Pushing Back Inevitability Book 2: Pushing Back Inevitability

By Tall Owl

The God of War from the world of Efra, Roki, sets his eyes on Earth and begins the process of invasion. The dormant gods of our world stir for the first time in millennia to call forth mortals to push back against the inevitable. Lawrence Able is a failed writer; still living at home with his parents. He is by all accounts, a loser, yet still those fickle gods find some ember of potential in him and send him an invite in the form of a popup on his computer.

 

This takes place right after the first. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tall Owl
• Release date: Jul 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223377047

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cold rain falls in slanted sheets as I keep my head down. It had begun at some point during my last door — the second since noon. Heavy, black clouds clustered the skies as a pair of headlights ushers me out of the middle of the road, I hurry out of the way and watch helplessly as the ensuing wind tosses about my 430 dollars. I was able to catch a single ten before another car rushing to get home knocks the other bills somewhere within the howling storm. I sigh and hurry back to the motel. Those were hard-fought bills. The Rabbit priest was extra wily, and I could still feel a radiating pain from my ribs where it had kicked.

The rain somehow manages to pelt me in the face, despite the fact that I made sure to keep my head down and hood up. It took ten minutes of fast walking to make it to the motel door. Maybe I should get a bicycle...no, no no. It would be stolen by the time I got out of the door. A horse? I pat my gut. I wouldn’t subject a living thing to that. A motorcycle? No. I would be paste on the other side of the door. I guess walking it is.

I push through the front door and pull off the soaked hoodie and threw it to the floor. I was running out of clean clothes, where was the nearest laundromat? Maybe I should ask Ortega to install a washer and dryer in the new house. I reach for my phone. The water had soaked through my jeans and my phone wouldn’t turn on. I sigh and toss it onto the desk. Now I couldn’t even call for food. Nothing to do but wait for the rain to pass, I suppose.

Did the last one level me up? I ask the Shard as I begin to pull.

Yes.

Finally.

Can I see my stats?

Hmm, a lot of them increased without the use of stat points.

A part of my Shard broke off into a separate screen.

As you’ve been told before; they will increase depending on your actions. The Stat points merely make the process quicker. Your Intelligence and Creativity increased due to your strategizing in the level 11, your physical stats increased because of your walking, and the fight you had with the golem, and your magic increased because of your increased mastery of Mana Manipulation and Mana Sensing.

Well...can you increase my Intelligence to 20?

At my command, the 17 changes to a 20, and the 3 changes to a 0. A feeling as if someone had just poured boiling water of my head incapacitates me for a moment.

Oh God, I mutter as I sit down. My head swims and spins in loops.

What is that feeling? I say once I regain a bit of my senses.

Magic is being used to reform your brain like clay.

...what?

You’re right. Putty would be a better analogy. Apologies.

That doesn’t make it any better. I sigh, Can you show me what skills I can learn?

The more I level, the snarkier the Shard seemed to get. I wonder, briefly, if there was some sort of sentience behind it, or if it was all done through autonomous methods before the screen opened up, and I see the skill trees. I think for a moment. Wouldn’t Lesser Heal gradually get better? Wouldn’t it, therefore, be better to find something to mitigate damage rather than heal it? A shield of some sort? Or perhaps something to create distance... I had ensnare as a ‘root,’ spell, but nothing like a shove, or a shield; though I suppose Gust kind of acted like a shield to shoo away projectiles, I didn’t have defensive capabilities beyond tanking the blows with my body and armor.

At this point, I could feel the mana flow being restricted by the mail I wore. I could probably increase my cast speed by a sizable percentage if I ditched it.

What's taking so long? The Shard asked.

Does it matter?

Are you actually thinking for a change? Not a surprise.

What is that supposed to mean? I never have been more insulted by an inanimate? Object.

"With your intelligence breaking into the ’20s you are rivaling people like Camus, Descartes, and Foucault in terms of intellect."

Really?

I knew who Descartes was, but I had never heard of Camus before. Another philosopher, perhaps? I wasn’t too big into philosophy in the life that I lead previously.

I have a question. Something that’s bothering me.

What is it?

