Mistrunner 2 - Chapter 46 - Miracles Never Cease (Patreon)

When I drove through the Garden today, it felt so empty.  I feel so alone. No friends. No family. Just a bunch of people who’ve latched onto me like leeches. All they care about is whether or not I can help them with their own goals. None of them care about me. Not as a person, at least.  Instead, I’m just a means to an end.

Nora Lancaster

By the time my eyes fluttered open, night had fallen. I was lying on my back, with my arms at my sides, held in place by some sort of flimsy straps. I could’ve easily broken them, which told me they weren’t really there for the purpose of imprisonment. Rather, they were just meant to keep me from flailing about too much.

For a long moment, I stared up at the night sky, appreciating the silvery light of the moon and stars. However, that only lasted a few seconds before my mind truly caught up with my situation. In a flood, my memory came back, washing away any sense of peace or contentment, and I bolted upright.

I gasped in surprise at what I found.

For one, Patrick, who I expected to be halfway back to Nova City by that point, was sitting by my side like a protective puppy. Not that I’d ever had a pet of any sort – nobody in the Garden did – but I’d seen them on various entertainment feeds growing up. Apparently, the rich elites weren’t under the same kinds of restrictions that kept the poor from owning pets.

In any case, Patrick’s presence was only the first of many surprises. When I turned my head, I saw nothing but people clothed in all white. Most wore simple tunics with loose pants, but there were a few wearing curious robes. All were stark white, though, which marked them as Templars. It didn’t take me long to recognize the area as a temporary camp, what with the tents, campfires, and the general atmosphere.

Patrick reached out, gripping my arm as he said, “Take it easy. They only finished healing you a few hours ago.”

“Huh?” was my confused response. Unless I’d been in a coma, there was no way I could have been healed so quickly. No matter how much time had passed, those acid burns hadn’t been simple. A few had gone down to the very bone. It would have taken months to recover from something like that, even with Regeneration speeding my convalescence.

Which meant that something was wrong.

I pulled my hands out of the straps and sat up. As I did so, the blanket that had covered me fell away, revealing my naked torso. By reflex, my arm found its way across my chest, but maintaining my modesty was quickly forgotten when I saw my arm.

It was in pristine condition. No burns. No bandages. I didn’t even see any scars, which was so shocking that I could scarcely even think. During the fight with the mutated wildlings, I’d been too busy trying to stay alive to take stock of my injuries, but even then, I knew that, even if I managed to survive, I wouldn’t do so without significant scarring. Once I was safe inside the tank, I’d tried to ignore that reality, but the thought had remained nestled in the back of my mind nonetheless.

But now? Now, I saw that I’d somehow avoided that fate, and as best I could without a mirror – or without exposing myself even further – I inspected my body. And what I saw was more of the same. Perfect, unmarred skin. Even the Realskin that hid the Hand of God had been replaced.

“What the…”

“The patient awakens, huh?” came a feminine voice that broke through my turbulent thoughts. I looked up to see a short, compact figure standing over me. From her voice, I guessed that she was a woman, and she stood with the kind of easy confidence that came from knowing you’re the most capable person in any room. Or any city. She knelt beside me, asking, “How are you doing?”

Like everyone else in the area – aside from Patrick and me, at least – she was wearing all white, marking her as a Templar. Once she’d lowered herself to my level, I saw that her face was pretty enough, though her prominent nose probably kept her from being beautiful. If I was forced to describe her in one word, I would have labeled her striking.

“Mira,” said Patrick. “This is the healer, Isla.”

“Battle healer,” said the woman, as if the distinction was the most important thing in the world. “But whatever. How are you feeling?”

“Uh…good? Maybe. I don’t know,” I said, blushing as I pulled the blanket up to cover my chest. “I…I shouldn’t…I don’t understand what’s going on.”

She let out a hearty laugh. “Fair enough,” Isla said, running a hand through her long, auburn hair. “I’d be a bit confused too, if I were you. So, here’s the thing. One of our scouts ran into your boyfriend, who was screaming through the woods on the sweetest hoverbike I’ve ever seen. He was going on and on about a horde of mutants. Well, we know the area pretty well, so we figured somebody had stumbled onto that old battlefield. So, Zachariah ran off to rescue you.”

