Chapter 12: The Disease (Patreon)

***Elsewyr***

The courtiers stepped away from the bound specter, watching as the soul of the ancient fae shrank down, smaller and smaller as it approached Mab’s throne.

When it was the size of a man’s thumb, a clear quartz sprung up around the struggling spirit that approached the ruler of the fae. She held out a single slender hand, allowing the crystal to settle on her palm.

She looked impassively down at the spirit beating at the walls of the crystal from the inside, stripped of all the trappings of civilization, snarling like a feral beast as he tried to escape the inescapable.

“I regret that my Scion forced my hand, Avelu. I took no joy in this, but power such as yours must not be wasted, lest we be left want of it.” She took the crystal and raised it to her neck, where her necklace shifted to accommodate the crystal, which shrank further as the enchanted gold wrapped around it, forming a setting.

Dozens more captive souls in their own crystals were briefly visible in the ornate necklace, heedless of their neighbors as they each mindlessly tried to escape confinement. They would never stop, because they were trapped in a single moment of terror, unable to learn or grow.

Giving up was for the living.

This demonstration of their queen’s power had rendered her court silent for no less than a dozen heartbeats, until one of the braver ones risked speaking.

“My queen…are we going to continue to allow Jebediah Trapper to move as he pleases?”

“We’ve got time. Avelu was the most advanced case by far. The others have dozens of years before they turn.”

“Unless he stumbles across more of them.” The brave one spoke again.

Their queen’s case narrowed for a moment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. We will seek to minimize loss.”

Mab stood, rising to her full height, half a head taller than the next largest fae, and far more powerful. On her dais, the queen was visible to every eye in the court. She seized her staff of withered elm and slammed it against the floor to punctuate her sentence.

“All paths in the Deathwilds lead to Elsewyr.”

***Jeb***

Jeb had a brief debate about whether or not to kill the massive creature in front of them. Brief and conclusive. It appeared to be mindless, the Fae’s soul was already gone, presumably taken by Mab, and whatever it was made of now felt downright evilto Jeb’s Myst sense.

In short, there was nothing to be gained by letting it live.

“Alright, watch this,” Jeb said, whisking his pajamas out of the way of the scroll of mass destruction and wiggling his fingers like a gunslinger readying a draw.

Work smarter, not harder. The motto of humanity in general. Shame it’ll be over so easy, but I got no reason not to use the tools at my disposal.

Jeb snagged the blue leather tube out of his pocket with a thread of telekinetic Myst and snapped it forward, hissing through the air with its sheer speed.

Plop!

The scroll impacted the tumerous gangrene, plopping into the flesh and coming to a halt.

Unappetizing, Came the scroll’s hot-take, in the form of a yucky, uninterested feeling that evoked a bit of a gagging sensation.

“Oh, come on, you love disintegrating things!” Jeb shouted before Vresh grabbed the back of his pajamas and yanked him backwards moments before a massive limb slammed into the ground where he had just been, grabbing the earth and dropping it into the mass’s growing mouth situated on the top of its bulk.

All the while, those beady eyes kept watch on Jeb.

A flicker of movement drew Jeb’s gaze to the grass around the slowly expanding blob of flesh. The foliage was withering and rotting into slime in a widening circle around the creature, outpacing its expansion by a large margin.

“I’m starting to think this may have been a quarantine-type situation!” Jeb said, yelling at no one in particular as he spooled up his Myst.

“Ya think!?” Borg and Piwaki retorted as one.

“Fire!” Vresh shouted, dodging another attack.

“On it! Everybody get clear!” Jeb shouted, pulling out a thread of Myst as thick as his chest. He budded a second string off, then looped it back inward, causing the exact right resonant interference that turned the Myst from telekinetic to thermal.

Jeb took the resulting thread of thermal Myst and flattened it into a wall before looping it around the monster and the spreading corruption. Then he started tightening the wall of plasma around the creature, scouring away the spreading taint.

Jeb was relieved when he saw that he’d arrested the spread of slime and rot, but less relieved when the creature’s massive limb reached through his wall, smoking and carbonized, to smack him upside the head.

“Oof!” Jeb tumbled away until his momentum was stopped by a nearby tree, nearly bowling over the ancient oak.

When his head stopped spinning, Jeb pushed himself up, blinking the stars out of his eyes.

A drop of liquid dripped from the side of his head and onto the foliage beneath him. It was green and smelly.

Shit, did I get some of that crap in a wound? Jeb thought, raising a hand to his temple.

Somehow, his armor had turned into a bright yellow raincoat. The creature’s partially coagulated blood sloughed off the side of the hood, where it had cinched down tight around Jeb’s head.

Even the hands he’d raised to check his head were covered in rubber fisherman’s gloves.

