Critical
Hit!:
It
was by all standards a slum den: vomit, rust where an old heater must have
been, moldy wood, urine, rodents fighting against the regulars for food and, on
the whole, that kind of clientele who could hit anyone in the face who could be
able to pronounce a polysyllable such as
“sophistication”. Not that they couldn’t write or read, not that they didn’t
know that somewhere in the universe there were people who used big words, say,
bigger than a growl; it was only that any four years old child learnt that
aggressivity was a way to manipulate others and, when those children didn’t
learn any other tool and were rejected because of it, they decided that it was
a good way to survive in the long run: at the end of the day, they could seize
what their strength allowed them to.
Yes,
they were dangerous people, however, drawing hasty conclusions would make us
lose sight of the following fact, in a certain way, they understood one of the
three fundamental truths of life: words were powerful and could be dangerous.
And here we should
stop at Heidel, because she knew each of those words.
Please remember
that was the kind of den which people pretend not to see at the far end of an
alley, and because of that reason it seemed strange that someone like Heidel
was sitting there, in a corner while sipping her beer.
Heidel was a
battlemage, she had studied in universities much bigger than that citadel and
only her clothes were more valuable than that citadel. She had an impeccable
and majestic look, and it was also utterly out of place.
Nevertheless,
those fresh corpses by her side, still steaming, perhaps were able to convey a
message of no disturbance if possible.
Either way the
rest of customers looked more concerned about Shivala, her companion and a
woman that, judging by her expression, her size, some tattoos that broke any
aesthetics or a two-handed sword that still showed bloodstains belonging to
someone who was not polite enough with her, possible thought that inn was some
kind of lovely family venue to stay during the afternoon.
Her expression was
of happiness, of course, that place was pleasant in her opinion and, generally
speaking, she liked listening her partner:
—Indeed —Heidel
said—, But I mean, why a human would meddle in demons’ affairs?
—Humans tend to
accept covenants with them in exchange of power or they use demons as slaves in
case they manage to harness them with magic for long enough —Shivala answered—.
On the other hand, demons’ hunters tend to have very short careers inside the
guild.
—That is exactly
why I ask. Besides, why would a human have an interest in destroying a particular
demon? We can rule out religious motives, I suppose… And why would he would
hire us?
—Other than our
inability to value our working experience or to choose a safe job? —Shivala
enquired, pensively—. There is also reputation.
—Ours or his?
—His.
—Do you care to elaborate
that point?
—Our client failed
to control this demon.
—Are we working
for a necromance —Heidel asked, surprised.
—Possibly. For a
quite stupid one, in fact.
—Why are you so
sure?
—He covered chains
under his clothes, but you could hear the clinging sound if paid attention.
When a necromancer tries to dominate a demon, even in order to have a calm and
amiable conversation about a potential covenant, as demons are not known by
their cordiality, he wears a chain, it looks like something symbolic, but it’s
a catalyst. If our aforementioned demon is not submitted, this chain will be
permanently attached to the summoner’s body. An attempt to remove it, even with
magic’s aid, tends to not end very well in my experience.
—In all honesty I
don’t understand it —Heidel said, quite confused—. Nobody is so stupid to seek
revenge due to his own incompetence while only armed with it!
—That seems like
prejudice in favor of necromancers, is it something of the mage guild or
something like that? Now are all mages suddenly intelligent? I believe I know
your lot better than you.
—What about… a
knight order? —the battlemage volunteered—. Knights are basically a bunch of idiots
who fight for what’s right no matter if what’s right ends up being terribly
wrong.
—I adore your grim
approach to ethics —Shivala assured her—, but nobody does that anymore, you
know perfectly that every knight order ended up as servants of the demons. No
country allows knights on its lands.
—There is a question
that keeps appearing in my mind, how do you know so much about demons?
—I am a
necromancress.
Heidel had worked
a long year with her and she would have almost felt betrayed by her perilous
lack of perspicacity had she not been too busy understanding what her friend
had just said.
—Multiclass —she
clarified, getting ahead of her vexed mumble with an explanatory gesture—, you
know: barbarian and necromancress. You are a battle mage, aren’t you? It’s
basically the same.