“Zachariah?”

“Bald guy. Uses a giant axe. Constantly muttering about fractals or some such?” Isla said.

It took me a moment to remember my rescuer. Almost as if summoned by my thoughts, the man himself appeared. My first thought was that he wasn’t as physically impressive as I might have expected from the kind of guy who could deal with a horde of those mutated wildlings. But my second thought was that he seemed incredibly powerful. It was almost as if the Mist itself had congealed around him. Other than that, he seemed like an average – if completely bald – guy.

“You were a decimeter away from kicking the bucket,” he said, kneeling next to Isla. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it, even after I crammed a few healing pills into your mouth.”

Isla rolled her eyes and backhanded Zachariah on the arm. “Those things aren’t healing pills, you meathead! You’re lucky they didn’t kill her!”

He shrugged his shoulders, saying, “They work for me.”

“Because you’re too stupid to let something like poisonous, Mist-infused mushrooms and the like kill you,” she muttered.

Zacharia replied, “If it isn’t broken…”

“You’re broken,” Isla mumbled.

“Uh…guys…where are my clothes?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh. Clothes,” Isla said. “Yeah, I could see why you might want those. That suit you had is top-quality. Shame it’s ruined, though.”

“What?! Ruined?” I half-screamed, getting the attention of everyone in the area. I took a breath, then lowered my voice. “It self-repairs. I just need to feed it some Mist.”

“Really? Wish we had something like that,” Isla said, shaking her head. “Stupid Templars and their stupid rules. What I wouldn’t give for some actual freaking armor. Like, a mech suit or something. With huge fists and –”

“You know that won’t work with us,” interjected Zacharia. He ran his hand over his bald head, saying, “We tread a different path. The Dao won’t –”

“Oh, shut up about the stupid Dao,” Isla said, obviously annoyed. She’d clearly had the same conversation before. “That’s how it always is with you. Dao this. Dao that.”

“It’s my path.”

“It’s cultural appropriation is what it is,” Isla countered.

“Guys, can you just tell me what’s going on?” I asked. “I mean, after that, you can argue all you want. But I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who you are. And I have no idea what you’re going to do with me.”

I felt fairly certain that they didn’t intend me harm. After all, they’d saved my life. Besides, I hadn’t forgotten Frederick, the Templar I’d met on my way back from my first Rift. He’d been kind to me, and I was predisposed towards thinking that these people would follow that pattern, despite their curious idiosyncrasies. And their obvious tendency toward bickering.

“At least I don’t go around punching things,” Zachariah said under his breath. Without Observation, I probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him.

Meanwhile, Isla spoke up, “Okay, so here’s the deal. You’re about twenty miles north of where Zachariah found you. So, that puts us about fifty miles from the dead zone. That’s where your friend said you were going, right? You wanted to challenge the Rift.”

“Uh…”

I didn’t really know how to respond to that. Certainly, I had no interest in revealing my plans to complete strangers, but it seemed that Patrick had already beaten me to the punch. I didn’t want to blame him – after all, he’d probably saved my life, or at least my looks, by finding help – but I couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed.

But then I considered things from his perspective. He’d probably been scared out of his mind – both for me and for his own life – and he’d let his mouth run a little. I wasn’t so callous that I couldn’t understand the effect fear could have on a person. On top of that, there was every chance he’d been coerced. Or maybe these Templars had the ability to read minds. They were a complete mystery, but the stories had always agreed about one thing: they were powerful.

“Well, you had the misfortune of coming across that horrible place,” Isla went on. “Most of us know to avoid that battlefield. I’m not sure how it happened, but those things are extremely strong.”

“Immortal, too,” interjected Zachariah.

“They’re not immortal,” Isla said. “They just don’t age while they’re hibernating underground.”

“Same difference.”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. “My point is that you had no way of knowing that you were walking into a death trap.”

