—Chapter 16—

—Inbred Mages—

Husker smelled of wet dog and cologne.

What an odd combination, Kellan thought as he half-carried Husker’s weight. He was a werewolf-thing—his race was a rennic?—and was larger than most humans, but Kellan didn’t mind. He could handle escorting Husker for a while. With one arm, he helped carry Husker, and with the other arm, he carried his rifle.

Kellan searched his rifle until he found a strap secured to the side. He unhooked it, and then hefted the rifle up on his shoulder. It made everything easier.

“Thank you,” Husker said as they turned around one of deserted mobile homes.

“Don’t mention it.” Kellan his arm around Husker’s body secure. “These Nexus Games are cooperative, right? We’re a team now? In my experience, it’s better if we get along.”

“Hm. Where I come from, in the Batonka Jungles, the Immortal Rarn teaches us the importance of family. Not just families of blood, but families of profession, and craft. The shipwrights are a family. They all pour their sweat into the ships they make. The leatherworkers are a family. They all work with the same pelts and tools, caring for the same environment.”

“That’s not really the sentiment held in my homeland,” Kellan said with a smirk.

“Our families are smaller,” Husker growled. “My kin and home are a fraction of your homeland’s population. It’s easier to know and care for three hundred people than it is to care for three hundred million.”

“Makes sense, I suppose.”

Husker turned to him, his foxlike ears twitching. “We will need to be like family if we have any hope of surviving these games.”

Surviving.

Kellan had avoided asking about the death rate for a few specific reasons. He hated hearing the odds—he much preferred to focus on the current obstacle in front of him, rather than a nebulous chance of failure.

While they walked, Mavis veered off toward a patch of red tulips. She stopped and stared, her eyebrows knitted together. “Some of them are dead.”

Kellan glanced over and noticed some of the deathweed that he had seen before. The deathweed had a distinct wilted-vine appearance. The black weeds complimented the bright red of the tulips, though, like a ladybug-themed garden.

Information about the weed came back up for Kellan, but he waved it away.

“Don’t bother with that,” Sen said. “Leave it. We must hurry.”

No one bothered to argue.

Mavis moved away from the plants and hurried to watch up with the others, even if she limped slightly to do it.

As they reached the edge of the White Trash Forest, Sen stopped walking and froze. Kellan followed suit the moment he noticed why.

A strange man was rummaging through the wreckage of the trailer park. It didn’t take long before the man noticed them.

He was a ratty-looking man with a pair of stained sweats, and a moth-eaten tank top. Had the man dressed himself out of a dumpster? Kellan could think of no other explanation.

But the man was holding a plastic grocery bag filled to the brim with deathweed.

The man glanced over and spotted them. His eyes were so far apart, it was as if they were trying to escape his face.

Kellan couldn’t tell if the man was twenty-five, fifty, or just deformed.

Kellan’s magical sight gave him a bunch of other information.

Name: Brenty Flinn

Race: Human

Magics: Wyld

Rank: D

Armor Rating: ---

Health: 7

Stats: Concealed

Abilities: Concealed

“Hello, Brenty,” Kellan said, confused by such an odd name. He released Husker and placed a hand on the side of his rifle, hoping this wouldn’t turn violent.

Brenty caught his breath. He had a scruffy beard and no shoes—the epitome of a homeless man. And then he clutched his bag of deathweed close. “You… You’re all outsiders.”

“We’re not here to hurt you.” Kellan pointed to the nearby deathweed. “Look. You can have all that.”

“You’re… You shouldn’t be here… You’re no good. Bad luck.”

Kellan almost laughed. Did this weirdo miss the dead giant alligator? I’m pretty sure I’m bringing good luck to this whole area.

That was when Mavis stepped in. “Let’s pretend we didn’t see each other, okay? No bad luck then.”

With a shaky hand, Brenty grabbed a fistful of deathweed out of his plastic bag. As he brought it to his mouth, Kellan thought back to what his eyes had told him about the substance. What had it done? Just thinking that question brought the information back.

Magical Item [Plant]—Deathweed

A potent leafy vine filled with remnants of arcana. When consumed, it enhances magical capability. Once the bonus fades, the mage loses 1 to all stats. If any stats are brought to 0, the mage passes out for the remainder of the scene.

Enhances magical capability?

Kellan lifted his rifle and fired before Brenty could put the strange plant in his mouth. Kellan hadn’t aimed for the man—but for the deathweed. The power of his rifle practically splattered the weed in one brutal go, and it took part of the man’s hand with it, leaving Brenty with only three fingers.

