The Rifleman - Ch.38 (Patreon)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Dashing through the snow

“You are now officially a probationary member of the Errant Rangers,” Malia said as she tapped her badge against his. 

They were back at the Outpost, the strange Claire having only emerged from behind the curtains for the briefest of hellos. Luckily, Malia was able to find the record book, a feature of every Outpost, and send a message through it to the managing member of the Errant Rangers, getting permission to continue the mission with a new recruit. 

Honestly, Wesley was a little surprised that there was not so much as a single question when Malia had written of the death of her two companions. He had mentioned it, to which Malia had laughed bitterly, telling him that in the Rangers, that kind of thing happened all the time. 

Not comforting.

“So, do we have a plan for catching this golem?” Wesley asked as he watched the words appear above the 4077 on his badge. “Or killing, I assume.”

“I thought it was headed the way I went, but it looks like it must have gone south, which I don’t like,” Malia said with a frown. “That is not the usual route it takes, and I have no idea why it deviated.”

“You said you attacked it,” Wes pointed out. “Surely that would make it change plans?”

“It’s a golem. It doesn’t have plans. It just has instructions.” Malia looked around. “Do you have any idea what is up with little Miss Outpost? She should be here, offering food and drink.”

“No clue,” Wesley admitted. “Possibly, she just doesn’t give a shit.”

Malia laughed, and they got ready to head out again. 

“Claire! We’re off!” Wesley called as he pulled open the door, letting in a blast of cold air.

“Bye!” Claire called out, her voice distant and muffled.

“Weird keeper,” Malia said, following him out of the door and into the snow. 

“Not much of a tourist spot,” Wesley nodded to the flat expanse of snow, still unchanged since his first trip out into it. “Is the whole zone like this?”

“Winter’s Embrace,” Malia grumbled as she pulled her cloak tight around her, “Their player owns all this land.”

“Crappy choice of design,” Wesley muttered as they headed south through the unbroken, empty expanse of snow. “What fun is there in a plain, flat, foggy snow field?”

“I don’t know,” Malia said as she sank to her knees in a deeper bit of snow. “Maybe they are just giant pricks?”

Getting to know Malia as they traveled south was more fun than Wesley had expected. She was funny, quick, and had a temper that could almost literally melt the snow around her. Given the empty blankness of the scenery, it was easy to chat as they went along, and he slowly pulled out the story of her own drafting or, as it was called when she was grabbed, ‘Consignment.’

It all added up to the same thing, but she had definitely gotten the short end of the stick, being yoinked from her world when she was only ten years old. 

“That’s fucking unreal,” Wesley said, “Ten?”

“It wasn’t my best day,” Malia said with a bitter smile. 

She had ended up in a village utterly empty of people. Apparently, it had been destroyed in a sundering, and the empty space was randomly seeded with new NPCs.  

She spent two weeks eating whatever she could find, drinking from a muddy well, and trying to figure out what was going on before hearing someone open the main gate and hide. 

“It was terrifying,” Malia said, “I was hiding under a house, seeing these big, armored feet clanking around one second, and the next I’m hanging upside down in front of this big bastard, thick green skin, tusks, the whole thing. I was so sure I was dead.”

“Wait, orcs?” Wesley asked, feeling irrationally excited.

“What?” Malia asked before he explained, and she laughed. “They are called Kalians, not orcs. But otherwise, pretty close.”

One thing that Kalians did not have in common with the depiction of orcs in Earth tales was their savagery. Far from the mindless barbarians of lore, the Kalians were a race of warriors, artists, and farmers. 

“I was kind of adopted, sort of made a pet,” Malia told him, “I can’t paint, sculpt, or sing, and I can kill a plant at ten paces with good intentions alone, so I got trained as a warrior instead.”

“Is that where the Knight Errant class came from?” Wes asked. Given what he knew of when the system assigned classes, it was unlikely she had gotten a custom one like him. She was just too young.

“Sure was,” Malia nodded. “I trained for years, and when the class assignment came, I got Wandering Warrior, which eventually turned into the one I have now. What about you?”

“Okay, now this is going to sound crazy,” Wesley said, readying her for the explanation, “But it was all a huge mix-up.”