“Did you kill them all?” I asked.

Isla chuckled. “Oh, no. Even all of us together couldn’t handle that,” she stated. “After Zachariah snatched you up, we cut and run. Thankfully, they won’t go more than a mile from the crater.”

My heart skipped a beat. “So, if I’d have just gotten on the bike with Patrick…”

“They would’ve given up the chase,” provided Zachariah.

Isla rolled her eyes and slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be like that,” she said. “She didn’t know.”

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” I muttered, my stomach twisting into knots.

“That would be Zachariah’s healing pills,” Isla said. “I cleansed most of the impurities, but…well, some remained.”

“Makes you stronger,” he said.

“It might make you stronger, but you’re a freaking unkillable tank who…”

I stopped listening. I’d almost gotten killed – no, I should have been killed – all because of my own ignorance. And arrogance. It was galling, really. I’d thought I had learned my lesson after the encounter with the wildling alpha outside of Biloxi, but clearly, it hadn’t really sunk in. The problem was that, in Nova City, I felt almost invincible. There were so few people in the Garden who could really threaten me, and they were easy enough to avoid that I’d not really been challenged for a while.  The wilderness was different, though. Not only were there the dangers I knew about – like the wildlings and the wildlife – but there were clearly plenty of which I was completely ignorant. And if I kept charging ahead as if I was invincible, I would end up in some monster’s belly.

But I also couldn’t afford to be too cautious. My plans depended on me getting stronger. Sure, I could probably get my revenge in my current state, but what then? The aliens were still coming sooner rather than later. And I knew they weren’t going to be pushovers. If I became complacent, I would end up enslaved or dead. And I couldn’t stomach that.

Still, I knew that, while I couldn’t afford to stop taking risks, I needed to be smarter about how far I pushed. It was a fine line, and one I knew would be difficult to walk.

“So, what now?” I asked, still clutching the blanket around me. It was thin protection, and I was keenly aware of my nudity. Still, no one else seemed to care; curiously, I didn’t feel any leering gazes like so often followed me around in Nova. So, I pushed my discomfort to the back of my mind. “Are we prisoners or something?”

“Gods, no,” Isla said. “That would mean we had to take care of you. Most of these people can barely take care of themselves, much less guests.”

“Speak for yourself,” grumbled Zachariah. “I’m fine surviving on my own. Did I ever tell you about the time I dove into a pool of liquified Mist and –”

“Yes.  I know all your stories,” Isla interrupted. Then, she looked at me, adding, “Look – Templars are weird. It’s the Mist. Each and every one of us has been affected in some way, and it makes us…I don’t know…some people would call us crazy, I guess. My point is that, aside from the mandates of our order, most of us aren’t too concerned with people like you. Sure, we’ll fight to protect you, but actually managing things? Or gods forbid, taking care of anyone? It’s just not in our nature.”

“You talk about it like you’re a different species or something,” said Patrick, finally finding his voice.

Isla shrugged. “In a way, we are,” she said. “Templars aren’t that different from the wildlings. Sure, we maintain our sense of self, and we don’t show external mutations. But we’re also not completely human. The Mist changes everything. Your Nexus Implants slow things down and make it less dangerous, but you’re still being changed. Most people on this planet won’t ever get the chance to see how much, but that’s kind of why we’re here. To give people that opportunity.”

“Too much, Isla,” Zachariah said.

Isla shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever. It’s not like anyone’s paying attention to us right now,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But fine.” Then, to me, she added, “Just know that you’re on the right track. The Mist already clings to you. It won’t be long before you start to manifest an aura.”

“What’s an aura?” asked Patrick, giving voice the question on the tip of my tongue.

“A manifestation of your willpower,” Isla answered. She glanced up at the sky. “I…I don’t think I should say more.”

“But –”

“Drop it, Patrick,” I said. “She’s under some sort of restrictions. Kind of like getting any meaningful information about the rest of the universe from Gala and the rest of them up in the Bazaar is almost impossible. They’ll sell us stuff, and they’ll give us a few tidbits here and there, but nothing that really matters.” I looked at Isla and said, “That about right?”

