Lucia Simorgh ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ Novᴇl_Fire(.)net

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She never should have signed up for this expedition.

Recoil hit her shoulder as she took another shot at the circling birds. They were so much bigger than they should be. So many too. Whoever had made that report was a dead man, by her hands or the Kingdom’s. She’d make sure of it.

Beside her, another of the dumbfuck mercenaries that had been conned into this doomed trip huddled with her back to the strange material that made up the room. She had a hammer and some kind of net. Thankfully, she could take a break. The weird human Warped had pissed off somewhere else for some reason. Didn’t mean Lucia could.

Tracking another bird, she sucked in a breath around her tusks, held it, and squeezed the trigger. A bang echoed through the room, sending some of the book types flinching and cowering further back. She hit. Of course she hit. Problem was, the fucking things didn’t seem to care.

“Bryltia,” she said in a quiet prayer as she lined up her next shot, “if I survive this, you’re getting a trophy for your halls. I don’t care what you ask for, I’m getting it.”

The birds swung lazily, taking their time to pelt them with acid. Most of it didn’t hit anywhere near her, so she’d taken up a spot at the window and was just trying to scare the things.

Her rifle cracked again. This shot hit the same Warped, and this time it fell. Taking two to three shots was more than it should have. She was better than this. Always was. Always had to be. Lucia crouched down, hiding her considerable height behind the flimsy barrier.

“See anything?” she asked her, what was the word, colleague? Other warrior. Whatever. She hadn’t bothered learning her name. Hadn’t earned it, either.

“No. Nothing yet. We’ve been in here for days. They have to know something’s happened, right?” the woman said, voice betraying her fear.

“Close to the capital,” Lucia grunted. “Bound to.”

“Just hope they can get through all that shit,” the woman quavered. “You saw those things. I don’t think I’ve seen a Warped like that. Heard of them, maybe, but not seen.”

She was talking about the human Warped, Lucia knew. She, too, was worried about their presence. This entire city was strange, but the presence of so many people in the Seed was bringing out the real freaks. So many of them, too. They’d been twisted, human like. Too many arms that they scuttled along on, some with a ton of legs. The ones with arms for legs were bad. They’d been climbing on the walls, and some could use magic.

Those had been what killed half of them. Even now, she could see their charred bodies in the street ahead of her. Twisted and still smoking despite it having been two days ago. She hated the smell. It filled her unusually sensitive nose.

It had happened so suddenly. The brains were all freaking out about something they’d found and she’d decided was unimportant. Then a scream. Another a second later. Fire engulfed one of the brains next to her, and their cries of anguish as they clutched their own burning flesh made her recoil. She could still feel the heat days after.

The things had come scrambling from doors, windows, roofs, seemingly out of the street itself as they were surrounded. The mercs had done their best to cut down as many as they could, but two of them dying to some dark magic had forced them to retreat. They either chucked the idiots into the store or had left them to die. There wasn’t time for arguing.

It pissed Lucia off, and she grit her teeth, suppressing the self hatred. She should have been able to sense the fucking things. She was a hunter. It’s what she lived for. This city was just wrong. Everything she knew as natural wasn’t here. The ground was fake. The buildings, everything. She hated it with her entire being.

A muffled, shrieking coo signalled a bird getting closer. She popped out, took aim quickly, punched a bullet into the monstrosity, and ducked back down. It took her all of three seconds.

“You still good on bullets?” the merc asked.

“No,” Lucia said curtly. She was, in fact, not. She was low. Dangerously low. She had maybe enough to keep the fucking things scared off for a day, but if those humans came back, they were done for. “Need to move. Find a way out.”

“Back’s still blocked. Trint is trying to get whatever’s behind it moved, but even he’s having trouble pushing it.”

“Weakling,” Lucia cursed.

“Not like you’d do much better,” the woman snapped. She was right. Lucia was letting her anger get the better of her. Right now, though? She didn’t care.

“Just need to get out. Can’t defend much longer.”

