Source & Soul: A Deckbuilding LitRPG

My running feet took me back toward the Merchant District, where I could see a smear of greasy smoke rising over the rooftops. Not there. They’ll have the fire brigade and the city watch crawling all over. I darted left on Pasero, a narrow lane hardly wider than a back alley, and toppled three stacked crates of gorsefruit stacked outside the grocer’s on the corner. It cost me a couple of seconds, but when I looked over my shoulder another ten steps down the street, I saw Harker slip on one of the soft green things, going down hard. I cackled. It was almost worth the pain in my feet to watch her eat cobblestones.

Pasero let out onto Broad Street with its wide expanse of horse-drawn carts heading down to the wharf. Could I hide in the back of a wagon and let it take me safely to the ships? My feet thought that sounded like a grand idea, and so did my throbbing, bleeding arm. I slowed, looking over the tall wooden sides of the wagons nearby, hoping to find a deep bed of hay or some loose sacks of goods I could squirm underneath.

“Hey!” Harker brayed from the intersection at Pasero I’d left behind not too many seconds past. Her jacket was ripped at one elbow, her face was red, and she was pointing at me. “Him! Get him!”

One evil-looking fellow with a scraggly beard on the far side of the street leapt into action, and a quick look around showed a tall, muscular lad sprinting toward me from where he’d been lounging against a wall. Shit. Ticosi’s thugs were spread all over – no easy ride to the wharf for me.

The wagons were between me and Evil Eye, but Muscles was coming at me fast from wharfside, so I doubled back and headed the other way. My groaning body, ready to give up a moment before, found its second wind – or maybe its third – and I stutter-stepped between a woman carrying a water jug on her head and a man pushing a wheeled barrow full of dung. They both cursed me roundly and then screamed as Muscles plowed past them, dumping water and manure both to the cobbles.

The kid could have folded me into a carrying case, but he’d have to catch me first, and even with hurt feet, I was faster. I high-tailed it up Broad Street, ducking between carts, weaving around passers-by, and generally making myself as much of a greased pig as I could. Ticosi’s boys were floundering against the flow of humanity, and I could hear Harker shouting rage at them from further back. Never chase a street kid. You’ll lose every time.

Then a stream of caustic acid spattered against the stones next to my feet, sending tiny droplets against my skin that stung and smoked. I looked down and saw holes eating through the coarse fabric of my trousers. A summoned troglodyte perched on the rear gate of the nearest wagon, and it was already snorting up more goop to spit at me.

I leapt aside, scrambling between a team of horses and their driver, and I had to duck under the reins as he kicked at me, growling something about urchins. A bare moment later he had his hands full as the horse up front reared and screamed, jerking the entire wagon forward. I had to dive out of the way to keep from losing a few burned toes under the wagon’s iron-bound front wheel. Looked like Harker or whoever’s troglodyte Soul didn’t mind sowing a little chaos – I could almost respect that. The little blighter was down on all fours on the cobblestones, loping forward on both hands and feet at a disturbing speed. Enough dicking around – it’s time to get out of here.

I mustered my flagging strength and tore up the street. I felt the troglodyte’s claws snagging in the trailing, torn threads of my trousers’ hem, but it couldn’t quite get close enough to trip up my ankles. I bobbed and weaved with all my might, hoping its next spit wouldn’t land right between my shoulders. I was well into the Merchant District now, and I could hear the roar and swell of a huge mass of people not far off. Oh, that’s right. The rich kids’ tourney would be starting any time now, and the Coliseum of the Twins where it was held was just up the road on the border between the Merchant and Palace Districts.

The Coliseum will be crawling with palace guards and city watch types. If I’m right under their noses I can play the poor mistaken beggar and they’ll keep this troggie off me. Even Harker won’t dare interfere. It was a sign of how desperate I was that I was considering putting myself within sight of The Law.