Are you...how do I word this...getting snarkier? It seems the more I level the more, ‘lively,’ you seem.

Oh, it’s because I’m getting attached to you. I thought you were going to die the first day.

So there was an, ‘I,’ behind the Shard.

Attached?

Like a teacher watching as a slow child finally catching up with the rest of their class.

I see... I had thought that there was some sort of... I don’t know, a kind of call center behind the messages of the Shard.

No no. Just me. Call center? Really? I could practically hear the derision dripping off of the words.

Are you a God or a Goddess? I remove my gauntlets and place them on the table near the door.

No. I am a Folk Spirit.

A Folk Spirit?

I unbuckle and pull off the mail jacket, and let it fall atop the soaked hoodie. My body feels all the lighter without it.

Yes. Us Intelligent Spirits were granted the opportunity to choose someone out of a long list to represent us during this war. The Gods got to choose many more people. But there are way more of us than there are of them, so our chosen make up the majority. All of you have a similar system of advancement.

The game-like system.

Yes.

So what are, ‘Intelligent Spirits?’

I sit down on the edge of the bed, and Clio curls up on my lap. Oh shit, I forgot about Shadow, I push myself off the bed once again.

Spirits with an ego. Not all spirits have it. The most common ones are Heroic spirits — the spirits of those who performed great deeds in their lives and retained their egos after death, and Folk Spirits, like me, who have stories told about them throughout the ages. There are also the Fay — though not all of them have the needed power to choose a representative; named Demons, and certain lower gods in animistic beliefs like Shintoism and Hinduism.

Can you tell me all of this? I walk across the room and pick up my staff and aim in the middle of the bed. O, Companion of mine, come to me.

Brrow?

A mass of wet and black fur drops onto the middle of the bed. I run my hand over her head, and she reciprocates with a small headbutt into my palm.

It’s better that I do. So you know what the world is actually like.

So you have stories associated with you?

I certainly do.

Who are you? What’s your name?

Ha! If you knew what you asked, you wouldn’t have asked that. Names are powerful things, boy.

Boy? I take a seat again.

I was just curious.

Well, there is a name that humans know me by, but what fun would it be if I just gave it out like alms to a beggar?

You don’t have to tell me.

No, no. I don’t. But...how about a riddle?

I’m not very good at riddles.

All the better.

You know what forget I asked.

No, this is going to be fun watching you rack your brain.

I’m not going to.

Sure sure. I know your type, okay, here’s your hint.

Who am I, you ask of me?

Well, I was there with Mallory;

When he wrote those tales of Chivalry,

Of Arthur and his mortal sin.

And is that my kith and kin I see?

Within the lands of Liberty?

Or did I come across the rolling seas?

To settle with my countrymen?

I’m not going to try to crack that, I answer.

Truth be told, the only things I knew in the poem were who Arthur was and that the Lands of Liberty probably referred to the United States.

It’ll bother you if you don’t.

No, it won’t.

I’ll think about what skills I need to have to better insure my survival later. Right now I was tired. My rain-soaked clothes had seemingly sapped all of my energy. I pull off my boots, set them off the ground, and do the same for my pants before I take a warm shower. The steam lulled me to sleep while I was standing as I stumbled into the room with the towel to dry off Shadow as she rolled around on my sheets in an attempt to do just that.

It doesn’t take long at all before I slip off to a quick nap. Just to wait out the storm, I tell myself. Just to wait out...the storm.

Chapter 2

Who was Mallory? What did he have to do with Arthur? I feel like that’s the fulcrum of the riddle. I roll out of bed and step lightly across the room. I had some noise complaints from the people in the room just below me already. My phone still sat on the table by the door, I pick it up and try to get it to turn on. It refuses. Goddamn it. The phone clatters on the tabletop as I toss it. Damn it.

I lean against the window and peek outside. Muddy water filled the potholes that pocked the roads and parking lot. Barely, I could see a large shadow approaching from down the street. It splashes through the heaviest of the puddles, and beelines straight to the receptionist’s office. A moment later it emerges and heads to one of the rooms on the lower floor. I lower the shutters, and head back to sleep; moving Clio from her spot in the middle of the bed, which she takes again once I lay down.

