38

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The sun had barely crested the horizon when Jack stepped out of his makeshift laboratory. Leto looked at him as if he were crazy, and maybe he was—at least, he should appear as such, given his eyes were bloodshot from another sleepless night of research. The crisp morning air did little to invigorate him as he surveyed the town square, now transformed into a makeshift containment zone.

To say the scene before him was grim would be an understatement—the rapid spread of the crystal plague, as they’d begun to call it, had struck Holden very hard. What’s more, there’s rumors that it’s spread in other towns too. Not spread, it most likely existed there, just dormant like our town.

Where yesterday there had been a handful of turned individuals, now there were dozens. Some were still in the early stages, their skin taking on a faint, glassy sheen. Others were further along, crystal protrusions jutting from their bodies at odd angles. And then there were the fully transformed—no longer recognizably human.

The sound of commotion drew his attention to the far side of the square. A crowd had gathered, watching Sir Thomas from a distance. Jack sighed. Not again. Someone had turned, again.

Jack made his way closer, pushing through the throng of onlookers. As he neared, he caught sight of what had drawn everyone’s attention. One of the crystalline creatures—a particularly large specimen—was facing off against Sir Thomas.

“Stand back!” Sir Thomas barked at the crowd. His voice carried the unmistakable wave of authority high-level individuals had, and even Jack felt it wash over him—to such an extent that he pondered taking a step back where everyone else retreated a dozen steps.

The creature let out an inhuman screech. Jack observed, looking for any interesting features on this one. Its crystalline form vibrated, and suddenly, a section of its body exploded outward, sending razor-sharp shards flying towards Sir Thomas.

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat, but Sir Thomas didn’t so much as flinch. With a movement almost too fast to follow, he raised his hand. A barrier, a ripple akin to water in a pond sprang into existence, deflecting the deadly projectiles. Only, the ripple was in space itself and not water.

Undeterred, the creature launched itself at Sir Thomas. Its limbs elongated, becoming wickedly sharp blades of crystal. It slashed and stabbed with inhuman speed. Each strike appeared powerful enough to cleave a normal man in two.

But Sir Thomas was far from normal.

He weaved and dodged with preternatural [Grace]. Each of his movement was precise. He hadn’t even drawn his weapon, Jack realized. Sir Thomas used different kinds of weapons depending on his opponent and need.

Regardless, the battle—if it could be called that—lasted less than a minute. With Sir Thomas suddenly going on the offensive, his hands blurred with and the air around him seemed to warp and twist. The crystalline creature stumbled as invisible chains wrapped around its body and held it in place.

Sir Thomas stepped forward—

—and placed his palm against the creature’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the creature exploded into a million glittering fragments.

The crowd erupted in cheers, but Jack felt his stomach turn. That creature had been a person once, and now it was nothing more than dust on the wind. He pushed his way to the front. Exhaustion gave way to his rising anger.

“Sir Thomas.”

The knight turned, his expression impassive. “Ah, Jack. I trust you’ve made progress in your research?”

Jack ignored the question. “Was that necessary? We could have contained it, studied it. There might have been a way to reverse the transformation.”

Sir Thomas’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You overstep, researcher. My priority is containment and the safety of the uninfected. We cannot risk these creatures spreading their affliction further.”

“But how can we hope to find a cure if we destroy every subject we come across?” Jack argued. “We need live specimens to study, to understand how this plague works and how to stop it.”

“And how many more will be infected while you conduct your experiments? How many lives are you willing to sacrifice in the name of your research?”

Jack felt like pulling at his hair.

The two men stood facing each other.

Jack could feel the eyes of the crowd upon them, but he refused to back down.

“We’re talking about people, Sir Thomas. Husbands, wives, children. They deserve every chance we can give them.”

Sir Thomas stared at him with his face an unreadable mask. Jack met his gaze unflinchingly.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then, to Jack’s surprise, Sir Thomas nodded slightly. “Very well. You may continue your research as you see fit. I will instruct my men to bring you any infected individuals they capture, provided they can be safely contained.”

Jack blinked, taken aback by the sudden acquiescence. “I... thank you, Sir Thomas. I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to find a cure.”

Sir Thomas turned away, seemingly done with the conversation. But as he began to walk off, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Jack?”

“Yes?”

“You’re fired.”

Jack blinked. He stood there, stunned, as Sir Thomas strode away. The implications of what had just happened slowly sank in. He was no longer under Sir Thomas’s employ, no longer bound by his authority or protected by his influence.

For a moment, it seemed that panic would overwhelm him. But then, almost despite himself, Jack felt a dry chuckle escape his lips.

Well, fuck.

He shook his head, a wry smile forming on his face.

In a strange way, this changed nothing. He still had his research, still had the support of Lord Theodore. And now, perhaps, he had the freedom to pursue his work without the constraints of Sir Thomas’s rigid approach.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, “that’s one way to quit a job.”

Shaking his head, he turned back towards his laboratory. There was work to be done, and precious little time to do it. The crystal plague was spreading, and he needed to do all he could, waiting for others to arrive—the bishop Lord Theodore had talked about, physicians and [Healers] from Lord Montague, and finally, a woman Jack recalled from one particular bar.

Despite not liking him, Rosemary wanted in on this. He knew she was a capable woman who knew a lot about herbs and healing, so he’d let her, but he’d been surprised at her being so insistent.

