BOOK 2

  CHAPTER 5

  Sweet Mary

  Bash stood, stunned to silence. His cheek stung, but his pride stung worse.

  He tried to see it from Nora’s perspective. She had worked so hard to heal him, save his life. Likely spent hours patching him back together, using her magic, exhausting herself. And this whole time, he could have fixed himself. He could have dumped those points earlier. Could have saved her the effort. He had basically wasted her time. Her energy. Her care.

  “I'm such an idiot,” he muttered. Nora’s favorite word for him, she was right. Bash wandered away from the medical tent, feeling dejected. Kicked out. The strongest matriarch in his life, had just sent him whimpering away with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

  Every woman in my life hates me, he thought.

  A shadow passed overhead. Lilly swooped down and landed on his shoulder, talons gripping tight. She was chattering before she even settled.

  “Oh my god, Bash! You were so amazing! Everyone was so amazing!” Her voice was pure excitement. “Remember those two guys I painted? They got them both! Captured them both! Mission complete!”

  Bash looked over at her and reached up to brush his fingers across her feathers. “I still have you. You're so great.”

  He went to hug her.

  She flapped her wings in protest trying to escape. “No no no! Stop crying on me! It's so gross!”

  It was too late, he was already holding on, face buried in her feathers, shoulders shaking.

  “Bash, you're embarrassing me!” She whined and squirmed. But she stopped trying to escape. After a moment, she snuggled into him.

  He finally let her go. She flapped away, circling once before landing on a nearby post, ruffling her feathers indignantly.

  At least Lilly still likes me, Bash thought.

  “Dude.” Luis jogged up, slightly out of breath. “How am I supposed to be your bodyguard if you keep doing whatever?!”

  Bash gave him a look. “You're a Champion, not a bodyguard.”

  “Yeah, well.” Luis fell into step beside him. “You said be useful. I don't know how else to do that besides following you around.”

  Bash chuckled at that. “Wow. That's extremely self-reflective of you, Luis. I'm almost proud.”

  Luis blushed but didn't reply.

  They wandered for a bit longer. Bash's mind kept circling back to the same thing. The battle. The prisoners. The two Uploads that Lilly had marked.

  “Hey.” He stopped walking. “Do you know where they keep the prisoners?”

  Luis grinned. “Oh yeah, I know that! Follow me!” He took off running in the opposite direction.

  “You don't have to run everywhere!” Bash shouted after him.

  ***

  They ended up at the edge of camp. A makeshift prison was a natural crevice in the ground, about eight feet deep, with heavy timbers placed across the top.

  A Beastmaster sat nearby on a stump. He stood when they approached. “Hail Bash!”

  Bash cringed. Fuck. Not here too. Bad enough that the Londonland Resistance was saying that crap. Now the cult following had spread to Beast Village as well. “Yeah. So. Hi.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I don't know your name.”

  “My name is Marcus, my lord. We've met before.”

  “Sorry, Marcus.” Bash gestured at the pit. “Can I talk to the prisoners?”

  “Sure thing my lord!” Marcus picked up two stones and set them aside, then lifted a wooden cover, gesturing down.

  At the bottom of the hole, two men sat in the dirt. Stripped down to their underclothes. Looking miserable. One of them had a gash on his upper left arm, bandaged but still bleeding through.

  Bash looked down at them. “Hey, you two. If you want out, you need to surrender to me.”

  The two men looked up, wide-eyed. Then they looked at each other. One of them spoke first. “I surrender!”

  The other one lunged at his companion and started choking him.

  Bash watched the two men struggle for a few seconds. Hands slapping. Grunting. The one who surrendered trying to pry the other's hands off his throat.

  Shrugging, Bash jumped down and punched the attacker in the ribs. Soft enough not to rip a hole through him. Hard enough to send the man sprawling to the ground, wheezing and gasping.

  “Okay then.” Bash looked between them. “So one of you is a dickhead.”

  He turned to the one who had surrendered. The man was coughing, rubbing his throat.

  “My name is David, sir.” He wheezed. “And I'm most certainly not a dickhead.”

  Bash smiled. “Okay, David. I like you already. Let's get you out of here and fix that arm of yours.”

  He grabbed David under the armpits like a toddler and leaped straight up, clearing the eight-foot pit with almost no effort. He set David down gently at the edge, who wobbled on his feet.

  Glad I'm almost back to max level, Bash thought. Going back to level one sucked. He pulled up his menu and reviewed the contract options.