I still had two blocks to go, and this little green bastard was going to burn off my skin and eat my eyeballs before I ever got there. I still couldn’t feel my Sucking Void card or my Hateful Hammer in my Mind Home, but some indefinable part of me knew it wouldn’t be much longer. My Nether source, on the other hand, was there and ready. It was time to use my old standby and put a little rage to use.

I could feel my six little knots of source in the left side of my soul in a clearer way than ever before. It was almost as if having an actual Spell and a Relic in the right side of my Mind Home clarified everything else about me. That Nether source was mine, a product of my life and experiences, and it was there to be used. I pulled two of the sources into my left hand, feeling them form into cards that I threw overhead to form into spiky purple balls of Nether, first one and then the second as soon as I was able. I felt a clawed hand latch onto my bare heel and pull hard.

Now! I pulled all of my summoned source into my body, wringing both spheres totally dry to get every last drop of rage and power. At the same time I stopped in my tracks, and the slimy, lithe little swamp Soul barreled into the backs of my legs. Its many-fanged mouth was open, and as much by accident as anything else, several of the teeth pierced the back of my right thigh. It burned like fire. The damn thing was too confused to bite down; it couldn’t figure out why I had suddenly stopped.

I showed it exactly why by grabbing it by the back of the neck, wrenching it around to my front, and smashing it face-first into the cobbles. Troggers were scary fast and could swarm together to strip a wild ox down to bones faster than I could eat a stolen sticky bun, but they weren’t so tough on their own. If it had been a living troglodyte its skull would have smashed into a red mess on the street. Instead, the summoned Soul shattered into sparkling bits of light and disappeared.

Harker and her boys would be on me any second. I forced myself back into a run. I couldn’t even feel my feet anymore, which was probably bad, and a cold numbness was spreading down the back of my leg where the troglodyte had bitten me. I couldn’t go much further. The small rear entrance of the Coliseum loomed ahead on the right. I can make it. I have to make it.

“Hull! Stop!” I heard Harker scream.

I had to laugh. Does she actually think I’ll stop just ‘cause she yells it? Ridiculous.

The laughter was short lived. If she had one troglodyte card, she likely had another, and I knew she had Order, too. Any moment a summoned sneak thief or water moccasin would be on top of me. She was yelling to distract me, not because she thought I’d obey. The wide beams of the Coliseum gate were still twenty strides away, and I was moving slower with every step. That damned troglodyte had definitely poisoned me. I wasn’t going to make it. A glance over my shoulder showed Harker running as hard as she could, face red with rage and stupidity. Evil Eye and Muscles weren’t far behind, and there were at least two summoned human Souls with them, too.

It was a good try, I told myself. You got further than anyone would have expected. Now turn around and go down swinging – maybe they’ll be mad enough to kill you before Ticosi shows up.

Heart full of rage and body full of heaviness, I swung around and brought up my fists. The gates of the Coliseum were only ten steps away, but Harker and the others were only five.

One of the summoned Souls pulled out in front, a tough man carrying a slim sword he obviously knew how to use. His vibrancy and extra-presentness made it clear he was a card.

That made me glad, somehow: I didn’t want Harker to be the one to lay hands on me first. She was the worst.

The Soul had his sword poised to skewer me as he rushed forward, and I tensed against the feeling of steel I knew would invade my flesh any second. Here comes the bad part.

Instead, when he surged toward me, he vanished less than an arm’s length distant. Harker and the others ground to a halt, gaping. He hadn’t shattered into light as summoned Souls did when they were defeated; he’d simply gone poof. Ticosi’s goons shared a baffled glance, and then Harker reached for me.

But then two armored guards clanked up on either side of me, having watched the whole thing with professional disinterest from right inside the gates.

“This Tournament is a controlled zone,” the taller one said, hand on his sword hilt. “Any unauthorized Summoning within a stone’s throw of the gates gets dispelled. If you want to enter the tourney, table’s over there. If you’re here to watch, the main gate is up the street; it’s three bits. Either way, you’ll have to check your weapons.” He gave a meaningful glance to Harker and the studded club in her hand.

