Dream Drive Ch. 09

It was similar to what happened after Shakhan took his need to sleep away from him. He went several days without resting, spending the entire night grinding up his skill levels. Even though he wasn't physically tired, and his mind was alert, he'd still felt used up and stressed out.

There was something else aside from the body and mind that needed consideration. Shaka had claimed that the heart needed rest alongside the body and mind. Jackson didn't particularly care for that kind of foggy explanation, but he didn't have any other way to describe it.

Given the circumstances, Chaki had more than fulfilled Jackson's expectations. He had his 120 dark essence and another 151 light essence; a formidable sum. He also had the essence crystal he'd claimed from the rattok mage. He wasn't sure how much essence it contained, but since the smaller versions from the rattok warriors held 50 each, it was a pretty safe bet that it was 100 essence or so.

371 essence. That was almost as much as everything he'd invested into his statistics so far. He was as prepared as he could be for whatever was down here.

Jackson mentally corrected himself. He was in a place called the City of Demons. There was no prepared. Complacency would get him killed.

The walls of the hall opened abruptly opened into a great cavern. He stopped there, peering ahead.

A short shelf extended past the edge of the tunnel walls. He could barely see it, just a hint of a glimmer - the reflected light of his rune. There was no railing. Past that, a drop into ink-black darkness.

A single beam of light cut through that void, as though a spotlight was situated high on a wall in the distance. It burned through the dark and down past his perch. Here and there, he could see vague shapes, the points of more structures, but the light was swallowed up before it had a chance to illuminate anything.

Jackson considered his runes. He could try putting actual essence into some sort of light spell, but he'd have to enchant something, either his clothes or his spear. Glowing pants that constantly used up essence didn't sound very appealing, and they probably wouldn't help all that much.

It might also attract attention. He probably didn't want attention from whatever was in this place. It was quiet right now, but that could change very quickly.

Jackson sighed, then looked about for a way down. The shelf turned into stairs that wrapped around the edge of a tower. The tunnel he'd just come through was actually an enclosed bridge, arcing from the portal room to the tower he was on now.

Without anywhere else to go, Jackson started down. His moccasins were soft on the black stone. He kept a hand on the wall for balance, and to stay as far away from the edge as possible. He took the stairs one at a time.

It was absolutely silent.

Jackson could hear his ears ring a bit. He would have expected his movements to echo into the empty space, but the sound was engulfed and suppressed.

The position of the distant ray of light gave him a sense of his progress. It was blocked from view as the stair curled around the outside of the tower, then appeared again as he stepped down in circles. Eventually, as his angle dropped, he could see the profile of another tower against it, and the bridge going off into the dark; and then, the roofs of other buildings, more towers, spires, and steeples.

He wasn't sure how long it had been when his feet touched flat ground. He appeared to be in some sort of square. The black stone made a perfectly flat floor; there were no cracks, nor mortar. It seemed as though it was all one piece, black concrete poured into a giant mold all at once and allowed to set.

He started forward. For a moment, he felt lost – the bubble of light from his rune was weak to the point that he couldn't see more than a few feet. He used the distant beam to keep his bearings.

After what might have been a few dozen yards, Jackson came to another wall. There was an opening ahead, with walls high to each side, like a spindly alley. He might actually feel a little bit at home if it wasn't for the oppressive darkness. The stuff sat on him, pushed at him. It didn't like him, and Jackson didn't much care for it either.

He glanced at the light. He could still see the origin point, a tiny speck far above. The lower half of it was now blocked by walls and pointed roofs. He was definitely in some kind of city. No demons as of yet.

The place felt dead - dead in the way someone who had just died was dead. There was no smell, no real telltale sign - but the way the corpse lay, limbs slack, a bland glaze over the eyes, made it frighteningly clear.

Jackson's spine shivered. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He couldn't see a thing. Something could be right next to him, and he'd have no idea. His hands felt sweaty on his spear.

He tightened his grip, then spun, swinging the tip into the darkness behind him.

Nothing. No sound but his own breathing.

He didn't feel safer. He felt worse.

