BT - Book II - Chapter 91.5

[AN] I was reading over what has been written, and I strongly think that the jump from Micah settling down after the Luoca breaks free transitions way too suddenly to the encounter with it.  As such I've written an interim chapter (this will be chapter 92 on Royal Road with all later chapters being renumbered by one).  [/AN]

Telivern galloped toward Micah, nostrils flaring.  Its hooves sank into the soft grass of the lakeside clearing, tearing up clumps of sod as it zig-zagged wildly toward him.

Micah gripped the metal baton, hands twisting against the metal grip nervously.  Telivern thundered past him, but Micah held his ground, eyes fixed on the woodline.

The Luoca sauntered out, its human face smirking at him as its remaining legs thrust themselves deeply into the dirt.  Almost casually, one of its wings flickered, slicing through a tree and sending it tumbling to the ground.

It stared at him, unmoving while its mouth babbled incoherently.

Micah began mumbling the words to Haste, prepared to use Flash Step to escape even as the grips of the rod used by the ritualist to try and control the daemon dug into his palm.  It had been stalking them for weeks.  Appearing occasionally to make its presence known, only to disappear again.

He’d been inside the creature’s head long enough to know what passed for the alien being’s motivation.  Terror.

Luoca delighted in destruction, be it of the physical world around them or a living being.  For the daemons, the fear and helplessness they created as they tormented their victims were almost as enjoyable as tearing a being apart directly.

Usually, they didn’t really bother.  When he’d been connected to the daemons, he could feel that their destructive instincts were generally much more indiscriminate.  Melting a tree or breaking a rock formation was almost as enjoyable to them as hunting a creature.

Unfortunately, Micah had become a bit of a fixation for the monster.  The forest was full of ancient trees and secluded grottos, the sorts of places brimming with the essence of Karell that it could be despoiling, but instead, at least once a day, it would focus on him.

The daemon took a step forward, head lolling to the side as it squinted at him.  Micah instinctively brought the rod up into a defensive spear form before relaxing his shoulders slightly and shifting it to a two handed grip in front of him, mana tingling down his arms as he prepared to activate the enchanted item at a moment’s notice.

It sniffed the air once before grinning at him, eyes rolling madly in its head.  A chill ran down Micah’s spine. The daemon gibbered prowling along the edge of the forest, just out of easy range of his scepter.

He followed it,  never taking his eyes off of the daemon lest it bound into the campsite where his family was trying to live as close to an ordinary life as possible.

The daemon flinched away from the forest, taking a couple hasty steps into the clearing and sending Micah into a crouch, enchanted rod at the ready.  It chortled at him, a hollow taunting sound, as it stood, a handful of paces from the trees, staring him down with challenge in its eyes.

Micah’s throat bobbed soundlessly as he stood, eyes fixed on the pacing daemon and poised to spring into combat.  The rest of the party had left hours ago to capture animals for his rituals and to collect the reagents Micah would need for the enchantments he was working on.

There’s no way the daemon could know, but he was alone with this family and animals.  Ravi and Telivern would be a little help, but if it decided to attack, his only hope was to fend it off with the control rod.  He smiled grimly, there was something ironic about trusting his life to a magical item that he had only managed to acquire because it failed its previous wielder.

Then, with a chortle of mocking laughter, the daemon’s wings flickered and buzzed, lifting it into the air where it swung around.  He breathed a sigh of relief as it flew away, finally relaxing his death grip on the enchanted baton.  He’d never even properly tested the thing.  For all he knew, the rod had been damaged in the fight with the ritualist and it would explode the first time he tried to channel mana through it.

Telivern grunted behind him, walking up to Micah and draping its neck over his shoulder appreciatively.  He reached a hand up and scratched the deer behind one of its milky white ears.

“You’re welcome buddy.”  Micah chuckled slightly as Telivern rumbled happily.  “Just be careful where you graze next time.  I know you need to get away from the camp to avoid eating the grass to the ground, but the daemon is out for blood.  It’ll smear you into paste if it catches you too far from the camp.”

Confidence.  Assurance.

The deer snorted in disagreement, pressing the side of its head against his.  Micah closed his eyes for a second, simply enjoying the tickle of his friend’s fur against his face.

“I know you think you can outrun it,” Micah replied, eyes still closed, “but what would you have done if I wasn’t here?  I don’t know if it’s afraid of the control rod or if it just doesn’t want to end this little game of cat and mouse we’re playing, but I don’t think it will attack me.  At least for a little while.”

Disagreement.  Reluctance.

“Come on,” he chided the stag.  “Just stick nearby until we can drive the Luoca off once and for all.  I know you don’t like me looking over your shoulder, but your safety is more important than your pride.”

Micah jumped at the sound of a man clearing his throat.  A second later, he turned around and was grinning rather sheepishly at his father.

Jon looked like he’d aged a decade in the last year.  Bags hung heavy under his eyes, and grey was already beginning to gather in his hair around his temples.

