Wrathblade would’ve been the perfect offensive weapon if not for the secret cost. Without more information, I wasn’t in any hurry to try it out.
Just like the Sudden Death book, the Wrathblade book disappeared as it was used up.
I shoved the leaves and vines aside and stepped back onto the path. The others were getting ready to move out.
Warcry eyed me. Not like he had something to say, but more like he was looking for something off. Maybe he was waiting for me to turn into the insane, power-hungry Death cultivator everybody was always talking about.
“How’s the ear?” I asked, trying to sound and look as sane as possible as I hooked the bags of dried fruit and meat over my shoulder.
Warcry flicked the mass of scar tissue. “Pretty as you like and still hanging on.”
“Wouldn’t want to mess up your delicate good looks,” I said.
He hooked a thumb at his chest. “I’ve got rugged charm out me arse, grav.”
“I don’t think that’s where you’re supposed to keep it.”
He made a rude gesture I hadn’t seen before but could figure out without too much trouble.
“Quit messing about and make yourself useful, ya ponser,” he said, hefting a crate full of clinking liquor bottles and bags of what looked like dog treats into my arms. “We’re about to move out.”
Campout
SMOKY LED THE WAY THROUGH the jungle, packing a huge bundle of food and the pole with the lantern on it. Unu and Valthorpe were next, the hairy academic carrying a much smaller load than the rest of us. He was holding the bag’s ties with both hands and hunched forward under the weight, which made him look like a chimpanzee playing a hobo in some old movie. Warcry and I brought up the rear with our market purchases and a crate each of salvaged supplies.
Every so often, a muddy green ripple of Spirit flickered off Valthorpe and disappeared into the jungle.
“Don’t want to get surprised twice in one night,” he said, huffing and puffing under his relatively small burden.
“Maybe you oughta be doing the same, grav,” Warcry said in a low enough voice that the others wouldn’t hear him.
I dropped my volume, too. “I’ve got Dead Reckoning active. You don’t think his tracking ability works?”
Warcry shot a glare at the back of Valthorpe’s head. “Technols managed to sneak up on us once already, didn’t they?”
I widened Dead Reckoning’s search area anyway, just in case.
The artifact team’s encampment was set up at the edge of a wide, rocky creek. I’d expected to see the temple nearby, but Valthorpe explained that they’d made camp on the opposite side of the closest stream so the ferals holed up in the ruins wouldn’t be an issue. For whatever reason, the ferals on Sarca wouldn’t cross running water—a fact that made me look back on the network of shallow canals crisscrossing Tikrong in a different light. I asked about giant, meat-eating, land-walking creek carp, but none of the team seemed too worried about it.
It took us three trips to get all the supplies from the ambush point, but we finally brought in the last load as gray predawn light started to chase the stars off the horizon. Everybody dropped their cargo in a pile near the cold ashes of the fire pit and stretched. I went over to the stream and splashed some cool water on my face, then drank about a gallon to wash down the jerky I’d eaten on the last trip.
“Late morning tomorrow,” Valthorpe said, clapping his palms together. “Rest up, everybody, and we’ll hit the ruins hard in the afternoon.”
Smoky disappeared into the trees without replying. Unu grabbed a liquor bottle out of one of the crates and ducked into his tent.
“Okay.” Valthorpe bounced awkwardly on his heels, then pointed at me and Warcry without unclasping his hands. “You boys need help setting up?”
Warcry caught my eye, his top lip pulling up, and he gave the smallest shake of his head.
“Thanks, but I think we’ve got it,” I told Valthorpe.
“Well. Good, then.” He crossed his hairy arms. “All right,” he said after another uncomfortable beat, then headed for his tent.
Neither Warcry or me talked much while we worked. The tents were pretty labor-intensive, and we were both wiped out, anyway.
After a while, Smoky came back into the clearing, filled a canteen from the creek, then turned in for the night. Or morning. Whatever.
Sushi became visible and sniffed around the rock guy’s tent.
“Not too sure about these guys?” I asked her when she swam back over.
“Unu has Mirror Spirit like Sushi,” she said.
“Don’t fall head over heels for him yet, fishstick,” Warcry said, checking the tent instructions on his HUD. He lowered his voice and muttered, “Just because we got one traitor don’t mean we got all of ’em.”
I looped a rope around a stake. I didn’t really want to think about the possibility of more traitors and Sentences right on the heels of executing Galston and killing a whole squad of Technols. Couldn’t we just fight ferals for a while? The undead were a lot easier to kill, physically and mentally.
Sushi bit the rope and pulled on it like she was helping while I stepped on the stake to drive it into the ground.
“Hey, thanks for saving my life earlier.” When Warcry looked at me like he didn’t know what I was talking about, I said, “From that bomb in the ambush. And the mech suit guy. And in the saloon. I couldn’t have taken the hooligans and Galston by myself.”
“Better get to where you can, hadn’t ya?” He glared down at his HUD screen. “Once you hit Ten, I’ll be off fighting me tourneys, and you’ll be on your own.”
I flipped back my tent’s door and stuffed my bedroll inside.
“What’re you going to do if you run into your ex-girlfriend again?” I
