood behind the door should also have time to start opening it.

He counted down, and they sprang into action.

The handle of Paulhandler’s keg-smasher felt comforting in his hands as he sprinted towards the monsters. It was his job to buy the others the seconds they needed to get into the room and start moving towards the door. As he peered into the mass of monsters, an idea struck him. Something he hadn’t tried yet. He blinked, and in that moment called light energy down, casting Smite. The axe’s head glowed.

Does the spell only affect the first limb it hits, or is it a full attack? Will Smite hit a full cleave?

He charged and swiped the axe horizontally with a grunt, feet set wide and back muscles stretched taut as he struck with all his might.

The axe carved straight through a sewer serpent’s scaly torso as it reared up to strike. Green goo splashed out, but did nothing to slow the axe. A bone collector had been mid-strike until the axe carved through its hip. The bones weren’t pushed apart. They were simply cut, and it tumbled to the ground, mixing with a Mud Golem whose legs Qing had lobbed off. All in one strike.

One tap on his shoulder.

That was Morgana sprinting behind him, into the room.

He called on the arcane magic, casting Magic Missiles, releasing them point-blank into a tunnel stalker. Its elongated face was blasted apart as a ghoul swarm jumped through the air, aimed at his chest.

A second tap on his back. That would have been Knut.

He met the ghoul swarm with fire, casting a Firebolt that left his hand a split second before they reached him. Only one Golem survived to slap onto his chest plate, claws and teeth sliding across the metal. Like a wolf on Wall Street, Qing struck his chest with a fist, and the ghoul splattered as he felt the third pat on his back. Taj was past.

Only then did Qing step into the room and turn his focus. It looked as if he was stepping into hell. Blood, guts, and monster parts lay draped across the floor, the wooden barriers, walls, even the ceiling. On the far side, a metallic door crept open, slow as a bank vault. It opened inwards, so whoever stood inside was out of sight.

He’d hoped it was an outie.

Morgana had already jumped the first wooden barrier, hugging the left wall, as nearly all the monsters were clustered on the right, having entered on that side of the room. Fifteen soldiers yet lived, most having dropped their cross-bows and now wielded two-handed axes. The front line of spearmen had been destroyed.

Next to the door stood a handsome man with a chiseled jaw and a white cloth draped across his head. He wore a green robe trimmed with gold. His eyes went wide, darting between Knut, Morgana, Taj, and Qing.

The wizard.

He raised his hands, fingers spread, and lightning arced into the room.

An elementalist.

One fork hit Knut, who screamed and collapsed, sliding to a halt next to the second wooden barrier. The four other bolts struck monsters, stunning or blasting them apart where they stood.

Morgana reached across her hip before flashing her hand towards him.

“Close the—” was all the wizard got out before Morgana’s poisoned dagger slipped into his throat, blood spraying across wooden steps as he collapsed, limbs shaking.

Yet these soldiers were no raw recruits. Morgana had been right about that. Step by step, they retreated orderly towards the door, fighting the monsters, shoulder to shoulder. Taj was struggling to climb the first wooden barrier.

This is too slow.

Qing glanced at Knut, who struggled to sit up. Morgana leapt the last barrier, trying to outflank the defenders, but two peeled off to intercept her. She needed support.

The wooden barriers were made of thick stakes, facing outwards, mounted on top of shield-like planks, and topped with spikes, allowing for impalement from the front and the top. They did wound the monsters, but the wounds didn’t slow them.

Usually, they must only get a handful of monsters attacking at a time.

Qing rushed to the first barrier. “Get back down,” he said to Taj, who complied only to happily.

Let’s see if this’ll work. Instead of climbing over, maybe I can use these.

He grasped the barrier, muscles straining. At first, it didn’t move. But then, teeth gritted, legs and back straining like a record attempt for the world’s strongest deadlift, wood snapped and he lifted a third of the barrier clean off the floor. Pivoting, he roared and swung it like a massive club, mashing a dozen monster to pulp as the barrier smashed into them. He stumbled backwards, releasing the now cracked barrier, and waved Taj through. For a moment, he was about to follow, but first he checked his character sheet. That made him halt in his steps.

He had a new plan.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 20: Monsters?

“Next time, consult me before you set something on fire, alright?” Qing said as he rubbed his singed face. He’d carved through the two remaining golems, but the biggest challenge had been the fact that they were on fire, throwing flaming missiles of crap at him.

“They went down fast enough, didn’t they?” Morgana said, tone defensive.

“Yeah, because we’d figured out how to kill them,” Qing said. “It would have been easier if they weren’t on fire.”

“Well, I’m sorry for helping.” she said, crossing her arms.

Qing took a slow breath of sewer air, closing his eyes for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. It worked out. But now we have to hurry. Someone might have heard the fighting and will come to investigate. I can’t imagine the city guard just leaving monsters down here unattended.”

“In the city guard, have you heard reports of sewer monsters?” Knut asked Taj.

The old man sat on his haunches, as if he wanted to lean on the wall but didn’t want to touch the dirtiness. “I’ve heard nothing about monsters like these. If the guard knew, they would clear them out. The city cannot survive without the sewers. We’d be flooded in crap within months, literally and figuratively.”

“Hopefully, this was all of them then,” Qing said.

Knut shushed him, and Morgana stared wide eyed. “Please, don’t!”

“What?” Qing said, looking between them. “I just hope that was the worst we’ll face.”

Blood-curdling shrieks filled the air, and Morgana facepalmed.

“Oh,” Qing said, dropping into a combat stance and looking every which way. He couldn’t pinpoint where the sound came from. The sewers bounced the sound too much. “What the hell was that?”

“No idea,” Taj said.

“How many monsters are down here?” Knut asked, putting arrow to string. “That was no lone monster. It sounded like a horde.”

“Worse than that,” Qing said. “It sounded unknown. Like something we don’t know how to defeat.”

“Time to go, Taj,” Knut said, nodding forwards.

“No! We’ve got to go back,” the guard said, backing up and shaking his head. “Leave this place, now.”

Qing crossed his arms. “The only way is forward. Into the palace to save our friends.”

“Are you crazy?”

Maybe a bit?

“Think about it,” Morgana said. “What should be the safest place in the city if monsters are around? The palace.”

“The safest place if you’re supposed to be there,” Taj said. “But—”

“That’s why we will dress up in guard uniforms,” Qing said. “And—”

Taj flinched as another scream bounced down the tunnel. It sounded like a mix of an alien and a ghost, one with the remains of a haunted house shoved down its throat.

“They won’t change their mind,” Morgana said to Taj, nodding at Knut and Qing. “And from the sounds, there are monsters behind us. We’re not getting out without them.”

Taj closed his eyes and sank to the floor, praying. Qing held up a hand to the others. They should give the man his moment. Then he walked over and squashed a mud golem’s foot that came hopping towards them. Inside, he found a copper coin with a hole in the center, aged and worn as if used as a pendant. He kicked it into the sewer.

Hopefully, it takes monsters months to coalesce around the totems.

Taj stood and touched his chest, belly, and groin, before leading them deeper into the sewers. With him in the lead, they set a brisk pace, going as fast as they dared.

Qing peeked at his character sheet. The fight had left him close to level fifteen, missing only fifteen percent.

I wonder what level the monsters were? Knut’s arrows barely scratched them. If my axe hadn’t been so effective, how would we have defeated them?

Sounds of monsters came from all around as their feet slapped on the slippery cobbles, and Qing could have sworn he saw movement down some of the tunnels they passed, but Taj led them unerringly and swiftly through the maze-like sewers. After fifteen minutes of jogging, the sounds faded behind them, and Taj sagged in relief as they entered a large octagonal room.

Sewers led in and out of eight tunnels, and there were bridges across each. In the middle of the roof sat a shaft through which shone daylight. A metal barrier blocked each end, and directly underneath lay a handful of coins.

“Thank you, God,” Taj said. “Maybe we’re safe.”

Or maybe the monsters fear what is in front. They had been keeping up with us the whole way. Why stop now?

But Qing kept his thought to himself, lest Taj decide to flee.

“The palace entrance is right up here,” Taj said, pointing at a tunnel. It seemed cleaner than the other seven, the sewer less clogged, and filled more with water than crap. “Remember. It is likely guarded.”

“Noted. Remember the plan. We approach with care, and Morgana goes to scout,” Qing said. “Then we make a plan for taking them out.” He helped Taj up, and the four of them crept down the tunnel.

A minute later, Taj paused and pointed to a hole in the tunnel. It looked wide enough for six people to walk abreast.

“Okay, Morgana, you’re up,” Qing said, whispering next to hear ear. “Time to test your new boots.”

She nodded, tucked away a loose strand of red hair, and walked on ahead. Her footsteps made not a single sound as she approached. For the last few feet, she crouched down to inch her way forward, hands on the floor, which here was devoid of slime. In her black leather outfit, it reminded Qing of the movie Entrapment. Then, ever so slowly, she peeked into the room beyond before twitching backward as if she’d put her nose in an electric socket. Her whole body looked locked tight.

What the hell is in there?

Qing put a tense hand on Knut’s shoulder, seeking to share in the mans patience as they waited for her to return.

She moved twice as slowly, creeping half the way before standing up and walking back, heels silent as if walking on air. She furiously signaled for them to back up.

“What is it?” Qing mouthed, barely above a whisper.

She flinched, putting a finger to her lips, before shooing them back again. Qing rolled his eyes but backed off.

Morgana refused to speak until they were back in the octagonal room, only mouthing “danger.” Only once they had entered the opening of a side tunnel did she take a deep breath, and said, “The entrance is guarded.”

Qing threw his hands up. “Of course, it’s guarded. We know that.”

“No, you don’t get it,” she said. “It’s guarded. Like, really well guarded.”

“What do you mean?” Knut asked.

“It’s not a handful of soldiers. It’s a damn regiment.”

“What!?” Qing asked. “No way! There’s no way they can fit a thousand soldiers there.”

“What?” Morgana said, looking at him funny. “A thousand?”

“Yeah. A regiment is a thousand soldiers.”

“What? No. A regiment is like fifty.”

“I…” Qing shook his head. “Just…how many did you see?”

“I counted at least thirty,” Morgana said. “And they are bloodied and rough, as if they’ve been holding back the hordes of hell themselves. Not only that, but I saw a mage leading them.”

“What the hell?” Taj said, “How?”

“Since when do mages do sewers duty?” Knut asked, stroking his chin.

Morgana looked to Qing, “I’m sorry, but even with your strength, there is no way we can fight through that force. At least not before they send for backup and get help.”

“A platoon,” Qing said.

“What?”

“For future reference, thirty soldiers make a platoon. Here, it sounds like there are three squads of ten soldiers each. If there are three or four platoons, then we’ve got ourselves a company.”

“Who gives a shit?” Morgana asked.

Qing looked to Knut and Taj for support, but they just shrugged.

I guess just me.

“You said they were blooded?” Qing said instead.

“Yes.”

“Maybe they’ve been fighting the monsters,” Knut said. “That could be why the monsters stopped following us.”

“What does the room look like?” Qing asked.

“What does that matter?” Morgana said.

“Humor me.”

She sighed. “It’s fifteen paces deep from the entrance to the back wall, and ten paces wide. Wooden barricades stand three deep, each with a one-pace gap, but not aligned. So, to get to the back of the room, you have to walk in an S. Half the guards carried javelins, spears, and shield. The other half crossbows and two-handed axes. But it doesn’t really matter, because the door at the back of the room is made from reinforced and only has a thin viewing slit. No lock or mechanism on the outside. Even if we could somehow defeat the entire…” she glared at Qing, “…platoon, we’d be stuck outside.”

“There is always a way in,” Qing said.

“Haven’t you heard a damn thing I said?” Morgana said, growling. “This battle would be suicidal! Not only that, but worthless. Even if we cleared them all out, we’d be left grasping ourselves outside the door, like beggars at a whorehouse.”

The monsters are a bad sign. We can’t afford to wait. What if Rufus leaves? What is he doing with Cleo right now?

Qing squeezed his eyes tight, fighting back frustration.

“I hear you,” he said, “but we can’t just give up. What if the monsters are here because Rufus has started the ritual? No. There is always a way.” He balled his fists. “There has to be. What if it was your parents in there? You’d find a way, wouldn’t you?”

“If it was my parents in there, I’d set the whole damn palace on fire and walk away, whistling happily,” Morgana said with a snarl.

Qing raised his eyebrows, sharing a quick glance with Knut. “Oh. Okay... Sorry. Maybe your sister or someone?”

Morgana scowled at him.

I guess not everyone has someone to fight for.

He held out his hand.

“What’s that for?” she said.

“Grab it,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Skeptically, she reached out, and he shook her hand. It was warm, clammy, and felt tiny within his.

“Thank you for being here, Morgana. Thank you for coming with us, and for coming back when you could have fled. It means a lot, doesn’t it?” He looked over at Knut, who leaned against the wall, somehow having found a clean and dry spot.

“It sure does,” Knut said, beaming a smile. “You don’t have to be here, yet you are. For that, you will have my eternal gratitude. At least for like a couple of weeks.”

Morgana chuckled and looked away as Qing let go of her hand. “Just…I’m here, okay? But I don’t want to throw away my life for nothing. Suicide…I’ve avoided it this long. I’m not about to start now.”

“I hear you,” Qing said. “But here’s the thing. I’ve done worse, seen odds that make this feel like a walk in the park, and…there’s always an angle. A play. A…strategy.” He started hopping back and forth across the sewer, hands on his back. “We have two problems. The guards and the door.”

“Don’t forget the monsters,” Taj said, glancing nervously into the darkness.

Qing snapped his fingers. “That’s it! You’re a genius!”

“I’m what?”

“I know how we are going to get into the palace,” Qing said with a grin. He gathered them close and laid out the plan.

Morgana’s face fell. “You’re crazier than a sailor using a shark as a life raft.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 19: Crap Shoot

Qing dove left, missiles of mud slapping the wall behind him.

“There are five!” he said, yelling for the others.

Taj turned and sprinted back the way they came.

“Fuck,” Qing said, scrambling across the slippery stones, gaining distance to the tunnel’s opening, waving for Morgana and Knut to back up.

He counted the seconds in his head.

Three, two, one.

He turned, but there was no monster.

Are they not pursuing?

Then, with a gurgle, a mud monster appeared. He’d been counting too fast. It barely fit on the sidewalk beside the slow-moving river of sewage, head nearly scraping the roof.

At least they can’t come at us all at once…

Qing flung the firebolt with all his power. It cratered into the golem’s chest, mud splattering, and it rocked back onto its heels. But the wound closed in front of his eyes.

“They regenerate!” Qing said.

A soft splat accompanied Knut’s arrow as it bored into its face. If it minded, it didn’t show.

“What do we do?” Morgana asked.

“We fight! Carve it to pieces if we have to,” Qing said, readying his axe.

“Without Taj, we don’t know the way.”

Shit.

“Go get him back!” Knut said as his bow sang.

Morgana turned and ran before he the arrow hit.

“We’ve fought worse before,” Qing said, jumping to the left side of the sewer, landing between his friend and the golem. The monster roared and charged.

This stinks worse than the faeces-covered public toilets downtown. I hope its a quick fight.

Qing slid underneath the strike, air whistling above his head. But this wasn’t his first time fighting hard-hitting monsters.

He reached up to the place of light, pulling on that pure energy, and in the blink of an eye, channeled it through his body and into the axe. He cast Smite and struck the monster’s leg. The axe cut the leg like a katana through a water bottle, and mud splattered the wall as the golem stumbled forward.

Another arrow sank into its head with a splat and Qing held his breath as he ducked a swipe, dragging the axe across its torso.

How do I kill it?

A second golem turned the corner, ripping a piece out of its belly and threw it at Qing. The wound immediately healed, and Qing dodged.

So that’s where they get the missiles. Maybe these die like zombies?

He lept as the first golem punched, and struck horizontally, decapitating it. As the head tumbled into the sewer, the golem grabbed for him.

“Forget their heads,” Qing said, throwing himself backwards and out of reach.

“We need a way to kill them,” Knut said.

“Ideas?” Qing hopped across the sewer to kite the monsters, doing his best to avoid the slime.

He should be terrified, but something about the fight reminded him of snow days at school. Blaine and his thugs would make ice balls and use him for target practice. It felt good to be the most dangerous creature here, and despite the danger, he had no doubt he was. Besides, now he had friends.

Water splashed, and the third and fourth golem appear, wading through the sewage.

“Checking for magical plates inside,” Knut said and started putting arrows into the golem. Neck, heart, stomach, groin, he hit them one by one. Meanwhile, Qing danced on the other side of the river, like some sort of circus performer dodging mud missiles, buying Knut time.

But he could only dodge for so long.

A ball of sludge hit his shoulder, spinning him around and slamming him into the sewer wall. It felt like being hit by a sledgehammer. He barely got his axe up in time to deflect a second missile before a third smacked into his breastplate and he bounced off the wall, falling to his knees.