—I don’t raise
dead people! —she defended herself, hurt.
—And that only
makes you less fun —Shivala pointed out.
—Yet, during this
time have you been killing people, raising them afterwards and killing them
again?
Shivala burst in
laughter and added:
—That would be
quite unprofessional, right? Nah, almost nobody pays for that.
Emer knock the
door and after a while a necromancress
opened it and greet him. Her hair looked disheveled at best and her black
tabard tried to cover the rest of her clothes, probably put on in a hurry, as
she was still trying to catch her breath and her blush made her customer
marginally suspicious. She, noticing his indiscreet stare from the corner of
her eye, loudly cleared her throat.
—Sooo… —she
started.
—What about my
wife? Is she ok? —by his hurried words and expressions she determined that the
man looked worried.
—Yes, I mean… no.
She’s dead but… she’s very good at it… —the necromancress scratched her arm and
avoided looking into her customers eyes.
—What?
—Well, not
everything’s lost… we can turn her into a zombie> —she offered.
—WHAT? —it was impressive
how could she hear those block letters.
—What? —she
replied.
—That’s ilegal
—her customer said sternly.
—Illegal and not
very hygienic, mind you —she pointed out—. I was… testing you? —she ventured.
—Why?
—Errr… We have a
10& discount for loyal clients! —she said happily—. Loyal to good manners
and lawful alignments, of course. We can, however, send your wishes, messages
or curses, if that’s the case, to her.
—I’ll go with some
words.
—Untainted ones, I take?
—Helen, Helen! —he
started shouting up high to the sky, after that, he thought about it for a
second and the started to scream downwards—. Hele, do you know where our
Patrick is?! Lady, that little boy is a demon…
—I doubt it, sir
and, yeah… contacting spirits is a complex art that cannot be performed by
shouting at random places on the street. —Because you needed some skulls and
candles for the set up mainly, and a cozy room to eta some biscuits in there
after a seance since it made her hungry afterwards—. Please come back in the
evening and we’ll see what we can do.
—Love? —A female
voice came from inside of the house—. Please let me deal with the customers
serv,,, Oh… —a blonde woman got out who, judging by the symbols on her white
tunic, was a cleric and judging by her faltering breath she tried to catch up,
may have been doing some exercise Emer couldn’t really think of even when he
considered walking and also running—. I’m afraid we are momentarily closed,
however your wife’s remains are being treated with the utmost care according to
the article seven, section three, of our contract. We know how hard can be
losing a beloved one and we know that no words uttered by any man or woman can
take away the pain from an aching soul, also we cannot abide to do such a thing
by using magic since we have strong philosophical principles to uphold and
that’s why we have a free beer vouchers for our clients —she gave one to him
and closed the door.
The necromancress
stood there, slightly confused and attempting to smile.
Then the cleric
opened the door and, laughing, she grabbed her absent-minded necromancress by
the arm and they went inside.
—What’s the plan —asked
Heidel, intrigued, as they went down the street, leaving behind an arch made of
stone which linked a small garden among the houses, lit by the last sunbeams.
—Plan? I believe
you’re mistaking me for someone else —answered Shivala, stopping by a house and
knocking on the door—. Tiff! —she yelled— I need help! For free, if possible!
The door opened
and the cleric appeared.
—Hi, Tora, how is
it going? Is Tiff at home?
—Yes, come in…
emmm… is she trustful? —she asked regarding Heidel.
—I’ve worked with
her for a long time and she doesn’t seem to care about my inhuman capability to
get in trouble —she said, shrugging her shoulders, then she got closer the
clerics with little to no discretion and whispered—. She scares me actually…
she’s loaded and I think she’s lost contact with reality… it’s like a metaphor
of the economic power —she managed to mutter.
—We’ll keep an eye
on her —she nodded at the same volume.
The cleric heard a
baby cry behind her back and that made her hair stood on end. When she turned
over Tiffany was smiling at her on a pentagram and a demon who had the decency
enough to having adopted a quasi-human form was tenderly holding a baby who
looked like an chilling shadow, thief of light.
—Hello, Tora, do
you want a cookie? —the demon offered her, innocently.
