August Intruder- Chapter 64- The Mediator (Patreon)

Nelson was the first to move.

He took a few steps and interjected himself between Melmarc and the empty doorway Jude had been sent flying out of. Even with his large frame technically blocking the entire entrance, the Delver still held his arms out on both sides.

Melmarc paused. There was a part of his brain that wondered why the man had chosen to interfere. Did he not understand that all actions deserved their equal reactions? Jude clearly needed to be punished. Also, if the man had been planning on intimidating him by bringing his arms up and making himself look larger, that was a plan that would fail. Melmarc had been around large people all his life.

His dad remained the largest man he knew. Eroms was a close second.

“Stop,” Nelson told him.

It was a simple word. A soft word. There was no command in it, only understanding and reasoning. He didn’t want Melmarc to do whatever he intended to do.

Melmarc found it a little sad that it would not be enough to stop him. There were things in the world that were inevitable. The sun always shined. Night always came.

I will break a rib.

The line of thought was enough to make Melmarc pause. Why did he so badly have to break a rib? So that he didn’t take a leg? Or an arm? Or an eye?

Did he really need to punish Jude any further?

He’d already won, after all.

And against a Delver.

What else did he need? But as reasonable as the question was, so was the answer. He had found victory in a fight against Jude. And that was victory in a fight, no matter the consequences Jude had suffered from it. What he needed to do was punish Jude for the crime of pointing a gun at him, accusing him, starting the fight, and shooting him.

Every crime deserved a punishment of equal value.

Around them, the others continued to stare. Jed held his knife in a firm grip, a prepared grip. The Gifted had been more than ready to act if he’d needed to. Whether it was in Melmarc’s favor or not was a completely different conversation. One Melmarc did not want to have.

Behind Melmarc, Clinton and Claire were quiet, watchful. Claire’s jaw hung open while Clinton simple stared at the back of Melmarc’s head. Melmarc wasn’t sure what exactly the expression on the man’s face was. Fear? Worry?

For who? For what?

Was the man worried about the situation and how quickly it had left him; slipped from his control? Or was he worried by the fact that a Contractor had been bested?

Did it matter?

The answer was yes. In this moment, what Nelson wanted was slightly important but majorly unimportant. What Claire wanted was only as important as the commodity of her healing skill. Jed had interacted too little for the importance of his words to be accurately scaled in the moment.

“You don’t have to do this, Marc,” Nelson said. He looked behind him, checked on Jude, then turned back to Melmarc. “He’s down. As surprising as it is to say, you won.”

That was a very unnecessary piece of information. Melmarc’s victory was unarguable so he didn’t need someone to tell him.

What he needed was for Nelson to step aside. By virtue of Clinton’s position as commander of the group, Melmarc found that he was willing to negotiate Jude’s punishment. He would compromise if Clinton offered an acceptable punishment as an alternative.

For the second time since Nelson had come to block his path, Melmarc paused. A second ago he had been so adamant on breaking Jude’s rib. Now he was accepting the possibility of compromising and not breaking his rib. But only if Clinton was the one who made the request that he not.

The switch up was surreal. It was as if Jude undoubtedly needed to be punished but it did not have to be by Melmarc.

Someone else can punish him?

Then why had he had to go through the entire process of convincing himself on a fitting punishment? And was the alternative Clinton?

Was it because the man was the designated leader of the group?

What’s this, a prisoner exchange?

It felt like he was a teacher in school about to punish a student but would only compromise if the parent gave an acceptable alternative punishment. Not the brother or the sister or the aunty or the uncle or the friend.

It had to be the parent. The legal guardian, at the least.

Melmarc took a step forward. What the hell is happening to me?

In front of him, Nelson’s brows furrowed. “Stand down, kid.”

And what if he didn’t, Melmarc thought. He’d taken Jude and won. Maybe he couldn’t take all the Delvers in the room, but he might be able to take Nelson. If he took the big guy by surprise, maybe he could—

Dissonant.

The word pierced a massive hole in Melmarc’s thought process. But the fact that there was a hole in it didn’t mean it stopped. Instead, it realigned itself, sought out an alternative approach that would grant him the same outcome.

It’s like a game of chess.

Which was funny since he’d only played a handful of chess games and had watched a handful of matches before gaining his class. He’d touched nothing of chess ever since getting the class, though. And chess hadn’t factored into any of his skills. In fact, there was no skill of his that required much in the way of brain power.

He was smart, but he wasn’t this calculating.

“Move,” he found himself telling Nelson.

Nelson shook his head. “You’ll have to control your anger, Marc. I know you’re angry but you can’t let your emotions make you do something you’ll regret.”