Jackson swallowed. He made sure his grip was firm, then gathered his voice. "Is anyone there?"

The sound went a few feet and died. Jackson's lungs felt tired just from that effort. There was no energy allowed in this place. Anything that violated the stillness was pushed back.

Jackson turned and jogged into the alley. He glanced up again. He didn't have any goals, any direction. He'd half-expected Shakhan to pipe up and say something. Maybe the light was indicating something important?

The walls were tight on either side of him. He caught glimpses of a few openings, a few windows. He imagined eyes in all of them, watching him. He hoped he imagined them.

The city was disorienting, maze-like. There didn't seem to be a pattern. He'd turn a corner only to immediately hit another intersection. He'd run along a path for a good while to find that it was a dead end. The first time it happened, he drew the energy cannon and turned on a dime, but there was nothing. There was always nothing.

He kept the gun out.

Maybe he could have gotten a sense of things if he could see it, but with the darkness, he couldn't even tell if he was where he'd been before. He tried scuffing the stone a few times, scratching it with his spear – no good. No marks, no chips. He stopped after a couple tries, afraid of breaking the point of his weapon.

Progress was slow, but with a steady reference point, it was progress.

The sense of being watched increased the closer he got to the light. He felt like a rat in a lab, stared at by creatures he couldn't comprehend that were observing his progress but not bothering to interfere. Yet.

And then, he could see it – the point on which the light was shining. It was a beacon in the distance, the light at the end of his tunnel. He sprinted down the alleyway.

He burst into an open space – another square. The light flooded over everything, washing out the black in favor of a dull grey. Jackson jogged to a stop and put his hands on his hips, catching his breath. He checked behind himself, looking at the alley leading back between two tall, featureless buildings.

He almost felt silly. There hadn't been anything following him the entire time.

He could have sworn something moved in the dark just then.

He wiped his hand across his face and blinked a few times, but he couldn't see anything. He backed a few more steps into the pool of light he stood in, away from the edge. He'd come out of ruins infested with cannibalistic rat creatures not once, but twice. Even if there was a demon down here, he could handle it. He was a superhuman.

After coaxing himself back into confidence, Jackson moved deeper into the light. The ground was carved with another mural, the same motif he'd seen in several places. The roots of the great tree hugged the center of the square, joined together to form the trunk, and then split into winding, curling branches that wove around the rest of the stone. An inverted pentagram was set into the middle of the trunk.

Normally, there would be a claw at the base of the tree, nestled amongst the roots. Instead, there was a pedestal, sticking up from the center of the square - a claw-shaped pedestal. Artistic flair, I guess..

As Jackson grew closer, he could see a small crystal hovering inside the cupped prongs of the claw. He leaned in to examine it. It reminded him of the gem-flower. It was about the size of his fist.

Was he supposed to take it?

Jackson felt a wave of paranoia. He'd already encountered his share of ancient automated security systems. He looked around, taking in the empty black buildings at the edges of the square and the murky depths of the streets and crooked lanes leading between them. There were no other lights; no clues or hints. The city was empty. This was his destination.

It was only then, looking into the darkness that masked the rest of the metropolis, that he realized finding his way back to the portal room would be completely impossible. He could wander out there for days.

Fuck it. Jackson stowed his gun in the loop on his belt. He worked his fingers a bit, taking a few breaths and keeping on his toes. He grabbed the crystal and pulled.

It didn't move. It felt very cold under his hand, almost like ice. Jackson frowned, then pulled again. The crystal was locked in place, held over the pedestal by some invisible force. He set his spear down and used both hands. It didn't budge an inch.

Jackson sat on his haunches and sighed, rolling his spear in his fingers. He touched his essence and focused, as Shaka had taught him, but he couldn't sense anything.

He stood, considering the crystal. It did look reminiscent of the gem-flower, but it was a different color. That had been blue; it brimmed with energy. This crystal was colorless. It didn't feel like anything. So, maybe it needed energy?

Jackson gripped his essence again. The power balled up inside his body rose to meet his will, ready for action. He put a hand on the crystal and pushed into it, as if filling up one of the gemstones he'd brought from the pawn shop.

