Ortai Legacy: Arrival

5.4 - Mimics (L)

Weylan couldn't be serious; there had to be something I could do. "He's just going to die?"

He shrugged. "Most likely not. Shifters can heal from worse... assuming they return to their true form. Multiple monsters incoming at-"

"The mimic'll take care of it. How do I get Mar'kost to change back?"

"It happens automatically when they lose consciousness."

"And where do I take him once that happens? Is there anywhere as safe as the Mess Hall that won't disintegrate him?"

"He won't disintegrate in the Mess Hall. Your Knights share your arka resistance while within a kilotail of your location."

"Good." I glanced back at the way I'd come. The violet line had disappeared behind me.

A small herd of tentacled rats charged around the corner, and the butcher mimic cleaved them all in half with one swipe of its invisible weapon.

"Make a line back to the Mess Hall." It was a simple enough journey, but my nerves were too fried to concentrate on even that little. A burning hunger low in my stomach made it even more impossible to plan. First thing first, I needed to get Mar'kost to the Mess Hall.

I willed my graxi to wrap around his body. They started to move, but a sharp pain in my head interrupted my focus. They wiggled aimlessly. I refocused and sent them toward Mar'kost again. Twin knitting needles pierced my temples, bringing me to my knees.

"Warning: Arka Capacity at 100 valts." Weylan's voice threatened to split open my skull.

I spoke through gritted teeth. "Wha- How bad is that?"

"100 valts is approximately 6.67% of your total Capacity. Once your Capacity drops below 20 valts, you will fall unconscious. I recommend against manipulating your graxi until after you've replenished your internal arka."

"Bloody wonderful." Would've been nice to know all that earlier. "Butcher, can you carry my friend to the Mess Hall and guard us at the same time?"

"Yes." The mimic grabbed Mar'kost by his scruff, which nearly tore it right off his neck. Frowning, the mimic grabbed his upper foreleg instead and began dragging him down the hall.

It was far from ideal, but seeing as I had to lean heavily on my polearm just to stand up, it was the only option.

Returning to the Mess Hall, I made slower progress than I'd made running to Mar'kost. Every intersection brought a half-dozen minor monsters and a bonus larger monster—like that praying mantis thing or a spider that filled the whole hallway. The butcher mimic dispatched them with ease, but they still slowed us down.

By the time we finally stepped into the Mess Hall, my vision was too blurry to make out individual tables and chairs. Only, it wasn't my 'vision.' It was a telepathic projection from my weapon that probably used my internal arka as fuel.

"Turn off the light thing."

The room darkened.

"Friend meat now?" The mimic's voice made my stomach sink.

"No," I snapped. To Weylan, I asked, "Is Mar'kost still alive?"

"His health is at nineteen percent."

That wasn't good news, but it wasn't the worst news either. "If he's not passing out, how do I knock him out?"

"He's unconscious."

I squinted at the tiger-sized mound by the mimic. Besides a new blue hue, Mar'kost looked unchanged. "Why's he not healing?"

"His health is technically rising."