Asano held up a hand towards Jerrick, chanting a spell.
“Your blood is not yours to keep, but mine on which to feast.”
Red light shone from inside Jerrick, some of it siphoning off in a trail to be absorbed by Asano’s hand. As this was happening, Jerrick charged forward. It didn’t match the pace of his charge special attack, but was still fast for someone wrapped in that much metal. As he moved, Jerrick waved an arm, sending a wave of metal spikes ahead of him. Asano shielded his body with his cloak, but let out a grunt as most of the spikes punched through.
Jerrick conjured a huge metal pole with a spiked metal sphere on the end, an oversized morning star. He swung it down like a hammer and Asano danced back lightly from the crude swing, the sphere digging into the ground. He cast another spell.
“Suffer the cost of your transgressions.”
Jerrick let out a painful yell as he let go of his weapon and staggered before righting himself. Dean couldn’t see the results of the spell under the armour, but he’d never actually heard Jerrick make a sound of pain before. Jerrick walked back to where his weapon was half-buried in the earth and yanked it out. Holding it horizontally, in spite of what must have been enormous weight, the sphere shot towards Asano, trailing a chain that linked it to the pole in Jerrick’s hands.
The sphere shot through Asano’s cloak, but he was no longer in it. Rising up behind Jerrick from his own shadow, Asano jabbed his ornate dagger into a gap at the bottom of Jerrick’s thick breastplate. Jerrick whirled around, but the unarmoured Asano was much lighter. Almost comically, he moved to stay behind the spinning Jerrick’s back. Jerrick stopped and Asano dropped through his shadow, vanishing just as myriad spikes shot out of Jerrick’s armour.
While he was keeping an eye on the fight, Dean had taken a sack of salt from his dimensional bag and was pouring out a circle on the grass. Clementson saw what he was doing and tried to interfere, but Dean’s forearm grew large, hairy and clawed, grabbing Clementson by the throat. He lifted Clementson into the air.
“I may not be the adventurer they are,” Dean said, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll let the likes of you treat me like I’m nothing.”
Dean tossed Clementson to the ground, where he scrambled away on all fours before getting to his feet at a safe distance.
“Mercer will make you pay for this,” Clementson said, all but spitting his words at Dean. Dean looked at Asano, dancing around Jerrick. Other than the two noblemen who followed Mercer around, all Mercer’s lackeys were terrified of Jerrick, Dean included. He squared his shoulders, held up his hand and snapped his fingers.
The circle of salt glowed with a green light, then lines within drew out the shape of a pentagram. Runes appeared between the lines, then the lines and symbols turned gold as the circle filled with green light. Out of the light rose a bear-like creature, with savage claws and a body covered in bony protrusions. Dean pointed at Jerrick.
“Kill.”
Dean refocused his attention on Jerrick. The big man seemed unsteady, but still whirled the sphere on its chain around himself, holding onto the pole at the base. The sphere sailed through the air, shooting out spikes as it did. Asano easily avoided the sphere itself but the spikes were landing hits. With the strange way the cloak almost floated around him, drifting on the air, it was hard to tell how much damage the cloak and his armour were ameliorating.
The fergax came up behind Jerrick, clutching him in a bear hug. If it weren’t for the heavy armour, the bony protrusions on the monster’s body would have pierced flesh in a half-dozen places. Instead, spikes shot out of the armour, puncturing the fergax’s flesh. It staggered back and Jerrick turned on it as the sphere snaked back down to slam solidly onto the pole. Jerrick lifted the pole up and brought it down on the monster. The weapon buried itself in the fergax, which fell dead from the blow. As it did, Asano chanted out a spell behind Jerrick.
“Suffer the cost of your transgressions.”
A horrifying groan came out of Jerrick, who dropped his weapon and started stumbling around. The plates of his armour fell away, vanishing before they hit the ground. The skin of his arms and face revealed black veins and patches of dead, withered flesh. Thick, dark blood trailed down from his eyes and nose.
Dean and Clementson recoiled at the sight while Asano moved closer. No longer able to stay upright, Jerrick toppled to the ground. Asano held his hand out and channelled another spell.
“Feed me your sins.”
Red light again glowed out of Jerrick, now massively discoloured with blue, purple and sickly white. All the discolouration flowed out and into Asano’s waiting hand as he absorbed the afflictions, leaving only the feeble, flickering red of Jerrick’s cleansed life force. The black veins visible through his skin had vanished, but Jerrick was beyond resuming the fight.
“Help me with him,” Asano said to Dean, and they pushed him into a sitting position. Asano took out an iron collar and snapped it onto Jerrick’s neck, before feeding him a potion and lowering him back down.
“He’ll live,” Asano said. “He’ll need a few more potions, but he’s a tough one.”
“Is that a suppression collar?” Dean asked.
“That’s right,” Asano said. “They’re supposed to be restricted, but the bad guys seem to get their hands on them anyway. This one was used on a friend of mine when some cultists tried to sacrifice us. I borrowed it in case you turned out stroppy.”
“You’re not going to kill him?”
“That was my inclination,” Asano said, “but when a man turns his dog on you, you can’t really blame the dog. Is he an adventurer too?”
“Yeah,” Dean said.
“Well, not for long, I’m guessing. Sorry about your monster.”
They looked over at the dead fergax, Jerrick’s weapon already vanished from it.
“It’s a summon,” Jerrick said. “A new one manifests each time I use it.”
“I see,” Asano said. He turned to Clementson, who was cowering off to the side. “Do you think this guy will lend us a cart?”
The god appeared in front of Jory’s clinic without fanfare, a small, middle-aged man, with ordinary features and plain, brown robes. Nonetheless, power radiated of him, affecting the crowd gathered on the street. Sicknesses were dispelled and injuries healed. Everyone in front of Jory’s clinic fell to their knees as silence washed over the crowded street. Into that silence came the clattering of a wooden object falling onto stone, and a single, startled voice.
“My foot grew back!”
The god laughed, looking at the man who spoke out.
“You have a new foot,” Healer said. “Please, stand upon it.”
A scrawny man stood up in the middle of the crowd, looking immensely nervous.
“You came to this clinic,” the god said, “but the alchemist here could not regrow your foot.”
“No, er… your goodness, sir. He helped me with the pain, and found someone to make me a wooden foot. It worked pretty well. Enough to get me back working, at least.”
“Did you go to my temple?” the god asked, as if he didn’t know exactly what happened in his holy places.
“They said I didn’t have the money to grow a foot back.”
“Yes they did,” the god said, his gaze turning to the Chief Priest. “It is my way to give those who follow me the freedom to do what is right. If doing what is wrong is not truly an option, then doing good isn’t a choice; it’s just obedience.”
The god moved forwards until the kneeling Chief Priest was looking at the bottom of the god’s robes.
“My ways have allowed my followers to go astray in the past, particularly in these outlying regions,” the god said. “Rarely, however, has one of my temples fallen so far, and so completely. You should be not only ready but eager to help those in need. Instead, you use the gifts I have given you to garner power and line your pockets.”