Vigil's Valor: 41 - Good News, Bad News

“Cal,” I hollered, “we need to shatter the Soul Jar. If we can break that, I think the Remnant should dissipate.”

“Don’t sweat it, Boyd. This is my territory and I’m about to make this freak my bitch.” With a deafening roar, Cal launched himself toward the Wil-O-Wisp, his body transforming once more as he ran. His shoulders and chest swelled outward. His arms and legs lengthened and bulged until he stood eight feet tall. It seemed that inside the Etheric Realm, Cal didn’t need Transformation Tokens to shift. As a Spirit Guide, he could alter his body at will.

And what had he done with all that awesome power?

He’d turned himself into a lumbering, fur-face Sasquatch and he’d even taken a moment to accessorize. The son of a bitch had added a gold velour tracksuit, complete with a golden neck chain and a pair of voluminous. MC Hammer parachute pants.

“It’s hammer time, motherfucker,” Cal bellowed, leaping into the air. “MC Squatch is here to wreck your shit!” A hairy fist the size of a Thanksgiving Turkey cold clocked the Wil-O-Wisp in the side of its bulbous frog face, knocking the creature to the side. The monster opened its maw and shot out a slime-covered tongue that had the honest-to-god head of a python at the end. The serpent tongue wrapped around Cal’s waist and began to squeeze, attempting to drag the tracksuit-clad Sasquatch into its mouth.

Cal squawked as he pummeled the Wil-O-Wisp’s lump, misshapen head with his oversized fists.

“I do not consent to tongue!” He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

I tried to ignore how simultaneously absurd and horrific this was and circled to the right. My tether was fading faster by the second. It only had the faintest tinge of yellow left, which meant I couldn’t dare risk using any of my Wrath spells. And according to Cal, once my Arcana went, my Stamina would be next, so that meant my physical Justice abilities were out as well.

Still, I wasn’t completely powerless.

I focused on my arm and willed my axe into existence. The golden weapon of pure spirit formed in my palm. My Soul Bound Weapons were inherently limited by the material skin component, but there was no weapon skin here. With a thought, the axe melted and reformed into a K-Bar, then expanded into a massive war maul. Maybe I didn’t have Cal’s spiritual, shape-shifting prowess, but I could still mess some shit up.

The weapon morphed again, this time taking the form of a sleek javelin.

I took two steps then hurled the weapon. With the way the Wil-O-Wisp was positioned, the Soul Jar was tucked up beneath a roll of fat, so there was no way I could hit it. Thankfully, my supernatural enhanced accuracy had carried over, because the weapon flew true, punching a hole straight through the creature’s extended tongue. As the weapon emerged from the other side, I recalled it to my hand. A great bloody wound appeared in the frog-fish’s tongue and with a heave, Cal ripped his way free.

The snake head unfurled from Cal’s torso and dropped to the ground, vanishing in a puff of silver mist. A fountain of thick green blood sprayed out in a geyser from the tongue stump, drenching Cal’s track suit.

“Gross,” he shouted in his graveled voice. “That shit got in my mouth!”

“That’s what she said!” I yelled without thinking.

But I didn’t have time to laugh—I had places to be and monsters to kill. The javelin in my hand shimmered and changed, transforming into a long rope with a clawed grappling hook on the end. I swung it underhand and lobbed it up onto the side of the rocky cliff face, then I scurried up until I found a small sheaf of rock, protruding out like a lip. I was thirty feet above the creature’s back. Hopefully the added height would give me the sheer momentum I needed to pull off my terrible plan. With a battle cry I jumped, my rope and hook abruptly transforming into a huge spear, six inches thick and ten feet long.

As I came down like a meteor, I slammed the spear through the Wil-O-Wisp’s back, using the added weight of my fall to drive the weapon all the way through the monster’s chest cavity. The tip of the weapon slammed into the rocky ground below with a clang that vibrated through my hands and into my teeth. The fall had knocked the air from my lungs—which was weird since I didn’t even have lungs—but it was worth it, since the giant frog-fish was now pinned to the ground.