Melmarc wasn’t angry. And why had Nelson used his name? Since stepping in front of him, he’d been calling him ‘kid.’

Melmarc remembered reading in a book somewhere, sometime, that people tended to react amiably when they were addressed by their name instead of something generic.

Was it really true? It was an important question because right now it did nothing for him. But Nelson had been a Delver for a long time, maybe it actually did work.

“I think you’re wrong on this one.”

Melmarc heard Jed’s voice, loud and clear, but he didn’t turn to look at the man. “Wrong?”

“Not you,” Jed said. “I’m talking to you, Nelson. Look at his face, the kid doesn’t look angry. If anything, I think he knows exactly what he wants to do. I think he’s already made up his mind on doing it.”

Nelson dropped his arms. His eyes focused on Melmarc. He stared at him through narrowed lids, watching, assessing.

“What do you plan on doing, Marc?” he said after a while.

Melmarc didn’t see any reason to hide his intentions. “I’m going to break a rib.”

Jed chuckled, but only after a surprised pause.

“You can’t,” Clinton said from behind Melmarc.

“Why not?” Melmarc didn’t turn to answer him. He had a feeling Nelson would take advantage of that. It was what he would do.

“You just can’t,” Clinton said. “It’s wrong.”

“PTSD?” Jed muttered to himself. “Or some kind of reaction to a highly stressful situation?”

“The latter,” Melmarc said. To Clinton, he added, without looking back, “And it’s not wrong. He committed a crime, he’s about to be punished for it.”

“You sent him into a wall.” Clinton got up from where he was. “Isn’t that punishment enough?”

Melmarc disagreed. “That was him losing. That was not him being punished.”

Nelson let out a resigned sigh. “He was probably wrong, and you probably aren’t a Skin Walker, seeing as you helped us. But we cannot allow you do what you want to do.”

But they had allowed Jude do what he wanted to do. There had been some circumstances surrounding it, but they’d allowed him. It seemed that negotiations had broken down. As far as Melmarc was concerned, no suitable punishment would be offered as an alternative, at least not in good faith. Now he had to find another way.

Nelson met Melmarc’s gaze and his eyes held an apology in them. “Sorry, kiddo.”

He stepped forward. Melmarc took a step back in response, hands already going up to defend himself. When Nelson’s foot hit the ground on his first step, his legs buckled beneath him. His fell to his knees and simply remained there. In his head, his eyes stared at nothing from their sockets.

Jed took two hurried steps back, increased the distance between them as if he wasn’t already far enough.

Clinton did the same. “What did you do?”

He drew his gun and aimed it straight at the back of Melmarc’s leg.

“Wasn’t him,” a raspy voice said from behind them, right at the window. “That was me.”

Melmarc recognized Naymond’s voice immediately. Relief washed through him, his first real emotion in a while, and he was glad for it.

“Mr. Hitchcock,” he said, his relief touching his voice as he turned around.

It was funny how he kept Jed in his periphery, kept the man under watch. The portal had taught him to always keep any [Damned] present within eyesight no matter what. They were jerky and slow but were more than capable of moving with unpredictable speed and suddenness.

Did he consider the Delvers as enemies now?

In his defense, Jude had shot him and Nelson had just tried to attack him to protect him from taking his punishment. The tanker had a reason for attacking him, but so did every enemy.

Melmarc took a step towards Naymond. Jed eased out of his periphery by half a step. It brought Melmarc to a halt. Moving to Naymond would leave him open for an attack from Jed. He didn’t think Jed would attack him, but it wasn’t a ruled out possibility.

“You’ll be fine,” Naymond said, talking to Melmarc and ignoring Clinton for a moment. “I won’t let him do anything.”

Melmarc hesitated for only a moment before going to Naymond. His brain had picked nothing dissonant in the words Naymond had spoken.

In moments, Melmarc was kneeling beside Naymond.

“My God, you’re tall,” Naymond muttered, as if to himself. “Miss me?”

Melmarc had no answer to that. He’d been worried for Naymond’s life, but he hadn’t really missed the man. And while he was relieved that he was alive, he still had a rib to break.

Clinton looked at them, before focusing on Naymond. “And you are?” he asked.

“Naymond Hitchcock at your service.” Naymond was less bloody now, and the spade that had been lodged in his neck was gone. He was still bloody, though. “Well, I’m more at the kid’s service. But you know what I mean. I believe you’re here to save us.”

“And clear the portal,” Clinton said. “Now, I repeat, what did you do to my man?”

He still had his gun in his hand.