Goddamn. I like this armor.

Jeb burned the blood off of him and the ground as he pushed himself back to his feet.

“Keep it in the circle!” Jeb shouted as he raised his head to review the situation.

Vresh was distracting the creature while Borg was recharging a second blast from his chest-laser. A smoking hole through the creature indicated where Borg had fired the first time while Jeb was discombobulated.

Piwaki was cowering behind a tree at the edge of the clearing.

Jeb wantedto be mad, but the kid wasn’t a fighter, had never claimed to be one, and hadn’t made any promises to that effect.

The hole in the center of the creature slowly filled back in while Borg peppered it with small-arms fire from the submachine gun built into his arm.

Borg was aiming precisely at the creature’s beady eyes, forcing it to use its burnt arm to defend or be blinded.

The other arm was flailing around in wide sweeping motions that were gradually becoming more and more frantic as Vresh weaved between them with the grace of a dancer, dodging each strike with bare inches to spare.

“I could really use a sword right about now!” Vresh shouted. She’d been visiting the emperor that day, so naturally she hadn’t been wearing much in the way of weapons.

“Consider it noted!” Jeb said, running back to the action. The burnt arm and burnt hole seemed to be recovering, albeit slowly. They would most likely be recovering faster if not for the burns.

He stood outside the creature’s range and created a massive guillotine blade of white hot plasma, bringing it down on the corrupted fae’s head with a shout of exertion.

The white-hot blade bisected the creature perfectly…until it hit the blue scroll embedded in the creature’s body

Jeb’s Myst came undone explosively, knocking him and Borg back a step.

Vresh weathered the blast, but the heat spontaneously hair lit on fire, causing it to glow and raise into the air as if it was affected by static electricity.

The creature, at the center of the blast, was nearly torn in tow, the two halves he’d carved above the scroll were forced away from each other, revealing corrupted viscera and bone.

Jeb didn’t allow himself to think that they’d won just yet.

Can’t believe I forgot about the scroll. I’ve gotta get it out of there. He created a string of telekinetic Myst and snagged the scroll, tugging.

The entire creature slumped forward as bone-like protrusions closed around the scroll, holding onto the artifact with everything it had.

DAMNIT!

The exposed, charred viscera hardened as the inside became the outside, drying and turning into a leathery hide as the separated halves curved downward to form a kind of shell under which many dozens of legs emerged. It looked something like a headless tortoise crossed with a centipede.

Alright. You asked for it. Just need someone to hold it still a moment.

Jeb rolled his shoulders. There was one variable that hadn’t come into play yet.

“Piwaki what can you do!?” Jeb shouted

“I’m just a healer! I can’t do anything!”

“Can you cure it? Slow down the disease?” Jeb asked.

“No! I’m not that kind of healer!”

“What canyou do?” Jeb asked, glancing over his shoulder at the cowering kitri.

“My Myst doesn’t do much more than make people happy and heal them!”

“What?” Jeb asked scowling. “Make people happy?”

“Basically!”

“How about tired? Can you make things tired?”

“Sure!”

“Well, make that thing tired!” Jeb shouted, pointing.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Do it, or I swear I’ll find a way to make you regret it!” Jeb promised, feeling the  internal click of a promise that he would be forced to make good on or lose his powers.

Jeb didn’t expect the creature to orient on him in response to that. It bellowed, seemingly without a mouth or lungs, before charging towards him.

Damn, I need to keep the infection from spreading. He couldn’t afford to let it thrash around in the woods, or else Jeb would have to burn down a huge swath of the Deathwilds.

Though if it came down to either that or dying, Jeb would happily burn the whole forest, but he still felt like they could get this monstrosity under control, so he dodged low rather than ducking behind some trees.

Jeb slid under the manifold legs, pushing himself telekinetically through the infected muck, his armor reacting to his apprehension about disease and turning into a literal hazmat suit as he did so.

Jeb was catapulted to his feet on the other side as the creature laboriously tried to turn around and get another run at him.

Vresh was watching his questionable fashion choices with a raised brow.

“What?” Jeb asked, the speaker in his suit making his voice sound a drive-though window.

“Nothing, nothing, just an interesting look,” She shook her flaming head with a hint of a smirk as Jeb rolled his eyes.

“Okay, I’m doing it!” Piwaki said, and a reached out with a cry, sending a rather pathetically thin thread of Myst across the battlefield into the  monster.

Despite the lack of sheer power, Jeb could see the effects immediately. The already lethargic movements became even slower, like the creature was moving through thick syrup instead of water.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Jeb muttered to himself, drawing another thick spool of thread from his Myst core.

Jeb made quite possibly the most complicated series of Myst threads he’d ever managed.