  “Alright, David.” Bash looked at him. “I always give the choice. I can release you from the contract, or I can keep it and assign you a new job. If you want one.”

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  David just stared at him. “Really? Just like that?” He blinked. “You aren't going to torture me for information?”

  Bash raised his voice, making sure the one below could hear. “Oh no. The ones who surrender get fair treatment. All Uploads are treated like family in Beast Village.” He cringed internally at the quote.

  From the bottom of the pit, the other prisoner screamed up at them. “You're all dead! Maximus is coming, and he's going to kill you all!”

  Bash looked down at the man. “Fuck you, Tony!”

  David blinked. “His name is Matthew.”

  “I don't care.”

  ***

  After getting David patched up, Bash took him to the largest tent in the middle of Beast Village. The actual Hall wouldn't be finished until later, but they couldn't wait that long to start planning.

  They stood at the table with Patrick, Jack, and Luis. A rough map of the mountain pass was spread out before them, weighted down with rocks at the corners.

  David pointed at the map. “Roughly eight hundred fighters. The other two hundred are support. Cooks. Healers. Logistics.”

  “What options do we have?” Bash leaned over the map, acting like he was studying the terrain, but in actually all he could make out was some squiggly lines.

  Jack traced a finger along one of the lines. “We can rig rockslides here, here, and here. Slow their advance. Take out a few dozen if we're lucky.”

  “Focus on injuries over kills,” Patrick added. “It takes three people to deal with one injured soldier. More efficient than a clean death.”

  Bash frowned. “Does that work against NPCs? Scripts, I mean.”

  Jack nodded. “They're programmed to behave like a real army. They'll care for their wounded the same way living humans would.”

  Shai materialized at the edge of the tent. She didn't look at Bash. Instead, she turned to Patrick. “Tell Bash that the eastern ridge has the most unstable rock formations.”

  Patrick sighed.

  Bash folded his arms. “Tell Shai she's being a little kid.”

  Shai's eyes narrowed. “I'm being a little kid? You're the one who called me a toaster.”

  “Oh, so you can talk to me now?” Bash threw his hands up. “Well, if you had just told me about the werewolves, you know, like your job or whatever!”

  “I don't have a job.” Her voice was sharp. “I'm choosing to be here.”

  Bash's anger deflated. “Yeah. I know.” He looked at her. “And I love you for it. I wouldn't know what to do without you.”

  Shai blinked. “Do you... mean that?”

  Bash sputtered, realizing what he said, and glanced around the tent.

  Patrick was suddenly very interested in the battle map. Jack was examining his fingernails. David was staring at the canvas like it contained the secrets of the universe.

  Luis, on the other hand, was staring at them with wide eyes. “Oh, I knew it!” He slapped the table. “She's totally your girlfriend! You guys argue like an old married couple!” He pointed at Bash. “Dude, I was starting to think you liked men!”

  “She's not my girlfriend!”

  Patrick cleared his throat. A grunt followed by actual words. “Please. We must focus.”

  Bash straightened. “Right. Everyone focus!”

  The planning continued. Jack outlined fallback positions. Patrick detailed patrol rotations. David provided information about troop disposition and training.

  Bash tried to pay attention. He really did. This was what Nora had told him to do. Act like a lord. Stop running off.

  But god, it was boring. Luis yawned. Bash yawned.

  Patrick stopped mid-sentence and stared at them both. His expression somehow conveyed a mix of disappointment, frustration, and resignation all at once.

  “You know what.” Patrick's voice was flat. “We don't need you two anymore.”

  Jack tried to soften the put down, “Thank you both for bringing David to us. We will take it from here.”

  Bash opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Patrick and Jack were right. He was just getting in the way.

  “Oh, before I forget.” He pulled up his menu. “I reshuffled construction priorities. Medicine hut first, then defensive wall, then Village Hall. You two agree?”

  Jack nodded. “Village Hall should probably be higher. You need that respawn point.”

  “Medicine hut can be deprioritized,” Patrick added.

  Bash shook his head. “Absolutely not. If Nora hears about that, chances of her talking to me drop to zero.”

  Patrick almost smiled. Almost.

  David stepped forward and gave a small bow. “Thank you again, sir. I'll do my best to help.”

  Bash just nodded. He and Luis turned and left the tent.

  They made it about twenty paces before Shai materialized directly in front of them.

  “Bash, turn around!” Her eyes were wide. Panicked. “David is a traitor!”