“I gave him something called a deterrence.” Naymond winked at Melmarc. “Personally, I can’t say I’m a fan of a Gifted attacking a kid with a skill.”

“The kid has proven himself to be powerful,” Clinton pointed out.

Naymond’s hand moved to his face, and he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I don’t know if to be impressed by the fact that a kid has proved himself powerful to a group of Delvers, or to be terrified by the fact that a kid that’s supposed to be saved by said Delvers had to prove himself powerful to them.”

“Jude panicked,” Clinton said. “He wasn’t without rea—”

“Ha!” Naymond barked in derision, silencing Clinton. “Without reason? Damned fool almost sealed our deaths in gold. A Skin Walker? Who fears a Skin Walker in a C-rank portal? Are you lot stupid?”

Clinton holstered his gun, which was funny, considering Naymond was anything but nice right now.

“Portals are unpredictable,” Clinton pointed out. “Anything can happen in a portal.”

Naymond snorted in condescension. “That’s a stupid excuse. By that logic I should be scared to meet God behind a portal.”

Melmarc remembered when he’d speculated on that specific possibility once. It had been a little bit over a month ago, not long before he’d gotten his class.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Naymond shook his head and moved to get up. Claire placed a hand flat against his chest.

“You can’t be getting up, Naymond,” she said. “You aren’t fully healed.”

“Right,” Naymond said. “And wrong. But not necessarily in that order. Mr. Lockwood, be a dear and tell the Healer that I know all there is to know about my body and she should feel free to allow me stand.”

Melmarc didn’t know how much truth was in Naymond’s words. For one thing, the [Sage] did understand his body very well, that much Melmarc believed. But him being ready to stand was a different conversation entirely.

He looked at Naymond and the [Sage] groaned.

“Fair enough.” Naymond leaned back down, but he returned his attention to Clinton. “Let’s forget all about what’s already happened and focus on what’s important.”

Breaking Jude’s rib was what was important. Forgetting about that was not something Melmarc was willing to forget.

“The portal,” Clinton said.

“Nope,” Naymond disagreed. “Breaking your teammates rib.”

Clinton paused. “What the hell?”

Melmarc paused, too. Clinton had taken the words right out of his mouth.

“I heard Mr. Lockwood here say that was what he wanted to do,” Naymond said. “And it is important. Punishment should always be given after one has made a severe mistake.”

Clinton shook his head. “Breaking his rib is too much.”

“And you were given the chance for an alternative, a position to negotiate the punishment.” Naymond shrugged. “You didn’t take it. Instead, you wanted to give commands.”

“No offense to Mr. Lockwood, but he’s still a kid. He doesn’t know the level of importance things hold in a portal. Scaling them properly and in levels of priority can be tricky. Sometimes you have to work with people you don’t like to survive.”

Dissonant.

This was annoying. Right now, Melmarc didn’t know what was dissonant. Was it the part where the man didn’t mean offense or was it one of the other things he’d said.

“So you simply told him what to do and expected that he should do it? Without explanation?” Naymond shook his head like a teacher disappointed in a student.

You kind of do that all the time, though, Melmarc thought, but wasn’t going to point it out.

“So you’ll come into the portal,” Naymond continued. “Assume leadership because it was given to you outside the portal, and expect the boy to fall in line. Because what? He’s young? He’s not a Delver?”

Beside him, Claire was silent. She had a finger on his wrist, checking his pulse. Meanwhile her eyes paid attention to his face. Melmarc couldn’t begin to come up with a reason for that. His best guess was that she was using a skill she had to do something that was likely medical related.

“Mr. Lockwood is not experienced for situations such as this,” Clinton said. “He’s not a Delver.”

Naymond snorted derisorily. “He’s been in this place twelve days more than you. Trust me, in this situation he’s more experienced than you are.”

Dissonant.

Melmarc’s head snapped to Naymond. Well, that was something. Naymond definitely did not agree with what he had just said and yet he had said it. Was it for the purpose of the argument or was there a plan he was beginning to set into motion.

Naymond sighed in tired frustration. “Just let the kid do what he wants. Your Healer over here can always heal your foolish teammate when he’s done.” He looked at Melmarc. “Will that suffice?”

He’s negotiating, Melmarc realized.

But did he have the authority to negotiate in this situation? The answer was yes. Because he wasn’t negotiating, he was mediating, helping both parties come to an agreement.

“After twelve hours,” Melmarc answered.

What the hell is happening to me?

What had [Optimum Existence] done to him?

Clinton, for his own part, looked at Melmarc in confusion. “You expect us to rest for twelve hours?”

