Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

Alexandra’s hand brushed the blade of her axe. It was hanging at her waist while she was tightly grasping her sickle with her gloved hand.

The Duskmaws were pacing around her and the villagers. Twenty, maybe more. She tightened her grip even more.

“We’re ready,” Durel said as he stepped next to her. With him, the man and woman she’d come here with. “We’ll open a path for you through the pack. You kill that thing. Understood?”

She bit her lip, and raised her head to look at the blessed Duskmaw standing on top of a house, overlooking the square. The Yshant’s red flower kept pulsing on its head. She didn’t know if it would be enough.

Alexandra turned her head. Behind her, the barricaded house where the village’s children were hidden. She’d completed her daily, there was nothing holding her back.

“Let’s do it.”

Durel nodded, and the three locals sprung into action. They dove into the Duskmaw pack, slicing at the roots and teeth trying to stop them. Alexandra followed right behind them. She kept to herself, not engaging unless a beast made it past her escort.

The tide closed behind them, more Duskmaws prowled behind them, looking for an opening. Alexandra caught a root-leg with the belly of her blade, and sliced it off clean.

The woman took a bite to the forearm ten feet from the wall. She drove her knife down into the beast’s head one-handed and kept moving.

The pack thickened as they pushed deeper. A Duskmaw lunged at Durel’s back and Alexandra opened its flank without breaking stride. Another came in low at the woman’s legs and she caught it with her knee, drove her knife down into its neck, kept moving. The man was bleeding from somewhere above his ear. Alexandra hadn’t seen it happen.

Then they were at the house, the three of them pressed against the stone, the Duskmaws circling at a distance. Alexandra looked up.

The eaves were a meter above her head. No window on this side. The stone was tight-fitted. Nothing to climb on. The blessed Duskmaw stood at the roof’s edge directly above her. The red flower pulsed. It looked down at her without moving.

”How are you getting up there?” the man said. His hand was pressed to a gash along his ribs.

Alexandra ran her eyes along the wall. Then the corner. Then the neighboring house, lower, a woodpile stacked against its side.

”Give me ten seconds.”

She didn’t have ten seconds. The blessed one jumped down, scattering its pack as it landed in front of the group. Alexandra backed up against the wall, sickle raised.

“You better have a solution for that,” Durel said, teeth clenched. He was holding his axe two-handed, heedless of the blood flowing down his arms.

Her hands were trembling, but she stepped forward. She had one shot at this. Even then, the price would be steep.

She couldn’t afford to miss.

But the beast was fast. Faster than she could keep track of. She needed to be as close as possible.

The beast growled, then raised its head into a howl. The red flower pulsed, causing the air around it to vibrate.

Alexandra felt it in her chest first, a deep pressure like a bell struck too close, then in her legs, the strength going out of them from the knee down.

Her right foot slid back across the cobblestone and caught. Her left found the ground a half second later. She straightened.

The three behind her hit the stone in quick succession.

The blessed Duskmaw’s head turned toward them.

She stepped in front of it. ”Hey.”

It lunged. The root-leg came across her body faster than the others had moved all fight, and she got the sickle up in the wrong place. The blow caught her across the ribs and chest. She left the ground, hit the wall shoulder-first. A metallic sound rang off the cobblestones near her. She dropped to her hands and knees.

Next to her, Durel was the first to stand up. “Fucking curse. You good?”

She winced. “I’ll be fine.”

He grabbed his axe. “You need to do something. The others won’t last long without us.”

Alexandra stood up and dusted her pants. “I’m trying.”

She reached for her belt. Her sickle wasn’t there. “Fuck.” She didn’t see it on the ground either, so she grabbed her axe.

The blessed Duskmaw was circling left, roots dragging across the cobblestones. She tracked the pattern. Three steps, weight shift, pivot. Three steps, weight shift, pivot. Combat Sense laid it out flat and clean in her head, the beast’s next position already visible before it arrived there.

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She moved on the weight shift.

The axe was heavier than the sickle and she adjusted her grip as she closed the distance, choking up on the handle. The beast pivoted into her and she took the root-leg across her left shoulder instead of her throat. The impact knocked her sideways but she grabbed the root with her free hand and held on.

The Duskmaw thrashed. Her feet left the ground, came back down, left again. She got her legs around the root and locked her ankles together.

Its head came around, jaws wide.

She drove the axe head into the side of its skull before the bite closed. Not deep enough. The wood was thick and dense and the blade skipped off the grain. The beast snapped at her arm and caught the sleeve, the green teeth tearing through the fabric and finding the skin underneath, and she felt the burn of it along her forearm. Her weapon slipped through her fingers and landed on the ground.

She grabbed a hold of a leg and didn’t let go.