“Your mother worries about you Micah.”  The older man shook his head sadly.  “She thinks you’re in over your head, and every time she sees that big bug thing she always starts fretting.  But I just tell her it’s all part of your plan.”

Micah’s chest tightened.  Plan?  His plan had been to use the Luoca to gain enough levels to fight the Khan.  All semblance of order had been thrown to the winds the moment he ran into the ritualist.

He’d been lucky that she underestimated him, but even then the victory was pyrrhic.  Micah might be the only person alive with the arcana skill, but the ability to intuitively connect with the energies of Elsewhere had come in handy.  Unfortunately, the Luoca was now free, and more of a threat than the spellcaster had ever been.

“I know that look.”  His Father’s face softened into a half smile.  “Micah, even if you don’t have everything figured out right now, that’s because you’re overwhelmed.  I’m just a tailor.  I don’t know much about fighting monsters or saving the world, but I do know what it’s like to have a huge project laid out in front of me and have my breath catch in my throat.”

Micah looked at the older man, head cocked slightly.  That was more or less where he was.  Plans unraveled and staring at a pair of tasks, fending off the daemon and stopping the Durgh invasion, either of which would have been almost impossible on its own.

“You just have to cut and sew son.”  Jon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.  “When I make a dress for a noblewoman, it takes almost 40 hours of work between my assistants and I.  Once I have the plan finalized, I just tune everything out and begin working on the project one seam at a time.  Even if there’s just… too much… to tackle it all at once, you can always break a project down into smaller bits.”

“I suppose that’s why I have Trevor out there getting enchantment materials,” Micah replied.  “I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with them.  But if rituals got me into this mess, they sure as hell can get me back out of it.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way Micah,” his Dad said supportively, looking out at the forest.  “I know that if you had the right pieces, you’d enchant this entire clearing to protect all of us.  It’s just a matter of figuring out the details.”

Micah paused.  Maybe it really was that simple.  They needed to set a trap for the Luoca, and it seemed to be drawn to their encampment like a moth to a flame.  He might as well follow his father’s advice and turn the entire clearing into a fortress.

It would take weeks to create the ritual circle, but Micah had the time.  The daemon didn’t bother to follow the rest of the party when they went on their expeditions, focused instead on harassing Micah and his parents.  That meant that he was trapped at home, unable to leave the clearing lest it ambush him in the woods or double back and attack his vulnerable family.

The brightstar moss and infused copper that Trevor had brought back would work well for the kind of large scale enchantment he wanted.  Micah’s mind began racing as he began planning out the lake’s magical defenses, mentally assembling a list of the reagents he’d need the rest of the party to acquire for him.

“Hey now.”  His father chuckled.  “You just went blank on me for a bit there Micah.  It’s hard to talk to you when your head is in the clouds like that.”

“Sorry,” Micah replied ruefully.  “I just thought of something that might work against the daemon.  If we can create a ritual focal center, I should be able to enchant the entire clearing at once.  I’ll just need to acquire a couple spirit to channel the entire thing, and-”

“I’m glad I helped.”  The older man shook his head, smiling.  “But I don’t know the first thing you’re talking about right now Micah.”

“Put simply, you helped a lot.”  Micah grinned back at his father.  “I’ll have to send Trevor out on a couple ‘shopping trips’ to pick up the sort of rare materials and sacrificial animals I’ll need to pull it off, but it just might be enough to kill or drive off the daemon.”

“Trevor.”  There was a wistful note to his father’s voice as he spoke.  “He’s really grown a lot lately.  Your Mom and I were worried about his drinking and general irresponsibility for a while.  I don’t think I can count how many times he’d get drunk, and cause a problem, promise to fix the problem and then just leave it unfinished.”

“But.” The older man shrugged.  “Ever since the two of you pulled us out of Basil’s Cove and brought us out to the woods, something’s changed about the boy.  I honestly don’t think I’ve seen him drink a drop the entire time we’ve been out here.  Pretty sure I caught him and his boyfriend pouring out his juusht too.”

Micah paused.  He hadn’t noticed, but his dad was right.  Trevor had been fairly responsible about leading the resource gathering expeditions, and as far as Micah could tell, his brother hadn’t touched a drop of liquor since their heated encounter on the way to save Esther.

“Yeah,” Micah replied slowly, trying to process his feelings.  On one hand, he wasn’t entirely over his anger at Trevor’s drunken mistakes in Basil’s Cove.  A couple slips of the tongue and he had endangered everything.  On the other, if that encounter served as the wake up call that would spur Trevor to take things more seriously.  Well, a mixed blessing was still a blessing.

“Now come on.”  His dad clapped him on the shoulder.  “The monster is gone and your mother and sister won’t shut up about how they don’t see you anymore.  Quit fretting out here and come sit down for dinner with your family.  Veronica made stew, and as fun as this chat is, the food is getting cold.”