“He doesn’t,” Naymond said before Melmarc could say anything. “He expects us to start moving once I’m at a hundred percent.”

Dissonant.

Melmarc frowned at that. What was dissonant. Naymond had been right and wrong to a certain extent. Melmarc did not expect them to wait for twelve hours. He was completely of the opinion that Jude would continue the path of finishing the quest and clearing the portal with his broken rib.

He was in complete agreement with Naymond on that point. So what was dissonant?

The conversation answered it for him. Dissonant didn’t mean a lie. He doubted it even meant that something was inaccurate. Maybe it’s based on the person talking.

Maybe the way it worked was by picking out the existing difference between what somebody said and what they meant, or what they said and what they believed. Dissonant didn’t necessarily mean a lie. It meant a disagreement, a lack of harmony.

He only noted dissonance in Naymond’s words because Naymond doubted them to a certain degree.

“Jude cannot be of help if he’s not completely healed,” Clinton argued. “A broken rib is not something that can be ignored. There are a lot of complications that come with it.” He looked from Naymond to Melmarc and back, incredulous. “He could die.”

Naymond raised an opinionated finger with a mischievous smile. “The key word there being ‘could.’ Mr. Lockwood over here could have died a few moments ago. You’re all Delvers and so you’ve quite easily diminished the gravity of the situation because you’re already standing the risk of dying in certain situations.”

“Everybody dies,” Jed muttered.

“True,” Naymond agreed. “But while that is a normal and healthy mindset for a Delver, as you’ve so happily pointed out, a Delver, Mr. Lockwood is not. And to top it off, he’s not even an adult. The people he thought were here to save him almost killed him. And now you’re refusing to punish the person that put him through the traumatic experience of almost dying. How do you expect him to trust you?”

Wow.

For all his dissonance and new way of thinking, Melmarc hadn’t even gone that far in his thought process. He wanted to break a rib because that was a fitting punishment for Jude. All the other things Naymond had tacked onto it weren’t wrong but Melmarc hadn’t even considered any of that.

He’d just been very focused on the fact that Jude had to be punished and everyone was standing in his way.

A soft moan touched the room. Nelson put a hand to his head and leaned forward.

“I need to lie down,” he muttered in a deep baritone. He sounded like he had a terrible headache.

He eased himself forward and carefully laid down on his stomach, turning his face to one side.

Melmarc looked at Naymond. “Is he going to be alright?”

“He’ll be fine,” Naymond dismissed his worry. “Just a little disorientation, that’s all. Now back to the matter at hand. Jude’s punishment.”

Clinton shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sense?” Naymond snorted. “You may not know this but Mr. Lockwood showed a lot of restraint in handling the situation. He was in a position that could’ve gotten him killed yet he did his best not to kill your teammate. Can you say a Delver would’ve done such a thing in such a position?”

Jed shook his head where he was standing. “I think you’re stretching it just to get the kid what he wants.”

Naymond looked at him. “Am I? Am I really? This portal is completely full of C-rank monsters and he has something that can kill them in one blow. Do you really think it wouldn’t kill your C-rank friend in one blow?”

Melmarc’s attention snapped to Naymond again. The man was a terrific negotiator. Melmarc had actually held back against Jude. It hadn’t completely been a plan, though. When [Secrecy] had disabled Jude, for only a moment he had considered using [Rings of Saturn] to attack. Skills weren’t supposed to work within the confines of [Secrecy] but since [Secrecy] was a bit of a subset of [Rings of Saturn] he’d had a feeling [Rings of Saturn] might’ve worked.

The only thing that had left him with the decision of kicking Jude instead of hitting him with a blast of [Rings of Saturn] was less of if the skill would work and more of what he’d seen the skill do to enough [Damned].

He hadn’t been ready to have the blood of another human being on his hands.

“Fakers don’t have that kind of firepower,” Claire said.

Naymond gave her one of his trademark smiles. “The kid’s an anomaly. Ever seen a [Faker] kick a grown man over ten feet?”

Claire eyed Melmarc, eyes taking in his height.

“Fair enough,” Naymond conceded. “With a build like that, even I wouldn’t want to be kicked by him. But he has the fire power. Trust me.”

“I agree.” Clinton scratched the back of his head. “It took over two bullets to put a significant dent in those things in the forest and I saw him crush one’s head with his bare hand. He definitely has the firepower.” He sighed, then rubbed his forehead with thumb and forefinger. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… you can break his rib.”

Jed’s jaw dropped. “What the hell, Clinton.”

