Chapter 111 - Jailbreak (Patreon)

Like a marble statue, Talia knelt in the shadows. She didn’t move, not even to breathe, the necessity for which had faded with her transition into undeath. Even now, weeks later, she found the transformation both jarring and imminently comforting. The act of breathing was a perfect example of the duality of her emotions; on the one hand, she had spent her entire life taking one breath after another without thought. It was instinctive. Reflexive. It was natural. However, after her transformation into one of the unliving, that instinct had disappeared entirely. It was only when she thought about it that Talia found the whole situation so strange.

Early on, she’d tried to force herself to breathe, but that had ended poorly. The process was alien, unpleasant, and, if she persisted, outright painful. So, over the following weeks, she had endeavored to put the abnormality of her situation out of her mind. And as long as she was busy, she was met with success, but the moment her mind went idle, things became exponentially more difficult. Not only did the implications that came with the transformation of her body come crashing down on her, but she was also forced to deal with the fact that her entire life had been a lie. It was enough to push her over the edge, a fate she only just managed to resist, largely because she wasn’t alone. If she had been, things might have been entirely different. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she could’ve lost her mind entirely and joined the horde of undead they’d left back at Micayne’s estate.

Talia felt a hand alight on her shoulder, then heard Abby’s whispered voice ask, “What do you see? Your eyes are better than mine down here.”

That was one of the other advantages of Talia’s transformation. While she didn’t see quite as well in the bright light of day, her vision grew sharper within the confines of darkness. Hvitgard’s streets were illuminated by various magical lamps, but it was still akin to a city at night; thus, her visual acuity was many times superior to Abby’s.

“Two guards,” she said, her raspy voice like two stones scraping together. “Maybe more inside, but I doubt it. Tucker is working in there.”

As she spoke, she studied the building across the street. It was almost forty yards distant, so they were well hidden in the darkness of an abandoned building, but even so, she knew their position was precarious. One lingering glance from one of the guards would be all it took to bring the entire city down upon them. Of course, given what they’d seen during their trek through the Jotun city, that didn’t seem nearly so fearsome a situation as it had when they’d first descended upon Hvitgard.

The giants were, in a word, apathetic. Most were mired in the clutches of drink, drugs, or simple depression. It had made the traversal of the city much easier than expected, but it had also forced Talia to wonder whether a full-frontal assault might’ve been preferable. She had seen Zeke fight, and she had no doubts that he could hold the line against the lethargic frost giants. And between Abby, Talia, and Pudge, they could have decimated the entire lot. It would’ve taken some time, but it would’ve been better than skulking through the city.

Or perhaps she was only letting Zeke’s personality infect her own. It was difficult to figure out, mostly because Talia’s old life had increasingly begun to feel like a dream. She had no difficulty remembering the broad strokes, but the details had taken on an observational quality. They were just as clear as ever; the big change was that they felt like they’d happened to someone else – especially in regard to some of her emotions. So, while she knew that she’d always had a habit of leaping into danger without a thought for how she might get out, Talia now had some difficulty remembering whether or not that was due to a dissatisfaction with the role that had been chosen for her or a personality trait whose influence still affected her.

There was also the possibility that it was her undead nature asserting itself as well. Talia had no experience with the sapient unliving, but the zombies she’d encountered were aggressive to a fault. They didn’t plan. They didn’t scheme. They knew only how to attack.  It was one of Talia’s worst fears that she might end up like that.

She forced herself to blink as she turned her focus toward the building across the street. It was little different from a hundred other buildings they’d encountered on their trek through Hvitgard, which was to say that it was huge and blocky, and it’s architecture veered towards sharp, brutal angles. The only difference was that the guards – both males with impressive beards and wearing what appeared to be gleaming chainmail and sturdy, horned helmets – looked alert and disciplined. Their demeanor was a stark contrast to that of the rest of the giant population, and left Talia feeling a little on edge.

Abby gripped Talia’s shoulder, then guided her back down the alley and even deeper into the shadows. Once they’d turned a corner and found themselves behind the building, Abby said, “It’s the hopelessness. Some of them have reacted with apathy, while others got more militant. It’s why that hunting party just threw their lives away like they did. They had to know they didn’t stand a chance against the mammoths, but they charged anyway.”

