[Voidknight Ascension] Chapter 242 – An Imperial Heist

Sam’s next footfall landed on leaf mold. He was immediately assaulted by a dizzying sense of movement. As if he had been plunged into a roaring river.

Komachi licked her paw as Sam nearly went down to his knees in agony and disorientation. It took her a few moments to realize that Sam was struggling, because the cat had absolutely no ill-effects from suddenly entering the normal flow of time.

Gritting his teeth, Sam staggered forward through the wide clearing until he could rest up against a tree. Not a massive ironwood tree like he was used to from his Skyshard, but a normal-sized tree.

It might even have been an oak as far as he could tell, though he doubted it with the riot of color that burst from the canopies all around him.

What he first took to be autumn colors was, in fact, much more. There were leaves of all colors except green. Dusty-blue, deep purple, violet, even pale gray leaves melded into a gorgeous canopy of pleasing tones.

Komachi rubbed her paws together briskly, then got to work. She kneaded [Healing Biscuits] into his temple. The skill slowly soothed his nausea and pain until it was a dull, disorienting ache in the back of his mind.

“No wonder the Empress loves this place,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Are those autumn colors? It’s so different.”

Sam didn’t know how long he rested against that tree. He knew he should go deeper into the forest. At the edge of the clearing, he would still be easily spotted in his blue-gold armor, but he just didn’t have the strength to move.

Just a few minutes, Sam thought. At least until everything stops spinning.

There was no comparison to the utter disorientation he felt from plunging into the normal flow of time after being in a Dead Echo. After Komachi’s ministrations, the worst of it was over, but Sam still struggled to orient himself.

To him, the tree felt like the Yggdrasil, holding up his very existence with its sturdy form.

Before Sam could get his bearings, he noticed the crunch of leaves underfoot and a voice called out, “Hey, you the guy?”

Sam straightened, took a deep breath, and turned to face the newcomers.

Three people stood a few yards away, on his side of the clearing with the twisting rift of light between them. If they saw the portal, they gave no indication of it.

Sam thought to smile, then stopped himself as he took another look at the group.

They wore colors that blended in with the foliage a little too well and looked to be nervous standing out in the open. The young man out front was darker than the rest, with a strange white tattoo across his brow, but he stood tall and proud, as if he owned the forest itself.

His companions, a man and woman, were constantly scanning the trees as if expecting somebody to jump out at any moment.

Sam had seen these sorts of deals often enough back home. This was some shady shit, and smiling like a friendly Hawaiian would be a one-way ticket to outing himself.

He noticed that Komachi froze, mid-biscuits. Her fur was covered in shadow again. Her [Stealth] skill at work no doubt. It didn’t seem that this group noticed his cat, despite the fact that she was on his shoulder.

“That depends,” Sam said in a gravelly voice. To his ears, it wasn’t particularly convincing, but he hoped it would work on these people. All he had to do was channel his inner Kai. “You have the payment?”

The dark-skinned man crossed the space between them, passing right through the portal without ever acknowledging it. Over the man’s shoulder, Sam could see the pinnacle of the Proving Grounds in all its dark glory. “I told you, the other half will be upon completion! Take it or leave it, Rikard!”

Sam put his hands up in the universal symbol of surrender. A few things began to click in his head. “Fine. Then you mind telling me why you brought more people than we agreed upon?”

It was the other man’s turn to look abashed. He cleared his throat, paused, then cleared it again. “The Imperials are hot on our heels. We needed to be sure you weren’t gotten to before we brought out the package.” He looked Sam up and down. “Are you sure you can store it? Safely?”

“Safe and away from prying eyes,” Sam said, injecting just a hint of professional pride laced with warning into his tone. Most people that Sam met like this took more than a little offense when their skills were called into question.

“You came highly recommended,” the man told Sam. “The Cause wouldn’t trust anybody else with something this hot. The Imperials are in a stir already, but if they haven’t gotten to you, then we’re in the clear.”

Before Sam could say anything that might give away his cover, the leader turned, stuck two fingers into his mouth, and whistled.

More people emerged from the woods, most of them wearing bloodied uniforms or suits of armor. Between them, they carried an ordinary-looking clay pot the size of a basketball.

Only Sam had never known any ordinary clay pots to radiate such power. Wind rolled out from the pot, though it was unlike anything Sam had ever experienced before.

He could see this wind. It shimmered and flowed like water. Wherever it went, colors popped. The world seemed to deepen in some indefinable way, as if it became more real.

The splotches of blood on their armor looked like shimmering rubies. The white cloth of their head wraps was as pure as the driven snow, and the forest sprang to life.

Shoots of green life trailed after the group, and Sam could only stare.

Could this truly be the magical effects of a Lumanot artifact?

“It is beautiful, is it not?” the leader said. “No wonder the Empire covets them so. But they will not do so while they allow their Eastern Provinces to be overrun by filthy beastmen! We will have our voices heard. There must be separation. And that is where you come in. The Empire will never suspect an Imperial General of harboring one of the Lumanots.”

Sam inclined his head graciously. He couldn’t believe how easy this was. “I’ll keep it hidden and keep it safe until the right time,” Sam told the leader.

The dark-skinned man nodded and motioned for the bearers to bring the clay pot closer. They set it into Sam’s arms. He was shocked at how heavy it was, but no more shocked than the bearers who watched him hold it all on his own.