—We will keep the
baby this week —Tiffanny told her, smiling—. Beleth says that there’s a lot of
movement lately on the dungeon dimensions and that the poor child is not
sleeping well.
—I really see why
you both ended up having a baby —Tora commented.
Heildel didn’t
understand what was happening on that living-room.
—I don’t
understand what’s happening —she declared in consequence.
—All right —Shivala
started, trying to organize her ideas—. Tiff is a powerful necromancress —Tiff
entertained herself by making the baby laugh and ignoring the rest of the world—,
perhaps you haven’t noticed about that, but she doesn’t wear chains since she
doesn’t attempt to control nor confine the demons she may summon. In fact, that
way she made a name for herself among the demons and Beleth, over here —the
demons shook her hand delicately, Heidel wasn’t sure about where that arm came
from, but she kept her composure—, was summoned by her. The point is one night
they drank a lot, they made a pact to bring a very odd child to this world and
the outcome is the little Abraxas. But Tiff was focused on her own stuff and
she started dating Tora —Tora bowed before them—, who accepted this bizarre
story because, like Tiff, there’s only one in a million. And probably because
she fancied her. Not to mention the great idea they had about opening this
business. And we are here because maybe they know which demon was the one that
asshole tried to beckon.
—May I ask what’s
your asshole name? —Beleth asked, curiously, while rocking the child in his
arms.
—He calls himself
Matt the Mighty —Shivala answered.
Tiffany burst out
laughing and the demon and her exchange a mischievous look.
—No! —Shivala
said, while trying to restrain herself.
—Yes! —the
necromancress replied, this time her amusement turned into a silvery laugh —.
She tried to subdue Beleth, no less.
—There’s something
I don’t understand —the demon confessed—. Well, honestly, there are many things
I don’t understand about the situation, but I will narrow this down a bit, what
does he wants from me?
—He wants
vengeance —said Heidel.
—Does he want to
seek revenge for his ineptitude through me?
—Bold yet stupid —Tora
determined.
—In a certain way…
you are the symbol of his inability as a necromancer —Tiffany reasoned—.
Although, well, on a practical level… his inability is actually his… —she
ended, absorbed.
—Then —Beleth
contunied—, he wants me dead?
—It’s much better
than that —Heidel mentioned, definitely embarrassed due to the weight of the
context.
—He wants —Shivala
explained—, and I quote, “destroy you”. He pays us just for taking you to him.
What do you say? —she proposed.
—I wanted to make
a cake for the girls… —he commented with trouble in his voice.
—Nobody cares
about the guy actually having some kind of powerful artifact to destroy a
demon? —Tora enquired.
—I would like to
remember that this guy calls himself Matt the Mighty —Shivala intervened.
—All of us will go
—Tiffany said—. I don’t think this mas would know how to use it if he was
somehow able to find this artifact, which, by the way, is beyond his financial
or his intellectual reach, and I don’t believe he has it in his possession, but
the Skull of Shadows it’s an object that allows to imprison highly powerful
demons. And I won’t let an idiot to hurt Beleth —she said hugging him—, if Tora
accepts to put some protection seals on the baby or something like that —she
added—. Tora? Please? —She was looking at her with puppy dog eyes.
—Of course, taking
the cleric and a demonic baby along is always the sensible option —she claimed—.
That being said, I hope you’ll reward me for this —Tora naughtily whispered to
her ear, and the necromancress only could smile.
—Wait, with
adventures or sex? —she asked in bewilderment.
—With sex —Tora
patiently answered.
—Then let’s go for
our money —Shivala encouraged them—, we will split it evenly between all of us,
of course, and with our demon in case he’s interested in money.
—I will make the
cake afterwards —he said while winking at Tora—. You’re the best.
Dead leaves
scurried towards them like tiny animals, in the meanwhile the breeze gained
momentum over
time. Autumn has left a pleasant night after a sunny day, a soft and yet
present cold was there, though, making the skin hairs standing on end. That
baby held on arms looked around with those beady eyes which sparkled like the
light at the end of the tunnel, only if said metaphor’s light was anything but
comforting and if the tunnel was an everlasting nightmare.
And Beleth and
Tiffany stared at him as if he was the most beautiful thing on this world.