“Stupid,” Talia whispered, half to herself.

“Not stupid,” Abby said, leaning against the wall. “Hopeless. People react differently to the loss of hope. Some drink. Others do drugs. Some just go through the motions. But others, they lose that thin veneer of civility and self-preservation. They don’t care if they die because, in a way, they’re already dead.”

Talia shrugged, saying, “Like I said – stupid.”

Abby sighed, then looked away. Talia liked the other woman, not least because she’d made an effort to help Talia deal with what she was going through. Abby was an empathetic person who never met a lost cause she didn’t want to help. But sometimes, Abby was too soft for her own good.

“We’re here for a reason,” Talia stated. “You can’t save them.”

“Are we sure about that?” asked Abby. “What was done to them was…it was wrong. I know the Jotuns have killed a lot of people and caused even more damage. But that doesn’t mean they deserve to go extinct.”

“It doesn’t matter,” was Talia’s response.

“Of course it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Talia retorted. “We’re here to rescue Tucker, not to save a race of murderous giants. Even if that wasn’t the case, what do you think they’d do if we figured out how to give them back what they lost? They’d bide their time until they were strong enough, and then they would descend from these mountains and sweep across the Red Wastes until there’s nothing else left. They were our enemies before, but now? After what Tucker did to them? The rift between humans and Jotuns has only gotten wider, and now it’s unpassable.”

It was more than Talia had said in one pass than she had since being transformed, and the effort was oddly taxing. Not tiring from a physical standpoint – her stats were too high for that – but, rather, from an emotional perspective.

“So, we just let their race die?” Abby asked, her tone accusing.

“What’s the alternative?” was Talia’s responding question. “We don’t know how to help them, and if we did, there’s no guarantee they would thank us for it. More likely, they would kill us for the effort.”

“You don’t know that,” Abby said. She pointed in the general direction of the building they’d been watching. “Tucker is probably in there working on it right now. He was responsible for their infertility, so I’m sure he can fix it, too. We could just leave him to deal with the consequences of his own actions. He chose his path, and now he needs to live – or die – with the repercussions. I would think that you, of all people, would be on my side with this.”

“I am on my own side,” Talia said.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m a little taken aback by how quickly you’re willing to turn on a companion,” she said. “Tucker is not my favorite person, but what he did back in that tower, he didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Abby spat.

“Maybe,” Talia allowed. “Maybe not. That’s not my point, though. What happens if I lose control? What if I kill someone I’m not supposed to kill? Are you going to turn on me, too? Leave me to deal with the consequences of my own actions? Abandon me, like you want to abandon Tucker?”

“I wouldn’t –”

“Why not?” Talia cut in. “You’ve known me for the same length of time that you’ve known Tucker, right? He was Micayne’s prisoner, just like I was.  The only difference is that he’s still human. He’s not a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” Abby muttered quietly, though her argument had lost some steam.

Talia forced a shrug. “Maybe not,” she said. “But every time I fight, I’m on the verge of losing control. We’ve talked about that. I’m dangerous to keep around. So, why keep me alive, but abandon Tucker? Is it because it is easier? Is it pure self-interest? Or something else? Maybe because I’m a girl?”

“What? No!” Abby said, her eyes wide. “I…I just…I just don’t like him, okay? He’s the kind of self-serving asshole who makes himself into a victim so he can excuse his own horrible actions.”

“And you know that after a few weeks?” Talia asked. “Have you even made an attempt to get to know him? Have you asked for his side? No. I know you haven’t, because there’s a lot more to it than you seem to think. Do you know about how much he helped people in Salvation? Most alchemists only care about money. He’s different, though. His primary concern is advancing his path, but helping people lags only a little behind that. What he did to the Jotuns was motivated by a need to help people.”

Abby didn’t answer. Instead, she looked off to the side, unwilling to speak her mind. However, Talia didn’t need her to articulate her thoughts. She could see the war of emotions on Abby’s face.

Talia reached out to touch Abby’s arm, saying, “I don’t mean you have to like him. Maybe he doesn’t belong in our party. I don’t know. But for now, he’s one of us. We need to help him. You agreed to come in here, right? Let’s do what we came here to do.”

