Eight: A LitRPG Novel of Magical Survival

A sliver of moonlight shone in the sky, but it was enough for eyes enchanted with qi and nature mana to see me safely up the narrow ledge to the escarpment. Enchanted muscles helped me carry a full load of sharpened stakes on my back. At the top, though, I let the enchantments lapse. For the rest of the trip, I needed to be mindful of how I spent my resources.

Oof. The weight of the stakes immediately pressed down on me.

Adjusting the backpack’s straps, I lit the candlestone and hiked south toward the hillside leading down from the escarpment. Now that we were well out of view of the children, the uekisheile sprouted along the exposed parts of my skin. I imagined it was what fur felt like.

What a sight we must’ve been—a fuchsia-furred, semi-werewolf child hiking in the night with a spear in hand and a backpack full of sharpened wooden stakes. I grinned. If there are any vampires about, they’d best look out.

Question-fuchsia-question.

Color-hot-lively, I explained. Mysterious-deep-flower.

Question-vampire-question.

I laughed—not loud, but enough for something small and furry to skitter away. Complicated-complicated. Hunger-blood-eat.

Blood-eat? Not-tasty-food. Qi-tasty.

“Huh.” It occurred to me that—between the uekisheile and me—we ate creatures’ qi and silverlight. Maybe I was the vampire in my imagined scenario and not the werewolf? Or a werewolf-vampire hybrid? The lone orphaned offspring of an ill-fated Romeo-and-Juliet romance set against the backdrop of a hidden war between supernatural factions.

“I’d pay ten dollars to see that.”

Question-dollars-question.

That one took a while to answer, long enough for us to hike down to the ground below the escarpment and beyond.

An eerie quiet pervaded the deer thicket. Well, that described the whole forest at night, but because the thicket was nestled between hills, there wasn’t a breath of wind. Everything was still. The cricks and cracks of my steps sounded overly loud. When I became one with the land, though, the quiet became familiar, a cool blanket on a warm night. I felt the night breathing, and the wind whispering in the treetops.

After some searching, I found familiar landmarks. Trees that I had passed. Dips that I’d jumped across. Rocks clambered over. Then I started planting stakes where the bishkawi were most likely to step. Three here. Four there. I didn’t have an unlimited supply—just twenty-four—so I made educated guesses about their placement and number. Oh, and each stake had been thoroughly basted with chishiaxpe venom.

I checked the Status clock: it was a little after two in the morning. And all my magical resources felt mostly full thanks to the uekisheile.

I hid my backpack and headed for the area above the Glen. Were the bishkawi still in hiding waiting to ambush the creature who’d killed their scout—in other words, me—or had they given up and gone back to their camp? The answer to that question would determine the next phase of my plan.

Covering the candlestone, I burned qi to see my way up the hill toward the stream. I stopped halfway to stare into the shadows of the tree line. To listen intently. To sniff at the air. The uekisheile’s tufts waved as they too sensed for danger.

The dark covered us, and so did the sounds of the stream and the falls farther away. We continued on and made it to the bank’s edge uninterrupted. Not a single bishkawi was in sight.

I subsumed myself deeper into the land.

Ahead, the water was dark and mysterious. Nearby, the little animals hid and slept, or they slipped between roots to search for food. Open as the sky, timid as a field mouse, canny as a crow—I moved downstream.

The uekiesheile tugged on my attention to direct it toward the branches of an oak tree. Hidden among the leaves was a source of qi larger than the small animals and insects otherwise around us.

I’d prepared a couple of poison care packages for situations like this. I tossed one out, and it hit the oak tree’s trunk with a thap.

I assumed it was another bishkawi scout hiding up there, but whatever it was, it didn’t react. The leaves didn’t rustle. The branch didn’t sway. There was no movement at all. Sneaking closer, I heard the faint sound of soft snoring.

Hmm, the trunk shouldn’t be too hard to climb, but—No, I couldn’t guarantee the branch staying still if I stepped out onto it. I ruled out a melee Anesthetic-based attack as too dangerous. Instead, I found a small rock and tossed it against the tree’s trunk. Thunk.