“You aimed for his hand?” Sen balked. He motioned to Brenty. “What’re you doing? His head is the most logical spot.”

With confusion and fear, Brenty shivered. Then he took a single step backward, his freakish eyes glancing down at the bag and then up at Kellan more than twenty times a minute. He never even reached to cover his hand—it wept blood at a steady rate.

“Take your stuff and go,” Kellan stated, his rifle up and his finger on the trigger.

Brenty caught his breath.

Then the bleeding of his hand stopped. While Kellan watched, bits of Brenty’s flesh stitched themselves back together—bone formed, muscle twisted into place—and soon, Brenty had four fingers.

With his good hand, Brenty picked up his grocery store bag of deathweed and then hustled away, glancing over his shoulder with twitchy paranoia.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sen turned and placed his hands on his hips. “Half the reason I brought you here is because you’re a cold killer.” He waved his hand. “That hobo was probably worth an arcana or two.”

“I’m not a cold killer,” Kellan stated with a sneer. He slung his rifle onto his shoulder and then offered Sen a glare. “I’m a soldier—a special agent. Someone who completes specialized tasks for the greater good of their nation. I’m not about to murder a coke-head for the fun of it.”

Sen slapped the back of his hand into the palm of the other. “We need arcana. This is a matter of life or death. Trust me—if we don’t have enough power for the Nexus Games, we’re all going to die. Do you think Coke-Head has anything going for him? Of course not. We need that arcana more than he does.”

With an indignant glance, Kellan turned to Mavis and Husker for help.

“I agree with Sen,” Husker said. He held his side with one clawed hand, his red fur matted with dried blood. “If someone has to die, I’d rather it be Coke-Head, as you so lovingly put it.”

Mavis shook her head. “I don’t agree with murder. If we can get arcana from monsters, let’s just leave the people alone.”

“Coke-Head won’t fight back, though,” Sen said with a sigh. “I thought the two of you would understand the strategic genius of easy arcana.” He waved away the comment. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll soon come to agree with me. Since we’re outsiders, the locals will always want us dead.”

“Locals?” Kellan asked.

“People born in the Nexus. They see outsiders as corruption. The Conflux is a season of bad omens to them. Everything that crosses over into their dimension is considered evil, and must be done away with.”

Kellan pointed in the direction Brenty ran. “And he was a local?”

“Correct. You can tell. The man was so inbred he was practically a sandwich.”

Without another word, Sen headed for the city. His robes were dirty from their adventure in the trailer park, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Kellan and the others followed close behind.

“Wait,” Mavis said as they walked. “If that man was a local, why was he speaking English?”

Husker snorted. “He wasn’t speaking English. You can just understand him. That’s a side effect of the Nexus—since so many places, dimensions, and times touch this one world, the magic is in flux. Everyone can understand the spoken language of others.”

“I can’t read half the signs,” Mavis muttered.

“Because it’s not spoken—the words remain as they did in their home dimension.”

Entering the city was the same as the last time. A strange barracuda—more hobos milling around the entrance, each with wide eyes and salivating lips. Apparently, there was a competition between mages somewhere in the city, yet Kellan hadn’t seen it yet.

He wondered why.

Husker forced himself to walk over to a battered shopping cart. In a quick move, he yanked a grubby trench coat from a pile of festering clothing. Despite the odor, Husker threw it over his shoulders and then pulled tight around his body.

“What’re you doing?” Mavis asked, scrunching her nose.

Husker returned to the group. He had the appearance of a 1920s dime novel detective. Who was also a werewolf.

“I have to hide the shackles,” he said, his foxlike ears twitching.

“Why?”

“They’re manifestations of the hex. They give me my powers to kill others—but they also mark me. Other mages who understand the terrible nature of hexes will likely want me dead, for fear I can spread the hex to them.”

“Can you?” Kellan asked, stopping dead in his tracks and turning around.

Husker snorted. “If I use my ability on someone, and I don’t kill them, I can pass the hex.” He growled, showing his sharp fangs. “But that won’t remove it from me. I’d just be spreading the poison—like a sickness. I don’t want to infect anyone, but the other mages won’t even want to take a chance. It’s best if we just hide this for now.”

That all made sense to Kellan, but his gut told him it wouldn’t be that simple. Something would happen unless they found a better disguise.

“This way,” Sen said as he turned into a narrow alleyway with the rank stench of sewage.

With reluctance in his step, Kellan followed after. Mavis and Husker lingered behind, each whispering to each other. Kellan almost wanted to linger back and join their hushed conversation, but he decided to stick close to Sen instead.