Talia didn’t fancy herself a master manipulator. She didn’t count persuasiveness as one of her chief attributes. But in this instance, she had logic backing her up. They’d already come so far; it would be a shame if they didn’t see it through.

“Fine,” Abby said. “Any thoughts on how to get him out? Those guards look tough.”

“They do, but I think if we play it right, we can make it work,” Talia said. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to really let loose, and these things look like the perfect opponent.”

“I don’t think anybody’s ever said that about a giant,” Abby said.

“Maybe not,” was Talia’s response. “They’re big and strong, but I think I’ll be a lot faster. Plus, I think my skills are going to be extremely effective – especially with you distracting them.”

Abby looked like she was about to object, but then she thought better of it. “I guess you’re probably right,” she said. “My arrows just don’t hit hard enough to do a lot against them. I really need a new archery-focused skill.”

“Maybe at twenty,” Talia said.

Abby shook her head, saying, “Hanging out with the likes of you and Zeke really screws with my perception of strength. But whatever. That’s a ‘me’ issue. So, are you going to do the ‘Zeke’ thing and just charge at them? Or do you have something else in mind? Because I don’t know if you’re equipped for a frontal assault. Not like him.”

Talia answered, “You’re right. That’s why I’m going to sneak around to the side and attack them from behind. Once I’ve attacked, you can start shooting them. Hopefully, they won’t know what’s happening until we’ve finished them off.”

“Definitely sounds like a variation on the ‘Zeke’ plan,” Abby said with a grin. “Oh well, it’s worked so far, I guess. Why change things up? Let’s get this thing done, rescue the alchemist, and then put some distance between us and this doomed city. If I never see another Jotun, it’ll be too soon.”

Talia nodded her assent, then ghosted past Abby to circle around behind the building. Luckily, the section of the Jotun city where Tucker was being imprisoned was mostly deserted, which was probably a necessity, given how the other frost giants might react to his presence. After all, he had doomed their race to extinction; expecting the population to react with reason was probably a little too much to ask. Likely, they’d rip him limb from limb before stopping to ask if he could reverse the infertility he’d caused. If there was one thing that had been hammered into Talia’s mind, it was that people, as a whole, are stupid, volatile, and reactionary. More often than not, groups comprised of otherwise rational people were usually only one spark away from becoming an inflamed mob. In that respect, giants were almost certainly no different from humans.

When Talia reached the corner, she glanced around to make sure there were no new arrivals, then waited until the guards looked away before darting across the street. She covered the ground quickly, and after only a second, she’d reached the safety of another deep shadow. There, she waited to make certain that she hadn’t been seen. Given the lack of reaction from the guards, it wasn’t long before she ruled it out. Once she felt safe from their roaming eyes, Talia hugged the wall of the neighboring building as she made her way into position.

With inhuman patience she’d never felt before her transformation, Talia circled the building, stepping from one shadow to the next. She moved like an pale wraith, silent and unseen, until she found herself in the mouth of the alley next to her targets. With a thought, she activated her skill, [Plague Strike]. Immediately, her claws began to emit a subtle, green glow as they were permeated with disease and decay. Next, with a mental flick, she toggled [Alacrity of Undeath], and a wave of jittery energy crashed into her. Finally, she readied [Circle of Death], holding it on the cusp of activation. It would only save her a few milliseconds, but such could be the difference between victory and defeat. And it couldn’t hurt her chances, one way or another. As Master Silas was fond of saying, if it might help, but it couldn’t hurt, it should always be done. Talia took the advice to heart as she burst from the alley and towards the frost giants.

She was on the Jotuns before they even knew she was there, and her first attack took the closest giant just behind its knee. Her claws met little resistance as she sliced through muscle and tendon alike. In addition, [Plague Strike] went to work, necrotizing the creature’s flesh. Talia didn’t stop moving long enough to see it, but she knew that dark tendrils of disease had already started spreading from the wound.

The second giant was quicker to react, so it was ready when Talia’s momentum took her into its range. With a roar of anger, the guard snatched a heavy battle axe from a loop at its waist, and as she drew closer, it swung the weapon in a vicious arc aimed at her neck. Under the influence of [Alacrity of Undeath], it felt as if the giant moved in slow motion, so she ducked under the swing with relative ease. Still, Talia felt the gust of wind that announced its passage, evidence of just how much force the giant had put behind the blow. She embraced [Circle of Death], releasing the skill with a thought. Even as the wave of dark energy erupted it out of her, she continued on her path, raking her claws across the giant’s torso.