He budded two extra threads off the first, then used the last two to create a tube of plasma, while the first one snaked down the center of the tube.

The tube of white-hot power shot out straight, catching the massive creature in the chest, boring a hole around Jeb’s scroll. The snake of telekinetic Myst in the center wrapped around the scroll and yanked backwards.

The scroll and its bone prison were yanked straight out of the creature, dropping it to the ground as the center of its body turned to ash.

Jeb tore the individual grasping bones off the scroll, incinerated them, then resumed the job of ashing the wounded creature….the hard way.

Jeb lifted the tube of plasma up, splitting the creature in half completely this time, before he began to sweep up the twitching chunks, twisting his thread into a wide shape so he could burn more of the creature’s body at once.

In a matter of minutes, there was nothing left of the creature and the cottage besides. Just to be sure.

You have gained a level!

You are now level 41!

Once it was over, the four of them stood staring at the blackened earth that used to be a lovely clearing in the middle of a deadly forest.

“What the hell was that?” Jeb muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“I believe the technical term for that, is a clusterfudge.” Borg said, nodding sagely.

When Jeb glanced at him, the robot shrugged. “I live in the same place you do.”

“Use your robo-vision to scan the surroundings for signs of infection. There’s a good chance a piece of the thing landed in the woods when it blew up the first time.”

“Good call.” Borg’s eyes flickered before he walked off and began carefully scanning the edges of the forest. Jeb’s gaze lingered on the undead cyborg’s missing arm for a moment.

The arm had regrown about a foot overnight as Borg laid down microscopic layer after layer overtop each other. Two more days and it would probably be completely back.

Leave it to a robot to choose 3-D printing as a Myst core.

How a robot had a Myst core, Jeb had no idea, but his working theory was that the undead side of him had made it, and his AI side controlled it.

I wonder if Eddie and Ron know about that? It’s the very definition of a self-improving general intelligence. Jeb mused, pulling the compass out of his pocket and consulting it.

He spun a quick circle, noting the directions where the needle twitched off of death. It was pretty anemic, though. Soon enough he put it back in his pocket, resolving to come up with his own heading.

Can’t get used to letting a compass dictate my every action. There were parables aplenty about self-fulfilling prophecies, and Jeb was fairly sure he’d already gotten a taste of it. The ‘happiness’ that the compass promised was solely a side effect of camping outside the warped space with Vresh. Because he’d been following the compass.

Not to mention, if Jeb started blindly following the compass, all Mab would have to do is put a convincing illusion on it, and he’d be a puppet. Jeb categorically refused to be a puppet.

We’ve been going west northwest for a day. Southeast is Mestikos.

“I got twolevels from that!” Piwaki shouted his beak gaping as he stared at the burnt patch of land.

“Thanks for the assist, That really helped.” Jeb said, glancing over at the bird. “I never got your class and level.”

“Mystic Cosmetic Healer, level twenty-two. The bird said, waggling his neck and crossing his arms. Jeb wasn’t sure if he was being cocky or if the body language was kitri-specific.

“Mystic…cosmetichealer?” Jeb asked, frowning. “You use Myst to make people look different? You’re a plastic surgeon?”

“Or the Pharosian equivalent of it.”

“Well, what’s your Myst core?” Jeb asked.

“That’s an awfully personal question.”

Jeb kept staring until Piwaki answered.

“It’s a Mood Myst core. I can make people happy, sad, tired, angry, etc. I can’t influence individual thoughts, because that’s wildly illegal.”

“Sure is,” Vresh interjected, her gaze landing on the young kitri, making him flinch away.

“So how did a Mood Myst core get you Mystic Cosmetic Healer?” Jeb asked, genuinely curious.

“You’ve heard of the Placebo effect, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Under the guiding hand of a human plastic surgeon, I performed some minor cosmetic surgery, then used my Myst to speed up the healing by suppressing pain and stress.”

“And what did you get for your class ability?”

“It’s a passive that allows my Myst to linger inside the body, more effectively heal, and alter someone’s appearance.”

“So you…make people look how they feel?”

Piwaki cocked his head before nodding. “kinda.”

“Can you actually heal people?” Jeb asked.

“Yes, but slower than a specialized healer. My method would be only a few times faster than the body normally does it, rather than instantly.”

Jeb shrugged. Soft crowd control and soft support is better than nothing at all.

“I’m gonna make so much money fixing the perceived flaws of the rich,” Piwaki said, rubbing his greedy claws together.

“That was your plan the whole time?”

“Indeed.”

Jeb nodded thoughtfully. “That’s actually not a bad plan at all. Especially for someone your age. I gotta ask though, how does your plan deal with being dropped into the Deathwilds?”