“You donated nothing during the entire conversation, Jed.” Clinton raised a cautionary finger at him. “You don’t get to complain about the outcome.” To Melmarc, he added: “Just one rib. One. Do you know how to do that?”

Melmarc shrugged and started making his way for the door. “Yes. They taught us how to do it with one kick in self defense class.”

“Doesn’t sound like any self defense class I know,” Jed muttered.

“I’m with him on that one,” Naymond added as Melmarc stepped around Nelson’s lying body. “Those classes are more about keeping yourself safe in a fight and less about breaking ribs.”

Outside the room, Melmarc stood over a still unconscious Jude. He wasn’t sure if the man’s unconsciousness was lucky. Chances were, the man wouldn’t be happy to have his rib broken while he was awake.

Melmarc took a step back and took a stance, readied for a kick. His self defense teacher had taught him that kicks carried better weights. And while he could do it with his hand, he stood a better chance of not getting injured if he did it with a kick.

I’m significantly stronger now, though, Melmarc thought, reconsidering his situation. Changing his mind, he moved and knelt down in front of Jude.

He could feel the eyes watching him as he cocked his hand back for a straight punch. He aimed for the right side of the man’s chest. Hopefully, the rib there wouldn’t puncture anything too important when it broke. The heart was closer to the left side, after all.

Then he threw a downward punch.

Jude’s lids twitched, and his eyes opened while the punch was midway through its journey. His eyes widened in shock and Melmarc’s fist struck true.

“AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Melmarc felt the rib give under the force of his blow even as Jude’s scream threatened to blow his eardrum. He did not panic or rush to escape. He did not hurry to put any space between them.

Instead, he remained there, looked Jude in the eye and watched the man slip back into unconsciousness.

For a mercenary, the man didn’t seem to handle pain very well. But that didn’t matter to Melmarc. What mattered to him was the overwhelming satisfaction that filled him. The calmness that came with successfully meting out punishment for a crime.

I might need therapy after this.

…

A few minutes earlier…

Deoti looked around with a frown on her face. She had been in enough portals to know that something was terribly wrong with this one. For one, it smelled of blood.

“That’s not good,” she heard Saxi mutter.

She turned, looked up, expecting to see one of those creepy creatures that tended to turn up in portals. The team had learned long ago that it wasn’t a good sign when those things showed up inside a portal. It was never a good sign.

Surprisingly, she saw nothing to indicate that one would show up. So what wasn’t good?

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Fendor nudged her with his shoulder. “Look at your hand.”

She looked at her palm.

Fendor sighed. “The other side, nitwit.”

“I’ll bury you in the ground once we get out,” she said, turning her hands so that she could look at the back. “Remind me.”

Fendor chuckled. “I’ll try.”

On the back of her hand was a symbol. It looked like a tattoo. Deoti hadn’t seen the symbol before, but she knew what it implied. As an S-rank, it was weird to have a tattoo appearing on her without her even feeling it.

But even though she’d never seen the symbol before, Deoti had an idea of what it implied. This was definitely going to be a problem.

“This is messed up,” she muttered, annoyed.

“And it just got a whole lot worse,” Fendor groaned.

In front of them, one of the beings of the portal hovered in the air, levitating. Its head was simply round and white and the rest of its body was black with purple stains for hands and feet. It was a chibi, like all the portal beings Deoti had ever had the displeasure of meeting were.

Their only differences were in their distinctive features. Colors, looks, mannerisms, and the like. But their heights always remained the same.

It stood in the air with no mouth and only slits for eyes, lines drawn on its face. Those eyes were currently sharp diagonal lines. If they were eye brows, they would be depicting anger.

Deoti wasn’t feeling anger from the small creature right now, though. She was feeling unbridled rage.

And with that rage, it hovered in the air, right above the Oath of Madness, staring him down. David met its gaze equally.

<<You should not be here, defender.>> it said, its voice rippling through the entire portal.

David’s response was simple, his voice controlled. “I have come for what’s mine.”

This was a far bigger mess than they’d thought. Far bigger than the fact that they’d all been marked with a symbol that meant that there were certain parts of the portal that they would not be able to enter.

But what was worse was that one of the portal beings was barring their way.

Portal beings never stopped Delvers from crossing a portal.

Portal beings never interfered. Never acted unless provoked.

And this one had just told them that they did not belong, unprovoked.

Lisa inched towards Deoti and asked in a low whisper. “Are we going to fight a portal being?”

Deoti paled at the question. Lisa was a good communicator so she was good at phrasing words in ways that were more acceptable—less shock inducing.

The question she was really asking echoed easily in Deoti’s head.

Are we going to die today?