Shivala and Heidel
led them through the alleys and until they got to a modest garden flanked by a
small church façade, in front of the party came to a halt.
—A temple to the
goddess Shar, custodian of the secrets never to be revealed —Tora commented, as
she weaved spells to protect the baby—, our necromancer adopted a dramatic stance
that his disposition to humiliate himself cannot pay for.
Heidel opened the
door with a magic burst, the floor marble tiles reflected the moonlight as a
lit stripe. After they entered, the necromancer, with his back toward them and
in shadows, turned around.
Shivala placed her
palm across her face before such a ridiculous performance.
—We meet again,
Be…Who the hell are all those people?
—I am Tiffany, I
live on the Cherry street, at the house with the blue doo… —Tora and Beleth
covered her mouth hurriedly before she could ramble on about totally out of
place information regarding personal details. Those slips didn’t happen often,
but sometimes she forgot about social context even more than usual. Tiffany
endured her murmuring as much as she could and when she broke free she just
kept on talking without a second thought—. And here is Beleth, that demon you,
mister, want to destroy. As a fellow of the guild, I would like to examine how do
you proceed with such a task.
—But the demon
seems to be here willingly… —Matt hesitated.
Heidel enragedly
approached the necromancer and stood in front of him, covered by an unstable
coating of fire which was seemingly feeding on her wrath.
—We brought your
demon to you, give us our money —she demanded.
—Excuse me
—Shivala intervened, showing a docility that contrasted to her size and armament—,
we held our side of the bargain and I won’t be able to control my partner for
much longer: she thinks you’re not keeping your end of it.
Matt decided to
gulp. Somewhere in his mind a voice couldn’t avoid telling him that, come to
think of it, it was the demon what should be restrained.
—No, I mean, I
have the money and all… there you are, there you go… —he managed to give,
terrified and with a trembling hand, a bag with coins to that aggressive
looking woman carrying a two-handed sword, lest he could avoid looking at the
battlemage who had uttered a terrible battle cry—. It’s ok now, I have given
you the bag, right? —he begged.
Heidel’s fire disappeared
and she answered with a bright smile and a bow. And Matt the Mighty couldn’t
find an appropriate reaction to what had just happened.
All of them
decided to part.
—Wait! —he
remembered—. Beleth is mine! Andariel gave me her power.
—Andariel? —Tora
whispered.
—She was a
powerful archdemon millennia ago, yet now and judging by this whole situation…
she beseeches anybody, seeking attention, I guess —he shrugged.
—You can’t do this
to me! —the necromancer complained—. If I don’t offer something to her in
exchange of her favor, she will imprison my soul! Could you not give me that
baby?
In that moment,
everyone decided to stay, there was a general feeling of curiosity to learn in which
creative way that guy was going to die.
Beleth and Tiffany
turned to him, their eyes were sheer anger.
There are times in
which even the most idiotic of men realizes that that luck which held him
through a series of nonsensical events he nurtured has vanished.
—People like you
are the reason why everybody hates people like you —Tiffany stated.
—You’re also a
necromancer! —Matt complained.
She looked at him
in puzzlement, not understanding him.
—Your life is a headlong rush into the unknown —started Beleth to say— while you wager the scarce dignity you maight have, charmed by that illusion of control a demon whose only
virtue is patience relates to you as you try to understand where are you or why
are you so stupid to no avail —Beleth pointed out.
—Too many subordinated clauses —Shivala murmured to him.
—Emmm… thank you?
—he answered at low volume—. The fact that no order nor fate exists, human,
won’t save you from yours —he added to face Tiffany afterwards—. Will you do the
honors?
Matt, full of
rage, casted a spell, uttering a chain of words containing a power which dwelled
at the dungeon dimensions and was freed on the church floor tiles, getting
spilled from every word coming out of his lips cracking the boundaries of
reality and, in consequence, destroying him as his skin started to necrotize
and melt while his owner was screaming in pain.
It took some
seconds for our fellowship of adventurers to react to that sort of study on human
body’s perspective covering the floor in red and entrails where Matt the Mighty
had tested his incompetence for the last time.
—This anticlimax
has been very disappointing, I need cake —Tiffany asserted.