  For fuck's sake. Bash whipped around and sprinted back to the tent. He tore through the entrance flap and skidded to a halt.

  Patrick was on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his side. Jack was stumbling forward, a dagger buried in his back.

  David was behind him, holding the handle. He turned to face Bash with a wicked grin. “Hail Maximus.”

  He pulled the dagger from Jack's back and plunged it into his own throat.

  “NO!” Bash lunged forward, but David was already crumpling, blood fountaining from his neck. Dead before he hit the ground.

  Bash didn't waste time on the corpse. He dropped to his knees beside Patrick. Blood was pooling beneath him, spreading fast. “No, no, no, no!”

  Jack collapsed against the table, reaching weakly for the wound in his back.

  Bash didn't think. He grabbed Patrick with one arm and Jack with the other, hauling them up like sacks of potatoes.

  Jack gave a bit of a protest, “No, don’t worry about me.”

  But Bash didn’t listen. He ran past Luis at the tent entrance. Luis's eyes went wide.

  “Bash, what happened!?” Luis gave chase. He was fast. One of the fastest Uploads in the camp.

  But it didn’t matter. Even carrying both Patrick and Jack, Bash was twice as fast. Luis shrank in the distance within seconds.

  “NORA! NORAAAA!” Bash yelled, the camp blurring past him, several Beastmasters diving out of the way.

  Nora emerged from the medical tent. She took one look at Bash, at the blood soaking through his shirt, at the two bodies draped over his shoulders, and her face went pale. “Inside. Now.”

  They rushed in. Nurses scrambled to clear cots. Bash laid Patrick and Jack down as gently as he could manage with shaking hands.

  “What happened?” Nora was already casting, green light flowing from her palms into Patrick’s side.

  “The prisoner. David.” Bash’s voice cracked. “He was a plant. He stabbed them both!”

  “Out.” Nora didn’t look up. “We need to work. Out.”

  Bash stumbled backward. He couldn’t leave. Couldn’t move. Patrick was so still. Jack was still awake but he could see the man had gone pale and was no longer talking.

  “Bash.” Nora’s voice cut through the panic. “Go, now.”

  He turned and walked outside. The sunlight felt wrong, too normal. Inside that tent, two of his people were bleeding out on cots and he couldn’t do anything about it.

  He stood there, shaking. Tears started streaming down his face before he even realized he was crying.

  The tent flap opened behind him.

  Nora quickly stepped out and walked up to him. This time there was no slap. No glare. No disappointment. She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face the same as before, but more gently. “Calm down.” Her voice was soft. Soothing. “Calm down, Bash.”

  He looked at her through blurred vision.

  “Now I need to go.” She held his gaze. “I need to save them.”

  Bash nodded. He couldn’t speak.

  Nora released him and disappeared back into the tent.

  ***

  Bash paced outside the tent. Back and forth. Back and forth. His boots wore a line in the dirt. Some of the Beastmasters had gathered nearby, keeping a respectful distance, watching in silence.

  The tent flap opened. A woman stepped out. One of the nurses. Her name was... Lucille. He remembered her from earlier. She’d been helping with the amputations.

  She walked up to Bash, her expression careful. “Jack is going to be alright.” She spoke clearly, professionally. “The blade grazed the pericardium without penetrating the heart wall. He got lucky.”

  Bash exhaled. Some of the tension bled out of his shoulders. “What about Patrick?”

  Lucille’s expression flickered. “Nora is still working on him. She’ll let you know.”

  Bash nodded. “Thank you, Lucille.” His tone was firm. Steady. The voice of a lord addressing his people.

  She smiled at him. Oh thank god I got her name right, he thought.

  “My pleasure, Lord Bash.” Turning, Lucille disappeared back into the tent.

  Shai materialized beside him. She watched the tent flap settle, then glanced at Bash.

  “She was cute. Why don’t you ask her out on a date?”

  Was that jealousy in her voice? Was Shai jealous? He was so bad at this stuff. But now wasn’t the time. Patrick was still hurt.

  Then it happened. The follower count in the corner of his vision flickered.

  It had just dropped. Bash staggered like he’d taken a physical blow.

  Shai gasped beside him. She reached out, her hand making contact with his skin for the barest moment before phasing through.

  “Bash, I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  He collapsed to his knees. Then sagged to the ground. And wept.

  Luis was there the next moment, dropping down beside him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Oh man. Man, it’s okay. It’s okay, man.”

  But the words couldn’t help. Nothing could help in this moment. Patrick was gone. And it was all his fault.