“Ahh!”

Sam’s speed and weight wasn’t as impressive as it might have been before he lost his foot and nearly fifty pounds of muscle, but it was enough to ram three guards against the wall, toppling into a flailing pile of limbs.

The elves would have to take care of the rest of them by themselves.

Sam aimed a quick punch at the side of one of the men’s head’s, aiming to take him out of the fight before Sam was overwhelmed. They thrashed, trying to climb to their feet, not really paying attention to the green-robed madman punching at them.

Sam managed to knock out two while the third got to his feet, drawing his sword. An errant kick from someone sent his peg leg clattering across the steel paneled floor. He lunged up on his knees, and grabbed the squawking man by the shoulders and dragged him back to the floor, silencing him with a good punch.

“Well?” Sam shouted, getting up on his knees and glancing at the stunned rows of elves. There were about six men with swords, three of them bearing down on Sam while the other three watched the assembled elves with murderous intent.

“Damnit, the hell are you waiting for?” Sam said, catching one of the soldier’s wrists as the man brought his sword hurtling toward Sam’s face.

Sam heard a feminine scream, and glanced past the soldier in front of him as he broke the man’s wrist. Ella was charging the three swordsmen. Alone.

“Damnit,” Sam snarled, watching the lead man draw his sword back, aiming to cut the frail old woman in half. Beside Sam, two more men on his left and right were lining up shots to his neck and ribs, respectively. Fraction of a second.

Sam tucked his left arm and shoulder into a shield above his neck and extended his right hand, focusing on targeting the man about to kill his ex. A Jyin Suata leapt from Sam’s fingertips and impacted against the sword-swinger’s chest, collapsing into a tight beam of energy and cutting a hole through the man’s ribs about the size of a half-dollar.

Sam didn’t have time to aim, and he certainly didn’t have time to regret taking a life, as the swinging swords lodged themselves in his arm and ribs. The amulet did its job, and the blades were unable to reach his organs, sending trails of pain across his body.

And I’m spent. Sam felt his Yuenan hit rock bottom, the energy he’d been scraping together while the elves were being rounded up had been used on that one exchange.

Sam reached out and grabbed the man on his left and dragged him into the one on his right, the two soldiers barely avoiding skewering each other as they tumbled to the ground.

Sam stood up on one foot and hopped toward Ella, where she was trying to wrestle a sword away from the dying soldier. Above her, another guard was lining up a stab, aiming at taking the upstart elf’s life.

“Anytime!” Sam shouted, hopping forward at reckless speeds and tackling the man to the ground. The elves startled into action, streaming toward the remaining four men, restraining them through sheer numbers.

“God….Damn…” Sam panted as he crawled away from the soldier he was on top of, his weight replaced by dozens of hands restraining the struggling soldier.

“You all right?” Sam asked, glancing over at Ella. She nodded, her maimed hands gripping the handle of the dead soldier’s saber. Sam inspected the youth’s face for a moment. Trying to put himself at peace with what had happened. If he’d spent any longer aiming for a nonlethal spot, Ella might have been killed. Gotta ask Theold about the sleep spell.

In the distance, a schlick accompanied the scraping of blade against bone sounded, something Sam was far too familiar with. He glanced over and spotted the elves hacking and stabbing Drake’s corpse into an unrecognizable mess while his subordinates were tied up with strips of cloth.

Sam winced. Drake would have been a good hostage. And that, my friends, is why you treat the prisoners fairly.

Sam crawled up against the wall and waited, staunching the flow of blood from his wounds. They weren’t bad, all things considered. Sam was busy wrapping strips of the gaudy green cloth around his bloody arm when something occluded his light.

“Can I help you?” Sam glanced up and saw a wizened elf with a white-knuckled grip on his saber. The man’s wrinkled face was twisted into a mask of fury.

“You killed my father.”

Oh, crap.

Searching…

Sam dug through his implanted memories, sorting by Sams that had killed elven fathers. The list was longer than he expected.

“I… Don’t know what you think I’ve done, but that was another S4M unit. I’ve not killed a single person since I was created.” Sam glanced at the dead soldier. “Except him, I guess.”

“I don’t care… you’re the same person. Same voice… same smug attitude… I’m going to take you out of circulation before you unleash another genocide.”

“Remind me, where did I kill your father?” Sam asked.

“My house! You broke into our house in the middle of the night and you killed him, and you killed my mother. Everyone!”

Adding Female victim, incident took place at night. Narrowing search, 15365 results.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific. What state were you living in at the time? Do you happen to know your street address?”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit!” The old man howled, raising the saber. Not good. Sam didn’t have enough juice in his Yuenan to stop a blade again, he was bone dry and exhausted.