The riddle was still playing in my mind while I drifted off to sleep. My dreams are brief but vivid, of snickering, twittering birds and rabbits, and chattering foxes repeating the words of the riddle over and over again. Just as the sun began to rise I am awoken by three heavy knocks on my door.

I stir and roll out of bed.

Hold up. Getting...getting a shirt on.

Take your time. Came the reply from the other side.

I didn’t recognize the voice, so I grabbed the Kris on the table next to me as I slip on my shirt.

Who is it? I call as I slip the light blue polo shirt on.

Names Shawn. Shawn O’Leary.

Oh, you must be the one that Ortega mentioned? I’m Lawrence Able. I stick my hand out for a handshake. He ignores it and covers his mouth with his open hand.

Yeah, yeah. He yawns loudly through the door.

I finish getting dressed; slipping on a pair of not-so-dirty jeans, and tidy up a little before letting him in. Shawn is a large man. Not large like me, large as in muscular. He’s built like a train had a baby with a human. Wavy red curls fell over his chiseled face and obscured his blue gaze, and at the end of his pointed chin was an auburn goatee. He wore a tight-fitting gray t-shirt that enunciated his muscular form, and a pair of faded black jeans. Laced combat boots go up his shins. On his right arm was a wooden bracer that stretched from his wrist to the middle of his forearm. It looked to me more burl than lumber, or like a thing of twisted roots. An oval green stone was embedded within the bracer near the wrist. He isn’t much taller than me, but I couldn’t help but feel small in front of him.

He looks me over; focusing on the scars near the top of my forehead and the one pock on my skin, then down to the staff leaning on the wall nearby, and then down to my gut.

Something really fucked you up, didn’t it? He spoke with a jovial laugh, Do you mind if I come in? Had to walk from the airport last night.

Oh, yeah, uh sure. I step out of the way, and the large man steps in.

Mind if I take a seat? He motioned for the chair across the room.

Go ahead.

Oh, who’s this cutie? He said as Clio crawled out from under the comforter.

He scratched the top of her head as he walked past to sit in the chair. Clio crawls into my lap and settles there; her short, stubby tail wagging.

This is Clio, I say while scratching her head. She hops off my lap and to the floor and walks over to him.

So we’re going to be working together? I say as she paws at his leg.

We are. I figured we might as well get to know one another before going on our first foray together. What’s your specialty?

Elemental magic, I suppose.

Really? Who’s your patron?

My patron?

The god or spirit that is guiding you.

Guiding’s a strong word for it. I say with a laugh, I don’t know their identity, but they’ve told me that they’re a Folk spirit. Wouldn’t give me their name.

No name, eh? Perhaps it’s a fairy, or something similar.

Why do you say that?

Do you really not know? Look, the world of mythology just came to life and you haven’t even had a little bit of curiosity to look into it?

I had a bit. I lied, But my phone’s broke, and I don’t have a laptop.

They’re called books. He scoffed, I’ll lend you a few when we settle into the compound, alright.

Sure.

I find it hard to focus on his eyes. Though they didn’t seem to look at me with scorn.

So what about you? I ask while pulling Shadow up on my lap. Clio had already

crawled into Shawn’s.

What about me?

Who’s your patron?

Lugh. The Irish god of war. He bragged.

Really? So you’re more frontline focused?

Yes, he gave me this. He motioned to the bracer on his arm, It turns into a shield.

Really? I would like to see that.

He picks up Clio and pushes himself off the chair. He holds his arm in front of himself and concentrates. The sound of breaking, twisting wood breaks the silence in the room, as the wooden tendrils unwound from his wrist and formed a round shield in front of him.

This gem is what he uses to communicate with me. He said, tapping it with his fingers.

That’s your Shard?

Shard?

Of Bifrost.

Oh, no. This is a portion of the Lia Fail. He said, The original, not the one that’s apparently standing in Ireland. Only the patrons of Spirits got shards of the Bifrost, as far as I know.

Why? Have you had contact with others involved?

Of course. There’s a whole online forum dedicated to it. ‘War-Efra.com. And I had a team in Reno I ran with.’