“How?” Malia stopped and turned.

“Well, see… do you know what an actor is?” Wes started.

“They dress up and tell stories,” Malia nodded. “Lots of actors in Kalian land.”

“Well, I was dressed up as a type of warrior from my planet’s history. Well, more a healer, but I just happened to be asked to go and fetch the rifle….”

Malia blinked.

“So, the system saw I knew how to use it and found the memories of the actual fighters, and next thing you know….” Wesley shrugged helplessly. 

“Can you actually fight?” Malia asked. “Like, really fight, or was that whole thing with the Zone Invasion and everything just a story?”

“I mean, I can fight,” Wesley admitted. “I didn’t lie about anything, and you saw me fight.”

“Right,” Malia said, rolling her shoulders. “But that wasn’t a major fight, just a little ambush. Plus, you seemed to counter them pretty hard.”

“Malia,” Wesley said, taking a couple of steps back as she flexed her arms. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not taking someone into a fight without checking that he can look after himself,” Malia said. “Rules are no skills, no spells, no abilities.” She grinned at him. “First to submit loses.”

Wesley had been brought up with the pretty firm conviction that you didn’t hit women. It was not something he thought of as very modern thinking; it was just the way he had been raised. 

Obviously, you shouldn’t hit anyone, but he had been taught young and often that you never, ever hit a woman. It was a core tenet of who he was, even if it was an outdated and slightly sexist viewpoint that failed to take into account that women could be every inch as dangerous an opponent as men.

The idea of a spar or an agreed-upon fight was a completely different situation, and he was comfortable with the idea that he might have to act in self-defense. 

There was also the fact that he was not some man-mountain with muscles like iron beach balls at any time in his life, with just about any woman who lifted weights probably out-muscling and outweighing his skinny ass.

All of that went through his head as Wesley tried to adjust to the sudden idea of a bout in the snowy landscape.

It made him hesitate, just for a second. 

Malia, however, had no such hesitation, and her gauntleted, Tier Eight fist knocked three of his teeth out with the first punch. The second sent him flying with a pair of cracked ribs.

“Fuck thith,” Wesley growled as she leaped after him. 

He rolled aside, kicking out at her with everything he had, sending her flying off to one side, crying out in pain. Guilt paralyzed him for a fraction of a second too long, and her roundhouse kick drove him to his knees. She continued the spin to deliver a kick to his chest, driving him onto his back. 

Wesley scrambled back in time to avoid the heel of her boot, which was aimed at something even more important to him than his aching head, deciding he needed to get serious really quickly. It was that, or he would get to find out if Lesser Regenerate would be up to the task of growing him a new set of testicles. 

Wes opened with a set of jabs and hooks, all of which she blocked with contemptuous ease. He tried a couple of knees and elbows, getting nowhere fast, and pushed himself to hit harder and move faster. 

None of it helped in the slightest, and he took several more heavy blows. 

“So without your skills and gear, you’re basically a child?” Malia goaded him. 

The problem was, that was pretty true. 

Wesley was not some brawler or had even gotten into many fights as a kid. His complete unarmed knowledge came from a boxing game he had played in VR to get some exercise. It was horrifically useless in real life, it turned out. 

At least against someone who actually knew how to fight.

Other than that, all he had was the memories and skills he had gotten from the Dream Wisps, and that all required a spear. 

At least most of it.

Wesley began to use some of the moves that allowed him to dodge or reposition, and that helped him take a few lighter blows. Dancing around a bit, sliding and weaving like a dancer, it all kept Malia at bay long enough to finally give him an opening, and Wesley jumped on it, driving an uppercut into her jaw that sent her flying backward.

“Oh yeah!” Wesley cheered. “Thee, I can hit thit too.”

Malia got up, a small line of blood coming from the corner of her mouth, but otherwise seemingly unhurt.

“You have healing,” Malia grinned, her teeth red with blood. “So this time, we use skills and gear.”

A blunt-looking sword appeared in her hands, and she swung it in a lazy circle around her. 

Wesley cast Lesser Regenerate at the exact moment Malia seemed almost to teleport, leaving a fountain of snow behind her, and slammed the sword's flat into his arm, instantly breaking it. 