Sparks flew from the chainmail, and she managed to sever a few links. However, the Jotun smiths had done their job well, and the armor managed to deflect the majority of her attack. The same couldn’t be said for the wave of destruction that crashed into both giants soon after.

[Circle of Death], like its predecessor, [Circle of Mending] was a rare, powerful skill, and it swept through the Jotuns like a scythe, leaving decay in its wake. Armor rusted, leather bindings crumbled into dust, and flesh withered. It wasn’t enough to fell the giants – they were far too hardy for that. But it was plenty to nudge them into weakness.

Even as Talia turned and readied herself for another pass, Abby announced her presence with a steady barrage of conjured arrows. Each one found a weak point, and in seconds, both giants were decorated with the silvery shafts. It wasn’t enough, though. Giants were known for their durability, and the attacks which would have slain even some elites were only enough to slow the Jotuns down.

Talia sprang forward, intending to make another charge. This time, the weakened Jotuns were ready, though, and her attacks were ineffective. [Circle of Death], for all its power, was limited by its huge mana cost, and she could only use it so often. Even one use was enough to drain nearly half of her mana. Another in such quick succession would compound that cost and drain her entirely. Because of that, she knew a second use would be the final option.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t need it.

Talia ducked under one guard’s axe strike, then darted to the side to dodge another. Then, she sprang forward, subjecting one of the Jotun’s to an onslaught of sweeping claws. Against almost any other opponent, it would’ve been an evisceration, but even under the influence of [Circle of Death], the Jotun bore up with admirable stoicism. Bellowing in rage and pain, the giant surprised Talia with a backhand that clipped her shoulder. Giants were inhumanly strong, so even that was enough to spin her around and send her flying through the air, only to skid across the cobbled street. Each collision with the stone brought with it another broken bone.

One of the many advantages of Talia’s racial transformation and evolution was that, though she still felt pain, its effects were muted. Like her emotions, it was as if she saw pain through semi-opaque glass. It was enough that she recognized it for what it was, but not so sharp that it could ever affect her. It was with that in mind that she pushed herself to her feet, cataloguing her injuries with machine-like efficiency.

Ignoring pain that would’ve once rendered her unconscious, Talia levered her dislocated shoulder back into its joint. Using [Focused Reformation], she felt her body heal. However, with that healing came with a wickedly insidious hunger that crashed into her mind like a tidal wave. Until she fed upon a still-warm heart, it would only get stronger. But for now, she was back to pristine condition, save for a few flecks of green blood where her now unmarred skin had, only moments before, sprouted sharp shards of bone.

As Talia had tumbled across the street, Abby had kept up her bombardment, steadily peppering the giants with arrows. Most were wholly ineffective, barely penetrating an inch into the giants’ tough skin. However, a few had found softer targets around the Jotuns’ faces. In addition, the effects of [Circle of Death] had continued to eat away at the giants’ equipment, as well as their flesh. And finally, the poison from Talia’s claws had shown its worth, slowly infecting the giants with its black tendrils of death.

Rolling her shoulders to make sure she had full range of motion, Talia jumped back into the fight. With every slice of her claws, her opponents faltered a little more, and slowly but surely, she managed to take advantage of their deteriorating state. Still, the fight wasn’t without its cost, and before long, she’d taken a few extra hits that had sent her reeling. Without her increased pain tolerance, she would’ve already succumbed to the agony, but even that vaunted ability to withstand the pain, she let out a hiss when one of the axe-wielding giants managed to connect with her right arm. The momentum sent her spinning, which was the only reason it wasn’t severed completely. As it was, it hung on by the barest of threads.

The pain, which would’ve rendered almost anyone else unconscious, battered down Talia’s mental defenses, and a moment later, the primal version of herself that she’d so far managed to keep locked away took complete control. Ignoring the pain as unnecessary sensory input, the predatory, undead version of Talia came to the fore. Suddenly free, she sprang toward the nearest giant, heedless of her own safety, and erupted into [Circle of Death]. Mana drained away, fueling the wave of destruction. The giants yelled in horrified agony as their flesh, already weakened by the first use of the skill, rapidly withered. Their strength went with it, and though the Jotuns didn’t immediately fall, their weakened defenses proved no match for Abby’s steady barrage of arrows. Within thirty more seconds, they were dead.