Really? Huh.

I couldn’t believe it. Why hadn’t I thought of the chance that others were trying to make sense of this whole thing as well and would have, naturally, turned to the internet?

Yeah, made by some lady in Seattle. There you can buy potions, salves, and other things to help you fight.

...really.

How much was I missing out on?

I should buy a laptop.

You really should. He laughed and ran a hand through his thick mane. I hear they’re going to be partnering with the government to open up a market there as well. Some of the materials from the creatures in Efra are pretty handy if you know how to work them. Have you come across any of the black feathered serpents? Turns out their feathers are pretty good at channeling magic.

...really...

A few of the chosen of the blacksmithing and crafting gods have begun talking about setting up shop as well.

....really....

Chapter 3

S o what kind of monsters are here? In Reno there were two-legged snakes and two-legged scorpions.

So far I’ve come across Ratmen, Dogmen, and large bipedal rabbits.

Hmm. Which is the easiest? The hardest? Shawn shifts in his seat and leans forward.

If I had to say, the Rabbits are the hardest, only because of their speed. The Dogmen are very military like, whereas the Ratmen act more like a militia, so the Ratmen are probably the easiest to deal with individually.

‘Individually?’ Have you taken on groups before?

A few. I say, There was a gate where I took down a whole squad of the Dogmen, and a hatch that had like 20 Ratmen.

A gate? You took down a gate by yourself?

Yeah. Level 10.

That’s pretty impressive. I did one with a group and it still took us like three days.

A group? Are they going to be coming down here as well? He leans forward.

Nah, they’re going to be going towards Washington to help the Icarian corps there. So how did you do it?

How did I do what?

Clear the gate. What was the condition?

I had to destroy a temple. It wasn’t very large.

I mean the enemies, how did you deal with the enemies?

Oh. Well, I came across one of the Dogmen by itself. It wore a tabard with Roki’s mark on it and a coat of mail.

Roki’s Mark? Shawn pulls at his goatee.

Ah, that’s what I’ve been calling that symbol. The one with the dagger through the skull.

Ah, it’s a dagger through a coiled serpent near Reno.

Really? Huh. Maybe cultural differences.

Shawn shrugs.

I’m not really interested in that small stuff, was just curious about what you meant. So you had a fight with this Dogman?

Yes. He stabbed a dagger through my hand, and I grappled with him until I bit out his throat.

Bit out his throat? Is that an expression?

No, I literally bit out his throat. All I could do.

Shawn pauses for a second.

You’re...you’re a mage right? That’s what you said?

That’s right.

You know what? I’m interested in seeing you fight. He pushes himself from his chair. Get ready. We’re going to a door. Ten minutes meet me in the parking lot. He steps out of my room, and I see him hop off the banister to the ground below.

I couldn’t say that I wasn’t interested in seeing how he fought as well. How would an actual warrior fight? He could probably punch through a Ratman with a single punch before all of this. He leaves my room and I get ready; pulling on my mail coat, and tucking it into my pants; holding both in place with my belt. My hoodie was still soaked, so I hung it up in the restroom, so it didn’t grow mildew. I would have to go out with the mail showing. Strangely, however, I don’t feel embarrassed about it. I buckle my gauntlets, reorganize my backpack, take my staff and head downstairs.

The air is clear. The rain washed away the dust and the smog, so I take a deep breath and take the stairs down to the parking lot. Shawn was already waiting for me there. He wore the clothes he had just worn, with a single plate of metal hanging over his chest and stomach, and segmented plates over his legs that seemed as if they could be compliments to the ones on my arms. He leaned on a rather long, bronze spear that glistened in the morning sunlight, and a leather quiver full of javelins sticking out from behind a rather large backpack that had a strap that went around his waist. He was looking into his phone, and tucked it away before glancing in my direction.

There you are, ready?

Yeah. I think. I stretch my arms as I step off the stairs and onto the parking lot.

Where’s the nearest Door?

Probably the one in the canal, just down the road, there. I motion south, There’s also one down the road, but that’s a level 13. It’d be the highest I’ve done.

So? Let’s do that one then. Lead the way.