With a snort, the creature woke up. A bishkawi head poked out to scan the area, and when they didn’t see anything approaching, they climbed down to investigate the package. After a sniff, they tore it open to eat the poisoned jerky inside.

A minute later, I pulled the core from their dead body.

After a short prayer, I continued on to the cliff overlooking the Glen. Depending on what I found below, my plan would branch in one of two directions: I’d either sneak into the Glen to poison their food, or attack from a distance and fade away, harassing the bishkawi over time.

I counted six sleeping forms around the pool. There were probably another three scouts hidden in the trees. But I didn’t see the alpha. Was he in the cave? Or away wandering?

I had ten arrows—two with orange fletching—in a quiver I’d made from tree bark and Boscun’s torn shirt. I set them beside me and applied chishiaxpe venom onto their tips.

I took a slow breath and loosened my shoulders. I’d only have a minute to send the arrows downrange once they were enchanted, so I planned my shots and rehearsed the movements. I went over the route in my head for when the bishkawi were awake and angry. My heart beat hard under the calm of at one with the land.

Joy-hunt-eat.

I nodded. I’d always loved hunting—the companionship, the challenge, the being outside, and the opportunity to help feed my family. Though the stakes were higher now, it was still a thrill. Yes-joy-hunt.

The feeling echoed between us. It mixed with my fear and clung to the land; the emotions rustled like leaves, while the roots and trunk held steady.

Mana’s full, but qi feels like a three-quarter tank… about twenty-one points’ worth. Let’s save the mana for spells but qi-enchant the eyes, the bow, and the arrows. A minute’s worth should be about five points of qi. Yes, that feels right.

“Let’s do this.”

My first target was closest to the cave—the surest shot. I tightened my belly muscles and dropped my shoulders, the bow held lightly in my left hand. Drawing the bow required work without effort: engagement of the muscles while still being at ease. The process was one of the most Taoist practices I knew.

I drew, the arrow anchoring at the back of my jaw. It held there for only a heartbeat before I loosed it at the sleeping bishkawi. The bowstring twanged, but I assumed the sound would be lost in the rush of water over the falls.

I held the stance to keep from disturbing the bow. Only once the arrow was fully launched did I reach down for the second arrow. In my peripheral vision, the bishkawi jumped after being hit.

I nocked the new arrow, and found my second target—she was just starting to move. I drew and released.

Targeting from closest to farthest, I shot two more arrows before all the bishkawi were awake. They stumbled upright to search for whatever was disturbing their troopmates. The alpha burst through the waterfall to land among them. He threw his arms into the air and howled. The three bishkawi scouts rushed in from the woods. Along with the two still standing, they echoed his lead, howling and chattering together. The sound raised the hairs along the back of my neck, and it took two precious seconds for me to steady my hands and resume.

The troop stopped howling after two more bishkawi were hit by arrows. All the downed bishkawi lay on the ground bleeding and poisoned. Enraged, those still able to dashed into the trees to search for their assailant—all except for the alpha, who remained behind. He paced, snorting and huffing, back and forth along the pool’s edge.

Four arrows were left. The first one hit him in the back, between the left shoulder and the spine. He spun around to face his invisible attacker, and the second arrow caught him in the meat of his right arm. The alpha looked up to where I was hidden.

Maybe I could’ve gotten another shot off, maybe not. There was only a split second to decide, and I chose to run. I grabbed the last two arrows—the orange ones—and sprinted for the thicket.

My heart pumping from the adrenaline, I flew down the hillside. Branches scraped my skin and caught on my clothes. Roots and rocks tried to trip my feet. I was at one with the land, but the land was not so easily won.

My breath came fast and hard. Behind me, the alpha howled. I was screened by the hill and the forest, though, so he only knew my general direction.

At the thicket’s edge, I stopped to get my bearings. Hunting around, I found the path I needed and hid myself away. I focused on controlling my breathing; I shrank my presence until I was just another small heartbeat among many others.

At this point, the uekisheile was in full bloom searching the area around me for danger. My bow was nocked and ready. I created a ball of mana and moved it into the thicket where some of the poisoned stakes were. In my mind’s eye, I readied the spirit rune.