“Well, I’m ears for a plan, hothead,” the woman grumbled.

“Kill them until they’re dead?”

“Not helpful.”

“Then, no idea,” Lucia grunted back. Plans were never her strength. She was good at shooting, hiding, fighting, surviving. Planning was someone else’s job. Some stupid brain’s job, but they were all busy crying in a corner.

“Just keep them off us,” the woman sighed, peeking over, but being forced to duck back down as a glob of acid hit the ground nearby.

“Can do that.”

Time dragged. It was nearly midday before the birds pissed off somewhere else. Either they’d gotten as bored as she was, or it was time for something else to show up. Lucia set her rifle across her knees and let it cool for a few minutes. She’d need to see a weapon smith to get the barrel repaired after this. Too many shots too quickly, and with some of her skills increasing the force, would warp the barrel. A hunter was far weaker without her weapon. Traditional logic said they were nothing without their weapons, and while Lucia agreed with that portion, she had also learned that being so tied to her partner was a weakness as well. Her clan had a religious fervour for their weapons. A soul was in each, and they communed while they fought together.

Whispering to her rifle, she pulled the cloth she kept to clean it, and the necessary oils. “Not much longer, Filla,” she muttered reverently. “We have more to hunt. This will not be our end.”

Fillianore was the full name of her rifle. She’d been passed to Lucia years ago by her father. She was one of the few things in her life that had not failed Lucia, and she’d made sure to care for it with something others called obsession. Lucia called it proper. What idiot didn’t keep their weapons in top shape at all times?

She pulled the bolt, setting it aside, then got to cleaning the barrel. It was a mess, as expected. She cleared any residue with the cloth, then took another and oiled the firing mechanism. It took time, but if it meant Filla wouldn’t jam on her? Worth every second. She was like any woman. Take care of her, she’d take care of you. She could also be a temperamental bitch if she was ignored.

Finishing up, she moved back into the strange room behind the shelves. It seemed like some sort of store, but all the materials used for the construction were completely different than anything she’d ever seen. She found the brains, all twenty-two of them left, huddled in a circle.

“Food,” she growled.

One of the brains, an older Inlon, jumped up and scurried over to her, holding out a piece of bread. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid we are desperately low on victuals. We can not spare much more and are in dire need of resupply. Have you heard any word of our rescue?”

“No,” Lucia responded gruffly, taking the bread. The man talked a lot. Too much. She knew they were low on supplies. He didn’t need to remind her. Also, wouldn’t they be the ones to get the message about rescue? They had magic types. Whatever. At least he was sharing the food. She nodded her thanks, but the man only seemed to get nervous at the action, and scurried back to his group.

What had they called it? Social graces? Yeah, those were the fancy words for being good with people. Lucia wasn’t good with people. She’d deal with them. They helped her find things to hunt. That Mercenary Association had brains and scouts that were really good at finding big things to hunt. She’d signed up a few years ago. The Clan suggested it. Told her it was a good way to fulfill the Hunt.

Her head sagged, and she shook herself. One of the brains noticed the lapse and hurried over. A woman, human, older with kind eyes.

“Hey, you should rest. Looks like things have died down. Can’t keep us safe if you’re falling asleep.”

“Don’t need your concern,” Lucia grunted. She was right, though. She’d been up for over a day, and it was beginning to wear on her.

“The other mercs will be fine for a couple hours while you rest. You’ve done so much. Take a break,” the woman pushed.

Sighing, exasperation. Lucia relented. “Will sleep. Wake me if needed.”

She closed her eyes and sleep took her almost instantly.

Dreams didn’t come to her often. When they did, they were memories. Memories of her family. Memories of hunts she’d been part of. She liked those ones more. Today, she had a dream.

It wasn’t like any dream she’d had before. She dreamed of a place foreign to her. The terrain and life were off. The frustrating thing was that she couldn’t focus on them enough to make out what exactly was wrong.