The looks of respect turned to suspicion as weapons were suddenly drawn and the leader put out a hand to stay his allies’ blades. “What is the meaning of this Rikard?” he asked Sam, his golden eyes flicking to a spot over Sam’s left shoulder.

Holding an incredibly heavy pot that I’m afraid to drop is a really bad position to be in, Sam thought to himself as he turned, fully expecting Komachi to be there.

Instead, he saw a man in soil-stained rags step into the clearing a few feet behind him. A confused shift of the newcomer’s stance revealed the rags were covering up the red glint of an ornate breastplate.

The man was nearly as tall as Sam, but he was leaner by far. Even in his armor, he didn’t come close to Sam’s bulk. Though Sam had to admit, they could have passed for cousins.

You must be the Imperial General, Sam thought to himself. And here I thought for once it would be easy.

Their hair color was similar, eyes both blue but wildly different shades. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the leader of these thieves had thought Sam was Rikard, especially if they had never met face-to-face.

He was in the right spot and looked similar enough.

“Here, hold this,” Sam told the leader, extending the clay pot out to him.

Sam never understood why, but there was just something that people couldn’t resist about being handed objects. Even if they were wary of you or didn’t trust you, when you thrust something into their arms, they just sort of…took it.

Exploiting that odd piece of knowledge, Sam let go of the clay pot as the leader dropped his sword to catch it and struggled to hold it up.

The two bearers came up to help him as Sam cocked back his fist and slugged first one, then the other. With an elbow, he clocked the leader in the temple, and all three went down into a boneless heap.

“Could’ve been so easy,” Sam grumbled to himself, turning to watch the real Rikard unsheathing his odd greatsword. An oval was scooped out of the middle where the fuller would normally go, making the whole thing look like a curved tuning fork.

“But I had to jinx it,” Sam said, crouching down and grabbing the pot that had been cushioned by the leader’s fall.

In the confusion that followed, Sam booked it to the nearby rift and jumped through…only to land on the other side as if it didn’t exist.

Sonnuvabitch!

He knew the rift was there. He had jumped straight through it! Wasting precious time he knew he didn’t really have, Sam turned and jumped through the shimmering light again.

And again, he landed in the same clearing.

Something was wrong.

He took a deep breath and tried to think. The Empress had talked about how he rarely ever used his senses to read her attacks.

Shutting his eyes for just a moment, Sam focused. When his eyes opened again, he was able to see what he hadn’t before.

Thin silvery cords streaked out from the portal to each and every conscious person in the clearing. The trio of people at Sam’s feet possessed no such cord.

That was a simple enough clue for Sam to figure out.

Throwing the clay pot at the remaining group of thieves, Sam turned to face the true Rikard, judging him to be the biggest threat.

He ripped one greatsword out of his [Biting Sheath] to a spray of molten sparks of metal. With a guided hand, he cast those white-hot sparks into the man bearing down on him, spoiling his first strike and buying Sam enough time to slip around to his side.

Rikard’s soiled robes were peppered with burned holes, revealing the opulent armor beneath. Sam came up with Serpent’s Fang, only to be met with a startled expression and the appropriate countering form, Lashing Tail from the Hydra movement.

“You can’t be!” Rikard said, his arm trembling as Sam bore down with all of his might on the man’s sword. It might have been the right countering move, but Rikard clearly hadn’t expected Sam’s strength.

The man went down to one knee, holding back Sam’s attack. Sam knew the thieves behind him were organizing and getting ready to attack his vulnerable back. All Rikard had to do was hold Sam here a few seconds more and he would be in serious trouble.

Instead, Sam kicked out with his boot and caught the man square in the chin, then he turned and drew his second greatsword to face the oncoming thieves.

To a man, they halted upon seeing him. Sam’s Tin aura flared, flattening the grass in a circle ten feet wide all around him and buying him enough time to close the gap.

He didn’t understand why they were so frightened, but he wasn’t going to let the advantage pass him by.

“The Imperial House will not stand for long!” cried a woman as she thrusted a bident at Sam’s middle. He batted it aside so powerfully that it was ripped from the woman’s fingers and smacked into her cohort’s side, causing him to stumble his leading thrust as well.

Sam whirled his greatswords, using the wide flats of the weapons more than anything to knock weapons out of hands and to clobber anybody stupid enough to get close to him.

He didn’t feel right killing these people when there was no–

A bright burning spot of agony lit Sam’s back up like the Fourth of July. Komachi hissed and spun on his shoulder.

Rikard was faster than Sam gave him credit for. He had ditched the cumbersome greatsword and stabbed Sam in the back with a gracefully thin sidesword.

Snarling with rage, Sam spun on his heels. Ripping the blade free from Rikard’s hands, he unwittingly snapped his greatswords out and then dove in from opposite angles as he zeroed in on the man’s horrified expression.

Even had he wanted to, Sam couldn’t have stopped the coming action. And for years later, he would wonder if he had truly wanted to.

The momentum of his heavy greatswords carried his arms along for the ride as they sheared the man’s head off clean at the shoulders. Rikard’s knowledge of his own doom was stamped clearly on his face as his head fell to the ground with a heavy thump, followed a moment later by his body.

Breathing hard, Sam stared at the corpse in front of him, struggling with the roiling emotions inside. He looked around the clearing, but no more enemies could be found. None conscious at least.

Komachi worked her healing magic on him, but Sam hardly noticed as he stowed his blades and picked up his prize. Standing in front of the rift, he watched as the portal opened fully for him now that nobody else was around.

Sam stepped into the darkness, weighed down with the guilt of killing another man.