It struggled and bucked to free itself as I rolled to the right and off its side, landing in a crouch.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Cal boomed as he launched a brutal combo of Sasquatch fists into the monster face.

“Keep it distracted!” I barked, ducking between the two murder machines in search for the Soul Jar.

The Wil-O-Wisp bucked again, and I felt my spear dislodge from the ground. A huge, webbed foot lashed out, nailing Cal in the chest and batting him effortlessly through the air. Its legion of beady eyes fixed on me with extreme prejudice. Not ideal since I was directly in front of its garbage disposal mouth. I recalled the spear and reformed it into the familiar shape of Kerra’s tower shield just as the creature struck. It bit down, but the shield lodged firmly in its maw. Now it was a battle of wills. The pressure from its jaws was immense and I could feel my spirit draining away, my shield cracking under the strain.

That was okay, I didn’t need to last much longer. I had this son of a bitch right where I wanted him. I focused, feeding more of myself into the soul-forge shield. I glanced at my tether and saw it lose the last remaining bit of golden color. The added energy was just enough to do what I had in mind. A series of sharpened spikes erupted from the top and bottom edge of the shield.

The creature squealed in pain and outrage, rearing back on its hindlegs as the spikes punch through the roof of its mouth. For the first time since the battle started, the Soul Jar was clearly visible.

And it was out of my reach.

Shit.

The energy I’d used to reinforce my shield had taken everything I had left in the tank. I could barely stay on my feet.

There was a flash a movement in my peripheries as Cal bolted in. “Eat a bag of dicks,” he yelled in victory as his huge fist slashed upward and slammed into the clay talisman. There was a burst of cancerous green light and the jar shattered. As it turned to dust, so did the Wil-O-Wisp. The monster fled like a bad dream, transforming into a wall of fog that blew away in an unfelt breeze. The only sign the creature had ever been there was the smoking crater and the ruined landscape it left in its wake. And, because it was a Remnant and not the real deal, it didn’t even have the good grace to give me a little much needed Essence.

I reabsorbed the shield into my core, but the slight bump of energy wasn’t enough to keep me on my feet. I dropped to my knees, barely able to keep my eyes open.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Cal said, his voice a distant rumble. “I gotcha…”

He scooped me up in giant hairy arms and then the world was spinning by, moving beneath me at lightning pace. It all felt like it was happening to someone else. Like I was sitting in the back of an empty movie theater, watching this all play out on the big screen. A green sky gave way to a black one while flashes of light danced across my vision like a fever dream.

The Etheric Realm continued to slowly leech away my little remaining body heat and just when I thought it was all over, we rushed through the wall of the brothel and Cal spiked my soul into my lifeless body, like a running back scoring the winning touchdown.

My eyes shot open. I gasped, taking a deep breath, and immediately tipped over onto my side. My teeth chattered and my arms and legs seized, shaking uncontrollably. I accidentally kicked over the chair blocking the door in the process and the urn in my lap toppled onto the floor, ash spilling out across the wooden floorboards.

“Is everything alright in there!” Came a panicked cry as the handle jiggled and the door tottered open with a creak.

Terrwyn rushed in and dropped to a knee beside me. Then she saw the urn and she immediately abandoned me.

“No, no, no,” she moaned, trying to sweep the ashes back into their container with one trembling hand.

With a groan, I sat up and leaned back against my palms. “You don’t need to do that,” I said.

“You don’t understand,” she sobbed, “this is all I have left. It’s not much, but its something.” She continued to sweep furiously.

I grimaced and shook my head. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you. That right there”—I pointed at the pile of ashes—“is not your son. I’m not positive, but I think your boy might still be alive. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I have no idea where he is or why he was taken, but I promise you I’ll do my best to bring him back…”

                                                           ***

I stumbled out of Tiers of Delight, wobbling drunkenly. I wasn’t drunk, but my soul had taken a beating in the Etheric Realm and even now that it had been reunited with my body, I still felt thin. I stuck my hand out and activated Kinetic Blast. Or at least I tried to. My Arcana gauge flickered weakly, and I released enough of a blast to ruffle a piece of straw laying on the road. Not only was I tapped out of magic, the bar wasn’t even replenishing itself. My Stamina Gauge wasn’t in any better shape, either.