The Duskmaw slammed her into the cobblestones. Her hip took the impact, then her elbow. She kept her grip on the root.

It was now or never.

Life Curse.

Dark Bolt.

The dark needle materialized at the tip of her fingers.

More.

The blessed one was the equivalent of a Silver. She had to push the spell further. Consequences be damned.

She felt Life Curse churn somewhere inside her. It was building up, preparing something horrible for her. She gritted her teeth. Only when she sensed that her mitigating skill couldn’t do more, and that Dark Bolt would start draining her lifeforce, she stopped.

Alexandra released the needle point-blank into the blessed Duskmaw. It pierced the bark and she immediately felt the jaw weaken around her.

Using what strength she had left, she kicked the beast and wrenched herself free. Then she jumped to her feet and ran for her allies.

Durel was watching the blessed one. It roared. “What was that?”

Alexandra didn’t answer. Clutching her arm, she leaned on the wall. The red flower was wilting, its petals falling to the ground one by one. Then the root-legs lost their rigidity, and the blessed one crumbled to the ground.

The man and the woman finally got control of their legs back. But she barely registered it. Her thoughts were elsewhere, fixated on the curse she had traded this kill for.

She summoned her journal and opened it.

You are suffering from the sickness of empathy.

Sure Footing 6 -> 7

Life Curse 2 -> 3

Dark Bolt 3 -> 4

“Fuck.”

Since contracting the sickness of mana, she’d asked around to get an idea of the type of curses she could get. Sickness of empathy was one of the worst. Any pain she inflicted, she would suffer in return.

Her eyes went to the blessed Duskmaw. Or what was left of it after Dark Bolt. At least she didn’t feel that.

“Fuck,” she repeated.

“What?” Durel asked.

She shook her head. “We need to get back to the others.”

“Can’t you use that skill on the pack?”

“One cast already cost me enough. ”

Durel frowned. “It can’t be more than the life of one of us.”

Alexandra didn’t answer.

The remaining Duskmaws pulled back as they crossed the square, circling wide, keeping their distance. Without the blessed one driving them, they grew more cautious.

They’d seen what she could do.

Durel led the way. She followed at the back, empty-handed, watching the beasts at the edge of the square for the ones that might commit. None did. The man and woman had their weapons up, moving in tight on either side of Durel.

They reached the other defenders. The line was thinner than she’d left it, four defenders instead of eight, but standing. Three Duskmaw bodies on the ground. Apple was crouched over a man sitting against the barricaded door, her hands on his chest.

Her eyes went to Alexandra the moment she stepped into the square.

She said something to the man, stood, and crossed to her.

”Sit.”

She sat on the cobblestones. Apple knelt beside her, took her forearm in both hands, and turned it over. The teeth marks ran from her wrist to her elbow, the skin broken in a jagged line, swollen and dark at the edges.

The light from Apple’s fingers was warm.

On the square, the fight raged on, but the Duskmaws were clearly losing. Alexandra watched as the healer closed her wounds.

Minutes later, the first beasts ran. Then another, and soon, they had all returned to the plains. Apple got up and went to heal everyone else. The survivors moved the corpses out of sight before opening the door to the barricaded house. Ten children and five young adults who’d yet to reach bronze slowly exited. The older ones helped clean up the Duskmaws.

Alexandra got up and picked up her sickle and axe.

When Apple was done, the healer pulled her aside.

”What did you want me for?” Apple asked quietly.

Alexandra took a deep breath. “My ability isn’t without a cost.”

Apple nodded. “What is it?”

“Sickness of empathy.”

The old woman’s breath stilled for a moment. “That…”

“How much does the cure cost?”

Apple shook her head. “I’m not sure they even have one in Esmera. I’ve never heard of this curse.”

“Then give me the five gold I need for the cure to sickness of mana,” Alexandra said through her teeth.

Apple opened her mouth. No sound came out.

Alexandra frowned. “I could have run.”

The healer met her gaze. “We don’t have that much money.”

“A whole village, and not even five gold? Do you not sell your harvest?”

“We spend what we earn. Five gold is a lot.” Apple met her gaze. “I’m truly sorry. I will contact the Esmera branch and apply for the cure to be given to you.”

Alexandra nodded. Better than nothing.

“But…” Apple continued. “I doubt Arame will agree.”

She groaned. “Why not?”

“Miss Alexandra. You’ve slain the Duskmaw who held the Yshant true blessing yourself. Do you think it was alone?”

“You’re saying…”

Apple sighed. “Attacking right when our chief is gone. I believe there’s a high chance that other villages met the same fate as ours. If not worse. The resources of the Hands will be stretched thin.”

Alexandra’s chest tightened as her gaze turned south, toward Lanterne.