Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Cat
The Friday after Vegas, Sally and I decide to meet up an hour before D I want to be the protagonist for once, like I was for a hot second at IAX. The hero of the story. The one who slays the dragon and gets the girl instead of the one who runs around on the battlefield, dispensing heals. Who said halfling clerics can’t be badasses too?
I stand. Take my flatiron mini. And move it forward into the Final Sanctum. “Brush enters the room. Are there any traps or other triggerable mechanisms that I can see?”
Andi raises an eyebrow but rolls with my decision. “Make an investigation check.”
At first, nothing bad happens. I roll a nineteen, which allows me to chart a safe albeit narrow path through the trap-laden floor tiles. My confidence grows as Brush approaches the altar.
Twenty feet, fifteen, ten, five … With only one more tile between Brush and the Aegis, I hold my breath. If I can claim this set of armor for Zorissa, I’ll prove my worth to the party. They’ll see that I’m more than just a support character, more than just the heals I dole out. And maybe, just maybe, everyone—including Andi—will want me to stay in the campaign, even after Sally and I “break up.”
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I know I’m not thinking or acting rationally. That’s games for you, though. They allow you to believe and do things you’d never be able to in real life.
“Anyone think this is too easy?” Ferret asks from the back of the line.
Caim gulps. “Yeah—”
“Wham!” Andi slams her palms down, rattling our minis. “The aegis animates as soon as Brush makes contact with it, grappling her.”
“No!” I scream as Dana grabs my shoulder.
“I need everyone to roll initiative,” Andi commands.
We rush for our dice. I roll an abysmal three, which puts my turn last. Caught in the metal jaws of a wrathful suit of armor, Brush is defenseless against the barrage of bludgeoning multi-attacks Andi unleashes. Brush’s hit points dwindle from twenty-one down to fifteen, then six, then one.
“Heal yourself!” Caim shouts.
“I cast hold person,” Ferret bellows. All heads turn toward him. “On Brush.”
Sweat breaks out on Brush’s head. She fails her saving throw and is paralyzed, unable to cry out for help let alone drink a single drop of healing potion.
“What?” Tahan é shrieks. “Ferret, you traitor! You’ve been working with the Paladin King this entire time.”
Ferret grins, flashing his incisors at the rest of the table. After dithering between attacking Ferret and saving Brush, Zorissa chooses the former with a mournful glance in the aegis’s direction. Brush can do nothing but wait for the cold metal pressing into her back and thighs to entomb her. Its grip is inescapable.
“The aegis makes another attack on Brush,” Andi announces. At first I think she’s going to roll behind her DM privacy screen in case she needs to fudge the result to let Brush live, but then she leans forward, her d20 rattling in her left fist. In the background, someone (Zorissa?) groans, but all I can focus on is Andi’s face: her eyes, dark as black glass; the high planes of her cheeks, flushed with the heat of battle; the grim line of her mouth.
The die flies from Andi’s hand. We bend our heads toward the center of the table and wait for it to settle. Its rotation wobbles, then slows, then stops.
A twenty.
Caim shouts, despair making her voice gravelly. Ferret falls off his chair. On either side of me, Tahan é and Zorissa dig their nails into my forearms as Andi proceeds to roll for damage. I say nothing, my mouth dry, my hands damp.
I watch as the color leaches from Andi’s skin. She looks up from her dice. Locks eyes with me. “Forty-eight hit points. That’s … instant death.”
A wail goes up so guttural and animalistic, at first I don’t realize it’s coming from my own mouth. When it dies away, I get to my feet, breathing hard and bracing my palms against the edge of the table. I bore my eyes into Andi’s. She’s standing directly across from me, licking her lips, like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.
Brush is dead, and it’s all. Andi’s. Fault.