The kid will get into trouble far faster than the other two.

Their footsteps echoed in the narrow space. It made it difficult to listen for enemies. Kellan kept his hand close to his weapon.

“So,” Kellan said, keeping his voice low. “I noticed Brenty someone healed some of his injury.”

“Who?” Sen shot him a baffled look.

“Coke-Head. He healed part of his hand.”

“Oh. Him. He isn’t worth remembering. Clear that from your mind.”

“But how did he heal himself?” Kellan almost wanted to shake the kid. “I just want to know that answer.”

“All mages can heal themselves. It’s just inefficient without a body mage.” Sen patted his own chest. “I’m a fantastic healer, for example. With my body magic, I can heal most injuries. I fixed Husker’s broken ribs, if you hadn’t noticed.” He tossed back his hair. “You can thank me later.”

“Back up. I thought I needed Tyranny Worms to heal. I don’t need them?”

Sen shook his head. “Technically, each mage can spend one mana to heal one point of damage, but since mana is also how you use the majority of your magical abilities, that’s a problem. The Tyranny Worms heal you without the need to spend mana. They’re superior in every way.”

“Superior to… what? A bullet to the head? I’ll agree with that.”

“Body mages learn healing early on. Trust me.”

The long and dark alleyway seemed empty. Kellan sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think of his own body magic abilities.

Body Magic Rank D Cost: 5 arcana

D Rank Body Abilities:

Heal the Body [2 arcana]

This power is the simplest manifestation of the body mage’s well-known ability to heal others.

The mage may spend a point of mana to heal another for three points of damage.

Brutal Reaction [3 arcana]

Another simple manifestation of the body mage’s ability to increase their body with direct magical infusing. This power relies on a sudden spiked infusing of mana directly to the twitch muscles of the mage. Although extremely effective, this sudden influx to the muscles, without proper compensation, is damaging to the body of the mage.

The mage may spend two mana in order to jump into immediate action. For thirty seconds, the mage moves at twice the speed, and for double their strength. However, this is extraordinarily damaging, and inflicts three unsoakable points of damage that take effect during the course of the thirty seconds.

Increased Strength, rank I [4 arcana]

As the body mage increases in rank, magic comes to permanently infuse their musculature, granting them increased strength.

This increases the mage’s strength by one point permanently.

Increased Dexterity, rank I [4 arcana]

As the body mage increases in rank, magic comes to permanently infuse their musculature, granting them increased speed and control.

This increases the mage’s dexterity by one point permanently.

Increased Stamina, rank I [4 arcana]

As the body mage increases in rank, magic comes to permanently infuse their bones and muscles, granting them increased resistance and durability.

This increases the mage’s stamina by one point permanently.

Jolt Resistant Muscles, rank I [4 arcana]

Body mages that rely on rapidly infusing their body with magic soon learn that even when their body can perform amazing feats, it rips itself apart when doing so. The mage with this power learns to compensate to some degree, reinforcing their body in such a way to inhibit the damage they take from their powers.

When using body powers that inflict damage on the user, the mage takes a point less damage.

Ragged Edge of Mortality [Body/D rank Entropy] [2 arcana]

The mage with this power understands both life and death deeply. They gain the ability to both harm and heal in the same attack, allowing them to meticulously control the damage inflicted.

When a mage hits somebody with an attack that would kill, the mage may spend a mana to keep the individual alive with exactly one health.

“Rank D of body seems interesting,” Kellan muttered.

“You should focus on that magic,” Sen stated. “It suits you. Pick up some fighting powers—but leave the healing to me.”

“Hm.”

Kellan had three unspent arcana. It required five arcana to “rank up” to D, and it seemed that all the D rank powers would be locked until he managed the advancement.

Kellan didn’t get much time to ask about the powers, however. Sen stepped out the other side of the alleyway and then pointed across the shattered asphalt of the wide road. A large warehouse stood across the street. Unlike most warehouses, with windows and cracked doors, this one was made of reinforced steel, even the roof.

It was more a shipping crate than a building, but Kellan spotted several doors, and a single skylight window on the slanted roof. In his mind, the building seemed… sleek. And futuristic. Some odd words were written on the side, but in a language he didn’t recognize.

“Why’re we here?” Kellan glanced at the sky. The red hue of an angry sun was his only prize. “I thought you said we don’t have much time.”

“This used to be a supplies locker for shocker troopers.” Sen gave him a sideways glance. “I pretty sure it’s been picked through, but some of the weaker supplies—or maybe even cursed supplies—should still be left. We’ll outfit ourselves, and then meet my sister at the AVU Palace.”