Shit. If I get stunlocked here…

He rolled left across the slimy cobblestones and pulled on the natural charge in the air, channeling it into his hand. He cast Chain Lightning at the frontmost golem. Thunder boomed through the tunnels as if a cannon had gone off, and he winced, ears ringing. But the lightning had gone straight through its chest before arcing to the others and doing the same, hitting all four.

Around every entry and exit wound, the mud had hardened into dark red clay, and the monsters struggled to move around it. Qing grinned.

That’s what I’m talking about.

“If we can dry them, we can crack them,” Qing said.

“How?” Knut asked.

“Start by shooting the dried parts,” Qing said, jumping. As he was halfway across the channel of sewage, Knut’s arrow pierced the first golem’s back, dead center on the hardened clay, and Qing heard it crack. He landed between the two first golems, sliding on to catch himself with one hand on the wall. He bent underneath a strike, set his feet, and, with everything he had, struck the second golem. Hitting the hardened clay felt like striking a brick wall, but he was no longer a normal person. So hard was his punch that the hardened part was pushed out the back of the golem, smacking into the one behind, making it stumble.

The football-size hole in the golem knitted together with wet mud.

Shit.

But his eyes had caught something sticking out. It had looked like the corner of a waterlogged and rotted book, corner singed, likely from the lightning.

A totem?

He cut diagonally before the golem could recover, carving from neck to hip, aiming for the book. But he was off by an inch, and as the golem slid into two, the part with the book in it stayed standing. The other part splatted to the ground as if it was just pure mud.

Qing hesitated for a moment.

Is it dead?

In front of him stood only two legs, half a chest and an arm.

The moment of indecision cost him.

The golem kicked him in the hip, completely unaffected by the missing third of its body. Qing flew backwards, slamming into the golem behind, who had faced Knut, and got stuck in the mud. He’d felt his hip snap from the kick and couldn’t move his legs.

The golem whose back he was stuck to turned, but like a dog chasing its tail, Qing was out of its reach.

Seems they have a front and a back.

Qing’s knee scraped along the wall, and then he stared straight at Knut with an drawn arrow, before his legs hovered over the sewer. The golems flung mud. It splattered off his chestplate, but one hit his face, breaking his nose and covering his mouth.

As he spat out the disgusting crap and wiped blood, he blinked, pulling into himself. The pain faded, and he peeled back the fabric of the universe, just enough to siphon out arcane energy. He opened his eyes and stared straight at the half-carved golem. Gritting his teeth against the pain that crashed back in, he cast Magic Missile.

Three bolts fizzed through the air, slapping into the golem and carving three holes straight through. But he couldn’t control the impacts, and none hit the book. The golem stepped towards him, arms raised to fling mud, holes already closing.

This isn’t working!

The golem he was stuck on kept turning, and Qing kicked his one good leg into the wall. The golem tumbled forward, pulling him with it. They fell towards the sewer.

He expected to splash into the sewer, but he smacked to a halt, and sank deeper into the golem. The golem lay across the sewer like a log bridge. The others gurgled and growled as they waded closer.

He needed to move, or they’d pull him apart. He fought to roll out, but it was like being stuck in mud. Underneath him, the golem stepped its half-cut leg into the sewed.

No time.

Qing spread his legs as wide as he could, pain shooting from his hip, and chopped down with his axe. He cut of the golem’s, and they dropped into the sewer.

This was a bad idea.

Cold sewage rushed across his face, but as he flailed about, he realized he was no longer stuck to the golem. He got a foot underneath himself and kicked up. His head burst into the air and he spat sewage, before heaving himself onto dry land before the wading golems could grab him.

Why did the golem dissolve? It can’t be the water. Those golems are walking in it. Could it be total damage?

That didn’t feel correct. Four golems remained. Two on land and two in the sewer. The closest one, the golem he’d cut in half, looked like a pin-cushion. Knut had filled it with over a dozen arrows from his never-ending quiver. Despite all the damage, it still approached Qing. He heaved himself up on one leg, preparing to strike, when a mud missile smacked into the side of his head, whipping it into the wall with a crack. He collapsed backward.

“Qing!” Knut screamed.

He needed to heal. But he only had a few potions. Instead, he pushed away the pain, opened himself to the light above, and it answered. Energy flooded to his hands, and he cast Divine Light. The splintering headache disappeared and his hip knitted, just in time to roll away from a massive stomp splattering down where his head had been.

As he rose, he pulled blinked, pulling in heat, gathering in his fist, and cast Firebolt. The golem stood so close he nearly pushed the flame inside its chest. So this time he didn’t miss. The fire blew a hole in the golem, incinerating the old book he’d seen. The golem’s fist that had been flying towards Qing disintegrated with the rest of the golem, collapsing to the ground like a dropped piece of wet clay.

“It is totems,” Qing said, shouting to Knut and dodged two mud missiles.

“What?”

“Totems are powerful them. Separate it from the mud and they die!”

Now that he knew how to defeat them, a sense of calm descended on Qing. Despite facing three monsters that towered over him, he set to carving them apart piece by piece, searching for totems. He carved off the arm of the monster on land. It slapped to the ground and started hauling itself towards him by its fingers, while the rest of the body collapsed into inert mud. Qing bent nearly backwards to avoid missiles from the two in the river, before jumping up and stomping with both feet on the approaching arm. Mud squished underneath his sandals, digging between his toes. A certain AI would have been thrilled, but here, all he found was a six-sided bone die. He kicked it from the mud.

“We’re here!” It was Morgana.

Qing glanced behind to see her hurrying down the tunnel with Taj. The man carried a big clay jar, Morgana a torch.

“We brought fire!” Taj said.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea,” Qing said. “We already know how to kill them!”

“No, no! This should work,” Taj said, and lobbed the oil-filled jar.

Qing turned and sprinted towards them as the jar crashed to the stones behind him. The ceramic cracked, and oil spread.

Morgana threw the torch.

It flipped through the air, tumbling past Qing.

The golems roared as the torch landed.

Heat licked Qing in the back of the head with a tongue made from razors, as he was thrown forward to smack into Knut. Fire roared through the tunnel behind them as he hauled Knut up.

Morgana and Taj walked backwards, eyes wide, mouths open.

“What the fuck did you think would happen?” Qing said.

“Not that,” Morgana replied, and pointed behind him.

He turned, and stared. “You made them into fire golems?”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 18: Sewers

As the sound of marching came closer, Qing grabbed Taj by the shoulder and spun him around.

“Where to?”

The man’s eyes flickered around the street.

Was this just bad timing? Has Taj sold us out? These soldiers must be looking for us.

“Just…keep your eyes down and mouth shut,” Taj said, brushing down his city guard uniform. “Follow my lead.”

Qing, Knut, and Morgana huddled close in front of him as Taj drew himself to his full height and started berating them. “Don’t you know you should never question a city guard’s order?”

His words filled the street just as the column rounded the corner.

Qing kept his head low but watched out of the corner of his eye, seeing the column stop, feet drilling into the ground in unison. Twenty men, all armed with spears and shields. Their eyes were glued ahead, except for the officer, who peeled off and approached Taj.

“You there! Name? And where is your unit? You shouldn’t be alone in this quarter today.”

Morgana hissed, but Taj turned and saluted crisply. “Sir! My name is Ahmed Albahanaj, and I’m on my way to report for duty, but these clumsy idiots barred my way.” Qing tried to creep further together as if cowed, staring at the sandals of the officer.

“Really? Normal citizens would know better than to bar the way of the guard,” the man said. “You three! Remove your hoods at once and show yourself to me.”

“Why?” Taj asked.

A slap filled the air, and Taj grunted in pain.

“No wonder your rank doesn’t match your age,” the officer said. “Questioning orders in public will get you a whipping. Especially today. There are foreign fugitives about.”

We didn’t even make it twenty damn feet before everything went to hell.

Qing opened his inventory, preparing to equip armor and weapons in a flash, when suddenly metal pinged and a tiny rock fell to the ground, having pinged off the officer’s helmet.

“Ha ha,” a girlish voice said, calling out.

The officer cursed. “How dare you?”

More tiny missiles ricocheted off metal as a group of children lobbed rocks at the guards.

“You can’t catch us!”

“Metal monsters, poopy phalanx!”

“Get them!” the officer said, screaming in rage, setting off at a sprint. The children squealed and laughed, disappearing into a nearby alley.

The last one in was the girl whose leg Qing had healed.

Taj breathed a sigh of relief. “Hurry now, while we can.”

“We can’t let them get captured,” Qing said. “We have to go after them.”

Morgana placed a hand on his arm and shook her head. “Don’t worry. Those kids know this place better than any royal guard. They’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Qing,” a voice called.

He turned to see Jorik leaning in the doorway. The man stared directly at him, pretended to pick a note out of his front pocket, open it, and tore it in two, before throwing it to the wind.

Qing nodded. This was Jorik’s doing. He’d make sure the children were safe.

A favor had been spent.

***

The sun beat down, scorching hot, as they hurried through narrow streets. Dust filled the air, and Qing was thankful for the local garb that acted as a facemask.

He’d always wanted to visit Egypt and see the pyramids. It had seemed like a magical place. Connected to ancient history in a way that home just wasn’t. The oldest building in Chicago was less than two-hundred years old. But this…he was pretty sure Egypt wasn’t anything like it.

Malnourished kids and elders sat on every street, hands out, begging. Slaves wearing only a loincloth struggled through the streets, led by men with whips. Cracks and screams rang out with worrying frequency.

Qing noticed Morgana wincing at every crack, and he put a comforting hand on her back, but she flinched away, and hissed, “Don’t touch me.”

He held his hands up, palms out. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing, just…don’t touch me…now. Bad memories,” she said.

He focused instead on the architecture. Despite the city’s human tragedy, it looked glorious. Blue roofs and doors stood out against the whitewashed walls, creating a fantastical look. Clean and unique. But it came at a cost.

Slaves worked to whitewash the walls, movements slow under the scorching sun. Except where the whip cracked. But often the buildings needed repainting to hide the red splatter.

Twice they dodged patrols, hearing their march far enough away to avoid. The inhabitants didn’t seem to care, as long as they kept moving and didn’t stare. Finally, Taj drew to a halt at the mouth of a narrow alley. It opened into a square courtyard with palm trees placed along the outside. In the middle sat a dry fountain. Perched on benches around the square sat old men and women, chatting and drinking tea.

The area felt different. Richer, despite the dry fountain.

“We’re here,” Taj said, and pointed to a set of double wooden trapdoors that sat in the stone near the fountain.

“Where does that lead?” Qing asked.

“To the sewers level one,” Taj said.

“Let’s go,” Qing said, and walked forward.

“Keep your head down,” Taj said, hurrying to catch up.

“Why?”

“We’re not supposed to be here, and I’d rather not have guards follow us into the sewers, asking questions.”

“Why use this entrance?”

“It’s the shortest path once we get into the sewers. Just follow me, and go along.” Taj took up the lead, marching over to the double doors where he turned and spoke loud enough for the entire square to hear. “Let this day in the sewers teach you never to peddle fake goods again! Now open the doors, and in you go.” In a lower voice, he added, “You might need to work together to get them opened.”

Qing smiled to himself as he reached down and grasped the metal handle embedded in the wood. Twice the size of a normal house door, and opening upwards, it still felt as easy as opening a drawer as he lifted it up with one hand.

“Oh,” Taj said.

Murmurs filled the square, and he waved the others in.

“Ew…” Morgana said, holding her nose as she descended the slippery stone steps into the darkness.

“Jenny’s going to owe me for this one,” Knut added, despondently.

Qing wrinkled his nose at the stench of filth and human waste.

“This won’t work,” Taj said from halfway down the stairs. “Once we get into the palace, they’ll smell us from half the palace away.”

“Don’t worry,” Qing said. “I’ll take care of it when we get there.” He entered, and the trapdoor closed with a slam. Qing dialed his ambient lights to maximum, and the tunnel lit up. Taj gaped up at him, holding a torch and a lighter. Qing just smiled. “Save it. You might need it later. Now, lead the way.”

The stairs led to a square, similar to the one above, except green slime and black mold lay caked across the cobbled floor. Qing took a deep breath, but immediately regretted it, and he looked up at the vaulted stone ceiling.

Some adventure…

“Which way?” Knut asked as Qing handed out their weapons and armour.

Taj pointed towards one of the five tunnels that led away from the square. “There. About a fifteen minutes walk.”

“Outstanding…” Morgana said, twirling her poisoned dagger.

***

Water dripped and things rustled in the shadows as they walked along the river of sludge and filth that barely moved as it bobbed along. It ran in the middle of the tunnel, about four feet deep, according to Taj, and nobody wanted to verify. Each side held a walkway about three feet wide, and they were walking on the left.

Rats squeaked as they fled from their light, adding to an ever present hum that was filled with drip drips and pat pats. Qing leaned out to look past Taj. Up ahead lay a black circle in the wall on their left side. He waved two fingers above his head, letting Knut and Morgana, who walked behind, know they were coming to another side tunnel.

“So not only are you stronger than two men and I’ve seen you defeat a vampire, but you also glow in the dark,” Taj said, whispering. “Never mind who you are. What are you?” he asked.

“I’m just a guy from Chicago trying to get home to his family,” Qing said, forcing his voice to be calm. “And the longer it takes for us to get to the palace and rescue the prisoners, the less chance there is for me to succeed, so if you wouldn’t mind…?”

“Yes, of course, but—” Taj froze. “What was that?”

Qing held up a fist. He’d heard it too.

Footsteps splattering. Someone, or something, walked in the water inside the tunnel up ahead.

“Get behind me.”

Taj squeezed himself close to the wall, grimacing as he tried not to touch the slimy stones. Qing held out his hand and equipped Paulhandler’s keg-smasher, the axe appearing as if by magic.

He inched closer to the opening.

The footsteps were slow and lumbering, as they splattered on the stones.

Qing gripped the axe in two hands. Whoever it was must have seen their light by now.

If it’s a guard, do I kill him or disable? If it’s a civilian…I can’t afford to let them scream.

A shiver ran down his spine.

What if it’s something worse?

He swallowed.

A deep growl rumbled from the opening.

“Crap.”

Qing bent his knees, lowering his center of gravity, while giving Knut and Morgana a line of sight past him.

“Hey there,” Qing said. “We’re friendly…sewer workers. Who are you?”

The footsteps splattered closer.

Damn.

With three careful steps, Qing approached the corner and peeked around.

“What the…”

Quick Reflexes proc’ed, and he drew his face back just in time to avoid a globule of brown sludge flashing through the air.

“What is it?” Morgana asked.

“I…”

It can’t be a poop monster. That would just be…

“Quick!” Knut said. “Your words, man! Use them!”

“It looks like a man made from melted crap!”

“By the merciful gods of the untainted sun,” Taj said, stumbling backwards.

The monster’s footsteps were nearly at the corner.

“Do you know what it is?” Morgana asked.

“I…im…impossible!” the man said, bumping into Knut, who grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

“Speak!”

Qing edged backwards from the tunnel.

“M…m…mud golem,” Taj said.

The trio went silent.

The golem splatted closer.

They’ve got zombies here, so why not golems?

“How do we kill it?” Qing asked.

“I don’t know!” Taj said, the words spilling out so fast he almost sounded like a rapper. “Never seen one. Heard stories. Thought they were fake. B…b…but one sergeant swore on his mother’s maiden name that he’d seen a mud golem in the sewers. Ate a rat, he said. Oh, gods…We shouldn’t have come.”

Qing looked across the river of sludge. It was six feet wide. A plan formed in his head.

“I’ve fought mud golems before...”

In games.

“We could freeze them, but I don’t have a cold spell.” Qing stepped back and put his back to the wall. “Sometimes they have a magical plate inside around which they form, a core or heart of some sort, located either in their chest, belly, or head. If we can cut that out, the magic should disappear. Or,” he shrugged. “We can blast it apart with fire.”

Knut nodded, arrow nocked, the tip glowing red-hot.

Qing stepped forward and hopped, soaring across the river of shit. He landed with a splat on the other side, sandals sliding across the stones, and he hit the wall hard.

Ew.

Expecting another projectile, he dodged left as he blinked his eyes shut, pulling on the air’s heat and feeding it mana. A Fireball blazed to life in his hand.

Mud splashed on the wall with a cracking sound, and Qing stood to face the foe.

“Shit.”

It’s not A mud golem…

Five forms, taller than Qing, with twice his mass, ambled up the tunnel, their bulky bodies seeming to absorb the dim light.

They roared as one and charged.

Cover reveal for Qing's Quest book 1

Here's the amazon cover for Qing's Quest book 1!

Artist is Linggar: https://www.artstation.com/linggarbramanty
Typography is done by Inorai: https://typobyino.crd.co/

If you have read the first version of the book, I think you should be able to recognise the scene :) 

But, please don't comment about it, because we have several new patreons who have joined recently and might not have caught up with the story yet!