Reaching his laboratory, Jack paused at the door of the room Lord Montague had helped erect before he’d left. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the long day ahead. Man, I need some sleep...

He pushed open the door, the familiar smell of chemicals and parchment greeting him. His eyes fell on the rows of samples, the stacks of notes, the complex magical apparatus set up around the room. This was where the real battle would be fought—not with swords or spells, but with knowledge and understanding.

Jack rolled up his sleeves, approaching his workbench that had some samples.

Especially water.

Due to Rosemary’s request, he’d started looking at water—more specifically, water from the local wells.

It would be suffice to say he’d found out the source of the spread. Water. It wouldn’t have been possible to figure it out this early on without Rosemary.

Regardless, the day stretched on in a blur of observations, experiments, and furious note-taking. Jack barely noticed the passage of time, so engrossed was he in his work. It wasn’t until a knock at the door interrupted his concentration that he realized the sun was already setting.

“Enter,” he called out, not looking up from his latest sample.

The door opened, and Leto stepped in. “Sir Roland requests your presence at once. He says it’s urgent.”

Jack frowned, setting aside his work. “Did he say what it was about?”

Leto shook his head. “Not really. Just that you were to come immediately.”

Sighing, Jack nodded. “Very well. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

Leto hurried off, and Jack began to tidy up his workspace. Done tidying up, Jack straightened his back, squaring his shoulders and stepped out into the cool evening air. The streets were eerily quiet as Jack made his way toward Lord Theodore’s manor. Sir Roland would be there. The town felt rather hollow. Windows were shuttered, doors barred. The few people he did see hurried along with their heads down, casting nervous glances in all directions.

As he approached Lord Theodore’s manor, Jack noticed an unusual amount of activity. Guards patrolled the perimeter in greater numbers than usual, and he could see lights blazing in nearly every window. Ah, Sir Thomas is stationed here, along with some of others under him like I am—or, was.

Jack was ushered inside quickly, the guards recognizing him on sight. He was led not to Lord Theodore’s usual study, but to a large room that had been converted into some sort of command center. Maps covered the walls, marked with pins and notations. A group of men huddled around a large table, their voices low and urgent, with Sir Thomas observing them in silence.

The man glanced him for a moment then returned to his silent observation, again.

Sir Roland looked up as Jack entered.

“Ah, Jack. Thank you for coming so quickly. We have a situation.”

“What’s happened?”

“We’ve received reports of a massive gathering of the infected, here, in the Quel Mines.”

“How many? From where?”

“Hundreds, at least,” Jack replied. “Possibly more. And they seem to be... organizing. As for where they came from, no clue. Certainly not from Holden. Regardless, we need to act quickly. Sir Thomas there is planning our attack on them. I’m assembling a team to investigate and, if necessary, neutralize the threat. I want you to be part of that team, Jack.”

“Me? But I’m not a soldier.”

“Exactly. We need your expertise. We need answers. And you’re the best chance we have of doing that. We’ll set a camp for you there. The Bishop will arrive. He’ll handle everything here.”

Humming, Jack nodded. “When do we leave?”

“First light tomorrow,” Lord Theodore replied. “Get some rest, Jack. You’ll need it. Dismissed.”

***

Ethan got out of the inn at first light, breathing in the morning air. He led his horse from the stable, mounted up, and set off towards the forest looming on the horizon.

Let’s see.

The inn hadn’t been the worst, but it hadn’t been the best, either. It was just mediocre. But he had to do with it. At least the food was edible. His mind wandered as he entered the woods, the canopy above grew thick, filtering out most of the sunlight. Ethan’s senses were on high alert, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. The forest was rather quiet, save for the occasional snap of a twig beneath his horse’s hooves.

An hour into his journey, Ethan’s [Arcane Awareness] flared. He dismounted smoothly, tying his horse to a nearby tree so that it wouldn’t run away in case it got scared. Crouching low, he moved silently through the underbrush, following barely perceptible tracks in the soft earth.

Ahead, he heard guttural voices speaking in a crude language. Goblins. Ethan’s lip curled. He crept forward, assessing the situation. Five of the creatures huddled around a small fire, gnawing on bones of undetermined origin.

Ethan drew his sword. It made no sound as it left its scabbard. He took a deep breath, centering himself, then burst from cover.

The first goblin fell before it could even register Ethan’s presence. Its head separated cleanly from its shoulders with a click. The second managed a strangled cry before Ethan’s blade found its heart. The remaining three scrambled for their weapons, but Ethan was upon them, too.

He parried a clumsy thrust from a rusty spear, using the goblin’s momentum to impale it on its companion’s crude sword. As both creatures fell, tangled together, Ethan dispatched the last one with a precise thrust through its eye socket. Blood gushed out and Ethan’s lips curled in disgust, but he pulled out his sword.

The entire encounter had lasted less than a minute.

Breathing steadily, sword dripping with thick, dark blood. Spitting on the ground, he flicked the blood from his sword before returning it to its sheath.

He turned to his horse. Then stopped.

A sound caught his attention.

It was faint, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable.

Something large was moving through the forest, snapping branches and uprooting small trees in its wake.

The sound grew closer, accompanied by a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the very earth. Ethan’s hand returned to his sword, his muscles tensing. He could practically taste the anticipation on his tongue.

Whatever was coming, it was far larger and more dangerous than the paltry goblins he’d just dispatched.

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