I led him down the street to an old abandoned building, burned down by a fire nearly five years back. Since then, it had become a home to ash and grass and nothing much else. I remember the fire in the news. There had been a family that was stuck in there. The mother had managed to get out, but her two children and her husband didn’t. She was charged with murder, though mostly on speculation. It was a hot news item around town at the time.

There was a door at the very edge of the property. About knee-high, and looked like the gate of a fence. In the spaces between the wood, there was nothing but a solid blackness.

Is this it? Shawn asks as he approaches it.

Yes.

Do you think it might be a gate, gate? Like one that’ll take some time?

Could be. It is, afterall, in the shape of a gate.

Well, there’s two of us. We can get it done.

Shawn pushes through the gate and vanishes, I follow after him. After a brief stint through the swirling black, we meet again on a shattered cobble street. The door that we stepped through had been the flap of a large, broken tent. The Fogwall was about a half a mile away.

What’s this?

Shawn walks around the perimeter of what seems to be a camp. He glances to his right and stops in his tracks.

Holy...

When I was a child, my parents had taken my brother and I to the Sequoia National Forest. It was there where I first saw a Giant Sequoia tree. I thought nothing, aside from the mountains that surrounded it, could ever match its enormity, nor evoke the same feeling of smallness I had while standing there looking up at the General. Man made buildings that might have been taller didn’t evoke that same emotional response, nor did the distant towering peak of Whitney.

The General, however, was dwarfed by what I was seeing. Hooked to the Great Wall that surrounded the Catman city was a siege tower; whose top was obscured by the evermist that hung in the sky. That feeling of reverent smallness overwhelmed me again.

It took a moment for either of us to move, and I break the silence by speaking to my Shard.

What’s the objective here?

Kill the Priest. Was the response.

Chapter 5

Asharp whistling noise drew both of our attention, it was coming from the direction of the wall. Briefly, very briefly, I catch the glint of flashing steel piercing the mist. Instinct takes over and I dive forward and grab Shawn by the waist in a forward tackle.

Hey what the f—

Thunk, thunk

Two long arrows with black fettering sank into the ground where he had just been standing.

Dance for me, o’ Daughters of the wind.

A howling gale covers both of us and knocks away two more arrows coming in our direction.

Holy hell man, you saved my life. Shawn pushes himself off the ground. Fast thinking there.

Thanks.

He holds his arm in front of him, and the wooden bracer changes into a round shield. He pulls one of the javelins from the quiver hanging off his back.

Can you make the wind go away? He says as he pulls his arm back to be ready to throw.

There’s no way you’ll hit one of them at this distance. I say, They’ve got to be 300 feet up.

He grins.

Just trust me.

I cut the supply of mana, and as soon as the wind dies down, Shawn’s arm rips forward, and a loud boom nearly bursts my eardrums as the javelin flew through the air at the speed of a jet.

If they didn’t know we were here, they sure do now! Ha!

A moment later the peel of a bell sounded somewhere on the walls.

What do you think we’re facing?

Probably the Dogmen. They have those whistling arrows.

Ah, that whistling we heard?

Yeah. Their archers are really accurate.

So what you’re saying is we should get some cover.

Probably.

Think that would be enough cover? He motioned to the Siege tower.

Probably. Hold up. I hold up my staff and recite the incantation for Gust.

The wind picks up around us again, and we move forward toward the siege tower. Tens of whistling arrows are cast aside by the dome of wind. He matches my speed, and when we enter the overpowering shadow of the tower. A few arrows thunk against the moss-covered wooden walls. A door opened up into the interior of the siege tower. Criss-crossing beams held up ten platforms that led up all the way to the top of the wall. A series of staircases connected them all together.

Do you think the priest is on top of the walls? In the city?

No clue.

If I had a scouting ability...

Oh well, we’ll drag all these dogs out.

All of them? How many do you think there are? I counted at least ten archers firing at us.

We can take them.

What makes you so confident about that?

I trust my strength. He said, It hasn’t failed me yet.