I'd love to hear what you think of the cover though, and I wish you all an outstanding Thursday!

Best regards,

Henrik

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 17: Angel Nerve

It had come from deep within a belt that looked to be woven.

Is that made of horsehair? Some sort of local plant?

Qing squinted, moved closer.

“Good day, my brother,” the merchant said. “How may I help you?”

“The belt,” Qing said, pointing. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, this one,” the man said, lifting it up. “Many years it made me a happy man. My wife’s favorite. I could have sworn it kept her healthy, but…” The man’s voice cracked, and he smiled wistfully. “In the end, time runs out for everyone, does it not?”

“It does,” Qing said, nodding. Whenever he thought of his little sister, it felt like time was draining out of the bottom of an hourglass. So little sand left, and the opening so wide. He cleared his throat. “Why are you not wearing it, then?”

“Not much to keep me here any longer. All my children are dead, and now the rose of my heart has gone on before me. I long to join her. Hopefully, selling my treasures at Jorik’s will add enough to my karma that when I meet the gods, I go up to join my wife and not down to see my brother.”

“What does it matter if you sell your items here?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, as if seeing Qing for the first time, roaming across his face and his hands. “You are not from here.”

“I’m from Chicago,” Qing said.

“Ah, Sheekaggo. I see,” the man said, nodding sagely. “The world is big.”

“Indeed.” Qing suppressed a smile.

The man waved for Qing to lean in. “It’s an open secret among the merchants that Jorik spends his cut from the sales to fund the orphanages in the Golden Hold.”

Qing turned and stared at Jorik’s back. The man looked deeply engrossed in a conversation with three children, whom he loomed over.

“But never directly,” the man added with a smile. “He’d made it a bit of a game, you see, to donate money without being seen doing so.”

“If you want to donate your wealth to orphanages, why not just do so directly?”

“And miss out on this?” the man said, smiling and waving his hands about. “All my life I’ve been a merchant. There is not a part of our country I have not visited. I’ve ridden across the desert, walked back, escaped bandits, made love under the stars, and I’ve squeezed every piece of gold out of every transaction.” The man grinned, showing a few remaining teeth. “Charity done in a way that brings me happiness is a win-win, no?”

Qing nodded. “You might be on-to something.”

“So, will you buy my belt? I’ll give you a great price,” the man said, rubbing his hands together.

Qing chuckled and picked it up.

Item: [Vitality Chain, Level 23, Legendary]

Woven from the hair of Asgol Mond, the bald virgin, and inlaid with a single nerve from the angel Seraphinia. The belt pulses with a deep, verdant light, feeling as if it is alive, enhancing the wearer’s vitality. Shaped like a circle with a T inside, the buckle symbolises the strength of faith and discipline.

Increases Vitality by 10%.

5 quick slots

(Belt)

“Oh, crap,” Qing said. “Where did your wife get the belt?”

“She got it from her mother when we married.”

“And her mother?”

“From her mother.”

“And her?”

“I…don’t know. Her mother, I guess? You like it?”

Qing fought back a smile.

This would make any additional points in vitality ten percent more valuable. I’d get thirty more health now. Not tremendous, but I’m still low level… If I defeat Rufus today, I’ll go home, but if he has run away… Or if I need to grow stronger, this might be invaluable. And if I go back home, could I wear this and give it to Meimei, buying her time?

Qing schooled his face and handed the belt over. “It smells of rotten camel.”

“How did you know my mother-in-law?” The merchant asked, and Qing burst out laughing.

“I’m not interested,” he said. “Your price is too high.”

“But I haven’t told you the price yet!”

“Whatever it is, it’s too expensive,” Qing said and turned to walk away.

The man said his price.

Qing turned around, pretended to clutch his pearls. “How dare you,” he said. “Robbery, and in plain daylight!”

“It’s magical. Worth every gold.”

Qing picked up the belt, carefully digging into the individual weaves. “It’s made of hair.”

“Magical hair.”

“It doesn’t match my pants.”

“Your pants are ugly. Buy a new pair.”

Qing chuckled. “I’ll give you an eighth.”

“You son of a camel rapist,” the merchant said happily. “Such an offer is an insult to me and my whole lineage. Six-eighths is the lowest I can go.”

“Two eighths,” Qing said, “and that’s only possible if I eat gruel every day for a month to make up for such a poor purchase.” He squinted at the belt.

“Five eighths,” the man said.

“Three eighths,” Qing said, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. Something had shimmered within the weave. Ever so carefully, Qing peeled back the brown hair, and suddenly gasped. Inside lay a glowing line, thinner than a strand of hair. It was as if he stared at a one-pixel-wide line on a high resolution computer screen.

Is this really the nerve of an angel?

He gazed in wonder. The color was unlike anything he’d seen before. A mix of swan white and the quicksilver within a thermostat, yet faintly glowing with an inner light.

“Damn, that’s cool,” he said to himself, before looking up and seeing the merchant grinning, rubbing his hands together.

Crap.

“So. I believe we settled on seven-eighths?”

“Didn’t you already say five-eighths?”

“You must have misheard me, brother.”

Qing chuckled. He’d been the one to mess up. “Fine. Seven-eighths it is.” He counted out the gold and handed it over. “Good luck,” Qing said. “May your elevator go up and not down.”

“Elevator?”

“Local word from Chicago,” Qing said and waved, leaving the booth to rejoin Morgana and Knut.

“What piece of crap is that?” Morgana asked, staring at the belt.

Qing leaned in. “This is a legendary belt that increases vitality. It’s woven from the hair of the bald virgin and inlaid with a nerve from the angel Seraphinia, whoever the hell that is. It also has quick slots for potions. Here.” He gave it to Knut. “It’s level twenty-three, so I may never be able to wear it. It will help keep you alive and your pants from falling down.”

“Thank you,” Knut said.

As he put it on his pants, Jorik appeared as if by magic, looming over them. “It’s been a long time since someone spent this much gold in my place in one go. Are you up to no good? Planning on robbing a bank?”

“Rob a bank?” Knut said, grinning. “Of course not. You know me, Jorik. Always close to the line, but never across.”

Jorik stared at them one by one, his eyepatch covering his right eye. As he made to move it, Knut grabbed his hand and said, “Before we head out, are any of your little friends in need of healing?”

Jorik frowned. “Are you offering to donate potions?”

Knut pulled the man towards the bar, away from the shops. “My friend has a unique ability,” he said. “As long as you can keep it quiet, we can help.”

Jorik looked at Qing, who tried to smile.

“There might be one… Lailani! Come here.” A young girl hobbled towards them. She was a few years younger than Qing’s sister. Her every other step sounded as if they were in a pirate movie, as her peg-leg tapped on the wooden floor.

“Yes, Jorik?” she said.

“My friend here might have something for you.”

“You have sweets?” she said, wide brown eyes brightening. Messy black hair hung around her face and down to her shoulders.

“This is not for the front room,” Knut said, and Jorik took Lailani by the hand. He led them into the kitchen and waved the help out.

Knut nodded at Qing, who knelt in front of the little girl. “Lailani, I’m going to need you to make me a promise.”

“What promise?” she said, hiding behind Jorik’s leg.

“Can you count to seven?”

“Yeah, I can count to a thousand, I can. Done it twice.”

Qing smiled. “I need you to promise me that for seven days you will keep what happens here a secret. After that, you can speak freely.”

“Jorik,” she said, voice shaky. “What’s going on?”

“Knut?” A dangerous edge had entered Jorik’s tone.

“Will you promise?” Qing asked.

She nodded.

“Good. Now please show me your leg.”

As she stuck out her foot, Qing chuckled. “The other one, I mean.”

She lifted the peg leg. Several leather straps sat wrapped tightly above her knee, holding the wooden piece in place. Ever so carefully, Qing undid them. She still winced in pain as he pulled the wooden leg off.

The stench of rot filled the room, and Jorik cursed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what? It doesn’t hurt no more.”

“That’s really bad, Lailani. It means…” Jorik sighed. “Knut, I need to buy a health potion from you.”

“Jorik?” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Just hold on a minute,” Knut said.

Qing gently stroked her hair. “You might feel a tingle, but afterwards it’ll all be better.” He closed to his eyes and thought of his little sister. How there was nothing in the world he wanted more than being able to do this for her. He opened himself to the energy above his head and pulled. Light rushed through his body, goosebumps spreading, flowing to gather in his right hand. He opened his eyes and cast divine light on the little girl.

Jorik’s eye went wide. “You’re a templar!”

“Shush,” Knut said.

Jorik clasped a hand across Lailani’s mouth right before she screamed, not in pain but in fright. Right before their eyes, her skin turned healthy, and the rot disappeared. And then, her foot re-grew.

Qing swallowed against his emotions, clamping his teeth together.

One day, meimei.

When the healing was done, Jorik released the girl. She plopped down on her butt and lifted her foot, poking at it, and wiggled her toes. “I got my foot back!” she said, mouth wide open. “Are you an angel?”

Morgana chuckled.

Qing looked at her. “Don’t you dare.” Then he turned back and said, “No. I’m just a big brother on a quest to save his sister.” He stood and tossed her a gold coin. “Remember. A seven-day secret, right?”

She nodded, clutching the coin to her chest.

“It is time we were on our way,” Qing said, dusting off his pants.

Jorik reached out, grasped his arm. “That is twice you have done me favors.” As he had done before, he pretended to pluck something out of the air and put it in the front pocket of his coat, which now looked freshly cleaned. Whether it was the same coat or he had multiple, Qing couldn’t tell, but he nodded at the man and followed Knut and Morgana out into the kirathaane’s common room.

“That should buy us some time,” Knut said in a low voice.

“Let’s not waste it,” Qing said, and waved at Taj, who came hurrying in.

“I’ve scouted a way, but we must go at once. There are soldiers everywhere. It seems the entire city is looking for us.”

After changing into the local clothes, handing Qing their other gear, they left. Qing kept his gloves, pants, and sandals, covering everything else in loose, flowing material. Only his eyes could be seen, and Taj instructed him to keep his head low and look at the ground.

They stepped forth from the kirathaane, hurrying past the queue, and into the sun. Qing took a heavy breath of the dry air, squinting against the sharp light.

Then taj cursed.

The uniform step of men in formation filled the air.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 16: Smell Test

Qing snapped the dagger out of the air, pinched between thumb and index finger.

Item: [Venom’s Whisper, Level 13, Rare]

Crafted from the toxins of a South Sea Serpent, this dagger glimmers a lethal green hue. Etched with ancient runes, it promises agony and demise. When stuck, it secrets a poison that courses through its victims, breaking their flesh from the inside. The handle, made from serpent bone, provides a steady grip.

Attack Power: 250

+15-30 poison damage over 5 seconds.

(Dagger, one-handed weapon)

“What the hell are you thinking?” he said, snapping at Morgana. “It’s a literal poison dagger! Why would you throw it at me?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t scratch you now, did I?”

“No, but you could have!”

Knut stalked over and poked her shoulder. “And you just told everyone here that we can identify items.”

“Was that supposed to be a secret?” Morgana said.

“Yeah? We could have made a fortune,” Knut said, glancing around. From the looks the merchants gave them, Morgana’s comments hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Well, is it poisoned or not?” Morgana asked.

Knut looked at Qing and arched an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and moved the dagger to his right hand. Knut nodded, but continued staring at him.

“What else am I supposed to do?” he asked. “That’s all there is to this thing.”

While the duo moved to finish the purchase Qing walked along the tables, browsing.

What can help us free Jenny and Cleo, and defeat Rufus? Has he gotten stronger since we fought?

He trailed a hand across a green leather armour.

My breastplate is powerful, as is my belt. Maybe I can find something that gives me a new spell…

“Hold this for a moment,” Knut said and handed him an amulet that looked like a black and shriveled heart.

Item: [Demon’s Bane Brooch, Level 16, Epic]

Forged from the heart of a vanquished shadow demon, it thrums with a dark energy. Encased in black metal that absorbs light, runes glowing faintly red covers it. Wearers of this brooch find their strikes against demonic foes strengthened, granting them a significant advantage in battle against spawns of hell.

+20% damage to demons.

(Amulet)

Qing grinned.

Wow! This is the type of items we need. What was the sign for Epic again?

He shifted the item to his right hand and crinkling his nose, lifted it up and smelled it.

“Is something the matter, my brother?” the merchant said, clasping his hands and waggling his bushy eyebrows. “This amulet is said to bring good luck for travelling through hot places, like the desert, where shade is hard to find. You rarely get a chance to buy yourself peace of heart.” He smiled and leaned forward to trace a finger across the black metal.

If I’d had this when defending Shadowgrove… How many lives could have been saved? Even just doing twenty percent more damage to Vileheart would have been fantastic. But I can’t wear it for three levels.

“Sixteen links in the chain, isn’t there?” Qing said, using the code to let Knut know he couldn’t use the item for another three levels.

“Sixteen links?” the man said with a confused look. “I don’t know if it matters, but there are over twenty.”

“You are right,” Qing said.

This is dumb.

“How much is he asking for the amulet?”

Knut told him.

“Pay him what he asks,” Qing said, and reached for the amulet.

“No!” Knut looked shocked and held his hands up placatingly. “Give me a moment with my friend.”

“What?” Qing asked as Knut dragged him away. “Believe me. That amulet is worth a hundred times what he asks.”

“I don’t give a shit if it’s worth it or not,” Knut said. “We can’t just pay the asking price!”

“But it’s an excellent price. It’ll barely make a dent in our funds. He doesn’t know what he has at all.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Knut said, hissing.

“Why not?”

“Why—Is this your first time—” Knut slapped his forehead. “Of course it is.” He took a deep breath. “Look. In Zylphadia, commerce is an art. One that is as much about the negotiations as it is the final price. If we agree to the first price, we either disrespect him, he disrespects us, or he has been scammed. Any of which is a bad way to make a friend.”

“I don’t care,” Qing said. “Let’s just get the things we need and get going.”

A shadow fell across Knut’s face. “I understand you don’t care,” he poked Qing with an index finger, pushing himself back a step. “But trading is an art form, one that is worth doing right. And I do care. I care because it’s the fastest way to get the items we need, to stay under the radar, and because the world is tiny as fuck. Start screwing people over and you’ll find yourself backed into a corner faster than you can shit on a stick. Now stop working against me and start helping. You got that?”

Qing could feel his hands ball into fists, but he stopped it.

This is such a waste of time. We could just take what we needed and go. But then we’d turn more of the city against us. What if we were forced to flee before saving Cleo? Then what?

“Fine,” Qing said, “but hurry. The longer we spend shopping, the closer your world is to oblivion and the death of everyone you love.”

Knut rolled his eyes. “As if I could forget. Now come and play your part.”

Qing followed Knut back to the now glaring merchant.

“It seems my friend misheard you. We will gladly pay one-third,” Knut said.

The merchant sputtered. “One-third? That’s—you want me to cut my own hand off? No offense to Jorik. Be reasonable.”

“It’s a pretty amulet and might serve as a fitting gift for a vain lover,” Qing said. “But I doubt its protection against the sun.”

“It is magical, I promise, on my mother-in-law’s health!”

Knut chuckled. “Trying to get rid of two problems at the same time?”

The merchant spat on the floor. “I need at least three-quarters of the starting price.”

“For three-quarters, I can find a mage and make a better amulet myself,” Knut said.

“Half.”

“Two-fifths.”

“My own mother will turn in her grave and curse my name if I let it go for anything less than half,” the merchant said, and it looked as if his eyes grew misty.

“Then half it is,” Knut said. “Your face reminds me of your mother, and I’d happily pay extra to make sure she stays in the ground.”

The merchant chuckled and waggled a finger at Knut. “You are a bad man! While the price is fair, I feel like a camel who has been visited by my second cousin Raisuli.”

Knut laughed as he handed over the money. Amulet in hand, he offered it to Qing, who shook his head and said, “For now, you wear it. It shall strengthen your—” Knut’s glare shut him up, and he weakly finished, “chances with the ladies.”

Next up, they bought a ring, increasing Knut’s magical resistances.

Item: [Elemental Band, Level 15, Rare]

Crafted from the pure magical essence, the ring constantly shifts its appearance, cycling through the elemental energies. Tiny symbols representing each element encircle the band, and it enhances the wearer’s protection against all forms of elemental attacks.

+5 to all resistances.

(Ring)

“What about this, and this, and this?” Knut asked as they cycled through items, but they were all common or uncommon, with a few magic items in between. But then Knut handed him a dagger that gleamed blue, as if containing LED lighting.

Item: [The Mana Reaper’s Dagger, Level 17, Epic]

Made for a court elementalist of Kaeloria, it was passed down from spellcaster to spellcaster. Forever the sidearm, never the star of the fight, it nevertheless has saved its users’ lives a dozen times over. Inscribed with ancient runes, the user absorbs mana from defeated enemies.

Attack Power: 200

+5 mana per kill.

(Dagger, One Handed)

Qing shifted it to his right hand and smelled it. There was a charge to it, like that of a battery, and he felt a certain pull on it. The merchant stared.

