[Smite Happens] 7 - One Problem After Another

Short hair also looks good on me, I thought, examining my blurry reflection on the blade of Lorwin’s knife. To be fair, I’d look good in any hairstyle. Though I wouldn’t try shaving my head to prove a point.

“Emery, dearest!” The other Emery’s mom hugged me tightly. My cut hair, which she had secured to her head with a piece of cloth, tickled my nose. “We’ll meet each other again. The gods will protect you.” Talk about death flag lines.

She let go of me and climbed through a hole cut through the wagon’s covering before I could reply. Not that I had much to say to her. Good luck or something?

It was crazy dangerous transferring to a horse outside while both the wagon and the horse were moving fast on a dirt road. As Lorwin helped her, they exchanged goodbyes and loving words. A very emotional scene that moved my usually uncaring heart. They’d both probably die. But I wouldn’t forget about them, the heroes who offered their lives to save a saint.

I’d include them in the holy texts that I’d write!

Lorwin had wanted to go with Otherworld Mom, but she made him stay with me. He promised her to keep me safe even if it’d cost him his life.

Good that he mentioned that because I had the feeling that he’d need to sacrifice himself for me. Even with this trick-switch thing, my survival wasn’t assured.

Just for the record, this plan wasn’t mine. Otherworld Mom thought of it, volunteering herself to be the bait. She reasoned that if help was up ahead, she should go the other way to lure as many of these fake bandit asshats. If we had fewer pursuers, we’d have a higher chance of meeting the Silver Order.

My contribution to the plan was to give her my long red hair. It’d be like a bright light attracting moths. 

Another idea of mine was for the sternial wielder guard to go with Otherworld Mom, advertising his power in view of the enemy. I explained that it’d make the ruse more believable. And since a sternial wielder was protecting the supposed ‘Chosen Bestowed’, the strongest assassins would go after them instead of us.

Oh, that’d help Otherworld Mom survive, too. But I already knew that Wilhelm Fancy Pants could kill Melphor’s sternial wielder guy.

Expectedly, Not-Yet-Priest Melphor didn’t agree. He had this annoying trait of wanting to live and wanted his best guard by his side.

I had to use my patented god-told-me-in-a-vision line to convince him.

“Take care, dear,” Lorwin said, waving through the hole in the canvas. “They won’t kill you once they see you’re not the Chosen Bestowed.”

Top Ten Wishful Thinking. I knew for a fact from Wilhelm Fancy Pants himself that they wanted all of us dead. Something about making it appear that bandits ambushed us. They’d have even more reason now since it seemed that we were aware of their plans.

The horse carrying Otherworld Mom distanced itself from the wagon. The green barrier closed after them. How long would our protection stay intact once attacked by the fake bandits? They should be coming soon.

I observed the glowing green Melphor as he fervently concentrated on strengthening our shield. With eyes closed, he mumbled prayers. Beads of sweat tumbled along the creases of his forehead. He had mentioned that his barrier training was part of becoming a priest, but he had no actual battle experience. All he could do was make the barrier thicker and repair it with everything that he had.

I tightened my grip on the knife, predicting that the barrier would quickly break. I had killed before. I could do it again. The failure of these assassin asshats would be recorded in the sacred texts!

“Emery, return my knife,” Lorwin said.

“Wha-what? I can fight! Didn’t you hear what Brother Melphor explained about my Constitution Aspect?”

Before Melphor started to make the barrier, I had asked him about Constitution. How did that Aspect work, what were the ranks, and what was the plus one thingy on my veloyce reading?

“Constitution is Constitution,” Melphor had distractedly replied as he placed his palms together. “The durability of your body. Resistance against illness. How fast you heal. How much pain you can endure.”

“What do the ranks in Constitution mean?” I asked. “Please tell me because I know that I’ll need to fight, too.”

“That’s not happening, Emery,” Lorwin sternly said. “I’ll protect you.”

Yeah, right, I thought. I shook Melphor’s hands as they began to glow. “Explain to me. Please.”

“Everyone starts with one rank in Constitution,” Melphor quickly said, meeting my gaze. He must’ve realized what I said was true. “The first rank encompasses the general toughness of a baby to an adult barely engaged in physical activities. As a man of books and prayer, I’m on the upper end of Constitution’s first rank. Quite frankly, I haven’t been taking care of my health. Lethargic, at times. But with this blessed item, a Ring of Fortitude—” Melphor showed me a golden band inscribed with symbols wrapped around his middle finger “—my Constitution reaches the lower second rank. Think of people who have tempered their bodies through hard labor.”

“Like me, working back in the village doing, uh, stuff.” I couldn’t recall if anyone had mentioned what my job was. Probably farming? “What’s the ceiling of the second rank?”

“Seasoned warriors who’d simply clench their teeth rather than shout when spears stab their flesh. Those who have trained in the martial ways to harden their bodies without using Cores. The second rank of Constitution is the most that a human could achieve without external aid, like sternials, Boons, potions, items, and so on.”

“And beyond that?” I asked, glancing at his ring. “I’m rank three because of my Boon.”

“The lower end of rank three, most likely. Your skin might be as tough as a bristleboar’s hide. Blades would cut only a third as deeply into your skin compared to if you were of the second rank. The rate at which your body heals is twice that of a normal person. Perhaps more.”

Hearing Melphor’s explanation earlier, I became less worried about Wonderwerk’s pesky restriction. A fatal wound I’d inflict on a regular guy wouldn’t be as fatal to me. Still, it’d be bad. I hoped that the Silver Order had healing spells because I wasn’t getting out of this situation without a scratch.

Was there a way I could wear Melphor’s Ring of Fortitude? If he were dead, he couldn’t complain about me taking it.