Wesley shifted into wisp form immediately, kicking off from the snow as he cast Jolt. He gathered the energy into his fist and punched down as he sailed over her head. 

Malia’s sword came up, catching the jolt on her blade and seeming to flick the energy off into the snow as he landed and slid away as fast as he could. 

Malia didn’t move, waiting for him to drop the wisp form, which he refused to do. He tried twice more to get in a Jolt attack before he tried again, with the heat of two Improved Flare gathered into his hands.

Malia whispered something and swung her sword, which glowed as it connected, and it really did connect. Any reduction the form offered him was inverted, and Wesley felt like he had been hit by a truck.

“You are not immune in that form. Thinking you are will get you killed,” Malia noted as he dropped the wisp form, coughing up mouthfuls of blood onto the formerly pristine snow. “Again.”

Wesley cast a fresh Emergency Heal and drew his rifle, fixing the Bayonet but leaving it inside the sheath to prevent accidents….

///////////////////

Wesley lay on his back, waiting for his collapsed lung to reinflate and thinking about what he had learned. 

First, do not fuck with Malia. That was now his rule one.

The area of snow they had been using was pink with blood, and most of it was his. Any illusions he had been having about being a good fighter, or even a competent one, were long gone. They had been literally beaten out of him. 

Second, he needed to learn to fight, so he added it to his growing list of priority projects. 

If anyone ever got close enough to engage him in a one-on-one battle, he was going to die unless something changed in a major way. That training slip he had won in the training dungeon suddenly seemed like a better reward than he had imagined. If this lesson was anything to go by, Wesley would choose a Kalian city to train in.

Third and final, he needed better armor.

He had been getting by with his outfit from Earth, but the Gorger vest was beyond use now; he had simply out-tiered it and had next to nothing else. Even the basic armor he had gotten in the dungeon was useless, given that Malia could probably tear it apart with one finger if she so desired. 

“Still with me?” Malia asked, standing over him as his lung finally reinflated.

“Yup,” Wesley groaned. “I might need a minute here. I am out of healing charges again.”

“We are done for now,” Malia said with a hint of regret in her voice. “I might have gotten a little carried away there.”

“Lesson learned if that helps,” Wesley gestured, and Malia helped him to his feet. “I was just thinking of how much I need to learn.”

“Not thinking that I was a psycho bitch who was getting off on beating you almost to death?” Malia chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you said I was at one point.”

“You had just kicked me fifteen feet across the snow and were laughing,” Wesley said in his defense. 

“It was your face,” Malia broke out laughing again. “You looked so shocked.”

“No shit,” Wesley admitted, “I think I felt your boot hit my spine. That is rare when kicked in the stomach.”

“I try,” Malia grinned. “So, dinner?”

It took another three days of travel, including another two evenings of getting beaten to a pulp, before they arrived at the village, finding a strange cluster of stepped pyramids in a rough circle protected by thick ice walls. 

There was no sign of the Golem, and the inhabitants were not the friendly type, so Malia and he turned away, trying to figure out where to go next.

“I don’t get it,” Malia growled in frustration, kicking snow into the air. “I know it was headed past the Outpost, and I checked everywhere on the way there. The Golem hit every place.”

“Could it have gone north?” Wesley asked. 

“Not unless it could climb the wall around this world, which can’t be climbed,” Malia huffed. And it didn’t go east or south.”

“And it didn’t go back,” Wesley noted. “You would have seen it.”

“Right.” Malia nodded.

“It went anywhere with people?” Wesley asked.

“Right,” Malia nodded again.

“So, why didn’t it go to the Outpost?” Wesley had to ask, even if it was a stupid question. He would have to ask a lot of stupid questions to find his way in this place.

“It did, but Claire said it left just before I got there,” Malia corrected him.

“There was only one set of tracks leading away when I arrived,” Wesley pointed out.

“I assume it snowed.” Malia sighed. “It’s just my luck.”

“You would have seen that, though?” Wesley asked. “I mean, even if it only snowed in a few hexes, it could be fresh snow, right?”