This would have an enormous impact on my staying power for prolonged fights. Once I hit level seventeen.

“I think it’s time you insulted this man’s mother,” Qing said to Knut with a smile.

“Oh, for crying out loud…” Knut said.

How to incorporate seventeen into the conversation?

“I’ve only seen seventeen such daggers before in my life,” Qing said, feeling smug.

The merchant’s smile faded. “They assured me it was unique.”

Qing shook his head. “Unique?” He shook his head in disgust, handed the dagger to Knut, and walked off.

That should show him.

Not long after, Knut shuffled up next to him and discreetly slipped him the dagger. “I thought you didn’t know how to haggle.”

“You mean the old fade-away? Learned that one from my grandma,” Qing said. “She’s a master negotiator. Haggles for half a dollar on a thousand-dollar purchase.” He smiled and looked up at the sky.

I love you, grandma. If you’re watching, I hope I make you proud.

Then Morgana rushed over. “I need your help,” she said.

Qing turned, looking in every direction, but could spot no threat.

“You need to buy me a pair of boots.”

“Boots!?” Qing said.

“What’s wrong with the pair you have?” Knut asked.

“Just come look,” Morgana said, grabbing them both by the arm and pulling them towards the furthest booth. Behind stood a mountain of a man dressed in skin-tight silk clothing that showed off every bulging muscle.

“Welcome.”

Qing was taken aback, wondering if it could be an enchantment. The man’s voice was that of a ten-year-old boy singing in a Catholic choir.

“Show them the boots,” Morgana said, and the man reached down, and before straightening, looked around as if to check that nobody else was watching, then placed two knee-high boots on top of the table.

Morgana sighed in pleasure, as if it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. They were shiny, as if made from wet silk, but so black that Qing squinted, trying to see if there were any stars within.

“Aren’t they gorgeous?” Morgana said, sighing as she ran a finger up one. There wasn’t a sound from them.

Let’s see what we’ve got.

Qing picked them up.

Item: [Boots of the Twilight Strider, Level 30, Epic]

Crafted from the ethereal silk of the twilight moth, known for its ability to thrive in both darkness and light, it pulls in light and sound. With dampened footsteps, these boots help the wearer weave through the world with grace and strike with precision.

+25 Defence

+10 Dexterity

Silenced footsteps while walking

(Boots)

He barely stopped himself from giving a whistle.

Level thirty? The stats aren’t much, but that status effect… Would be fantastic for sneaking Morgana into places.

He moved them to his right hand and, with a sigh, lifted them to his nose.

“What are you doing?” Morgana said, eyes wide.

“You don’t want smelly boots, do you?”

“What? No, I guess not... Do they smell?”

“No,” Qing said. “They’re fine,” and he handed them to Knut and walked away, cheeks blushing.

This is a really stupid system.

He muttered to himself as he stalked along the tables, barely glancing at the items. They should have gone already. As soon as Taj came back, they’d go, no matter what the others said. At this moment, Cleo could be—

Something glinted out of the corner of his eye, drawing him up short.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 15: Snake Oil

Qing followed Morgana to the tables along the wall. He hadn’t seen her smile so for a long time.

“You enjoy shopping that much?” he asked.

“Shopping? It’s fine, I guess,” she said, shrugging. Then turned with a grin and grabbed his arm. “But shopping at Jorik’s?” She shook her head, as if in disbelief. “I’d never thought I’d get to experience it. They say some of the items moving through here are…legendary.”

“Legendary?” Qing asked. “As in orange?”

“Orange? Like fruit?”

“No, as in the color. The rarity.”

“Is this one of your...” She waved her hands about. “One of the Qing things?”

He sighed. “Yeah. I guess you mean the items are fabled?”

Morgana looked at Knut, raising her eyebrow.

“If the items are famous,” Knut said, clarifying.

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that? And, yeah, that’s what I meant. Some really famous items came through here. My dad once told me he got his…” Morgana stopped as a shadow fell across her face.

“Your dad?” Qing asked.

“No, never mind,” she said, waving a hand. “Just forget it. The point is, shopping at Jorik’s, it’s unique. I wonder what’s available.”

Qing walked along the tables, careful not to bump any of the clients that were haggling. He couldn’t tell anything about the items just by looking at them. There was no hovering a mouse cursor over an item to see a comparison to what he wore.

That would have been a nice feature.

But maybe there was something he could do to tip the scales in their favor.

He to Knut, who looked at an assortment of rings, stroking his chin. “This gives physical protection?” Knut asked.

The merchant, every inch of her covered in billowing pink cloth, except her eyes and tattooed hands, nodded. “Yes.” her voice was melodic voice, and she moved her hands through intricate movements, almost like a dance, punctuating her words. “Twice a day it can make your skin like stone, protecting you from hits.”

“Interesting,” Knut said. “And how do you turn back from—”

“Excuse me,” Qing said, gripping Knut and pulling him from the table.

“Hey! I’m shopping here?” Knut said, waving his hands around in his best New York imitation.

I should never have taught him that.

Qing waved his hands away and leaned in. “Is there honor among merchants here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do merchants try to scam you here, or is it more of a whatever you can get away with type of place?”

“Something between the two,” Knut said, pushing at Qing’s hand. “Jorik doesn’t let just anyone sell their wares here. They are all checked, and he gets a percentage of each sale. He has worked hard to build his reputation. But there’s no fixed prices, if that’s what you mean. The value of an item is as much in the eyes of the beholder as in the seller.”

“And do the merchants always know what they have?”

“Well…” Knut said, scratching the back of his head. “What are you getting at?”

“What if you had access to the exact details of the items? Might that perhaps be of use?”

Knut’s eyes went wide, as if he’d spotted a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. “Holy shit,” he said. “You’re right.” Knut grasped Qing by the arms. “I’m going to need you to touch some stuff for me.”

Qing chuckled.

“Oh, grow up! You know what I mean. This is serious. We can make…” he shook his head, “so damn much money!”

“Hold your horses,” Qing said. “Money is fine, but we’re not lacking. We have one focus, and that is to get the gear needed to take down Rufus and rescue Cleo and Jenny. Right?”

“Right. Yes. Of course,” Knut said. But the man actually bit his lip, and Qing could feel the inner battle raging within his friend. The merchant battling with the hero.

Knut took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Okay. I got it. Here’s the plan. We’ll get a few items now, making sure that whatever you do, don’t let them figure out your special ability. Then, later, we’ll come back and really clean up. Alright?”

“Hopefully, I won’t be here later, and you’ll all be safe.”

“Sure. If we’ve averted the apocalypse, then that counts as a win. But…”

“Ok, Knut.” Qing smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm. “Tell me what to do.”

“What is the scale again?”

“Common, uncommon, magic, rare, epic, unique, and legendary.”

Knut nodded. “I’ll give you the items, and if it is rare or above, hold it in your right hand. If it’s epic, smell it. I don’t care how weird it looks, just do it. If it’s unique, listen to it, put your ear down, put it up to your ear as if to hear, and if it’s legendary, pretend you have to sneeze.”

“Isn’t this all a little...obvious?”

“No,” Knut said and waved his hand. “Just be cool about it. Chill. Right? And let me negotiate.” Knut was about to walk off, but Qing held him back.

“One more thing, the levels. It seems you can use any level item, but I am limited. How do we communicate that?”

“You’re level fourteen now, right?”

“Yes. Eighty percent to fifteen.”

“Just work the level of the item into the conversation somehow, if it is too high.”

“I’ll try.”

“Excellent.”

To start off with, they picked up local clothing for the four of them so they could blend in.

Most of the merchants were honest about the quality of their items and the price thereof. But then they came to the potion merchant. All the potions looked identical to the healing potions he’d used before, as did the man’s mana pots and poison antidotes.

Qing picked up a red potion.

Item: [Blood-root juice]

This guy is a snake oil salesman! What am I supposed to say to Knut about this? We didn’t agree something for completely fake items. If I say I can spot the fakes, then we lose our edge, but…

“How much for all the healing potions?” Knut asked.

The merchant grinned from ear to ear and gave the price. It would have been fair, if the potions were real.

How many are fake? If I select just the real potions and we buy those, but then I’ll be giving up the game. Does it matter? We’ve got enough money, but…what if merchants refuse to deal with us afterwards and we lose out on things we need?

They had more than enough money to just pay for the health potions, but Qing thought of the doctors who had promised miracle cures for his sister, and he felt a heat well up inside him. The healthcare system at home was infuriatingly fucked, but at least there was one. Here, while they had healing potions, they were unobtainable for most. And on top of that, this guy peddled fakes?

No. I’m not letting him get away.

He leaned forward and smacked the merchant across the face.

“You son of a camel whore,” the merchant said, hand going to his face, the other pointing at Qing as he screamed. “You struck me!”

“It is only my respect for Jorik that stops me from striking you down,” Qing said, growling.

The shopping area went deadly silent.

“What are you doing?” Knut hissed.

“Jorik!” the merchant said. “The foreigner struck me!”

“Oh god…” Knut said, dragging his hand across his face.

Jorik strode over, followed by one of his massive bouncers. “What is going on here? This place allows no violence except mine! Is it true you struck him?”

“Yes,” Qing said, holding Jorik’s eye.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t throw you out right now.”

“Your reputation. Everyone knows Jorik’s kirathaane has the best magical market in Zylphadia.”

The man crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And?”

Qing held up the potion. “This is fake.”

Jorik’s lip rose in a sneer. “Fake?” He turned to the merchant. “Jafar, are you peddling fake potions in my kirathaane?”

“Of course not,” Jafar said, shoulders scratching his ears, hands pumping the sky. “This foreigner is lying! You know me. I’ve come here for years!”

“It seems we have reached an impasse,” Jorik said. “You both accuse the other of lying. How would you solve this?”

“How about a test?” Qing said.

“Go on.”

“Jafar says his healing potion is true. I say it’s fake.” He clenched his right hand into a fist and the three claws slid out. The bouncer lifted his cudgel, but Jorik waved a hand. “I cut his hand off and then he drinks the potion,” Qing said. “If the potion is real, then I pay him ten times what he asked for it, and leave your kirathaane, never to return.” He smiled at Jorik and winked. “If it is fake, well, it would be quite the show, wouldn’t it? The story of the one-handed merchant would be a fitting addition to Jorik’s legend.” He glanced down at Jorik’s left hand.

Jorik chuckled. “Oh, I see. That is delightful.”

As one, they turned to Jafar, who had gone pale. The man visibly swallowed. “Y…you expect me to let this foreign heathen defile my body?”

“Is the healing potion real?”

“Of course,” Jafar said, stammering. He licked his lips, eyes darting around. Suddenly, he grabbed a potion from the table and held it up next to his face. “Fine! If I have to prove it, I will. But…would it not be fairer to remove the hand of the accuser, rather than my own?”

Jorik stared at Jafar’s hand. Then, as if appearing out of nowhere, Jorik drew a rapier and skewered the man’s hand to the wall, the potion clattering to the floor. “You know what the market means to me, to the city, and…to the children. I have known Knut for a long time. First his friend says you sell fake goods and then you cherry-pick among your own potions...” He clicked his tongue. “Qing, go ahead. Cut his hand off.”

Jafar screamed, “No, stop, wait, hold on!” He held his other hand away as far as possible, pressing his back against the wall. If he hadn’t been rapiered to the wall, he’d have fled. “Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Jorik said, twisting his rapier.

Jafar’s scream rose in pitch. “It’s a new supplier! Maybe, just maybe, some potions aren’t my normal quality. I haven’t had time to test them all.”

“A lazy excuse,” Jorik said. “Grab his arm.”

The bouncer caught the man’s arm and forced it out over the table.

“Please, Jorik! Don’t do this,” Jafar said, tears in his eyes.

Qing looked to Jorik, who nodded once. Qing struck, cutting the man’s hand off at the wrist, into three separate pieces. Hand and fingers dropped among the potions, clattering onto the table, blood spewing forth.

Jafar howled in pain.

Qing unstopped the bottle he held and poured parts onto the hand, and held the rest out to the merchant, who kept screaming.

“Are you not going to drink the potion?” Jorik asked.

“Was this proof enough?” Qing asked.

“Yes,” Jorik said, looking at the un-healed hand. “It seems a snake got through my fence.”

“Good. Then hold on,” Qing said.

Jorik looked at him questioningly.

Qing picked up the bottles one by one.

Item: [Blood-root juice]

Item: [Blood-root juice]

Item: [Blood-root juice]

Item: [Blood-root juice]

Item: [Blood-root juice]

Item: [Health Potion]

He unstopped the health potion. “Would you un-stick him from the wall, please?”

Jorik did.

The man collapsed, but Qing caught him by the throat, forcing the bottle between his lips, upending it.

The man’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed Qing’s hand, sucking at the potion like a baby with a bottle. As the health potion took effect, Jafar’s hand re-grew, and he sank to the floor, whimpering.

“Merciful,” Jorik said.

“In case he told the truth,” Qing said, “And he actually got scammed.”

The merchants and customers all stared at them.

“But how did you know?” Jorik asked, eyes narrowing.

Now, for the crux of the plan.

“My father was an apothecary,” Qing said, lying through his teeth. “I can smell a fake potion when I see one.”

“Ah,” Jorik said, echoed by the merchants, who all nodded sagely.

Knut smiled.

That should keep potion sellers from scamming us, but other merchants won’t suspect a thing.

“How convenient,” Jorik said. “I might have use of your services at another time.”

“I’d be happy to help.”

Jorik turned to the bouncer. “Throw out the trash.”

Qing reached over and placed a hand on the bouncer’s arm, halting him. “Jorik, if you don’t mind, I would like to buy the genuine potions from the man at the pre-negotiated bulk price.”

Jafar whimpered. “That price is only for those buying all the...” he trailed off under their stares.

“Why, of course,” Jorik said.

Qing swiftly picked through the potions.

Item: [Health Potion] x 3 added to inventory

Item: [Mana Potion] x 4 added to inventory

Item: [Poison Antidote] x 2 added to inventory

Knut paid Jorik, who pocketed it.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Jorik said. The bouncer picked Jafar up and carried him out.

“Thank you for safeguarding my establishment’s reputation,” Jorik said. “You have gained a favor with me. It has now been put into the bank.” As he said it, he pretended to snap something out of the air, putting it in the front pocket of his purple coat, the one now spattered in red. He patted it with a smile.

“Thank you,” Qing said.

Jorik nodded, before raising his voice. “This is why you always bring your best to Jorik’s! You never know whom you meet, what you find, or…” he gathered the chopped off fingers and started juggling his way to the doorway, “what you’ll see!”

As people clapped, Knut leaned close to Qing. “That was rather clever.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t risk him selling fake potions to someone who needs them.”

“A kind heart backed by a clever mind is a dangerous combination for those who walk the path of evil,” Knut said, patting him on the back.

Then Morgana tossed Qing a dagger, and he snapped it out of the air.

“Is this really a poisoned dagger?” she asked, and Knut groaned.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 14: A King's Laugh

Qing squirmed under Jorik’s intense gaze.

How the fuck should I know what the king said? This guy is crazier than a panda on cocaine.

So he just shrugged.

“Well? Guess!” Jorik asked, tone sharp.

“After seeing the king’s current court, maybe something about jobs and hands?” Qing said with a shrug.

Jorik’s hand rose towards his eyepatch, but Knut leaned forward and grasped it with a smile. “Oh, please do tell him, Jorik. It’s such a revelation.”

A snarl flashed across the man’s face as he glared at Knut’s hand, but then he was all smiles again. He leaned in and said in a dramatic voice, “As he munched on a cookie drenched in my blood, the king looked at me, bleeding on the floor, and said, ‘Make me laugh.’ Then he tossed my severed hand onto the floor.”

“What?” Qing said, loudly. His eyes rose. It had been weirdly loud. The kirathaane had gone quiet, with not a roll of dice nor a haggle of price. Everyone stared at Jorik, leaning in as if hanging on the man’s every word.

“That’s pretty crazy,” Qing said, and he saw Morgana grimace.

A look of anger flashed across Jorik’s face, but again, it settled into a smile. “And funny, no?”

“What happened next?”

“The sound my flesh made, splattering onto the wet floor…I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, but it unlocked something inside of me.” Jorik took a deep breath, eyes closed. “A place of power and stillness where pain couldn’t reach me. From that moment, I thought of myself as dead. My life having ended. With that revelation came clarity, and I entered a space in my mind where the world couldn’t intrude.” He smiled nostalgically. “Keep in mind that I didn’t know it was King Sharyar who sat before me. I thought it was a palace cook. Having heard King Sharyar was harsh with the staff, I picked up my severed hand and introduced it as the king’s hand, pretending it had a voice of its own, like a hand-puppet.” Jorik made a talking gesture with his right hand, and wiggled his head. “Get it? Hand puppet?”

Qing smiled as best he could.