“I don’t care what Brother Melphor told us.” Lorwin pried open my fingers to take his knife back. I hesitantly let go of it. “You will not fight. Not while I’m around to protect you.”

“Okay, okay. But can you tell me about Belldale, the town we’re heading to? Will following this road get me there?” I was asking in case we’d get separated. I might need to run into the forest to hide from the assassins while the others use their lives to buy me time.

“Yes,” Lorwin replied, raising a brow. “There are a few forks, but just remember to keep heading due east.”

Where the fuck was east? I didn’t even know if the sun of this world moved like Earth’s. Before I could ask more questions, the muffled sounds of more horse hooves announced the arrival of the assassin.

Loud thuds echoed inside the dome. The asshats were striking the barrier!

I looked out the end of the wagon. Waves of black washed over the green. And were those cracks? I gasped when three horsemen passed by, heading to the wagon’s other side, where Melphor’s men and Otherworld Mom were.

“Brother Melphor!” Lorwin exclaimed.

Turning to the right, I saw Lorwin helping Melphor sit straight. The Not-Yet Priest trembled as he struggled to keep his hands together. The glow around him flickered. He was doing his best, and his best was pathetic.

The sound of shattered glass reverberated inside the wagon. It made my heart stop. The barrier had shattered! I saw no green outside the wagon. Noises of battle became louder with the loss of the barrier. Angry shouts and metal striking metal came from behind me.

I crouched in the middle of the wagon, with Lorwin protecting me with his body. I peeked at the wagon’s opening to see what was going on. I absolutely hated being helpless in this situation. This would be the turning point that I’d swear to become strong—I’d tell that story during my sermons.   

An assassin had fallen off his horse, rolling on the road while spraying blood everywhere. Melphor’s sternial wielder guard rode away with Otherworld Mom, trampling the fallen asshat. I inwardly cheered when two other assassin bastards chased after them—one had a familiar red scarf wrapping his face. I recognized his armor, too.

That’s Wilhelm Fancy Pants!  The most dangerous guy was out of the picture.

His companion carried a sword wrapped in shadows, the same as he did. Minus two sternial wielder enemies. For now. No doubt they’d return after killing Otherworld Mom, and they’d be very pissed.

Our last two guards also stayed behind. Not willingly. They fought three assassins. A guard got knocked off his horse and speared by an assassin. The other guard got back against a tree by his two opponents. Such useless guards! They couldn’t even kill one assassin?

A loud crash. The wagon wobbled. Its back left wheel freely bounced on the ground behind us. It got sliced off! Would a normal guy be able to do that? At least one sternial user remained. Dammit!

“Get down!” I wriggled from under Lorwin to grab Melphor. There was a black streak behind him. I managed to pull him as a blade sliced through the canvas and the wooden rings holding it up.

I scrambled to push the canvas off of us. Another flash of black from my left!

“No!” Melphor stretched his hands and conjured a rectangular pane of green.

The barrier shattered, and the black energy dissipated in a small explosion. The force pressed on the wagon’s wooden floor. Luckily, it also pushed away the sternial wielder and his horse.

Lorwin pulled Melphor and me to the front part of the wagon. Without the covering, I could see that a second assassin was to our right. Could just be a regular guy. He swiped at it as with a sword. Lorwin kept him at bay with a piece of curved wood that once held up the wagon’s cover.

The sternial asshole caught up with us. He slashed downward. Melphor, proving me wrong for thinking he was pathetic, diverted the strike with a barrier. The black energy crunched through wood, almost dividing the wagon. Horses in front whined as the wagon wildly bobbed even more.

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed that our driver was gone! Either he had cowardly jumped off or he got tossed away by the buckling wagon. The horses continued to run, probably scared by the noises.    

“Stop the wagon!” shouted the sternial wielder. The other assassin complied, pushing his horse to overtake us.

Melphor summoned another green pane and sent it at the sternial wielder, attempting to dismount him. The sternial wielder destroyed the pane like before. But this time, the dark energy didn’t dissipate and continued heading for us.

“Emery!” Lorwin shielded me with his body, screaming as the strike hit his back. He collapsed on top of me.

Turning Lorwin to his side, I saw a large gash on his back. Blood mixed with a slimy, tar-like substance. It smelled like burning rubber. By my left, Melphor was coughing blood while struggling to sit up. As this life-and-death situation spiraled into more of the latter, everything went into hyper-focus. This was my superpower when the store got too busy.  

This wasn’t the time to panic. I grabbed around for Lorwin’s knife. I found it and tried to pull it away. But he grabbed my wrist. He was still alive.

“No…” Lorwin panted, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. “I need this…”

The sternial wielder steered his horse closer to the wagon, his sword spewing black energies held high. We met each other’s gaze. His eyes widened as they darted up to my red hair. Did he realize that I was the Chosen Bestowed? Was he wondering how we knew of their ambush, even setting up a bait?

I had to keep up his distraction. “Man of Golden Glade!” The sternial wielder wavered with his raised sword. “Yes, I know you! My god has given me a vision of your attack. You will be cursed and—”

“You’re mine!” The wounded Lorwin jumped off the wagon, knife in hand, and onto the sternial wielder. He tackled him off his horse.

I would’ve celebrated if it weren’t for the other assassin still hanging around. I checked behind me—the front of the road—and found the horses that used to pull our wagon running free. They had been cut loose!

Our wagon, the pitiful mess that it was, veered off the road. We narrowly missed the last assassin as we careened downhill.

(Author’s Notes: An action-packed chapter, along with some info about Constitution and Aspect Ranks. With Emery losing most of the fodder, she’d soon be alone to face the assassins. The Silver Order still hadn’t arrived. Maybe Emery can get Melphor’s ring and handle a normal human? We’d then see how the restriction would affect her.)