Narrow search by facial features of subject, accent.

The blade swung back.

Search complete. A wave of memories, thoughts and behaviors washed over Sam.

A rat thought he was gonna save the world by killing Sam? All the sniveling worm needed was a little push, and he’d show everyone there that they were descended from the bottom of the barrel… rats from a sinking ship.

“Are you sure you wanna try that, Jimmy boy?” Sam’s voice was cold as steel. The rat recoiled away from him as though he’d been physically struck. Sam exploited the gap to drag himself onto his foot, glowering down at the man.

“Do you have the balls to risk your life for someone else? Your Daddy Kai’hel did, but from the way I saw you let three armed men nearly kill an old woman, I don’t think you have what it takes. I guess cowardice is a self selecting gene.”

“Do you think…” Sam flexed his hand in front of the old man. “You can kill me?”

Jimmy dropped the sword and ran, his wispy white hair caught by the wind as he dove through the onlooking crowd of rats. Sam chuckled, keeping his eyes on the old one. He’d have to establish some rules around here to keep them in line.

If they decided they didn’t like him, there was nothing but fear stopping them from killing him. The first thing he needed to do was get some rest so he could establish the pecking order.

“What the hell was that?” an old rat asked, coming closer without fear. Sam studied her with disgust. She was maimed, missing fingers from both hands, scars covering her face. There wasn’t much he could do to her that life hadn’t done already. She’d probably be thankful if he put her out of her misery-y-y-y

Sam’s head slumped forward as Sam wrestled control away from S4MMD 0023, one of the bloodiest killers in the S4M clone lineage. Only after he’d shoved the malicious voice deep into the maelstrom of background thoughts was Sam able to lift his head and meet Ella’s gaze. That was bad.

“That was another me. Don’t worry though, babe. I got it under control.”

If he found himself in the same situation again, he’d just play stupid and find another way to solve the problem. Better than risking losing himself to one of the million S4M units stored in the implant. Up until this point he had viewed the memories as footage, dissected and analyzed them, but allowing them to influence his behavior, even for a bluff, was beyond dangerous.

“You’re not my Sam, are you?” she asked.

“He’s in here,” Sam said, tapping the side of his head with the Implant. “One of the nicer memories too, so I tend to stick with him.”

Ella watched him for a moment, her eyes narrowed, then she let out a sigh. “So what now?”

Sam glanced around. “Everyone should hear this.” He straightened and raised his voice. “Listen up!”

The surrounding elves had collected into small knots, talking quietly amongst themselves. At Sam’ s call, a sea of faces turned towards him, expectant. Never thought I’d have to deal with stage fright, Sam thought. Before had been a bluff, but now they actually expected something from him.

“I’m going to get those cuffs off you all, then we are leaving, understood?”

“Leaving how?” a voice called from the back of the crowd.

“This lab was built in twenty one twenty, and decommissioned ten years later, since making duplicates of equipment was more of novelty than anything. In those ten years, no less than three S4M units served here...”

Sam fitted his peg back on and clomped to a black panel of glass protruding from the wall. He placed his hand on it, and a moment later, the wall slid away with a hiss, revealing a dusty tunnel leading deeper into the mountain.

“So I know my way around the place.”

“So we’re not going back into the camp?”

“Nope, as far as those asshats know, we’re all being sucked dry in here until nothing’s left, then buried for their stupid god. At least until Marcus wakes up. We want to be gone before then, understood?”

Sam watched the sea of heads nodding.

“Now line up so I can take those cuffs off.”

They hesitated. Ellanore came to stand in front of him, holding out her wrists.

“Why aren’t they coming? Sam asked.

“The cuffs are designed to kill if tampered with.” She said as he laid his hand on her wrinkled wrists.”

“Huh,” Sam said, allowing the curse to work its way into the cuffs. In a matter of seconds, they became brittle, and he bent them carefully away from her wrists and neck.

Ella let out a gasp of relief and touched her neck with trembling fingers, where the collar had left a permanent scar.

“Next!”

Sam knew that some of these elves could probably kill him with a gesture or two, once their yuenan refilled. Once that happened, he would no longer be top dog, and that could prove problematic.

On the other hand, Sam would much rather have a group of five hundred powerful, hard to control magic-users, than five hundred burdensome sheep. Well, if they turned against him, he could always leave them to their own devices. He’d already done right by Faera, wherever she was.

He released another elf.

“Next!”

Now they lined up, eager to be free. Even Jimmy, who watched him as if Sam would sprout tentacles and eat him at any second.

In a matter of hours, they reached the other side of the mountain, pushing their way through the overgrown emergency escape hatch, weighed down by five hundred years of sediment.

