Chương 32

It was late evening by the time Kirk staggered out of the Rift. The guards almost swooned with relief that he survived. Healer Michaels was less precious about his return.

"You are late. Give me your hand. Oh- enough energy to cure a runny nose. Well, it's better than nothing." Once more squeezed dry, Kirk returned to his tent. He barely managed to slurp down a bowl of stew before he collapsed into sleep. When he woke up the next morning, he sniffed himself and grimaced, almost crusted with sweat. But the first thing he did in the mornings was train with the Larian Saber, so he waited again for a bath. The next two weeks passed quickly. Kirk Albion's days settled into a routine.

He trained with the saber or did a patrol, then went to give Healer Michaels his energy. Then he would drag himself into the Rift. Drained of energy, he landed far up the slope, near the stele. Safe enough to recover, or at least as safe as the Rift could be. While his Archetypes drank from the rich ambient energy, he pondered. How could he improve his Runic pronunciation? Why the Rune he had made to attack Baelz had been so potent, even more powerful than he could reliably produce now.

Why rumors about pollution in the Rift were so deeply entrenched. Why, after the tribunal and the Maester's rapid departure, the Hold returned to normal. Not that Peakhold wasn't buzzing with activity- over those weeks, casualties began to mount. On one drizzling morning, Kirk asked.

"Is it because those two Troops left?"

"Maybe," Michaels grunted. Despite the early hour, the man reached for a bottle of wine and took a deep swig. Kirk avoided watching. After smacking his lips, Michaels continued.

"They say the geos are gathering in small groups. Could just be bad luck. But I don't like it." Kirk improved his footwork, his grip on the Larian Saber, and his combat instincts. On his patrols with Clara and Rufus, he looked at Clara and learned the names for the plants in the natural world. Occasionally, Kirk discovered rare materials in the Rift and sold them. He searched for word of the porter whom Baelz had killed. He couldn't find any trace.

Sometimes, at night, Kirk lay awake and thought about that waiting dog. Sixteen days after the tribunal, Kirk headed to the Rift; that morning, he had not donated his energy. He planned on an extended stay in the Rift. He waved to the guards, who nodded back. But before he entered the Rift, Kirk paused and looked to the right. A small awning had been set up to block out the near-constant late-summer rains. The group of retainers left by the Maester had set up a base here and spent most of their days making notes.

Kirk felt a distaste forming. If they are truly investigating the Rift, how can they still be making these claims about pollution? Shaking his head, Kirk reached out. The torn edges of the Rift, like azure tongues of heatless flame, seemed to withdraw. Then they stretched outward and embraced him. Reality tilted and Kirk landed on alien stone. For a moment, he was overwhelmed with panic. All around- Kirk relaxed his muscles with an effort of will. He had landed within the forest green mist layer.

The impenetrable particulate swirled around him. He took careful steps, trying to break out. When he could finally duck down, descending out of the mist, his Bestial Senses tasted the environment. His pulse began to pound at the scent of blood. An instinctual growl rose in Kirk's throat. His Bestial Senses I pierced through the mists to see the bowl of the slope laid out below him. Kirk squinted toward a deep trough that ended a short distance away, but seemed to stretch all the way down to the mustard layer.

It looked as though some gargantuan beast had delineated its territory by dragging its claw through the granite. From Kirk's experience with geo-4s, that might even be true. Through the steam, four Conduits hurried up the crack, using the slight cover to avoid a crowd of geo-3s scrabbling after them. The front two Conduits were bloody and supporting each other, while the robed woman in the middle of the convoy conjured Runes. The final of the four wielded a long trident, gouging the geo-3s that chased them.

But he couldn't cover every angle. Without even considering, Kirk began to lope down. Moments like this were exactly why he craved power. One geo-3 sprinted forward along the top of the crack, its bulging limbs a bit better jointed for speed. It pounced up on a rock and then lunged up and over. The trident wielder cursed, but couldn't lift his weapon in time. The geo-3 arched toward the two hobbling at the front- Finally, the robed woman spat out the final syllable of her rune.

It hit the air with enough power that the surrounding energy pulsed. And no sooner had a Rune condensed than the robed woman punched through it, releasing a coursing blast of lightning that struck the leaping geo-3 and then zig-zagged through four others. They twitched and collapsed, giving the group time to open up some distance. Yet even as they hurried away, six more geo-3s scrambled over their collapsed fellows and rushed forward. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval.

Report sightings. Kirk reached the end of the deep gouge about the same time that the front duo crawled up to flat ground. Their eyes flicked upward. The man, whose chest had been laid open, looked up at him in shock.

"Is that-""Call me Kirk," Kirk interrupted. Then he swept forward along the crack. The robed woman gave him a sharp look, but kept moving. Kirk only spoke again when he reached the man wielding the trident.

"Need a boost? I have a Rune that might help."

"Sure, kid." The trident wielder took a moment to spit to the side and then massage his shoulder.

"Don't flinch, don't stop moving. This won't go- huh? Oh, wow, that's got some juice, don't it?" The trident wielder twitched as the Tenacity I settled on his body. He straightened and flexed his hand. Kirk gave him a slight shake of the head.

"It's a terrible feeling after it wears off."