“The king’s hand complained about being detached, and that being caught red-handed as a ruler was bad, but the real problem came when he couldn’t put his hands up in surrender.” Jorik chuckled. “Then I knelt down and pretended to be a chef, begging the king’s hand’s forgiveness for burning the cookies. Now, I’d always had a knack for talking my way out of things, but as I was bleeding out in the palace kitchen, it was the performance of a lifetime.”

Jorik rose from the table and roamed around the room. “The king’s hand grabbed me by the throat and hauled me to my feet. King Sharyar chuckled. When my own hand slapped me in the face, he laughed. Then the king’s hand poked me in the eyes, and he doubled over. Finally, as I lay writing on the floor, hand spanking my bare buttocks, the king called for me to stop, because he couldn’t breathe.” Jorik returned to the table and sank onto a chair. “There, on my hands and knees on the bloody kitchen floor, that’s when the light enveloped me. I remember it clear as day, the feeling of icy coldness rushing through my body, filling it with energy, before gathering down my arm. Right before my very eyes, the bleeding slowed, then stopped. I cried then, laying on the floor as my hand re-grew. Instead of dying, I was reborn. That’s when the king introduced himself.” Jorik took a deep breath. “For the next twenty-five years, through conquests and war, famine and feast, I stayed loyally by his side as the king’s hand, working to keep him entertained and humble. I partially succeeded. But no matter how stressful the days were…” He stood and put his stump in his pocket before hopping up onto his chair and pulling it back out, now five fingered once again. “…all I had to do was wiggle fifteen fingers, and the king would burst out in a laugh!”

Knut clapped, and the rest of the room joined. Jorik bowed courtly from on top of the chair, thanking them all, before sitting back down.

“I’d nearly forgotten how good an audience you were, Knut. You always did bring out the best in me.”

“Fifteen fingers?” Qing asked.

“What about it?” Jorik said.

“You kept your severed hand?”

“You wouldn’t expect a jester to tell you all his tricks now, would you?”

Before Qing could reply, Knut elbowed him.

“Now tell me again, what was it I could do for you?” Jorik asked.

“You mentioned our friend Rufus,” Knut said, tone nonchalant.

“Oh yes, my sources tell me a skinny foreigner has been spotted in the palace. A guest of the king, they say. The name Rufus has been mentioned.”

“A guest of the king?” Qing said, sharing a glance with Knut.

Shit. Then the king is truly corrupted. What does that make Jorik? Is he in leagues with the devil as well?

“Yes. Oh, by the way, where is Jenny?” Jorik asked. “I would never have thought the two of you would separate.”

“Funny you should mention her,” Knut said. “She is also a guest of the king. We’ll be going to see her shortly.”

“Oh excellent. Do give her my regards when you see her.”

“We will. And thank you for the story,” Qing said. “It sounds like a…formative event.”

“Oh, it was hands down the most shocking experience of my life.”

Qing smiled weakly.

This guy is nuts.

***

They needed to wait for Jorik to leave before they could discuss the next steps, and so Knut and Jorik spent the morning meal reminiscing about old times. Qing pretended to nurse a hot cup of tea, back leaned against the wall, his smile straining his face.

If Jorik finds out we are wanted, will he sell us out to the king? Has Rufus already fled after our appearance at court? If not, can we even get to him? I need to get to level fifteen asap so I can use the Petra’s Tear amulet.

He took out the amulet and fiddled with it, remembering pulling it from the butcher’s bloody corpse.

Item: [Petra’s Tear, Level 15, Legendary] has been added to your inventory.

The physical manifestation of Petra Chamber’s unbroken spirit, one half of the horrific fusion known as the Butchers. This radiant gem, birthed in the throes of her tragic end, encapsulates her undying resilience. Petra’s Tear shimmers with ethereal light, and is not only a memento of heroism but also a bastion of protection. It allows the wearer to cast a powerful shield once per day, capable of blocking even the mightiest of attacks.

Use: Casts a powerful shield once per day

Part of the Chamber’s Set

Set bonus (1/2)

Increases daily use to two.

(Amulet, Accessory)

He sipped the tea, warmth spreading throughout his body.

I need to figure out how to use the shield. Will it stop fall damage? Is it direction based?

His foot was tapping a rat-a-tat on the floor when three young children sprinted through the front door, gleefully shouting Jorik’s name. They had skipped the queue, and the bouncers did nothing except ruffle the youngest one’s hair as he sprinted by. Upon hearing his name, a new look passed across Jorik’s face. One of fondness, reminding Qing of how his grandpa used to look at their dog.

“Ah, my young couriers have arrived. Excuse me, I have business to attend to.” He stood and gave a bow. Then he lifted his eyepatch and flicked it upwards, revealing both eyes as he rushed to the children, arms spread wide.

Qing leaned over the table as he retreated. “Knut, I don’t care how crazy the guy is. Great job bringing us here.”

Knut smiled. “He is…unique. But little goes on in the royal parts of Zylphadia without Jorik knowing about it.”

Qing nodded. “Now that we know Rufus is in the palace, we need to go in hard and fast before he leaves. That means we go today.”

“Hold on,” Morgana said, hissing. “We need time to prepare! Unless you want to walk straight up to the palace and be shot on sight? Even you aren’t impervious to arrows.”

“Remember our chat, Morgana,” Qing said, fists tightening. “Think of Cleo and what they could be doing. Every moment we delay is another moment she is in their clutches.”

“But—”

“We go today.”

Morgana crossed her arms. “We should at least find out where in the palace Rufus is staying. Don’t you realise how massive it is?” She nodded at Taj. “Back me up here. It’s like a maze, isn’t it? We don’t have time to run around like headless chicken.”

“Well…” Taj said, wringing his hands.

“Listen,” Knut said, interrupting. “The priority should be to free Jenny, and then we find and take out Rufus. We can’t leave her to die.”

Qing nodded. “Yes, but…”

“No buts. Even if Rufus is alone, which I doubt he will be, there are a thousand guards in the palace. Morgana and I can’t hold them, but if we have Jenny, we can buy you the time needed to save Cleo.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

Qing held up his hands. “Listen. What if we go to free Jenny and the guards rally, allowing Rufus to flee with Cleo? What would Jenny want?”

“Excuse me,” Taj said, “but aren’t you afraid of the guards killing you all?”

Qing exchanged glances with Knut and Morgana. “Well…it seems that the king is in league with the Devil. And that’s with a capital D. I don’t want to kill innocents, but those who stand on the side of evil will receive no mercy from me. And that includes the palace guards. I’m sure you know a lot of them, Taj… But I will not be holding back. I’m sorry.”

“Is…is he serious?” Taj asked, looking at Morgana.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “It won’t be a good day for the palace guards. But…” she looked pointedly at Qing. “I still think we need more information before storming in.” She held her hands up. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll come, but…I prefer it not to be a suicide mission. What’s the point of salvation if I don’t get the chance to enjoy it afterwards?”

Knut held up a finger. “Hold that thought. Taj, where is your family?”

“Those who remain, I sent into the desert many years ago after the king took and killed my wife.”

“What for?” Qing asked.

Taj waved his hand. “It is in the past. Let us focus on the present.”

Qing nodded. “Well, tell me your plans, then. I don’t care if I have to knock a hole through the palace wall. We go today. Where Rufus is, Cleo must be as well. And if she isn’t, I’ll tear him apart until he tells.”

“If we just get a little time…” Knut said, and Morgana nodded.

“What about you, Taj? You mentioned you could get us in?”

“Yes. I know a route that might get you into the palace unnoticed. There’s a sewer entrance, barely guarded.”

“Why?” Morgana asked.

“The king had it made so he could come and go hidden, to walk among his subjects. It has not been used for a long time.”

“How do you know it?”

“Only because of my work for the princess. If an enemy were to assault the palace, that is the exit through which we were to flee.”

“Where in the palace do we get through the sewer entrance?” Knut asked.

“Centrally, near the king’s throne room.”

“How many guards?” Morgana asked.

“Only a few for us to sneak by. It’s a secret, after all.”

“Only two or three guards?” Qing said. “Forget about sneaking past them. I’ll knock them out instead. Then we don their uniforms and walk straight in. Taj already has one.”

“But what do we do inside? We still won’t know where to go,” Morgana said.

“We’ll be masquerading as royal guards,” Qing said with a grin. “We just ask for directions.”

It’ll be just like on the death star. Except there are no trash compactors!

“Then, depending on who is closest, Rufus or Jenny, we’ll go there first.”

“But what if they sound the alarm?” Morgana asked.

“It’s hard to sound an alarm when they are knocked out.”

Knut nodded. “So, we sneak in, disguised as guards, free Jenny, find Rufus and kill him, grab Cleo, and then leave. Easy peacy.”

“How exactly will we be leaving?” Morgana asked.

“Either back out through the sewers or…Knut, the portal, the one you said is guarded. Do you know how to get us there from any part of the palace?” Qing asked.

“Yes. I do. The queen…she liked to meet nearby,” Knut said with a wistful smile.

“Well, we still need to get there without being spotted,” Morgana said. “Which means we need to get you dressed up as a local. Because that breastplate is almost as eye-catching as your rock moon pants.”

“Rockstar.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“How much money you got?” Knut asked.

“If we sell the golden daggers here, I think we’ll be fine,” Qing said.

Morgana looked over at the wares laying along the wall and grinned, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s go shopping.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 13: Bloody Limbs

A man lay spread-eagle on a cold stone table. His screams echoed through the room as blood flowed from shallow cuts on his torso. The blood floated through the air to gather in a ball in front of Rufus. He stood within a circle of glowing glyphs, magic staff held across his chest. A bead of sweat ran down his face.

With a visible strain, Rufus separated his hands, and the blood changed. Dark red particles settled on the floor, and the remains changed to a white substance. Rufus leaned forward and pursed his lips, careful of not stepping out of the circle. With a slurp, he sucked the substance in, and his whole body shivered.

“Yes!” He laughed. “Scream you peasant! Scream all you want. In the palace cellars, no one can hear you scream. And it is but music to my ears.” He burped.

“Where is she?” the man screamed between his sobs. “What did you do to my daughter?”

“Oh, she’ll be next,” Rufus said and leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. “Their life force always tastes better when they have lived a little. Especially at that young age. You see, there is a special type of flavor associated with the desperation of hearing one’s father tortured to death.”

“You’re a monster,” the man said, and the table shook as he pulled on his shackles. “You belong in hell!”

“Belong in hell?” Rufus said and laughed again. “You hear that, Cleo? This man, he has no idea, does he, Cleo? Does he?”

He turned and looked at Cleo, who sat in the room’s corner, chained to the wall with a thick metal collar around her neck. Dried blood covered it, and her blonde hair lay plastered to her head. Yet she refused to lie down, instead keeping her back against the wall, knees tucked against her chest.

“You’re insane,” she said. “And Qing will come, and he will kill you. For what you did to my parents, my sister.”

“Qing?” Rufus said, exasperated. “Why do you keep on about that guy? Do you have any idea how far we travelled? Besides, we left him for dead.” Rufus took a deep breath and sighed. “And my power is returning. I’ve been given unlimited power. All I need do is reach out and grab it.” He lifted his hands into the air, and blood boiled out of the chained man, his screams reaching a fever pitch.

Rufus waved his hands through intricate motions, and the blood danced through the air like a ballet performance, swirling around him. “With each life I take, we get one step closer to hell, don’t we, Cleo?” With a burst of speed, he twisted towards the dying man, pointing a finger at his face. “But not there, no. I’m not going to hell. I am the bringer of light and darkness.”

With a roar, he strained, separating the life force from the blood, until it hung in the air, about the size of a bear’s head. Rufus collapsed to his knees, panting, and he licked his lips.

“This is going to be delicious.” He patted his belly. “Soon I’ll be back to my former self and we can—”

A sound came from the chimney, and Rufus turned, just as a colony of bats burst from the unlit oven. They flashed around the room before converging on Rufus like a cyclone.

“No!” Rufus said, swiping his staff through the air. “Careful of my circle!” As the first bat crossed the glowing line, white light flashed through the room, and Rufus was knocked backwards, sliding across the stone floor.

The extracted life force was nowhere to be seen.

“Damn you to hell, Raul’cad! Where have you been?” Rufus leveraged himself up, waving at the bats. “Transform yourself at once.”

Cleo cowered in the corner, hands over her ears. Suddenly, like an arm from a cloud, bats dove forward, settling on her like a dark blanket. She screamed as they clawed and bit, sucking at her blood.

“What are you doing?” Rufus said, waving his staff. “Get away! We need her alive.” He lifted his arm, and a burst of purple electricity shot out, arcing between the bats, and many dropped to the ground, stunned.

“I command you, in the name of the Devil, transform yourself.”

The bats swirled together, settling over the stunned ones, digging tightly together. The little creatures hooked hands, fangs, and clawed feet with one another, moving about until they settled into the shape of a man. Then reality blurred and Raul’cad lay on the floor.

Rufus gasped. “Your leg. Tell me what happened!”

Raul’cad pointed at a locked door across the room. “Give me blood. Any of them will do, just—”

“Tell me what happened,” Rufus said, walking to their dining table, and shakily picked up a cup.

“I need blood, Rufus! Fast!”

“Then speak. Tell me what you have done.”

“It is him. He is here!”

“Who is here?”

“Qing.”

Rufus froze, cup halfway to his mouth.

Cleo’s crystal laughter rang through the room.

“That’s impossible,” Rufus said.

“I told you,” Cleo said.

“Shut the hell up!” Dark red liquid and shards of glass rained down on Cleo as Rufus threw his cup against the wall.

“Did you kill him?” Rufus asked.

“No.”

“Why did you let him live?”

“We dueled, but…he has grown in strength.” The vampire loosened his belt and cinched it around his leg. As the leather creaked, the flow of blood slowed to a trickle.

“No. No. That’s…no.” Rufus paced around the room. “It should have taken months to recuperate, and weeks to get here, even if they knew where to go...”

“You don’t know Qing,” Cleo said gleefully.

“Shut up! If you speak again, I’ll put you in the cell with the others. Is that what you want?”

Cleo glared, but stayed silent.

“Why haven’t you healed your leg?” Rufus asked to Raul’cad.

“It’s a damned desert. Nothing lives but rodents and snakes. Neither of which has enough blood.”

“You are pathetic.”

“Give me one of the prisoners.”

Rufus glared down at him. “Damn it. I am loath to ask our benefactor for more. He is too demanding as is.”

“Master,” Raul’cad said, and there was a pleading in his voice, “I need this. Please help me heal and I will bring you new sacrifices. Think of the ones I brought you in Shadowgrove. How I hunted along the roads for you, capturing merchants, and—”

“Quiet,” Rufus said. Footsteps sounded from the corridor leading to the palace. He brushed down his clothes and wiped his mouth. “Quick. Stand in the corner and hide your leg. It seems our benefactor has come for an early check up. We need to—”

“He knows,” Raul’cad said.

“Shush, quiet.”

The door opened with a squeak.

“Ah, my good friend. How gracious of you to come visit,” Rufus said through gritted teeth, bowing down to a ninety-degree angle with the floor.

“It seems matters have changed, and we need to revisit the fabric of our agreement,” the man said, staring at Cleo. “If the Devil wants my kingdom, I expect a fair price.”

***

Qing made to stand as Jorik approached their table.

He knows where Rufus is?

But Knut grabbed his wrist, halting the movement.

“Jorik, that is amazing,” Knut said. “Won’t you join and tell us more?” He held up the wooden menu. “It might surprise you how delicious the tea is here. Besides, has it not been far too long since we caught up last?”

Knut kicked, and a wooden stool slide out from the table.

Jorik looked down, nodded, and settled onto it. The process made Qing think of a robot, with long limbs sticking out every which way, yet moving with mechanical precision. Knees sticking up, Jorik places his elbows on the table, and leaned forward. With head tilted, his eye glared at Qing, as if to stare through to the back of his head.

“Yes, there is much to be discussed,” Jorik said. “But first…” He reached up and lifted his eyepatch, moving it from his right eye to the left. Underneath was a completely healthy looking eye, except this one was green while his other was blue. None of the others reacted, so Qing didn’t mention it.

Why is he wearing an eyepatch?

As Jorik released the eyepatch, a warm smile spread across his face, and he relaxed, posture changing from that of a stiff Swiss banker to a pot-smoking hippie. “How was your sleep? I hope it was comfortable.”

“Your kirathaane always delivers,” Knut said, raising his teacup in salute. “And again, I appreciate you taking us in on such short notice. We had thought to stay at the palace, but that proved too big an ask.”

Jorik chuckled. “I’m surprised that his highness even let you into the same room as the Queen.” He shook his head. “It seems you have lost none of your charm over the last ten years.”

Qing shifted in his seat.

Why is Knut wasting time? If Jorik knows where Rufus is, we should find out and go at once, before the bastard flees.

He made as if to ask, but Knut elbowed him in the side before he could utter even a word. Jorik didn’t seem to notice, instead asking, “So, Qing, was it? How do you know Knut?”