That Wil-O-Wisp had damn-near killed me. It would’ve gotten the job done, too, if not for Cal. Whoever had left that nasty surprise waiting for me had known exactly what they were doing.

“You look like crap,” a voice called out from a nearby alley. Kerra stepped into a pool of light. Instead of her heavy armor or her training garb, she wore brown linen pants, a plain tan shirt, and a rough-spun cloak with the hood up, obscuring her face. Still, I’d know that voice anywhere.

I glanced back over a shoulder at the cake shop, then looked to Kerra.

“This isn’t what it looks like, I swear.”

“So you aren’tcoming out of a sleezy brothel in the middle of the night, possibly drunk?” she asked folding her arms in disapproval.

“Well, I mean yes,” I said, “I guess technically that is what it looks like, but not because of why you think. And just to be one-hundred percent clear, I’m not drunk. I’m spiritually exhausted.”

“Is that what people call what you did in there?” Cal asked with a shit-eating grin.

“Not helping,” I grunted.

He leaned in close. “Yeah, no shit,” he whispered in my ear, “I’m not trying to help. I want to watch the ensuing trainwreck.”

She dropped her hood and rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Vigil Boyd, your honor is still intact. I know you’re not doing anything untoward. You’re trying to find out about the boy, yes?”

I faltered. “Yeah. How did you know?” I asked.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” she replied. “There’s no way for you to get access to the Palace and you already know about Akser, so the only rock left for you to kick over was this one.”

“How’d you know it was a brothel?” I asked, hooking a thumb toward the Tiers of Delight.

“There’s not much that goes on in this city that the Custodians and Justiciars doesn’t know about,” she said. “The Society aren’t the only ones with eyes and ears everywhere. The Citadel even encourages its members to use this establishment instead of the seedier brothels over in Red Paint Row—unofficially, of course.”

I grunted and shook my head. Why was I not surprised?

“Fair enough,” I said, nodding slowly. “So we both know what I’m doing out here, but the real question is what are you doing out here? I gave you a week, just like you asked. I thought you were going to stop riding my ass about this bounty?”

“I’m not here to ride your ass—”

“Phrasing,” Cal blurted.

Kerra glared at Cal and if looks could kill, he would’ve been dead twice over.

“I’m here to help,” she offered begrudgingly. “After I heard about the attack against the prince, I demanded a meeting with the Custodians. They refused. The Keeper of the Books told me that the matter was in good hands. Said in no uncertain terms that the details of the case were sensitive and not part of my purview as Justiciar of Training. That was it. He refused to elaborate any further and told me in the politest possible terms that the Custodians couldn’t be bothered with me and that I should stay as far away from this bounty as I could get.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” I replied. “You’re a rule follower, Kerra. You toe the line and wouldn’t step over it even in your wildest dreams. That’s just who you are at your core. The fact that you’re not reporting me to the Custodians is shocking enough, but to actively disobey their express orders?” I shook my head. “Nope. I don’t buy it. The Kerra I know would rather cut off her own arm. So I’m going to ask again, why are you here?”

She dropped her head and shifted uncomfortable.

“Because my friend is dead,” she finally said, looking up. “Because he’s dead and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being lied too about why. I’ve never been brushed aside like that before. Not even as a Novice. I feel like I’m going crazy, Boyd, and as much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right. There’s something terrible going on and someone inside the Citadel has a vested interested in keeping it under wraps. I’ve always believed the Custodians were executing the will of Raguel, even if his will is often a mystery to the rest of us. For the first time since ascending, I’m starting to doubt that. I’m here because I need to know the truth and you are the only person who seems to be looking for it.”

There was a small part of me that wanted to shove a finger in her face and say, “I told you so,” but I didn’t. Her confession didn’t make it feel better. It made me feel empty. Sad. Kerra was a sanctimonious pain in the ass, but there was also a purity to her unwavering faith that was refreshing, even if I thought it was also a little naive. For her to lose that conviction was a tragedy. Like a light being snuffed out of an already dark world.