"Ain't it always." The geo-3s came fast. Several were galloping up the crack, but five were along the lip, right in front of him. Their eyeless heads pivoted toward him and screamed. Kirk brought the Larian Saber down with such force that, after the leader was cut entirely in half, the ground broke and the second one was knocked backward. His fingers tightened on the hilt and he heaved the weapon sideways. The third geo-3 he slammed with the side of the saber, knocking it into the gouge and tripping up its fellows.

Kirk tried to bring the weapon back around, but his muscles strained and stopped, just short. The next geo crashed against his legs. Kirk grimaced and released his weapon, rolling backward. He tried to pop back up to his feet, but the other geo-3 leapt at him. Its claw ripped across his shoulder even while his other hand whipped his harvesting knife and slammed it into the beast's neck. His pupils dilated.

In his body, he could almost feel his Beast Archetype breathing in the ambient energy, becoming a creature of violent instincts. He kicked out, briefly stunning the geo that had hit his legs. Which gave him another moment to tighten his grip on the harvesting knife and hack deeper, toward the vulnerable connective tissue between core and flesh. But the geo-3 on his legs recovered quickly. Even as Kirk finally cut into the flesh he needed to get to, the other bounded forward and closed his jaws on his arm.

First came the pain. Next was the blossom of lilac colored flame, his Manifestation eating into the vulnerable tissue of the geo's mouth. But Kirk gave the geo-3 a look of condescension. His muscles were being torn, but he had another arm. With his left hand, he plucked up a nearby stone and smashed it once, twice, three times against its head, until the geo-3 whimpered and backed off.

Kirk's right arm hung limp at his side, but he wielded the stone to crack one of the geo-3's knees before hammering again on the monster's head. By the sixth blow, Kirk's fingers were trembling and the geo-3 had fallen still. Shaky, Kirk stood. Adrenaline galloped through his body. And although that struggle had felt eternal, the fighting continued. Of the five geos that had raced toward him, one was chopped in half, one knocked into the gouge, and then Kirk just dealt with two more.

The filth had bounded past him and was now snapping at the robed woman, who kept it at bay with a wooden stave. Kirk's eyes went to the gouge. There, the trident wielder flicked his weapon back and forth, wounding and delaying, but steadily giving ground. Kirk bared his teeth and began to enunciate. This Tenacity I settled on him. As the energizing wave swept through him, he flexed the fingers of his wounded arm, ignoring the pulse of blood that dribbled onto the ground. He continued to spit out sharp syllables.

He did not use the shortened phrase this time. Kirk spoke out all thirteen syllables and unleashed a concentrated red orb that spat out sparks of gold. A split second before the projectile landed, the geo-3s twitched, as though they felt the impending attack's energy. But then fire ripped outward, sizzling through flesh and collapsing the back few geos into a heap. Kirk sucked in a sharp breath and immediately began the shorter chant.

Because four geos were still mobile and two were whipping around to seek out their attacker. Their strange senses caught him and they scrabbled up out of the gouge. The first ate a mouthful of Ember I and fell back, but the second charged for Kirk. Kirk gritted his teeth and wrapped his good left hand around the hilt of the Larian Saber. He didn't need to be accurate or graceful. With the last strength of his body, he heaved the weapon upright and held it above his head.

With narrowed eyes, he watched the geo rush forward. And then, when it was close enough, he let the weapon fall. Flesh split. Panting and covered in gore, Kirk released the weapon and staggered forward. He forced his senses to feed him coherent information. He had experienced the fallout of Tenacity before, but it still took him by surprise every time how exhausting it could be. To his relief, all four of the other Conduits seemed alright.

The group was talking quietly with each other, but they looked up when he approached.

"Do you need bandages?" Kirk asked, his gaze fixating on blood pumping out of the central man's chest.

"This much isn't so bad," The man coughed. He had a large nose and hooded eyes. He considered Kirk carefully. As they studied each other, the man gave an awkward smile.

"We are just wondering how much the assistance of the great Kirkland Albion will cost us."

"We would have survived, even if you hadn't come," The robed woman interjected. Her gaze toward Kirk was exhaustingly specific.

"Plus, it's your duty to assist fellow Conduits in need. Especially when we bear news of great import."

"Would have been damn close," The trident user muttered. Kirk rubbed his cheek, unsure what to say. Belatedly, he realized his hand was bloody, and he had just smeared blood around his mouth.

"Uh, I don't need-" Then he thought of something.

"Actually, there is a way you can repay me. Volunteer at the healing area. You are-" He scanned the group.

"-well, two of you are Tier II. Donate your power there occasionally, so Healer Michaels can form more Runes. That's all I ask in repayment." The robed woman stared at him.

"What?"

"We can do that." The wounded man nodded and offered a hand. Kirk shook it. Then he looked around at the group and raised an eyebrow.

"What's this important news then?"

"The inspection team left by the Maester had gathered… unusual data from the Rift," The wounded man frowned.

"Energy levels are high. Strangely high. And with casualties growing- it's ominous. And when we went down there, our worst fears were confirmed."

"Geo-3s are massing right below the mustard layer." The final of the four, a short woman, spoke.

"The geo population is spiking. When the energy concentration peaks, those geos will explode out and rampage across Eira. A Rift Wave is coming."