She checked herself. Her armour was still there, her boots, and Fillianor. She hefted the rifle over her shoulder. Lucia walked through strange trees, black and white, with light flitting through their leaves.

A crack in the forest. Something had stepped on a twig. She dropped low, turning toward the sound, and advanced.

She came upon a grove. A clearing of golden grass was set among the strange trees. In the centre were four trees. Each had a distinct colouration and shape to it. Nothing like she’d seen.

The first on the far left was a squat willow. Fluffy white seeds filled the branches that blew in a wind that didn’t exist. It was a calming tree, and she felt herself relaxing as she looked it over.

The beside it was by far the strangest. It was tall and ancient. Probably the oldest tree she’d ever seen. Despite this, its leaves were vibrant purple, full of life and lustre. As she drew closer, she noticed something else. A strange black to its grey trunk. Almost like a lichen or moss.

Taking a step back, she turned to the next. It was also tall, but far younger. A strong trunk supported wide branches that sought to shade the rest of the trees, tangling somewhat with the purple trees’ branches. Its leaves were a stunning blue, like the midday sky. Maybe a bit paler.

The last was an odd one. The others had strength. This one was thin, with pale bark and brown leaves. It didn’t seem to fit in, but as Lucia approached, she tripped. Looking down, the fourth tree’s roots were spread wide. They curled and tangled with the other trees. Something told her it wasn’t trying to strangle them, as her mind assumed, but supporting the others. The others had an obvious might, but this one let its strength go mostly unnoticed. Strange.

A cry from the woods distracted her. Whirling, she saw a bird with green plumage sitting in the trees. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before, and it stared straight at her. It was a bird of prey. Sharp features, sharp beak, talons to catch prey. It screeched at her again, then dove.

Lucia cried out and shielded her face, but the thing passed straight through her, landing among the four trees, and pecked at the grass beneath their boughs. It then took a short flight up into their branches, hopping from one to another, and settled in the furthest to the right.

“Wake up,” the bird said in a female voice.

“Who, what are you?” Lucia asked, approaching.

“Lucia. Lucia! Wake up!” the bird screamed.

Jolted awake and sweating, Lucia almost slammed her face into the woman in front of her. Luckily, the woman had the sense to be far enough away that her tusks hadn’t hurt her.

“The fuck? What was that dream?” Lucia cursed, holding her head. The sun had gone down. It was almost twilight. Shaking her sleep-addled mind, she focused on the here and now. She could worry about dreams later. The woman was the same brain that had told her to sleep.

“Attack?” Lucia asked curtly.

“Not yet. They’re gathering, though. The human Warped are back. Illdall protect us all.”

“No gods in Seeds,” Lucia reminded the woman. She groaned as she stood. Her body felt awful and stiff, like she’d run a few miles while she was asleep. A few stretches later, she felt better and made her way to the front.

The net merc was still up there, keeping an eye on things.

“Bad?”

“Worse than last time,” the woman grunted, not taking her eyes off the enemy. “Magic types up on those roofs. Saw them glowing earlier. Looks like they’ve got the dusty ones ready to push forward and try to overwhelm us.”

“At least those die fast.”

“If you can get their heads, yeah. Problem is the numbers. There’s what, a hundred out there? With cover fire from the mages, we’re not gonna last long.”

“What’s the plan?” Lucia asked. She’d fight until her last, but it was probably better to have a plan.

“For now, barricade. Trint’s working on it. Go help him out?”

She was smart not to make that an order. Not like Lucia wouldn’t help, but it just made her happier to do it.

A few sweaty minutes doing some heavy lifting and they’d wedged the shelves into the windows and across the door. It was better than nothing, but it probably wouldn’t hold up to magic.

Lucia peeked out through a gap. The Warped had started to move. Just like the net had said, the dusty ones were first. They wandered up slowly, then tapped against the barrier. Soon, multiple hands were tapping at it, trying to find a weak point. Sounded like rain. When they couldn’t nudge it away, they decided to take a stronger tactic and began beating on the shelves. One of the brains let out a scream, but was hushed by her friends.