“Close enough,” she said with a small smile.

Zachariah asked, “Do you still intend to challenge the Rift?”

I nodded. “Probably,” I said. “Why? Want to come?”

“Can’t.”

“Huh?”

“We can’t,” he said. “It’s one of our tenets. No Rifts unless specifically authorized by our parent organization.”

“I don’t understand,” I admitted.

He shrugged, but didn’t elaborate. But Isla said, “Part of the support we get from the Templars – the real ones that aren’t allowed on this planet yet – is contingent on non-interference. Sure, we can help people here and there, but if we make too big of a splash, bad things are going to happen. And us going into Rifts without their approval will definitely make a splash.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t really understand galactic – or universal, maybe – politics, but I didn’t really need to. I’d gotten the information I needed. As strong as they were, they had rules. And those rules said the help they could give us was limited. They were probably already pushing it by healing me.

“You can stay with us for a couple of days,” Isla said. “We’re taking some new recruits into the Dead Zone.”

They had no way of knowing it, but Frederick had already told me the dangers of exposing the new recruits to enough Mist to spark their development. Some would be successful. Others would be lost, many of which would become wildlings just like everyone else who didn’t have a Nexus implant. Even if I wanted to see the process, I had no desire to see the unlucky ones who failed.

My memories of Heather – yet another failure on my part – were too fresh.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I…I think it’s best if we leave in the morning.”

“Fair enough,” Isla replied. Then, she hiked her thumb in the direction of the tent behind her, saying, “Your stuff’s in there. I’m sure you want to get dressed. Zacharia even managed to find your sword.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” I said. “Anything you can tell us about the Rift?”

“It’s being mined by Octavagians,” she said. “Eight appendages with these moving claws that rip everything to shreds. Faces like mutated squid. They spit poison, too. Nasty stuff, if it gets on you. Not as bad as the fluid from those mutated wildlings’ stomach sacs, but not something you want on you. Probably only five or six of them there that could pose a threat to you, so if I were you, I’d hang back a bit, get the lay of the land, and pick your first targets carefully. Once the big ones are out of commission, the rest will go down without much difficulty.”

“Do they use slaves?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. Octavagians don’t trust any other race enough for that,” she stated. “Just…when you hit ‘em, you better hit ‘em hard. They’re fast, strong, and can be a pain in the ass to take down. So, make the first attacks count.”

“I think I can do that,” I said with a small smile. “Anything else? What’s the Rift like?”

“Not a clue,” she said. “I’ve only ever been allowed inside two Rifts, and neither of ‘em are around here.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Anything else I should know?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

Patrick, who’d remained silent for a while, asked, “Is she healed, though? I…I don’t want her to…you know, push it too far.”

“She’s in perfect health,” Isla stated. “You’ve got the battle healer stamp of approval.”

Zachariah chuckled at that. “You and your battle healer nonsense,” he said, shaking his head. “You’d be way more valuable just staying on the back lines and healing the other warriors.”

“But what’s the fun in that?” she asked.

“You got me there,” he agreed. “Can’t imagine anything worse than standing back and not fighting.”

I just shook my own head, wondering just how crazy these people were. Sure, I was reckless, but my own attitude was nothing compared to these two battle maniacs. But perhaps there was something to it. They certainly seemed freer than anyone else I’d met.

As the pair continued their good-natured bickering, I gathered the blanket around me and retreated into the tent they’d set aside for me. There, I found what was left of my tattered clothing as well as the infiltration suit. As I picked it up, noticing the huge gashes in the garment, I sighed. Hopefully, it was still salvageable. Whatever the case, even as compromised as it was, it could provide some protection. So, after putting on some underwear I had in my arsenal implant, I slipped the suit on. After that, I donned some black fatigues and a matching tee-shirt.

I let out another breath as I sat on the ground inside the tent. Hopefully, the next fight would go better than the one in that crater. I needed to make better decisions, or I’d end up dead before I had the chance to see my plans to fruition.