“Not…well.” Piwaki admitted.

“I don’t wanna be the guy who tells you what to do, so I want you to very carefully consider which Attributes will most likely help you survive our little excursion through the woods.”

“Already raising Body,” Piwaki said with a sigh.

Me too, Jeb thought, reminded to raise his own.

+1 Body

“Can you bring yourself to do what you did again?” Jeb asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Can we count on you for buffs, debuffs and heals when necessary?”

“I…don’t know what a buff is?” Piwaki said.

Jeb went through the process of explaining the concept of buffs, which seemed to not have a modern kitri translation because kitri didn’t have video games.

“Oh, you meant Support!” the kitri said, nodding. “Yes, I can see how you might find me suited for such a crude role. Seems like an awfully thankless task.”

“I could leave you here.” Jeb shrugged.

“I would love to be the Support!” The kitri said, doing a heel turn instantly, before his mood darkened a moment later. “My father always says they’re the first ones to get targeted by the enemy though, so it’s more dangerous than it seems.”

“Pretty sure Vresh can literally punch to death most of the things that live in the deathwilds.”

“There are only a few exceptions to that. Titans and elder Fae.” Vresh said, cracking her knuckles.

“O-okay,” Piwaki said, nodding.

Jeb turned his attention to Vresh.

“I’d like to get you a sword. How can we manage that?”

“Aside from going back to the capital and retrieving one, I don’t think we can,” Vresh said with a shrug.

Hmm… Jeb thought, frowning. He could either barter one from fairies or salvage one. Theoretically Jeb could probably make one on his own, using telekinesis and heat, but he didn’t have any supplies at all. And Jeb wasn’t gonna start a strip mine just because Vresh needed a weapon.

“Let’s keep our options open then, I guess.”

Vresh peered off towards a tree at the edge of the clearing. “Already on it.”

Riiiip!

The ex-enforcer pulled the tree out of the ground and hefted it awkwardly. It was nearly as thick around as Jeb’s waist.

“Can you clean this up?”

Jeb nodded, and used telekinetic blade to remove the roots and branches, shortening the club down to the length of Vresh herself, then narrowing down a small portion until she could get her hands around it easily.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” she said, tossing it over her shoulder.

They spent the next hour burning little bits of flesh that had landed outside the clearing, trying to make sure the magical forest wouldn’t become diseased.

It wasn’t just because it was the right thing to do; Jeb wanted to minimize any debt he might have towards the fae. If he accidentally unleashed the black plague on all of them, he might be a little boned.

Although if this guy was really important, I’d think there would be more defences than a simple impassable wall that requires you to rip spacetime a new asshole to get through. Hmm…maybe he was important.

After they had completed a couple circuits around the clearing with Borg’s robo-vision giving them a clean bill of health, Jeb decided it was time to move on.

He straightened, rubbing the ache out of his lower back as he scanned the edges of the clearing, wondering what direction they should head in next. Jeb was leaning toward north or northeast, making a zigzag across the Deathwilds until they ran into something of interest or decided to head back to civilization.

The forest, however, had other plans.

“Eh,” Jeb grunted, uncomprehending, as he peered into the distance.

Is that beam of sunlight… the same? He thought, narrowing his eyes as he identified a single leaf sticking out of a branch at a weird angle, fluttering in the gentle forest breeze, in the center of a beam of sunlight.

He turned his head about forty-five degrees and spotted the exact same leaf dancing in the exactsame beam of light.

Jeb turned his head halfway between them and crossed his eyes. The two images overlapped perfectly, creating a weird effect like in those old 3-D books from the nineties.

He scanned further in every direction and discovered that every direction had the same distinctive dancing leaf and sunbeam.

“Hey guys. Don’t panic, but I think we’re –“

“It’s an attack isn’t it!?” Piwaki said, coming to his feet and holding a stick up defensively. “Where is it coming from!?”

“I think we’re standing in a fractal, is what I was gonna say,” Jeb said, eyeing the cosmetician.

“I umm…why would we panic about that?” Piwaki asked.

“Because fractals are inherently infinite and we could die before we find the way out,” Borg supplied.

Piwaki gasped.

“I thought you had tact,” Jeb said, looking at the undead.

Borg shrugged. “I deploy it strategically on assets.”

“Well, I want you to be on your best behavior from now on.”

“Why’s that?”

Jeb glanced into the fractal woods that seemed to beckon him forwards.

“I think we’re about to meet my gam-gam.”

Jebediah trapper took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped out of the clearing and into the woods.

High in the trees, a single bit of flesh pulsed, cradled in the crook of two branches and obscured from the ground by dense foliage. Slowly, slower than a caterpillar at a dead sprint, a gangrenous rot began to spread outward from it.