The shelves rattled, but held. Thankfully, the dusty ones weren’t strong hitters. If they could grab you, though. That was where they caused problems. A sword user got caught by one in the first ambush and they’d held him securely until the rest had finished him off. Lucia could still hear his screams.

“Should I shoot?” she asked the net.

“Only if you can hit one of the magic ones. No sense in wasting what’s left of your bullets on the small fry.”

A sound choice. Despite her obvious fear, the woman was good under pressure. A good trait for any merc. Some grudging respect found its way into Lucia’s heart.

“Name?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the shelves.

“Coleen,” the woman replied brusquely. “Thought we all introduced ourselves at the start of this?”

“Forgot,” Lucia said, shrugging. She kept it to herself that she’d done so intentionally.

“That’s fine. I’m bad with faces,” the woman laughed, then jumped as a particularly hard hit shook the shelf in front of her. “If this is it, it was good fighting with you.”

“You as well. Bryltia guides us on our hunts. Even to our last hunt. She will see us in her glades if we are meant to join her this day.”

“Hah, didn’t figure you for a religious type,” the woman grinned. Something about what Lucia said easing her nervousness.

“It is the way of the world,” Lucia said, checking her rifle. “We live, and we die. The Lady Huntress guides all hunters. What are mercenaries besides hunters? Some hunt money, some fame, some the hunt itself.”

“I could drink to that. Might have to go visit Bryltia’s temple if we make it out of here.”

“I have a feeling she would welcome you.”

They lapsed into silence, waiting. The banging continued, but Lucia filtered it out. The sound was unimportant. Whether the shelves held was.

Suddenly one burst. A flash of black in the dark. Magic.

Fillianor was up in an instant, trained on the mage who cast the spell. A bullet was flying before the first of the dusty creatures could even take a step forward. It hit square in the temple of the freak and four hands reached up to hold the wound. When they retreated, nothing was there.

Now, the dusty humans had begun to pour in through the gap. Coleen and the one she called Trint stepped up. Trint’s spear flashed as he stabbed into the things’ heads with deadly accuracy. A dozen fell before Coleen could even get in range to use her hammer. When she did, the woman dealt out death left and right. Bodies crumpled and crumbled with each swing as she whirled and snared several more with her net. It was going well, but they were still trapped.

Lucia marked another mage preparing to cast. Dark blue runes floated in the air, and a black flame grew at their center. She aimed, then fired. It hit, interrupting the spell, but then another flash, and another. Three more casting. More than she could shoot.

Cursing, she fired on the two closest to the one she just targeted. Two more interrupted, but not dead. She turned and watched in horror as the third finished its cast. Black flames erupted from its circle, streaking across the street above the heads of the dusty monster. Lucia couldn’t move in time. She could only watch as that black flame hit Trint just as he skewered two wretches with a single thrust.

It engulfed him instantly. He cried out, patting at himself, trying to put out the flames, but it was no use. They stuck to him with an unnatural tenacity. He dropped, still screaming, and rolled, trying desperately to put them out. The dusty creatures closed in and held him down. He tried to fight back, but they had him.

After a moment, he lay still. Lucia braced herself as the scent of burning flesh and hair filled her sensitive nose. It still made her sick.

The mages were back. All four had their circles up, black flame pulsing as they charged the spells. In the horror of Trint’s death, Lucia hadn’t had time to interrupt them. They were going to shoot again!

She turned to Coleen. The woman had a gaunt expression of pure terror. She’d seen the casters, and in that moment they shared their hearts. Their fears, their regrets. All in a glance.

Black flame rushed towards them. Their hunt was over.

Suddenly, a brilliant shimmering wall covered the sky between them and certain death. Black flames hit and dispersed or were thrown off their paths. The wall disappeared as soon as it appeared, but Lucia held that image in her mind. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Hope.

Her moment of revery was interrupted as lightning struck the crowd of dusty Warped in the road.