“We fought together against a terrible enemy. Zombies and demons rose in the Whispering Woods, in the kingdom of Thulenore. Together with the local militia, we put them back in the ground and sent them down to hell where they belong. And now we are here to fini—”

“To sell certain magic items which we picked up over the last six months,” Knut interrupted, “and acquire new ones. So why not come to Jorik’s? You always have the best selection.”

“Oh, stop it,” the man said with a wave of his hand and a smile. “You’ve always had a slippery tongue. And there might be a thing or two which may catch your interest.”

“Excellent!” Knut said. “But first, won’t you tell Qing how you got started? It has been too long since I last heard your tale, and while Taj and Morgana here likely know, for Qing, Jorik the Jester is a new figure.”

“Why, of course! I would be happy to regale you with the story of the orphan who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.” The man smiled, eye widening dramatically. “Except this cookie jar was none other than the king’s! And a king’s cookie jar has quite the bite!”

Jorik lifted his right hand and wiggled five fingers. Then he lifted his left and did the same, before slapping them together with a clap that reverberated through the room. With a flourish, he waved his hands behind his back, and when he brought them back out, his left hand was gone. The arm ended in a stump, covered in old scar tissue.

“Whoa,” Morgana said.

“Yes, indeed, my fellow travelers. It was not my finest moment, bleeding to death on the floor in the palace kitchen. Yet it was there that I found the meaning of luck, loyalty, and friendship. King Sharyar, whose appetites then were more for the culinary than the flesh, came in for a late-night snack. He found me crawling on the floor, biting my lip bloody to stop from screaming.” Jorik held the stump up to his lips. “I knew if the guards caught me, they’d flog me to death.” He shrugged. “Not knowing who the young man was, I begged for my life. But he stepped across my body, hopped up on the table, and said ‘Thieves have no value.’ Then he pulled the cookie jar close, took my hand out and placed it next to him, and proceeded to eat one of the bloody cookies.” Jorik chuckled and smiled. “I nearly lost my mind at that moment, and begged him to bring a healer. He just wiped his mouth and said, ‘Life is burdensome.’ But then, chewing on that cookie, a weird look crossed his face. ‘Ease mine, and I will grant you life,’ he said, and I asked him how. His next words forever changed my life. Can you guess what they were?”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 12: Planning

Qing’s entire body shook in anger and he smashed the piece of wall onto the floor, splattering like chalk.

Damn it all to hell! How am I supposed to find Rufus? He can be anywhere. And without finding Rufus...we can’t get to Cleo. And without getting to Cleo... I have to save Cleo. For her sake, Kaela, and without saving her, I’ll never see my family again. Maybe another champion will complete their quest and save Earth, but what would that mean for me? Would I be stuck here forever?

He leaned back and stared at the stars. They were different here. He was no astrology expert, never had a strong interest. But he’d looked up at the night sky enough times to know a few of the constellations. And nothing looked familiar here. No Big Dipper. No North Star. They all looked strange.

How much time did they have before the Zylphadian army would find them? A few police officers they could take care of, but an army? Not a chance.

He needed to come up with a plan. But a plan for what?

Qing started pacing back and forth on the roof. There were only two real options. One was to hunt for Rufus, and the second was freeing Jenny.

But where would they even start looking for Rufus in such a big city? Could they hire a private detective? Did they have that here? Raul’cad had been in the court, but none seemed to react to the name Rufus. But the Vizier, Wazir, had he been too uncaring?

He knows more than he let on.

The King had seemed oblivious. Even if they had gotten a chat with him, it was doubtful any help would have come from that side. And that was before they were branded for execution.

And then there was Jenny. Knut had said they would take her to the harem.

Poor bastards.

A smile forced itself onto Qing’s face as he thought of them trying to force Jenny into a skimpy bikini. But the smile quickly faded as he realized what they would likely do to her when she refused. His jaw tightened in anger.

Footsteps sounded behind him.

“What would you have us do?” Qing asked.

Morgana walked over and leaned on the wall next to him, her shoulder just brushing against his. “We could...”

“No,” Qing interrupted.

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“You’re going to tell me that we should do a tactical retreat, get to safety, and from there find a position of strength from which we can attack them?”

“I—” she started, but faded into silence.

“Do you know what we would have done if it had been you they captured?”

“Of course,” Morgana said. His shoulder felt cold as she leaned away. “I know my spot.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“You accepted me along for two reasons,” Morgana said. “One, you didn’t want me going back to the village in case I’d cause trouble. And two, you took pity on me, didn’t you? The dumb girl, tricked into working for the enemy.” She huffed. “That bastard, Cyril. He only wanted me for one reason…never once did he give up trying to fuck me. And then you come along, a knight in shining armor. First you save my life, and then give me a shot at redemption?” She spat over the wall. “Oh, I understand exactly how far that gets me. Why do you think I fought so hard to get away from the throne room? You think I wanted to kill that guard?”

The silence stretched.

“Well, I didn’t. But there are no second chances for people like me.”

“No second chances, Morgana?” Despite himself, Qing chuckled. “You’re making no sense. You just said that this is your chance for redemption. If that’s not a second chance, then I don’t know what is.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, snapping. “I meant there’s no second, second chances. No third chances.” She glared at him and rubbed at her eye patch.

“Fine,” Qing said, holding up a hand. “Maybe there are no third chances. Not for redemption, anyway. My grandma always says, once is never, twice is always.”

“What does that mean?”

“Give people a second chance, but never a third.”

“Oh.”

“But you need to realise that if it had been you they captured, we would have come for you. Just like we are going to go get Jenny. And do you know why?”

Morgana stayed silent, and he turned to look at her. She squirmed under his gaze.

“No.”

“Because you are part of our team. And it’s the right damn thing to do. So, I want no more talk of tactical retreat, running away, or giving up. You got that? You are free to leave anytime, but as long as you stay, remember that we have each other’s back until death, because that may be what it takes to succeed with this quest.” Qing took a breath and raised his voice. “Isn’t that right?”

“You know it, my friend,” Knut said, joining them with a platter upon which sat three steaming cups. “So, to sum up, we are rescuing Jenny, hunting down Rufus, saving Cleo, and saving the world from being destroyed by the devil. Anything I forgot?”

“Yeah. We’re also getting my damn camel back.”

***

After enjoying the hot beverages on the rooftop, they retired to a corner booth to figure out a plan, inviting Taj to sit with them.

“Do you know anyone who can help us find out where Rufus is?” Qing asked, keeping his voice low so none of the other patrons would pick up the conversation.

“I could get Jorik to ask around, pretending that we are looking for a friend,” Knut said, running a hand across his shaved scalp. “I’m loath to drag him into it, but there might not be any other options. If we don’t stop Rufus, he’s going to end up dead, anyway.”

“I might have some connections,” Morgana said, “but I don’t want to make any promises. It has been over five years since I last visited, and don’t know who is still around. Tomorrow I’ll go for a sniff around and see what I can dig up.”

“Good,” Qing said. “I wish Cedric was here. He may be able to locate Rufus magically, but we can’t expect help from him for quite a while yet.”

“What about the town portal that Cedric opened?” Morgana asked, before swiftly raising her hands. “I don’t mean as a retreat, merely to get reinforcements or additional supplies from Shadowgrove.”

“No,” Knut said. “The one portal site here is inside the palace grounds and heavily guarded at all times.”

“What about you, Taj?” Qing asked. “Are there any you trust who could help us? A rebellion stirring, a dissatisfied faction within the court, anything?”

“None that I know of,” the man said. “It is an open secret that it is Wazir who aims the king’s iron fist. Anyone speaking up has been quashed long ago. While the king gets his…needs taken care of and the queen gets to ride the dragon, the vizier is as good as a shadow king.”

“What does he want?”

“Power, I guess.”

“But why?”

“Nobody knows. Or, I should say, nobody I know knows. But I do know someone who can help get us into the palace unseen. I used to be in charge of the princess’s security before Wazir rose to power. But it would require stealth. Is that among your skill set?”

Morgana and Knut shared a glance.

“I think we can handle it,” Knut said. “But we might need to give this walking terror a few lessons.” He pointed at Qing.

“Good. Then we have a plan. First, we find out where they are keeping Jenny. Whether she has been taken to the harem or if they are keeping her anywhere else. Then we sneak into the palace, rescue her, and find any information on Rufus and get out. And while there, if we find Cleo is in the palace, I’m going to go get her,” Qing said, “no matter the cost.”

“So we’re really doing this, aren’t we?” Morgana said.

“Yes.”

“We’re taking on the whole damn kingdom?”

“Yes.”

I really hope I’m ready for this.

“So, how do we get prepared?” Morgana asked.

“The first thing we do is get a good night’s sleep,” Knut said. “Then tomorrow morning, you’ll see why I brought you to Jorik’s.”

***

Qing wiped the sleep from his eyes as he walked down the stairs, but froze as the common room came into view. The rhythmic beat of drums had awoken him, and the vibrant sounds of a lute had joined. The room was unrecognisable from the gloomy watering hold of last night. Light streamed in through open windows, illuminating the entire room. It was as if the dark, broody, tavern-like place had turned into a Sunday’s open market.

Men and women sat engaged in games of chance, laughter and curses punctuating the air. Servers hurried between tables, trays laden with mouth-watering dishes and stacked with cups. In the back of the room, two walls were covered with a makeshift market. From his point of view on the stairs, he spotted swords, spears, crossbows, armor, gems, jewelry, and other items. It seemed that during the day, Jorik’s was a place of treasure and fortunes. And the owner himself strutted around like a baron in his domain, with a laugh here, a whisper there, money swiftly changing hands.

“…and then she said, ‘It wasn’t him. It was the donkey!’” The men around the table roared in laughter, and Jorik clapped their backs, a massive grin on his face.

“Wow,” Morgana said as she sidled up beside Qing. “I’ve heard about your Jorik's, but I never thought I’d get to see it.”

“Why?”

“Look at the queue.”

By the doorway, three guards stood, inspecting every person they let through, and a long line could be seen outside. Even as they watched, the guards turned away a duo, cursing up a storm as they left.

From a table across the room, Knut waved at them. As Qing navigated through the maze of tables and patrons, his gaze was drawn to a myriad of artifacts adorning the kirathaane that he had not noticed in yesterday’s gloom. Behind the bar hung a rusted scimitar. A tattered map, the first one he’d seen since coming here, hung by the doorway. A glass orb shimmering with an inner light sat on the bar desk that had not been there the night before. And on top of a pedestal, covered in a glass dome, lay a set of intricately carved bone dice.

“Good morning,” Jorik said, calling over to them, his voice filling the room. “I hope you’ve had a satisfactory sleep. Take a seat, and I’ll be with you in a moment. I have news of your friend, Mr. Rufus.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 11: Jorik's kirathaane

The air roared around Qing’s ears as he soared into the night, pushed by his powerful legs.

“Oh shit!” he said, calling into the night as he stared at the marble floor, so far below it would turn him to paste. He seemed to soar forever, like a steroid-pumped long-distance jumper. Taj screamed, hand scratching at Qing’s face. The tall palace fence passed beneath them, two guards staring up, mouths agape. Several feet still separated them from the water, and the ground rushed towards them. It looked like it would be the end. But the dark waters rose to meet them with a teeth-rattling smash as they splashed in just past the walkway. Qing’s back cracked as he was squeezed between Taj and the water. Then cold water wrapped around him as he tumbled down, pushed by the guard’s weight.

The spears!

Air bubbled from his mouth as he gurgled in pain, twisting, trying to break their descent. Then, Quick Reflexes proc’ed, and he raised his arms, pushing himself down and Taj up, and snaked his body between unseen razor-sharp objects. The wood felt slimy against his body as he stopped, eyes open, yet seeing nothing in the too-dark water that left his eyes stinging.

His lungs were empty, and started burning, but he couldn’t find his strength.

He popped a health potion. Sweet relief flooded through his body and strength returned.

He wrapped a leg around a spear for leverage and pushed Taj towards the surface before kicking off after him. With a gasp, Qing broke into the sweet air.

“Hurry!” Knut said, in a whisper that carried. Morgana splashed further ahead.

Qing kicked off, grateful for the summer trips to lake Michigan, pulling Taj behind him. Water sprayed behind him like a motorboat as he kicked, spears splashing down around them and guards throwing their torches into the water for a chance to spot them. But with Qing’s light dimmed to nothing, they were like ghosts, unable to be seen.

Is Taj still alive?

The man hadn’t moved or spoken since they hit the water.

“Are you alright?” he asked. No reply.

Did the impact break his back?

As he swam, Qing pulled on the energy above his head, hair rising on the back of his neck, and he cast Divine Light on Taj.

The man took a deep breath, before coughing seawater.

“What did you do?”

“Healed you.”

“I…”

Qing continued pulling him.

I hope Smokey is alright in the stable. Surely they won’t mistreat him…right?

The three-humped camel had grown on him on their journey, and he’d grown rather attached.

“Here,” Knut said after a few minutes. “This should be far enough. Can you get us up, Qing?”

“I think so,” he said, but the stones were too slick to climb. So he pushed Taj to Knut, opened his inventory, and equipped the two-handed axe. With a fierce kick, he reached up out of the water and just managed to get the edge hooked. Hand over hand, he climbed up before rolling onto dry land. He lay flat in the darkness and looked around. While the wall was lit, and the palace itself, the space between it and the houses lay dark. The guards were all searching closer to the palace, waving torches and screaming orders and counter-orders. The adage of searching where there’s light, not where you lost the keys came to mind.

Seems the wiser guards all were part of the group we met in the desert. Not a single one here will have any night vision left.

Qing turned and lowered the axe. “Grab on,” he said, and pulled them up, one by one. They hurried over to the nearby houses, keeping low to the ground.

“Anyone in need of healing?” Qing asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Knut said.

Morgana just shushed him as she sprinted past in her underwear.

After rounding the first corner, Qing called a halt and handed over their gear. It was completely dry.

“How is that possible?” Taj asked.

“He’s unique, isn’t he?” Morgana said with a grin as she pulled on her skin-tight leathers, Qing doing his best not to stare. Despite jumping from a tower, a nighttime swim, and a sprint from the royal guard, her eye-patch looked to never have moved.

Geared up, they headed deeper into the city, jogging through empty streets. With the happenings at the palace, nobody wanted to be caught in the crossfire. At first, Qing led the way, heading straight from the palace, but then he slowed, unsure.

“Where to?” Qing asked.

“Head into the city,” Morgana said, slinking along the wall to peek into the next street. “There are a thousand places to hide here. I know of a few.”

Taj started saying something, but Knut interrupted him. “There’s only one place we can go now,” he said. “Jorik’s kiraathane.”

Morgana and Taj shared a glance before nodding.

“Lead the way,” Qing said, and they sped off into the night.

***

Qing followed Knut into Jorik’s kiraathane, which he’d been led to understand was a type of Zylphadian version of a coffee shop. Shadows cloaked the spacious oval room, nearly suffocating the candles that threw flittering lights across the cloth-covered faces of patrons. They nursed short cups close, every eye upon the newcomers.

For a moment, Qing’s unease gave way to curiosity as he inhaled deeply.

Is that tea?

Against the far wall stood a tall bar, behind which sat dozens of bottles in front of a mirror. The guests sat huddled as if the walls of the kiraathane held back night terrors, offering a fragile sanctuary in a world teetering on the brink of chaos. Qing hoped that was so.

“You! How dare you show your face here?”

Qing’s attention snapped to a slender man who rushed towards them, walking as if on stilts. He pointed an accusatory finger at Knut, shaking with intensity. The patrons all shrank deeper into their cups.

“Let me do the talking,” Knut whispered and waved them all behind him. “Just keep quiet.” Then he turned to the man, opened his arms wide, and exclaimed. “Jorik, my good friend! What a pleasure it is to see you after all these years. You haven’t aged a day!”

“What in the sun-bleached skull are you doing back?” Jorik asked.

“I’m here on business,” Knut replied, his head tilted. “Why else would I be back in this godforsaken land?”

“Guards! Jorik called, and two men, who had to have ogre as part of their lineage, rose from a corner table and grabbed cudgels.

“Whoa, my friend! Why the hostility?”

“You are banished!”

“That was over ten years ago.”

“Am I to believe you have been to see the king?” Jorik said, stopping to loom over in a way only a man in a dark purple coat with golden stars on it can.

“Why, of course,” Knut said with the smile of a man who came to bed late yet found his wife waiting up and in a good mood.

Jorik seemed taken aback, and he tilted his head, looking at Knut askance. “And all is forgiven?”

“Do you think he’d let me leave if not?”

“Well…I…”

“See. He even granted us an escort,” Knut said and waved at Taj. The guard wisely kept his mouth shut and did his best imitation of a guard with not a care in the world except for when he’d go home to a lukewarm meal.

“Well, in that case...” Jorik’s demeanor changed and a big smile spread across his face. “Welcome back, my friend! You have been missed.” He enveloped Knut in a bearlike hug, if stick-insects hugged like teddies.