The hillside trembled with the alpha’s landing. I drew and released, but he wasn’t steady and stumbled a bit on his step. The arrow grazed his torso and flew past. The alpha regained his balance, but before he could search for the source of the arrow, I applied the spirit rune to the mana ball I’d created.

The alpha froze. His head swung left and right, this time to sense for the spirit mana that had suddenly appeared. He leapt into the thicket to chase after it. Moments later, the remaining bishkawi arrived and followed him in.

I ran in parallel, sprinting alongside and just managing to keep the spirit ball ahead of the alpha, following the path of the poisoned stakes I’d planted. My control slipped, and I was forced to slow down to focus my attention on it. I sped up once I regained control, but then ran straight into a tree. The ball nearly blinked out of existence from the surprise and sudden sharp pain. I gritted my teeth, wiped the blood from my nose, and kept running.

The bishkawi howls quieted, one voice after another, until all that was left was the crack of branches as the alpha crashed his way through the thicket. Eventually, that sound disappeared too.

I approached where I’d last heard the alpha and found him still upright, breathing raggedly. His shoulders trembled with the effort to take another step toward where the spirit ball hovered in the distance. I slowly put down my spear to nock the last arrow onto my bow. After a steadying breath, I drew the bow, nice and easy.

Ignore the throbbing from the nose. A bit of qi for the arrow. Where might a baboon’s kidneys be? The lower back? There’s no rush; it’s just another day at the range. Steady, steady, steady—

I released, and the arrow hit the alpha in the lower back. He spun in response, but lost his balance, falling.

The alpha growled. Even though he was shot full of venom, he was still fierce. The rage in his eyes never dimmed, and he forced himself up and toward me, one unsteady step at a time. Spear back in hand, I withdrew, but he followed.

While I outpaced him, nothing seemed to stop the alpha. Step by step, he came on.

I realized the arrows might not be enough to finish him, so I ran ahead to put some distance between us and apply venom to the spearhead. The bottle nearly dropped from my hand when I felt a sudden flare of qi from the alpha’s direction. There were trees in the way, so I couldn’t see what was happening, but it felt like there was a giant heart beating, the pulses rippling out and across my senses.

Strong-violent-qi. Threat-qi-threat.

I didn’t need the uekisheile’s warning. All the alarm bells in my head were ringing. I ran back toward the alpha and found him locked into position, the muscles under his fur wriggling like worms. His bloodshot eyes glared at me, but otherwise he didn’t—he couldn’t—move.

Whatever was happening, it didn’t bode well for me. I gripped my spear, circled around to his blindside, and charged. It was like hitting a heavy bag full of sand.

The spearhead was six inches long, but only two of them penetrated into the alpha’s back. It was enough to get the poison under his skin, though. I backed off and charged at him twice more, the running start necessary to punch through the thickened muscles.

After my third charge, the alpha’s arm swung in a clumsy swipe. His hand passed over my head like a freight train, slow but heavy. I ducked and fell back, scrambling to get outside his reach.

As soon as I recovered enough to hold the spear, I charged again. The alpha swung with another blow. I stabbed his chest and withdrew before he could respond.

The alpha was like an old, creaky windmill, the panes inexorably turning—swing, swing, swing. In between each, I stabbed him: sometimes in the chest, sometimes nicking his arms, and sometimes puncturing his belly. Blood leaked across his torso. Sporadic shivers ran through him, but he didn’t stop swinging.

Then he took a step. The motion caught me mid-stab—the spearhead inside his body. He aimed for the spear’s haft, and his strike splintered it. I was left with a three-foot length of wood. The rest of the spear was still stuck in his chest. The alpha bared his teeth.

I ran. It didn’t make sense to keep attacking. There were no more arrows, and the only weapons I had left were the knives. There was no way I was willing to get close enough to use them. Plus, the raid was already a success—the rest of the troop was likely either dead or dying from poison. All except for the alpha, and he may still keel over yet, depending on what’s happening with his qi.

I hoped it wasn’t some kind of evolution into a more powerful form being triggered, but even then, I’d find a way to adapt. Harassing one was a lot easier than harassing many. I’d just keep on with the guerilla tactics until I either killed the alpha or drove him off. So, I left him there, his breath heaving, his rage palpable.