To trust one’s own strength. How could I be a man like that? Haven’t I survived multiple near-death encounters? Why couldn’t I be confident like him? He led the way up the first set of stairs; the upper layers shook as a squad of Dogmen rushed down to meet us. We hurried up the next layer, and Shawn stopped, holding his shield and spear out in front of him. The Dogmen were hurrying down the flight of stairs.

One of them stopped at the layer above, and drew an arrow out of a black quiver on its hip, while the others approached. A bladesman up front, and two spearmen backing him up.

An arrow, O’ djinn. I mutter.

The arrow of flames and wind smashes into the archer. The heat snapped the bowstring and caught the creature’s fur. It patted the flickers off of its fur. What could I use? All my earth spells wouldn’t work — we were far too up in the air. If I used Ember or continued to use my ‘djinn,’ spells I risked catching the whole wooden tower on fire. I was limited. Perhaps...

Shawn held his ground and blocked a heavy blow from the bladesman, and stabbed forward as quickly as a viper. The point of the spear pierced through the creature’s throat and left it gagging on the ground. One of the spearmen engaged him at a distance, thrusting and jabbing, while the other pushed past and rushed me. I catch a glimpse of Shawn’s eyes watching the creature as it pushed past, and then glancing at me with a wild smile on his face.

The approaching spearman rushed forward and stabbed at me. I sidestep and grab hold of the creature’s wrist and pull it toward me into my raised knee aimed at its core. It grins in the way only a jackal could, and lunges forward; its teeth flashing. I step back and thrust my arms forward toward its knife-like, rotting teeth. It takes my armored forearm in its mouth and shakes violently, in an attempt to break my guard and throw me to the floor so that its teeth could find my neck next. I hold my ground and hold my staff up right next to its face as I held its other arm in place with a heavy grip on its wrist.

You that bind the All, move for me.

Mana entered from every pour of my body and was expelled violently from the tip of the staff. It was the incantation of Aether’s Push the spell I had decided to grab the night before. The next one in the tree was a shield, so it was a necessary purchase. I had expected it to be no more than a shove. I just wanted to create some space, after all. Instead, it was as if a sledgehammer had been taken to the side of the creature’s face. Its teeth shattered, and its eyes bulged as it was thrown off my arm and to the ground. Twitching, and dead.

Aether? What was it? After this Door was done, I was going to have to go shopping for a great many things. Use up a few of the thousands of dollars I had saved up so that I can learn more. I took a moment to look at the corpse before glancing back at Shawn. His fight was done. The spearman lay twisted at his feet, and the bowman, who now had a dagger in its paws, was pinned against the wall with a javelin through its eye.

Have you done martial arts before? Shawn asked.

About a year of MMA back in high school.

Really? Just that? Huh.

What?

You have good instincts. He said, Far better than my old teammates. You read the trajectory of the spear and countered it well by grabbing the thing’s wrist quickly. You probably could make a good frontline fighter.

Maybe, but I enjoy the magic.

If you say so, all I have to say is good luck.

With that, he turned back, jerked the javelin from the eye of the Dogman, and cleaned it off on his jeans.

Chapter 6

There was no resistance on the climb up. We stop right before the flight of stairs that would lead to the uppermost level. I am huffing. Sweat pours down from my neck and stains the collar of my shirt as I bend at the waist and suck in air. We take a moment to recuperate.

You recover faster if you put your hands over your head, like this.

Shawn stands there with his hands interlocked behind his head and his elbows parallel to the ground. I copy his stance, though it still takes me just as long to capture my breath.

What are the chances that they’re waiting for us up there? Shawn said as he eyes the stairs.

What’s the chance they aren’t.

Good point, good point. He laughs a laugh that seems to shake the entire tower. I’ll show you something interesting. When we’re done with this tell your, ‘shard,’ to look up, ‘Oak,’ on the leaderboard.

What do you mean?

Before my question even finishes, however, Shawn rushes out in front and already began to climb the stairs to the uppermost layer. The hand that held his shield on his wrist brushed against the wall of the siege tower; the black wood began to warp and change at his touch. As soon as he turns the last corner a deafening sound of dozens of whistling arrows being released all at once stops me in my track. I expected to hear the gasping breath of a dying man, instead, however, I hear the arrows thunk against wood, followed shortly by the sound of a tree groaning against the ravages of a storm.