“So, what are you saying?” Malia rubbed her eyes. 

“How do we know it actually left the Outpost?” Wesley asked. “Claire was acting weird; you said that.”

“The golem doesn’t capture people,” Malia said, but he could hear she was uncertain, “It just gives them the cursed potions.”

“Claire remembered where she was from, so she never drank a potion,” Wesley said, thinking aloud.

“Right,” Malia agreed.

“So, what if Claire captured the Golem instead?” Wesley offered. “Are they worth much?”

“Oh yeah,” Malia nodded. “Half the people it gets are ones that attack it.”

They both stood in the deep snow, looking back at their tracks, leading three days back to the Outpost. 

“It’s back there, isn’t it?” Wesley asked.

“Yes,” Malia said.

“It’s been there the whole time,” Wesley added.

“FUCK!” Malia swore and started to run. 

Wesley took off after her, shifting into wisp form and casting an Improved Flare through himself to melt the snow under him as he cut a trail. 

Neither of them spoke, concentrating on moving as fast as they could to close the distance back to the Outpost. The cold ground was easier to run on, even covered in melting snow than cutting through the snow itself, which seemed to be way heavier than it should be.

Wesley had not thought much of it before, but as they moved through it, he cycled his Flare charges to keep them running in the clear. It occurred to him that with the stat changes, neither of them should have even felt it.

Suddenly, the blank expanse of snow wasn’t so crazy as a choice. It would make anyone trying to move through it as slow as hell, basically dropping them to Untiered speeds. Wes could only imagine that the Player’s own forces were immune to the effect, making anyone attacking the zone at a huge disadvantage.

Night fell, and they kept running, the stats meaning they could outdistance even the stamina of a long-distance runner for perhaps days before tiring. 

They had just passed the second circle of turned and bloody snow when Malia called a halt. 

“I like a guy with stamina,” Malia gasped as she collapsed into a chair in his Domain. “We made good time.”

Wesley just laid his head on the table and tried to convince his body not to shut down completely. The last few days had been beyond rough, and it had copious notes and complaints. 

“Get some sleep,” Malia patted him on the shoulder and slipped into one of the alcoves. “We move out again in a few hours.”

True to her word, less than four hours later, Wesley found himself out in the snow, running in the last darkness before night turned to morning, a glowing form to light the way and melt the snow.

The light returned just as they passed the spot of his first beatdown, and Malia called for them to slow. It was only a couple more hours back to the Outpost from here, and they took a half hour to recover their energy, just in case, before pressing on at a more normal speed. 

“If she has stolen the Golem,” Wesley asked as they walked through the snow, allowing him to get his charges of flare back up to full. “Do we care? I mean, if she stops it from selling those cursed potions… job done, right?”

“Contract calls for its destruction, not pacification,” Malia said firmly. “That means we leave it as rubble, not just with a new job.”

“They are that specific?” Wesley asked. 

“They come in several classifications,” Malia said, eyes scanning the snow for the first sign of the Outpost: “Destruction, Pacification, Investigation, Assistance, or Protection.”

“Dappi,” Wesley said.

“What?”

“I rearranged the order so I can remember it easier,” Wesley said. “D.A.P.P.I.”

“Never say that in public,” Malia said seriously. “It’s too cringeworthy.”

“If I do all five, can I call myself a Dappi bastard?” Wesley tried.

“I will hit you.” Malia groaned, but she smiled a little, too. “The only ones not clear-cut are the Investigation or Assistance contracts. They are kind of open to interpretation. The rest? They're all clear-cut.”

“So the golem gets smashed,” Wesley nodded. “What about Claire?”

“As long as she doesn’t attack us?” Malia shrugged. “She’s a keeper, so nothing.”

“If she does?” Wesley asked nervously. Claire was a bit strange, but she was the first tie to Earth he had found.

“We try not to hurt her too badly,” Malia said, “But attacking a Keeper in their Outpost would really suck. That is their land; they are ridiculously powerful within it.”

“So we ask nicely,” Wesley said.

“We ask nicely,” Malia agreed. “At least, at first.”

“Well, this will be fun,” Wesley said sarcastically as they finally saw the Outpost.