Talia managed to stay on her feet for about half that time until she sank to her knees, then collapsed face-first onto the street. The primal part of her retreated back into its cage, leaving the more rational version of Talia in control of a dying body.  [Focused Reformation]was useless without mana to fuel it. And whatever life energy that had animated her undead body was long since spent. She had minutes left, if that.

Pounding footsteps announced Abby’s arrival. Kneeling beside Talia’s prone form, the older woman gasped. “What can I do?” she asked. “How can I help you?”

“H-hearts…”

Whether it was the normal version of Talia or the more instinctual, undead side, it didn’t matter. They were of the same mind. As grotesque as it was, Talia knew that her recovery was tied to the consumption of fresh hearts – the more sentient the creature, the more energy it gave. And given that they were people, the Jotuns would hopefully be enough to bring her back from the brink of death.

Abby stared at her for a long second, wide-eyed and disgusted. Then, she blinked before heading toward one of the fallen giants and bending toward her gruesome task. With her hatchet, she carved through the giant’s decayed flesh, broke through its breastbone, and retrieved the overlarge heart. The still-warm organ was almost as big as Abby’s head, and she was forced to carry it with both hands.

She lowered the thing to Talia’s mouth. Hating herself, Talia opened her mouth and took a bite. Her teeth sliced through the flesh without difficulty, and though she knew she should be disgusted by the flavor of blood and raw muscle, she couldn’t deny that, to her altered taste buds, it tasted better than almost anything else she’d ever eaten. More, with every bite, she felt a surge of vitality coursing through her body, mending her bones and knitting the lacerations upon her skin back together.

By the time she made it halfway through, she was strong enough to sit up under her own power. In fact, if she’d have stopped to think, Talia would have realized that she was almost completely healed. However, she couldn’t stop. Not with such a delectable heart so close at hand. She tore through it like a starving animal, heedless of how she looked or how disgusted Abby clearly was.

Then, when she finished, she ripped into the other giant’s chest and repeated the process. When she’d finally finished, she was intoxicated with the excess life energy; she felt everything in a way she hadn’t since her descent into undeath. Emotions she thought she had lost, memories she thought she’d forgotten, and thoughts she thought discarded – they all came rushing back, and with more potency than she could’ve ever expected. On top of that, a sense of euphoria enveloped her, wrapping itself around her in its comforting embrace.

“Talia? Are you okay?” Abby asked, her hand on her hatchet. She hadn’t drawn it, but she was only inches away from doing so. Suddenly, Talia realized that she’d been standing in the center of the street, her arms outstretched as she tilted her head toward the cavern’s ceiling. A wide, beaming smile had stretched across her face – the first such expression her condition had allowed since her transformation into one of the unliving. With blood dripping down her chin and coating most of her front, she must’ve cut a terrifying figure.

Shaking her head, she said, “S-sorry. I’m fine. It’s just…a lot. I’ll be okay, though.”

“Good,” Abby said. “We need to rescue Tucker, now, so get it together. We don’t want to freak him out.”

Talia let out a chuckle – another first for her undead self – before saying, “I think we’re fighting a losing battle on that count.”

Abby was about to respond when she suddenly stopped and sniffed. Her eyes lost their focus as she concentrated on her other senses. Her jaw dropped, and she asked, “Talia? Do you smell what I smell?”

With the influx of vitality, Talia’s senses had been altered, and she was still trying to wrap her head around the changes. So, she said, “No. What is it?”

“It…it smells like…death,” Abby responded.

Almost as if it had been waiting for recognition, a horde of half-rotted giants stumbled into the cavern. As one, dozens of sets of milky white eyes fixated on Abby and Talia before, in unison, they all sprang into motion. Talia recognized the unwitting activation of the zombie version of [Alacrity of Undeath] as the monsters sprinted toward them.

“Uh…this…this is not what I expected,” gulped Abby.

“Me neither,” Talia responded, climbing to her feet and readying herself for a fight. There were dozens of the giants, and more were pouring into the cavern with every passing second. “Coming here might have been a mistake.”