Conversation filled the room as the patrons relaxed, and a collectively held breath was released. The guards returned to their table. Laughter, defying the suffocating atmosphere of the city, followed them through the room as Jorik led them to a nearby table. He gave a perfunctory wipe of the surface before begging them to be seated.

After a quick round of introductions, brief instructions and an exchange of palmed coins, they were settled around the table. Jorik begged his leave to take care of some business, promising to return shortly. A teenage boy brought them steaming mugs of tea.

Back against the wall, Qing kept his eyes on the doorway, knuckles white around the cup, but mindful of not breaking it. He’d destroyed enough kitchenware on the journey already. He took a sip and had to restrain himself from sighing in pleasure at the perfect mouthfeel of the green tea flowed down his throat. It tasted like freshly plucked and steamed green Dragon Well tea. But…

I don’t deserve this.

He pushed the cup away.

Now Rufus knows we are here. The entire kingdom will be after us, and I let Jenny be captured. Damn it!

His head slipped forward, and he knocked it against the table, repeatedly.

How could it have gone any worse?

“How do you know Jorik?” Morgana asked.

“We go way back,” Knut answered. “He used to be the court jester while I was the royal supplier of pills to put the pop back in the slop, if you—”

“We know.”

“He was always helpful in slipping in a bit of pep into the right noble’s drink. Made him popular with the ladies, and the king. Happy wives made happy nobles. Happy nobles made for a happy kingdom.” Knut looked wistfully around the bar. “Seeing what the court has turned into, I am glad he got out in time.”

“So…what do we do next, then?” Morgana asked.

The table settled into silence. When it became unbearable, Qing raised his head.

They all stared at him.

“What?”

“What do we do?” Knut asked.

“I don’t know,” Qing said.

“Don’t you have any…” Knut trailed off, weaving his hand through the air. “…quests or objectives? Things like that?”

“Only the one,” Qing said and sighed.

Where the hell are you, GG? I could really use some guidance right about now.

“Quests and tasks? What are you talking about?” Taj asked.

“It’s a Qing thing,” Morgana said, aerating her tea.

“So you know what we are doing then?” the old man asked.

“Not yet. But Qing will figure something out. He always does,” Morgana said confidently.

Suddenly, Qing felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if the temperature and air pressure in the room had tripled. “I need air,” he said and stood.

“Don’t go far. They’ll be searching,” Knut said, grabbing his wrist and leaning in.

Qing ripped his hand free. “Don’t you think I know that?” He walked away, guilt clawing at his throat, but he couldn’t handle it. He needed to get away.

He heard a chair scraping across the wooden floor and Knut was suddenly there by his side, walking with an arm around his waist.

“If you need a minute, my friend, then head to the roof.” He pointed to a doorway covered by a hanging curtain. “You’ll be alone there. Just…stay away from the street. It is going to be a bad town tonight.”

Without a word, Qing brushed him off walked across the room, heading for the stairs. It felt as if his whole being would implode, or maybe explode, from the frustration building up inside.

Why do I always have to come up with the plans?

The tassels shook as he hurried between them and stomped up the stairs, feeling a million eyes on his back.

The whitewashed steps seemed to go on forever as he passed through several floors, before finally stepping out onto a blue rooftop. Jorik’s house were two stories taller than any of the buildings nearby, and it offered a spectacular view of the city.

Qing took a slow breath, forcing a scream down. Then he walked to the edge and gripped the low wall. A piece ripped right off, crumbling underneath his fingers.

“Oh shit.”

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 10: Leap of Faith

As Qing turned towards Jenny’s scream, Taj, the old guard who had led them through the city, flashed by him. He nearly struck the man, but held back as the man was unarmed, sprinting by and headed to the right.

“Follow me,” he said. “I know the way out.” Next came Knut, who skidded to a halt next to Qing. And finally, Morgana, cursing as she took off down the corridor, following Taj. “Move,” she yelled.

But Qing stepped towards Jenny.

Pandemonium reigned in the throne room. Five guards were piled on her, punch and ripping. Blood flowed down her face from a broken nose, and she grinned the look of a she-devil, refusing to bow down. The nobles scrambled, desperate to get away from the spears, shields, and sandals as guards worked to lock down the room. More than one went down, trampled. It seemed even noble life was cheap in Zylphadia.

I have to get her.

Two guards stepped into the archway, spears lowered. Qing kicked, stepping through with all his power. The man flew, crashing into the people behind. The other’s eyes widened as he dodged his spear and shouldered him, tossing him like a rag-doll. Three more rushed in, and Qing snarled.

“Back off, or I’ll kill you!”

With a swipe, he beheaded their spears, but they locked shields and dropped to their knees, leaving space for others to attack across. It felt like attacking a porcupine mixed with a hydra. When he knocked one down, two more came to replace.

Behind them, Jenny spit blood and roared.

“Go! Get Knut to safety!” She tossed off one guard, just to have him replaced by two others.

How many would he have to kill to get her? Would he be overwhelmed? Shouts were coming from down the corridors, converging on the throne room.

Then, a guard reversed his spear and cracked it across the back of Jenny’s head. The wood splintered, and her eyes rolled up as she fainted.

“No!” Qing screamed, grabbing a spear that flashed towards his face. He grabbed it and hauled, but the man refused to let go, and was pulled through their formation. Qing punched him in the face, snapping his head back. He collapsed like a doll whose strings were cut.

Knut grabbed his arm and pulled. “Come,” he said. “They will keep her alive. We will be back for her.”

I have to pick my fights.

He dodged three spears flying through the air, chipping into the stone wall behind him. The last thing he saw before letting Knut drag him down the corridor was the grin on Wazir’s face as the man called for their capture.

He ran down the corridor, but in front, Morgana and Taj rounded a corner. “If we lose sight of them, we’ll never find a way out,” Qing said, and grabbed Knut. As he lifted the man, something that felt easier than lifting Meimei ever had, he activated the dash ability on his sandals. Knut screamed as if they were on a roller coaster as Qing’s feet reached cartoon speeds. Then they came out of the dash and he skidded along the marble.

“Never, ever, do that again!” Knut said, as Qing put him down. Golden sconces flashed by as they sprinted, catching up to Morgana and Taj.

He jogged up alongside the guard and asked, “Why are you helping us?”.

“I saw him cheat,” Taj said, “as clear as the midday sun. I knew Evil grew in our kingdom, but a vampire in the court?” He shook his head. “If you can help, how could I stand idly by?”

“Aren’t you afraid for your life?” Morgana asked.

“It is too late for that, rose of the desert. My life was forfeit the moment I brought you to the palace.”

“I’m sorry,” Knut said, screams and shouts echoing around them. “I was afraid the king would remember, but…I never thought he would be in league with Rufus.”

“It is not your fault,” Qing said, squeezing his fists, claws flashing out. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. You warned me. And now they have Jenny.”

“Hurry,” Morgana said, skidding to a stop at a junction. “Talk blame later. We’ve got to get away first.”

“There,” Taj said, pointing at a set of double doors. Inside, stairs lead up and down. Morgana rushed in and headed down, but his sharp call halted her. “Up!”

“Not down?”

“No. You’ll need height for where you’re going,” he said, pushing her upwards. Knut followed.

“What’s the plan?” Qing asked Taj as he locked the door behind them and started upwards.

“No talking. Need my breath.”

Qing took the man’s arm, helping, as they climbed round and round, up the tower. Some floor had open doors, while some were closed. Qing peeked into one which looked like a library, another a prison. A third held a cushioned room with leather-covered benches in all different shades of grey, and on the walls hung whips and chains.

“Qing,” Morgana said, “my whip! We’ve got company!”

He took the whip out and threw it up. She snapped it out of the air, and with a snarl, cracked it. A man screamed and came rolling down the stairs, blood pouring from his face. Taj hugged the wall and Qing lept across him, shin knocking on the shield.

“Thanks,” Morgana said as they continued.

“Knut?” Qing asked.

“The longbow won’t do me much good here,” the man replied. “Give me one of Jenny’s axes.”

Qing did so without comment.

Taj breathed as if he’d ran five consecutive marathons as they came around a last bend, the stairs ending at a pair of beautifully carved wooden doors.

“This is it,” Taj said, reaching for the door, but Qing stopped him.

“In case there are more guards.”

Before the guard could argue, Qing stormed in, axe at the ready, but skidded to a halt. Stargazing equipment, maps, and books covered an oval room that must occupy the entire top floor. An extravagant conservatory. A telescope the size of a man stood on complex machinery, angled towards a balcony. A thick layer of dust lay across the room.

“What is this place?”

“This is princess Gida’s conservatory,” Taj said, sounding wistful. “She used to spend all her time here when she was younger… But she hasn’t been here for years.”

Morgana sprinted in and started running along the wall, pulling on lamps, ripping books from bookcases, and tearing down paintings, causing a massive ruckus.

“What are you doing?” Qing asked.

“Looking for the way out,” she said as she tipped a whole bookcase onto the floor to reveal a clean stone wall.

Knut came in, closed the door, and pushed a table in front.

“Taj?” Qing asked, tension rising in his chest.

The man shuffled across the room and ran a hand lovingly across the giant telescope. “She was such a happy child, you know. Devoted to science. A brilliant mind.”

“Yes, I’m sure she was,” Qing said. “But please, let us be away from here. Where is the exit?”

The man waved a hand towards a balcony. “There. Your only remaining way out.”

They all stared at him.

“What exactly do you mean?” Qing asked, stalking forwards. “Have you brought us here to suicide?”

That brought the man out of his trance, and he snapped back. “Of course not. You need to get over the palace fence, and this is the only place tall enough to do the job. And you need somewhere soft to land.” He waved at the sea.

Knut and Qing shared a glance.

“Do you both know how to swim?” Qing asked.

“Of course,” Knut said. “But flying…that is a skill I have yet to master.”

Morgana just nodded as she scowled at Taj.

“It is not far,” Taj said. “Land feet first, arms tucked, straight like a nail, and you’ll be fine. The water is deep. But…”

“But what?” Morgana asked, stalking closer.

“Once you hit the water, twist and break your descent into the depths.”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes.

“After the last person jumped and survived, Wazir the Vizier ordered the installation of spikes in the water.”

“You want us to jump onto spikes? Have you lost your mind?”

“Now that you know they are there, you can avoid them. This route is your only hope. Even a fighter like you cannot defeat a thousand trained soldiers. And those are just the ones stationed beneath the palace.” The man tilted his head. “I think you better be going.”

A loud crack filled the room, and the door rattled.

“They are here,” Taj said. “And if I know anything, it is that they will surround the entire palace in a flash.”

“Gods damn it,” Qing said. “Let’s do it. Quick, give me your gear, all of you. No point jumping just for you to sink and drown.”

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Morgana said and handed over her whip.

For Qing, preparing was easy. He opened the inventory, unequipped the items, and there he stood, in his underwear for the first time in a week. The armour was so comfortable he slept in it, and when the equipment got dirty, he unequipped and reequipped them, and they were sparkling clean. The whole thing only took a few seconds. Morgana whistled, and he looked down.

“Oh…”

When did I get a six-pack?

He ran a hand along the hard ridges.

That feels weird.

He looked up and met Morgana’s eye as she shimmied out of her black leathers, and he felt his cheeks redden at the sight of her naked hips. He twisted away and accepted Knut’s items.

How is her belly so flat? And, whoa! No. Don’t look at her legs. Again.

Instead, he turned to Taj and said, “Hurry and give me your armour. I will hand it back on dry land.”

“I can’t come.”

“Of course, you—”

The sound of axe splintering wood filled the air, and Knut yelped.

Qing gripped Taj’s arms. “If your life is already forfeited here, there is no reason not to come!”

“I won’t make the jump,” the man said with a sigh. “It is too far to the sea for my old legs.”

Knut grunted as the door moved inward. “Hurry!” he called.

“If you let the killers get away, it’ll be your heads,” a rough voice said from the stairs.

“Killers?” Qing asked.

“Erh…” Morgana sucked air through her teeth. “I might have killed one.”

“I thought we said no killing!”

“He grabbed me!”

“They grabbed all of us,” Knut said, pushing at the table.

“Inappropriately.”

“Oh.”

The door splintered, and Knut ducked as a spear flashed through.

“Time to go,” Qing said. “I’ll carry you.”

“Carry me?” Taj said. “No Elrydisan is strong enough to make that jump while carrying someone else.”

“Good that I’m not from here, then,” Qing said and ripped the man’s armour over his head. Taj tried protesting, but stood no chance.

“When we hit the water, do we swim left or right?” Qing asked, holding the man by his arms.

“Erh…left?”

“Good enough,” Qing said and hoisted the man onto his shoulders, before he walked over and kicked the balcony door to splinters. Outside, no railing surrounded the platform, only a raised wall about a foot high.

Taj protested and kicked, but Qing held on firmly.

“Now, Knut!” He said, and the man turned and sprinted, bare feet slapping on the stone. Morgana beat him to it, screaming at the top of her voice as she lept into the darkness.

Knut followed, as Qing backed up three steps.

He took a deep breath, and powered forward. One, two, three, times his sandaled feet slapped the stone, and then he soared into the night, dimming his innate light.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 9: Bats

I don’t want a drawn-out fight. Overwhelming him will best display my power, and it can help sway the court to our side.

He slid a sandaled foot along the stone, testing the grip. Not the best, but it would do for his plan.

With three quick steps, he closed the distance and swung at his enemy with a roar. Raul’cad dashed to the side, avoiding the axe by a hair’s breadth, and let Qing flow past, gliding on the stone. The vampire struck at Qing’s neck, but as expected, Quick Reflexes proc’ed. Qing ducked, bending horizontally to the floor, and the court whooped. As the sword passed above his nose, he dimmed his light, plunging the arena into darkness. Yells filled the room as the nobles scrambled, but Qing twisted and dropped to a knee. With his weight shifted, he let the axe flow with its momentum, around his body in a full circle. Before his eyes could readjust to the darkness, he felt the handle shift as the axe hit and the vampire grunted. Qing rolled away with a grin before rising, stepping backwards, weaving the axe in a defensive weave. He increased the light, and his smile faded.

Shit.

Raul’cad stood calmly, as if nothing had happened. A long tear in his velvet pants exposed pallid flesh, the only proof that he’d hit. But his skin showed not a scratch.

“Look at the vampire,” Qing said and pointed, looking at the king, as did the rest of the court. “He used magic to heal his wounds, and by your rules, he has lost.”

Wazir, one hand on the back of the throne, lazily waved a hand. “A mere trick of the light. Your weapon didn’t hit.”

“What?” Qing said. He lifted his axe and ran his hand along the flat part, wiping it clean, before flicking his hand at the ground. Bloody droplets splattered across the marbled floor. “What is that, then?”

“Seems your axe is sharper than your mind, and you cut yourself,” Wazir said.

Qing glared at the man, but before he could say another word, heels clacked on stone, and he dodged back and to the left, blocking the sword strike on his axe. The power of the hit pushed him backwards, and he slid across the floor. Raul’cad advanced, pressing on the sword, grinning. Qing brought the axe closer to his body to better leverage his strength. Right before he’d be impaled on the guards’ spears, he released the axe with one hand, letting Raul’cad push it down while he dodged, kicking off a pillar to propel himself away. Raul’s sword bit into the stone, chips flying.

Damn, he’s at least as strong as me!

Qing rushed forward, trying to gain distance, but he felt a push on his leg and hissed in pain as he turned. Raul’cad stood like a flamenco dancer, sword raised, and drew a finger along it. He wiped Qing’s blood off, before popping the finger into his mouth and noisily sucking it clean. “Delicious.”

“You sick bastard.”

The wound was far from debilitating, a shallow cut, but it was only the first of many. They exchanged repeated blows, Qing using every tactic and move he could think of. But all he succeeded in was cutting apart his foe’s clothes. Each time a strike hit, the wounds would heal, right in front of his eyes and everyone else’s. Yet, with Raul’cad not making a move or muttering a spell, nobody said a thing. But Qing’s own wounds started adding up, and the marble floor grew slick with his blood, and his breastplate was scratched. Something had to change.

I need to change the fight, or overwhelm his health regeneration. Maybe…

They were circling one another in the middle of the improvised arena. Qing turned his light up to max, and suddenly stopped, straightening.

“You look…older,” he said, tilting his head. “Tired…” His eyes went wide.

Blood is fuelling his healing! His skin is deflating like a leaky balloon! I’m hurting him, badly. If I can do more than cut him… How much blood will it take to heal a lost limb? If I can gaude him to act rashly…

Qing smiled to himself, and said, “You are nothing but a mosquito with delusions of grandeur, are you?” He forced a laugh. “No wonder you follow Rufus around like a lost puppy, unable to catch prey to feed yourself.”

Anger flashed across Raul’cad’s face, and he growled from deep in his throat.

“You know not what you speak of, and I’ll carve out that tongue of yours, serving it up to a demon.” Raul’cad lunged low, sword flashing at Qing’s groin, but he was already hopping backwards.