The crystal suckered onto him like a leech and drank from his spirit. Jackson tried to pull away, break off the connection, but his skin was sealed to the stone. His essence bar ticked down at a rapid rate. He set a foot against the pedestal and grabbed his wrist with his other hand, pulling back as hard as he could.

The suction broke. Jackson toppled backward, his spear clattering down next to him. He sat up and checked his status. It drained him of exactly 100 essence, leaving him with 171.

The crystal glowed and began to spin. Grey light sparked out from its sides like glowing embers flying from a grindstone. The crystal whirred faster and faster, until it was rotating so quickly it appeared to be spherical.

Energy burned down through the claw-pedestal in thin white lines. It spread over the square, under his feet, expanding in concentric circles. It rushed over the mural of the tree, washing it with white light. Symbols appeared around the mural and between the rings surrounding the claw. Jackson backed up, trying to take it all in.

It was like watching a dusty bank of servers putter to life, lights blinking here and there, rusty cooling fans starting to beat at the air. He recognized many of the runes, but there were plenty he didn't.

For a moment, Jackson wondered what would have happened if he didn't have 100 essence on hand. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he was better off not thinking about it that hard.

One of the lights was a bit different than the others. Jackson turned his head, but the flickering light turned with him, staying in the corner of his vision.

It wasn't part of the mural. The little indicator near his bars was blinking like crazy.

The hunter.

Jackson put his back to the pedestal and scanned the square. The alleys were still dark, quiet. His indicator flashed even faster, faster. It was getting closer. He turned about, trying to keep a bead on all the roads. He couldn't see anything.

The indicator turned solid white. Jackson gripped his spear in both hands.

He heard something above the whizzing rush of the crystal. He looked up.

There was a black blur. A hand – a claw – swept in and punctured straight through Jackson's neck, cupping his skull. It pulled him across the square, dragging him along the stone. As they approached the outer edge, it released him, throwing him into the side of a building.

Jackson struck the corner of the house. The air was knocked out of him; he hit the ground in a tangle, rolled over once, twice, and came to a stop.

Jackson turned onto his hands and knees and fought for his breath, grunting and wheezing to get the feeling back into his chest. His spear was nearby; he snatched it back. His gun was gone – there, lying in the middle of the square between himself and the pedestal.

Jackson rubbed his neck as he stood. He'd lost 66 health – more than enough to kill him in one shot if he hadn't upgraded his Vitality. Then again, if he wasn't changed by Isis, that attack would have decapitated him.

He heard the sound again – the flapping of wings. The creature – some combination of bat and gargoyle - alighted in the center of the square. It stood on two short legs that ended in talons. Its back was hunched sharply; its wingspan was at least twice the size of its height. Two long, spindly arms stretched out from its torso, ending in blade-like claws that clicked on the ground. Its skin was a gnarled, sickly grey, and he could see black veins where it was stretched thin at the wings and joints.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither moving.

Jackson ran for his gun. The hunter spread its wings and flapped once, propelling itself forward at high speed. As they both closed the gap, Jackson turned his head and screamed a War Cry. A ripple of force left his mouth.

The hunter swept out a claw. A pentagram appeared in front of it. The black shape expanded, twisted, and swallowed up Jackson's attack.

Jackson barely had time to be surprised before they collided. The hunter clotheslined him with its outstretched arm.

Jackson was sent reeling back across the stone. His health dropped by another 15 points. This time, he turned his fall into a roll, coming up with his spear ready.

The hunter didn't press the attack; it had taken up its hunched position again, keeping itself between him and the crystal. The power in the square continued to glow and hum. It spread to some of the buildings at the edge; Jackson felt like the whole place was starting to light up. That couldn't have been just from his 100 essence. He was just the catalyst for something bigger – something the hunter didn't want him to finalize.

Jackson went for the gun again. The hunter hopped into the air and sped toward him.

Jackson changed direction, angling back toward the pedestal. The hunter flapped its wings rapidly, pulling up short, then coasted across the square to make it back before Jackson.