“For what it’s worth, Kerra, I don’t think you’re crazy. Someone definitely wants to keep anyone from looking too closely and they’re willing to kill anyone too stupid or stubborn to leave it be. I’m guessing Dogan fell into that category and now we do to.”

I told her what we’d uncovered while talking to Terrwyn and delving into the Etheric Realm. She seemed genuinely surprised at the revelation that Dogan the Shieldbreaker had been in an ongoing relationship, which meant that the Justiciar of Seekers probably had been as discrete as Terrwyn claimed. When I told her about the Will-O-Wisp Remnant waiting for us in the spirit realm, I sincerely thought she was going to have a stroke. A vein throbbed in her neck and her eyes bulged a little.

“That is one of the most reckless, foolish, hairbrained, schemes I’ve ever heard,” she said as Cal finished telling the part where he hurled my spirit back into my dying body. “I thought nothing could ever top the Lake Kraken, but not even a week later you managed to prove me wrong. Vigil’s train for years before they risk walking in the astral plains. I’ve never even heard of an Acolyte attempting it—that’s something that generally falls into the Realm of the Sages. You could’ve been eaten or stranded or enslaved by a malicious Fae Noble.” She rubbed at one temple. “My heart wasn’t meant to handle Boyd Knight levels of stress.”

“None of those things did happen,” I pointed out, “and now we know that whoever is pulling the strings is human. Chaos Aberrations don’t leave behind trapped Soul Jars in the Etheric Realm.”

“But how in the world would someone get a Chaos Aberration to do their bidding?”

“It’s not impossible,” I said, “just rare. There’s a ritual called the Sacrament of Oblivion, which lets someone conjure and control a beast of oblivion. From what I understand, it’s similar to what we do through the Sidhe Pact, just on steroids.”

“Yeah, steroids and self-mutilation,” Cal added.

Kerra’s eyes had narrowed to thin slits and her mouth was so puckered her lips had basically disappeared.

“And how do you know all of that?” she asked in a low hiss.

I shot a shifty look toward Cal. “I think I might’ve read it in a book?” I offered, trying to act casual.

“A book,” she said. “You just happened to randomly read that in some book.”

“Yes?” I replied, equal parts question and statement.

“Boyd, it may not look it, but I’ve been a Vigil for thirty summers. What I know about Chaos Aberrations could fit onto a single sheet of parchment and I’ve never, in all my life, heard of the Sacrament of Oblivion. Would you like to try again?”

“Okay, before you get pissed,” I said, “I really did read it in a book—a book that Cal found for me. And, thanks to plausible deniability, I can truthfully say that I’m not entirely certain where he got it.”

“You were the ones that set fire to the Custodian’s Athenaeum, aren’t you?”

“I plead the fifth,” Cal said.

“I should’ve known the second I heard,” she muttered. She took a deep breath and pressed her eyes shut. “You know what? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that. The important thing is that it is possible for someone with the True Gift to conjure and control an Aberration. Knowing that, do you have any suspects?”

“I have a few hunches,” I said, “but honestly, at this point I’m just not sure whether it’s the Custodians, some rogue Warlock, or an enemy of the state hoping to stir up shit between the Citadel and the Crown and kickstart a civil war. The only way to know for sure is to talk to the one guy that can help me connect all the dots. The prince. Problem is, I have no idea how in the hell we’re going to pull that off. After the attack, I’m guessing the palace is going to be on high alert.”

For the first time that night, Kerra smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Let me ask you a question, Boyd. How do you feel about formal dinner parties? Because the prince is throwing one tomorrow to honor the fallen soldiers. The noble houses will all be accounted for and there will be delegates from Kelkadia and the Virtarun Empire in attendance. As Justiciar of Training,the Heir Apparent has personally extended an invitation to me and a guest of my choosing. It’s a formality and I’m sure nobody expects me to show up—my distaste for formal events is well-known.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Kerra?”

“At best, I’m asking you to be my plus one.”