When the elves stepped into the evening sun, they danced and sang. Sam watched, bemused as the emaciated people spun in circles on the side of the mountain. He looked to the east and saw the glimmering edge of a river, heading to the northwest.

If they followed that river, it might take them into elven territory, a few days later they would get picked up by a patrol and escorted back home. The only problem was, If Billy decided to roast them while they walked along the river. Sam supposed diving into the river would be a good way to avoid being roasted alive.

It didn’t solve the problem though. The dragon was a problem, the elves were a problem, the empire of Mississippi was a problem. Faera being missing was a problem.

Sam groaned and rubbed his forehead. One thing at a time. S4M units were unnatural born problem solvers. He’d get the elves to the woods then double back to Hope and look for Faera. That still left him with a dragon problem. He needed a way to kill it.

Sam frowned, and began thumbing through the memories in his implant, searching for a stockpile of weapons that might still be available…

“Let’s hit the road.” Sam said, part of his attention on assimilating memories and searching for weapons caches. “The faster we can get you into the forest, the safer we’ll all be.”

Ella nodded, and they began to follow the river, the elves falling in behind them. A few hesitated, before chasing the safety of the group.

As they walked, Sam was lost in his own thoughts as he reviewed his memories. Unfortunately, general Mathis was one of the few people capable of living through a Molt. The general had shortly begun a wholesale slaughter of elves, turning himself and his chosen into something like demigods, supplanting the president in a military coup.

They weren’t immortal though. Sam remembered the day the white light had erupted from the capital building, blinding onlookers as the leadership of the country was engulfed in nuclear fire, along with their secrets.

It hadn’t been long after that that the downward slide of humanity began in earnest, as the Gates widened, and humans lost control of them in a cascade failure. The country had been so stretched that it burst at the seams, civil war, hunger, and a handful of powerful individuals fighting to seize power for themselves.

As the time went on, the memory of the S4M units became more and more spotty, as only a handful had survived the collapse of the United States.

Where had Mathis kept the powerful relics he’d stolen from Greg? Sam searched his memory, trying to match any of the objects he’d seen in his brief glimpse in Greg’s shack. If any other S4M units had seen them, he would know immediately.

Sadly, no S4M had ever seen them again. That didn’t surprise Sam too badly, after all, the general knew there was a camera in Sam’s brain, and anything he saw might one day be leaked, or used as evidence against him. Until Mathis dissolved the court system.

Sam decided he would have to use more roundabout methods, uncover the location of the weapons by the process of elimination and circumstantial evidence. He could map out every facility he was ever forbidden from entering, and use patterns of movement from the general that coincided with major events to determine where they had stashed the magical books. This might take a while.

“What’cha thinking about?” Ella said, limping beside him.

“Know any ways to kill a dragon?”

“That size?” she asked. “Howitzer maybe?”

“Long as you don’t miss.” Sam grumbled, climbing up the mountainside, his stump aching. He took the weight off with his magic staff, pleased with its strength, despite feeling like balsa wood in his hands.

“Sam, do you feel like you have to defeat the dragon alone in a heroic explosion of glory?”

A bit. Shoulda ended the little bastard five-hundred and fifty-three years ago. “No.”

“Good, because that would be stupid.” Ella said.

“How’s that?” Sam said, giving her a hand up a particularly large rock. The old woman’s right leg seemed to be unable to support her full weight by itself, so climbing the mountain was hard on her.

“You’ve got five hundred witnesses. Killing the dragon is as easy as delivering us to First Word. With that amount of certainty, they will be forced into action. Once they’ve been roused into action, they’ll kill Tyranus as a matter of course, before the dragon grows too powerful for anyone to stop.”

Sam heard cries of shock and raised voices among the elves above them on the mountain, just a few dozen yards ahead of them. Sam took Ella’s hand and helped her up the mountainside, picking up the pace. In a few minutes Sam came to the top of the mountain, holding Ellanore’s hand until she no longer needed his support. Hundreds of elves dotted the top of the mountain, gathered in tight knots, speaking to each other in tones that ranged from hushed whispers to simple crying.

“What are we going to do-”

“-have to run-”

“How are we going to-“

Sam looked out to the northwest, where the forest lay that divided Tyranus’s country from the elves of First Word. All he could make out was a plume of black that stretched as far as the eye could see, and a malevolent, glowing red beneath it as the entire forest burned.

“Easy as getting you to First Word, huh?” Hope Linquala got out of there okay.

Ellanore’s fists clenched at her side, her scars flushing as she scowled. “This is not right. He can’t do that! Not without setting the entire elven nation against him!”

“I guess he feels like he’s got a shot.” Sam said, squinting. “Wish I had a better view.” Oh right, magic.