“A winter mosquito at the end of its life,” Qing said, and spread his arms wide, motioning for the crowd. “Should I give him a moment to lick the floor?”

Nobody said a word.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Raul’cad said, and started forward, but Qing sprang away, sliding across the floor, laughing.

This had better work…

“A moment. Let’s make it more interesting,” he said as Quick Reflexes came off cooldown, and he held up a hand.

Raul’cad snarled, stalking closer, back hunched.

This is my chance. But I need to do more than cut the bastard. I need to disable him.

“You don’t hunt mosquitos with axes,” he said, and unequipped Paulhandler’s Keg-smasher. “All you need is one good slap.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers, grinning.

It was time to bring out the good old claws.

Raul’cad paused, eyes narrowing. “I will enjoy killing you, and draining that little girl to the brink of death. Her screams will nourish my ears for the days to come.”

“Try it,” Qing said, and charged, blood dripping onto the stones. The air reeked of incense, unwashed bodies, and dust. He ran straight at the vampire, trusting Quick Reflexes to get him one strike. And it did. Raul’cad stabbed for his throat, but Qing twisted, and the sword passed his skin with a millimeter to spare. But just before they passed each other, Qing activated the claws on his gauntlets, running them along Raul’cad’s arm, meeting right below the wrist. Qing tensed his arms, and twisted his wrists, and the claws cut through the monster’s skin and bones, severing hand from arm. It fell to the floor with a splat as Qing slipped his knees, sliding across the blood-soaked stones, twisting. He came to a halt a foot from the lowered spears.

“Let’s see how you deal with that,” he said, standing.

“Deal with what?” Raul’cad said, showing his fangs. He leaned down and placed the stump of his arm next to the hand and spoke in a dark language that set Qing’s teeth on edge. The guards all shifted nervously.

“That is dark magic,” Knut said, straining against the guards who held him. “There can be no doubt. He has lost the duel. Call it, Sharyar.”

Raul’cad stood with a smile, and raised his arm, wiggling his fingers at Qing. “Nice trick you have there. Too bad you missed again.”

Everyone looked to the throne where king Sharyar sat looking bored, his fingers trailing across a half-naked leg draped across his lap.

“What are you waiting for?” Wazir said. “Fight.”

“He breached your rules,” Qing said, walking sideways, approach the throne. “You all saw him use magic!”

“I witnessed no such thing. Did you, my king?”

“Huh?” Sharyar said and looked up.

Wazir subtly shook his head.

“No,” the king said, and turned to look at Qing. “No, I did not.”

His nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath, but it wouldn’t make it past his chest. “You have rot in your court,” he growled, “and a vampire. I will do you a favor and take out at least one.”

If the rules don’t matter…

He stalked towards Raul’cad. “Enjoy hell. I’m going to find Rufus and Cleo and ensure you stay there, forever.”

“Qing!” Knut called. “Don’t do anything dumb!”

His chest felt tight with righteousness as he blinked and pulled heat into his hand, feeling the braziers set around the room.

Raul’cad charged, sword raised.

Just before they clashed, Qing fed mana to the heat, and cast the Firebolt at Raul’cad. With a shriek, the vampire tried to dodge, but the fire struck his side, blowing him back and setting his coat on fire. Qing equipped his axe and jumped forward, snarling as he chopped. Paulhandler’s Keg-smasher passed through the vampire’s foot, just above the knee. So sharp was the axe that it felt like cutting through tofu, and finally, the monster’s blood spewed forth.

Qing lifted the axe to finish the job, but as he stepped forward, Raul’cad disintegrated into a colony of bats.

“No,” Qing screamed as the air filled with squeals, and the bats flapped around him. He grabbed one, squishing it in his fist like a sausage. Then they were gone.

All that remained was the leg. “Damn it all to hell!” Qing said and kicked the leg. It flew, slamming into a shield, sending the guard tumbling backwards.

“The rules of our glorious land have been disrespected through the use of vile magic during a trial by combat,” Wazir said.

“I told you he was a vampire. You are welcome,” Qing said as he turned to face the throne.

“Qing and Knut are hereby sentenced to death by The Living Tapestry,” Wazir said. The court filled with gasps and the two girls draped across the throne fainted.

“What?” Qing asked, mouth dropping. “You are sentencing us? Are you insane? That was a damn vampire!” He pointed at where the leg lay bleeding on the floor.

“Place the women in the harem,” Wazir said.

“Stop!” a rich voice said. “You can’t do this, Wazir.” A young woman with flawless olive-toned skin pushed past the guards surrounding the throne. She wore a black dress accentuating her waist and the gentle curves of her figure, and its colour matched her cascading chestnut hair. “Father, you need to listen to this man!”

Father? Is she a princess?

But her words fell on deaf ears, and with a wave of Wazir’s hand, two guards pulled her away, her almond-shaped eyes flashing in anger.

Qing turned and looked at his friends, held securely by guards.

This place is rotten. If we can’t deal with them, what do I do?

Qing spun as the guards rose, spears aimed at him.

I could kill the king, or Wazir maybe, but what would that gain us? Destabilise the kingdom?

There were over sixty guards, all in the small space. Maybe he could take them all, but…

No. I can’t risk it. We’ve got to get out of here.

“Seize him,” Wazir said.

As the guards stepped forward, Qing called on the charged air, his arms tingling as the hairs stood up, and he fed it with mana.

In a fit of inspiration, he called out, “In the name of god, I find you wanting!” as he cast Chain Lightning, targeting the guards between him and his friends.

Thunder cracked through the room, followed by screams, as five guards were tossed back, and lay still. Qing sprinted through the gap in the line, nobles scattering before him. He grabbed a shield and swung it like a bat, knocking away three guards charging at him.

Behind, Jenny head-butted one of her guards before kicking the feet out under the other. Morgana’s guard collapsed, spraying fresh blood across her black leather, a dagger stuck in his throat. Knut stood calmly, seemingly content to be held by the guards. But the moment one let go and stepped towards Jenny, Knut jammed his thumb into the eye of the other guard so fast the man didn’t even move before he’d lost one eye. The other turned back at his screams, only to be met with a spear head sneaking between breastplate and shoulder.

“I thought we said no killing!” Qing said as he moved between them, continuing towards the doorway he’d selected earlier, leading out of the throne room.

Two guards stood in the way, but he knocked them aside with the shield.

“Get them!” Wazir said as screams of terror and commands of pursuit filled the throne room, and Qing looked left and right, down a long gilded corridor.

Which way do we go?

Then, Jenny screamed.

Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 8: Bloody Marble

Qing equipped his axe as the guards slowly converged towards them, feet slapping rhythmically on the marble, spears lowered and shields raised.

“Do something,” Morgana said, voice raising.

“Any suggestions?” Qing asked, but before Morgana could reply, he added, “Aside from killing everybody, because I am not going full murder hobo.”

The court had gone silent, filled only with the sound of marching. The low light glimmered off polished spearheads, and goosebumps travelled up the small of Qing’s back.

Knut and Jenny whispered.

“What?” Qing asked, looking at the corridors leading out of the room and which had the least number of guards in front.

“It’s the only way,” Jenny said, limbering up her shoulders.

“But what if it doesn’t—” Knut said.

“You know we have to try.”

“Try what?” Qing asked, opening himself to the charge in the air, and the hairs on his arm started rising as he prepared Chain Lightning.

But then Jenny brushed past him, sank to one knee, and said, “We demand trial by combat.”

The room filled with the whispers of the nobles as the soldiers all stopped in lockstep.

“Trial by combat?” Qing asked, whispering to Knut and Morgana. She just shrugged and shook her head. “Did you plan this the whole time?”

“Yes,” Knut said. “If they tried to arrest us. But it is usually reserved for nobles.”

“Your blood is not worth the effort of our champion,” he said, but the nobles chattered and, as several mentioned Envoy, a look of frustration flashed across the face of the crimson-robed man. “You have given no proof of your nobility, and a kingdom I’ve never heard of must be pitiful indeed.”

Where the hell is GG? Why haven’t I received any quests after the one to save the kids in the desert? Why no guidance?

Qing scanned the nobles’ faces as Knut pleaded their case. They kept them neutral, as if watching a tea delivery by camel. The women had all disappeared, except the two draped across the king’s throne.

Are we in the wrong place? No. Surely GG should have given a hint then. Maybe his silence means I’m where I am supposed to be, and that this moment is too critical. Could too many people be watching for him to give a quest?

He glanced up at the ceiling, remembering the screens in Earth’s sky. His mouth went dry and hands felt wet, thinking of millions of people watching him right now, and his mind scrambled.

No. It doesn’t matter. Nobody watching matters. Except Meimei, and if she’s watching, then there is nothing to be nervous about.

A slow exhale removed his nerves.

That must be why GG is not providing any support. I’m already in the right place and at the right time. Maybe…

“Your request for trial by combat has been—”

“We are here on a divine mission,” Qing said, interrupting the crimson clothed man and stepped forward, flaring his light so it pulsed, drawing every eye to him. “In addition to Rufus Grimshaw, we hunt Kandisha with a moon-bound blade.”

The man’s face scrunched up. “What?”

Qing looked around at the nobles. If this Ti-ei that the captain of the royal guard was here, could he vouch for them? “I said, we hunt Kandisha with a moon-bound blade.”

“Honoured grand vizier,” an elderly man with a white beard, clad in brown robes said as he stepped up behind the guards. “I perceive you might know the kingdom as Eel-innois. I’ve had dealings with them in the past, importing…” he hesitated for a moment, glancing at Qing. “…a unique red leather, excellent for furniture.”

“What?” the crimson robed man said, but quickly caught himself as every eye turned to him. “Oh…yes. I see. Eel-innois, of course. Thank you, Ti-ei.” He glared at the noble, who stepped back with a bow.

“Who is that man?” Qing asked Knut, nodding at the crimson robed man.

“That is the grand vizier, Wazir,” Knut said in a whisper. “Used to be a court magician. Seems he’s risen in status...”

“You travel in foul company, envoy,” Wazir said. “Whether or not you knew, your acquaintances are criminals, banished from this realm on penalty of death. Are you claiming them in the name of your kingdom, with the right to trial by combat?”

Qing bowed to the king. “If I defeat your champion, will you hear my requests?”

The king just stared at him, until Wazir touched his shoulder. Then he nodded and Qing smiled.

No murder hobo-ing needed. Good.

“Alright, then—”

“Please give us a moment, your majesty,” Knut said, placing a hand on Qing’s shoulder, interrupting him.

“What?”

“This is a fight for Jenny.”

“Why?”

“Magic and potion use is illegal in a trial by combat, and the use of either means your immediate defeat. I know you are strong, but we won’t let you risk your life, and that of the entire world, because of our voluntary return. If Jenny loses, you can still continue. Our lives are not worth the risk. We knew this could happen when we came.”

Qing stared at the mountain of a man who was limbering up at the side of the room. A guard held a massive two-handed saber that looked capable of cutting a man in two. Another had brought forth a suit of full plate armor.

“There is no way I will let you fight in my stead,” Qing said, and he placed a hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “You are my friends and are here supporting me, making it my responsibility as well. Besides, as strong as the champion might be, no human should rival my strength, and…” he smiled, winking at Knut, “I have some passive skills that should secure the win.”

But Jenny didn’t smile. Instead, she sighed and said. “You can’t just defeat him. This combat is to the death, and I know you don’t want to slaughter a man who is only doing his job. Let me do it.”

“That’s insane.” Qing turned to the king, brow furrowed. “Honoured king Sharyar, I have no wish to kill your champion,” he said, and the gathered nobles chuckled. “I will gladly put my life on the line, but please allow my victory through debilitation of your champion, sparing his life. I am here for allies, not to kill fellow humans, but to save them from the monsters.”

Please don’t make me kill your people… If he can just let me show my strength, then he should lend us his support, and we can track down Rufus.

The king opened his mouth to speak, and Qing felt a sense of relief, until Wazir touched his shoulder and leaned down, whispering in his ear.

The king looked up at the man and nodded.

Wazir rose and spoke with a smile. “The king has heard your pleas and selected a new champion for this combat.”

Heels clicked on stone as a figure walked from the shadow.

“If you won’t kill a human, then fight me instead. I am a monster with the ladies.”

Qing felt as if he had been punched in the stomach as Raul’cad walked forth to the laughter of the gathered nobles.

Jenny lifted her axes, Morgana her whip, and Knut pulled an arrow from his quiver, but they all froze as the guards levelled their spears once again, the threat clear.

“That is your enemy,” Qing said when he found his words. “He is the servant of the man we are chasing, an evil blood-sucking vampire working to destroy your world!”

Qing breathed fast, adrenaline flooding his system, as he stepped towards his foe.

“What a ridiculous claim,” Wazir said with a wave of his hand. “He is a member of the court and the king’s champion. Now, if you refuse to fight, which is entirely up to you, the trial is forfeit.” He grinned like a snake who found an eagle’s nest unguarded yet full of eggs.

This is worse than we thought. Rufus didn’t flee here to hide, but to find allies. But if we can turn his allies to enemies…

Qing met the eyes of his friends. Morgana looked scared, hunched together as if she wanted to avoid notice. Knut tried a smile, but it came across flat. Jenny looked ready to chew rocks. Both nodded their support.

“I will fight. Make no mistake. And I will make this filthy bloodsucker wish he’d stayed dead, ridding you kingdom of a plague.” Qing took a calming breath. “With the change of champion, I request five minutes to prepare.”

“Granted,” Wazir said.

Qing glared at Raul’cad, as the vampire strutted over to the throne and bowed deep to King Sharyar. He wore black velvet with a red lining, and black leather shoes with a one-inch heel and a silver clasp on top. At his side, he wore the long sword Qing had last seen cutting into Jenny and the villagers as Rufus escaped with Cleo. Anger burned within Qing as he turned away. This was a chance to strike at his enemy while freeing Knut and Jenny. Then he’d force the king to give him the location of Rufus, rescue Cleo, and finally, he could go home.

Qing opened his character screen and looked at his stats.

Strength: 47 (25+22)

Dexterity: 26 (14+12)

Intelligence: 40 

Vitality: 30 (25+5)

Attack Power:   993

Defence:    705

Health:    300

Mana:    300

It would be a challenge to not use magic, but he was confident he was a match for the vampire.

Should I set the last skill point? But if I put it in a spell, I can’t use it in the dual, and if the worst happens and we need to break out, I already have spells to use. I could upgrade quick reflexes, but...

He rolled his head, neck cracking.

No. I’ve got this.

He ran through his list of equipment.

Heartguard of the Arcane chest plate, looted from Vileheart.

Gauntlets of the Feral Guardian, gained while Kaela still lived.

Alchemyst’s Girdle, from after her death.

The red leather Dragon’s Breath pants she never got to see.

Fleetfooted Sandals with the Dash ability.

Fang of the White Wolf amulet, from his first elite.

The Enchanter’s Echo ring, taken from Gronk’s corpse.

The Azure Ring of the Thornwood, with its chance of reflecting damage.

And Paulhandler’s Keg-Smasher, the massive two-handed axe he would use to carve Raul’cad into pieces.

“He is lightning quick,” Jenny said, glaring at the vampire. “Faster than any I’ve ever fought.” She touched the scar on her cheek, the one she’d refused to let Qing heal. “Do not underestimate him.”

With the equipment, he had nearly three times the attack power of any human, was five times as strong, three times as fast, and had seven times as high defense. It would have to do.

“I will not.” He leaned in and whispered. “But if something happens, be prepared for flight.”

Then he stepped forward.

Guards knelt between columns, in front of the throne, and behind them, creating an arena three times the size of an Olympic martial arts mat. They held their shields horizontally on the floor, creating a barrier with their spears rested on top, tips inwards, adding a hazardous wall for the fight.

In front of the king, the guards knelt in rows three deep. Guards removed Jenny, Knut, and Morgana, but they pushed them off, elbowing their way to a good viewing spot for the fight. One that happened to be between the arena and a corridor. The nobles jostled for position as servants moved around with cups filled to the brim.

Raul’cad walked into the middle and inclined his head. The man looked twenty years younger than when they had met last in Shadowgrove. As if an old balloon had been re-inflated, removing most of the wrinkles.

Qing snarled, knuckles cracking around the axe’s shaft. “Where is Cleo, you bastard? What have you done to her?”

“Not much. It’s been nice to have someone so…fresh to nibble on for a change. Her blood has a…unique aspect to it,” the vampire said and smiled, fangs glinting in the light.

“Look at his fangs!” Morgana said, calling out.

The nobles all went quiet as Raul’cad turned to the king and smiled. “No idea what she’s on about.”

Wazir waved his hand. “Get on with it.”

“I’m going to cut your arms and legs off,” Qing said. “And then I’m going to bleed you until you tell me where she’s kept.”

“How fun,“ Raul’cad said, heels clicking as he approached, sword raised.

Qing walked towards him, axe held by his side.