Jackson turned again. Before the hunter could react, he had the gun in hand and was stepping backwards, keeping it aimed squarely at his foe. Sucker.

Jackson compiled what he knew so far. This creature was far stronger than him; a direct confrontation was not a good strategy. It was fast, but it had trouble changing direction. It could cancel his special abilities. It definitely did not want him to get back to the crystal. It prioritized that above him retrieving the cannon.

Jackson's finger hesitated on the trigger. The hunter was keeping to its defensive position, watching him with ugly eyes set in a skull-like face. It probably had some idea that he was holding a weapon, but it wasn't wheeling around trying to avoid his aim.

The gun could use health, or essence. But what if the hunter canceled the attack again?

If it worked, Jackson would be in a bad way, but the hunter would probably be worse off. If the attack failed, he'd have sacrificed either all his essence or almost all his life force for nothing. And then he'd be easy pickings.

It was a bad matchup, one Jackson had been afraid would show up eventually – something with an ability that could counter magic. It wasn't called a hunter for nothing.

Jackson shoved the gun into his belt. He couldn't risk everything on a coin flip. If he died like that, Shaka would hunt him down in the afterlife and lecture him for all eternity. And then Chaki would get started on him.

Jackson switched into his Defensive stance. His hands glowed blue. He inched forward, closing the distance. The hunter bared its fangs and made a warning growl, a stuttering rumble in the back of its throat.

Jackson tried to think about what the hunter had done to use its anti-magic. It had moved its arm. Drawing a sigil? No. But was the gesture important? He needed more details.

Jackson looked up. He had 167 health left, 146 essence. His cheapest skill was Power Thrust – 5 essence for an extra-strong attack. Time to abuse it.

Jackson drew his feet together and walked forward, keeping his spear in close. The hunter spread its arms, flared its claws, and shrieked at him. Jackson leveled the tip of his weapon.

The hunter flapped its wings, launching off its perch and sweeping toward him. Jackson's speartip glowed white as he thrust it forward.

The hunter saw the skill's glow. It swept its claw out again, moving its arm as if hurling the ability toward him. The black pentagram ate into the white light and vanished.

Jackson knew that was coming – he was already drawing back for another thrust. The hunter whipped its other arm, canceling his magic with another pentagram, then flapped forward.

Jackson threw himself to the ground. Claws raked across his back, draining a bit of health, but he was back on his feet in an instant.

Jackson reached out a hand as the hunter peeled up and around to for another pass. He called out his new ability – Spear Wall.

Grey light flared in front of the hunter's flightpath. The spear-shaped bars of energy crossed over one another like the wall of a cage. The hunter swung wildly to avoid it. It clawed at Jackson as it flew by but missed by a wide margin.

Jackson grinned. 116 essence left. That would be plenty.

The hunter swung high above the square, then rounded back for another strike. As it flew toward him, Jackson cast his Spear Wall. The hunter threw a black pentagram, and the wall was eaten away, vanishing in time for the hunter to fly through. It flapped its wings faster.

Jackson cast another Spear Wall, and then a third, almost precisely behind it, eating through another 40 essence.

The hunter canceled the second wall with its other arm. Jackson had time to appreciate the panic in its eyes right before it smashed head-on into the one remaining. The bars shattered, and the hunter shrieked. It dropped like a stone, the ridge of one of its wings bent and cracked backward. It hit the square hard.

Even with that impact, its talons were digging in, trying to stop its momentum. They found purchase in the lines of the mural.

Jackson was already in a dead sprint for the pedestal. The hunter loped forward, using its arms, legs, and one good wing to move as fast as it could – faster than Jackson. They converged in the center of the square.

The hunter was going to make it first.

Jackson lifted his spear and dug it into one of the carved branches in the stone. Using that as leverage, he pushed himself forward, leaving his weapon behind and throwing himself into a full body lunge straight for the crystal.

The hunter twisted sideways, bringing up its arm. Jackson stretched out his hand toward the crystal. They seemed to hang there for a moment, Jackson flying forward, the hunter whipping its claw through the air, trying to cut him off. Jackson squeezed his eyes shut.