Sam raised his hands and attempted to form a double lens of compressed air between them, kneading it into shape. The image of the burning forest warped the tiniest fraction, then returned as air escaped Sam’s mental grasp. That wasn’t the right way. Sam tried to delicately spread the force evenly so there would be no gaps in his control, but the lenses failed to form again.

“Let me.” Ella said, waving a hand. The mountaintop suddenly shot forward, until it was resting at the edge of the forest, causing Sam to reflexively stumble before catching himself on his staff. When he righted himself, he realized that the mountain hadn’t moved, so much as their view of the forest. It had rushed toward them, bringing every detail into sharp relief.

“The easy way to make a lens is to put a point of attraction in the center and mold the air around it.” Ella said, giving Sam a glance. “I added view splitting and eye tracking but I don’t think you’re ready for those yet.”

“Gimme a couple days.” Sam said, inspecting the forest. In front of the blazing inferno was an army five times bigger than the one that had assaulted Sanctuary, with row after row of howitzers and Jeeps carrying troops and supplies.

“What are the odds, as you see them, that your people will win?” Sam asked.

“A toss up,”

Sam folded his legs beneath him, and began to think. There was an army to the North, a river to the East, a fort to the South and a city to the West, they were well and truly in enemy territory.

With all the elves here present, he might be able to retake the fort behind them, and… what, bring some several ton howitzers up the road and shove it up the enemy armies ass? It was possible, but highly impractical, and the biggest problem was one flyby from the dragon and they’d be shit out of luck. Over the weeks it would take them, they would surely be noticed and attacked.

They could go East across the river and seek asylum from Mississippi, but none of the people here wanted to abandon their nation to death. If they went north, they could attack the army, possibly at night, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. Again, one blast of flame from the dragon, and they were all dead.

Sam was confident the thing would roast a large chunk of his own forces to kill Sam. The elves, he could replace when he took First Word, so that wasn’t a problem.

Sam could go West… and do what? Steal more from Tyranus’s tower?

Sam needed some inspiration, so he began to peruse his past lives for similar situations, but none of them had ever been responsible for five hundred lives, totally surrounded by enemies, and cut off from any kind of support.

What Sam did learn was that a group of five hundred people ate like a motherfucker. They would basically have to kill more than fifty giant spiders a day just to keep everyone fed… Sam cocked his head.

“Would you show me the city this time?” Sam asked, turning his gaze toward the tiny spire on the horizon.

Ella nodded and the view changed to the capital city of hope, and the dozens of jeeps running back and forth between Tyranus’s army and the walled fortress. Jeeps carrying food and supplies. Sam frowned, his mind racing.

What would be more effective? Steal or destroy the supplies, thereby starving the dragon’s army, or poison them? The latter would be more effective, but would require him to infiltrate the city. Again.

Sam picked up a pebble and wrapped it with force from his Yuenan, tumbling the stone above his finger idly as he pondered the options.

“What’cha thinking?” Ella asked, glancing at him.

“The things I usually think about. Best way to kill someone.” Sam did a few quick circles around his fingers before picking up another stone and twirling to the two around each other in a hypnotic double helix. “In this case, starvation.”

“Cut the supply line, you mean.”

“Or poison it, yeah.”

Ella glanced at the distant city, her eyes narrowed. “Might work.”

“Problem is, I cut the supply line, a lot of people die, then the dragon comes back to fix it. Even if we kill him, thousands of innocent people will die if he dies within city limits. I can’t see any way to resolve this without a massive loss of life.”

“The worst outcome is if you do nothing.” Ella said with a shrug.

Sam added another rock to the mix, his head starting to ache. After a few seconds, all three of them wobbled before tumbling to the ground.

“Not bad for a human.”

“What I’m looking for is terrifying, for a dragon.”

“You’ve got a ways to go, then.”

“That place there.” Sam said, pointing to the thorn-like obsidian spire in the distance. “That is where he gets most of his power. People Molt there spontaneously. It’s the confluence of two leylines, designed to bake people into super soldiers. There’s some kind of vault with magical artifacts and who knows what else. If we took it, do you think we could kill the dragon?”

Ella observed the city in the distance, seemingly chewing on a thought. She fell silent, her eyes clouded. The silence stretched on as the mountain wind sent a shiver up Sam’s spine. He turned his gaze toward the burning forest, wondering when he would be able to see Faera again.

“Yes.” She finally responded with a single word.

“How many of you are willing and able to fight?” Sam asked. The fact that Tyranus had overextended himself and sent his entire army north meant the city was relatively undefended, but there was no way he could take the tower by himself. There were most likely thousands of people willing to lay down their lives in a zealous fervor still living in that city.

“That’s up to you.” She said.