I ran back to finish off the bishkawi that still might be alive. I found three in the thicket; one had a stake through the hand, while the other two were both pierced through a foot. In all three cases, they’d landed on the stakes hard enough for the point to pass completely through.

The one stuck through the hand was still alive, his muscles rigid, and he glared at me with immense hatred in his eyes. I stabbed him through the neck with a knife to put him out of his misery and pocketed his core afterward. As for the other two, I saw that something had already dug their way into the bodies to steal their cores.

I used more qi on my eyes, but didn’t see anything moving in the area. The fight with the alpha had only taken a few minutes, so whoever or whatever the core thief was, they were probably still close by.

Watch-threat-watch, I said.

When the uekisheile acknowledged my request, I sprinted for the Glen. There, I found half of the bishkawi still alive, so I finished them off one by one by slitting their throats. Then I said a few words over their bodies and pocketed their cores. The bishkawi who’d died of the poison before I arrived still had theirs, so I took them as well.

Inside the cave, the refrigerator had been smashed apart, the stones strewn across the floor. I quickly searched through them and found the unideer’s antler mostly unharmed. There were bite marks along one side, but they hadn’t damaged the antler.

The frond I’d used as a wallet was still intact, but everything else was smashed or ripped to pieces—the tools, the deer skin, everything. Even the pot helm was caved in. All that work, all that effort, was wasted.

Place-qi-delicious, the uekisheile said. Good-place-good.

My frustration turned into resolve. Yes-good-place. We-fix-Glen.

The uekisheile tufts patted me on the cheek. Calm-qi more-delicious spicy-qi.

I snorted. “I’ll take your word for it.” There were so many dead bishkawi around. It’d be a shame if the qi remaining in them went to waste. Question-uekisheile-eat poison-get-sick?

The uekisheile managed the qi equivalent of a shrug. Uekisheile-qi-body no-poison no-sick.

In the many, many day-night cycles they’d experienced, the uekisheile had never once become sick or poisoned while in either their qi or physical forms.

I walked them over to the nearest body. “Then I guess it’s dinner time.”

We-pay 10-dollars.

I was back in the thicket, sneaking toward where I’d left the alpha. I needed to confirm his condition before I went back to the kids. Was he evolving, or was he dying?

Faint waves of qi brushed past me, weaker than before. I eased into the bushes behind the alpha and saw that he was wheezing, his rage fading. I made myself comfortable and waited. When nothing happened after ten minutes, the uekisheile and I practiced open-eyed meditation.

Over the next hour, the alpha’s qi thinned. The pulses came minutes apart, the fire inside him guttering. Finally, there was a stutter, one last flare of rage against the dying of the light, and then he was gone, with just me, the ueikisheile, and the dark forest to witness it.

After twenty minutes, he hadn’t moved and nothing else had come out of the woods. I stood up, dusted myself off, and approached the giant. Even dead, he towered over me, and I had to shove him onto his side to get at his chest.

Eat-bishkawi-eat, I said.

The uekisheile hummed in response and sent several tufts of themselves deep into the alpha’s body. Meanwhile, I dug around for his core. It was the size of a big walnut, the biggest I’d found yet.

There was a brief blip of qi, and the uekisheile reappeared, dissatisfied. Small-spicy-qi. Small-small-small.

Huh. The alpha must’ve burned their qi resisting the poison. I stared dumbly at his corpse. That was it, then. I’d managed to do it; I’d defended the Glen from the bishkawi. I almost couldn’t believe it. There was only one thing left to do.

“Rest now,” I said. “Lay down your spite and your rage. They will not serve you. Lay down your spite and your rage. They will only weigh you down. A third time, I say unto you, lay down your spite and your rage. Let them go and find your way to peace instead.”

I didn’t want his angry spirit following me around. No ghosts for me, thank you very much. Not that I’d blame him for haunting me. I’d harvested his and his troop’s lives and their cores, and soon I’d be able to enjoy the benefits of both. First, though:

Back to the kids. Gotta make sure they’re okay.