I finish the climb to the top of the tower, and Shawn is in the middle of his battle. Though, ‘battle,’ would, perhaps, be a loaded term to describe this. There were at least 30 Dogmen up there, and about half were already down — their bodies were twisted or pierced through with wooden stakes that jutted out from the wooden ramp of the siege tower. A tendril of warped wood cracked the stone of the wall and smashes the center of the formation of archers, curls around half their number, and swipes them off the wall.

The other half rushed toward Shawn who was engaged with a group on the ramp. I hold up my staff, but Shawn stops me with a glance and a smile that seems to scream, ‘don’t.’ He stops a blow from a white-tabard-wearing Dogman with silver earrings wielding a large two-handed sword and stomps the ground. The wood warped and melted at his touch in a straight line toward the Dogman. As the creature’s footfalls on the warped portion of wood, it gives way as if it were rotted through centuries of rain, and he’s sent tumbling down to the ground below. There were ten now standing against him.

Shawn retreats a step and creates a bit of space between himself and the ten remaining Dogmen. Deftly, he pulls a javelin from his quiver, cocks his arm back, and lets loose.

Ears! Shawn calls back as he covers his own.

Hu—

Boom.

The javelin slams into the center of the approaching mob with a deafening explosion as the javelin shatters the air at a great speed. It carries the one it pierces backward and embeds itself in a stone parapet. It dies immediately. Those surrounding it weren’t as lucky. Each one fell in place. Several of them tumble right off the top, while most of them were left twitching on the ground; blood flowing out of their splattered eyes and burst ears. Were they choking?

I feel the trickle of blood coming from my own ears, and I can’t hear the words coming from Shawn’s mouth as he grabs my shoulder and leads me down the stairs. He taps his wrist and I think I understand. One of those Dogmen must have been the Priest, I reason.

As we run down the stairs, he glances back every now and then to see if I’m still following. I take a quick glance at my wrist. Eight minutes until the door closes. Shit. Can we make it?

The brief moment I had taken my eyes off my feet was enough to get my feet all tangled up. My foot snags on one of the steps in front of me and I tumble face-first down to the next level. Luckily, Shawn was ahead of me and had already turned the corner and begun to turn the corner to the next flight of stairs so we avoided colliding with one another. I push myself up and continue sprinting.

6 minutes to go, and we were only halfway down the siege tower. 5 minutes, and we were a third. 4 minutes and we were a quarter. My lungs feel close to bursting like a balloon, and my legs wobbled and nearly toppled me several times. 3. One more set of stairs. 2. There’s the door.

We sprinted across the green. 30 seconds left, and dive into the tent where we had entered right before the fogwall collapsed onto the area and swallowed it.

We roll out onto the street, and Shawn helps me up. He mouths some words that I can’t hear, moves me to the side and picks up a bundle of cash on the ground, and hands me half before placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. It seems, only then, that he notices the dried trail of blood flowing out of my inner ear, and a look of horror washes over his face. He helps me back to the motel, keeps me out of the way of oncoming cars, and leaves me in my room. I spend the rest of the day healing my burst eardrums until the ringing stops.

Chapter 7

For the second day in a row, I awake to a series of loud knocks on my door. It took forever to fall asleep the night before. After I had healed my broken eardrums and the shattered inner-ear bone, there was still a residual ringing in my head that kept me from slipping into oblivion. Eventually, my weariness won out in the end, however.

I groan and roll over.

Whozzit...

Ah, you can hear. Came the reply.

Yeah, barely. I manage to stammer out as I pull myself from the bed.

What are your plans today, Lawrence? The door creaks as Shawn leans against it.

Store, I respond simply. Need....thing. I nearly fall back to sleep. Two hours just wasn’t going to cut it.

Did Ortega call you last night?

His voice jolts me back awake.

I don’t know.

Right, your phone.

I slip off to sleep again.

Anyhow, I’m jolted awake again, We have some new team members coming in. They’ll be flown in once the property is in order.

Did..did he say when it will be?

About four more days.

Huh... Once more I begin to slip off into sleep.

"Well,