I took the moment to slip behind them and back away into the Coliseum gates. The guards were totally focused on the obvious threat presented by the obvious criminals and their obviously combat-oriented summoned Souls. Harker was trying to paste an innocent smile onto her ugly mug without much success, and it looked like Evil Eye was edging backwards toward the flow of wagons heading down to the docks. Two more steps and I was inside the gates and into the plaza ringing the Coliseum.

“Fortune save me, you’re not trying to sign up, are you?” said a man’s voice in disgust.

I whirled around and saw the speaker sitting at a table flanked by two guards. The man was spare, bald, and had the subtle vibrancy of a summoned Soul.

“Sign up?” I asked stupidly. Half my brain was still back outside the gates where I’d nearly just died.

He pressed his lips together and his spidery hands into the table. “I speak five languages fluently and can translate from another ten,” he said, looking to the sky. “My cataloging system has been in use in the Royal Library for more than a hundred years. I could run this kingdom with one hand and pen an epic poem with the other. Why does that pile of excrement Pamplus have me manning the brackets?” He looked back at me with the falsest, most offensive smile I’ve ever seen. “You have at least two cards?”

I stepped back and balled my fists. Summoned Soul or not, I could beat this toady to a pulp any day. “They’re mine,” I said, low and flat.

“I know they’re yours,” he said, bored. “That’s the point. One can’t enter without at least two cards in their Mind Home.”

“Enter?” I said, my thoughts finally catching up. “You mean the rich kids’ tournament?”

His lips quirked. “Thank you for saying what we’re all thinking.”

“I’m not entering,” I told him. “Just catching my breath for a minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He frowned and pasted the few strands crossing the top of his head back in place. “Are you certain, young man? Even if you only win a match or two, you could walk away with a wealth of cards greater than you’d see for the rest of your life.” He eyed me up and down. “Make that five lifetimes.”

I laughed at him. “Do I look like a duelist? I don’t even know the rules.” I leaned forward onto my knees. My head was swimming unpleasantly. I couldn’t feel the knee under my own hand on the leg where I’d been bitten.

“Let’s be honest,” he said primly. “Normally I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. But our illustrious Prince started showing off and scared away one too many of the merchant-class competitors, and if I don’t find another duelist in the next ten minutes, I’ll have to remake the entire bracket. I could do it, but I’ve been summoned for nearly the whole day and I’m tired. Put your name on the line and I’ll give you a gold crown after your first match.”

I eyed him suspiciously. Everything was looking fuzzier than I wanted to admit, and I couldn’t feel my hands now, either. “You’re a Soul. You don’t have money.”

He clicked his tongue in irritation. “Who do you think my Summoner is? Pamplus might be a toad and a lecher, but he’s also the King’s Underchamberlain. He has all the money a man could ever need and then some.”

Now that was interesting. I liked the thought of making an easy gold crown – that would make it much easier to leave town – but even more than that, I had a sudden vision of traipsing into the King’s Palace with a dagger hidden up my sleeve. I opened my mouth to ask him more, but suddenly the world tilted and I was looking at a bright blue sky overhead. I couldn’t move, and coldness was creeping up my chest. I wasn’t sure if I was breathing.

“Twins tangle me,” I heard the scribe Soul groan. “Hermika! I need you! This dirty rat is going to save me from having to redo the entire lineup. Don’t let him die, please.”

I heard someone trot up grumbling, and the sun overhead dimmed as someone leaned over me. “Ugh, I’m going to have to take a bath after this. Two baths.”

A cool hand pressed against my forehead, and suddenly it felt as if I’d been thrown into a winter lake. I gasped and thrashed, yelling incoherently, and then went limp on the ground. I was exhausted.

I blinked. My vision was clear again, and I could feel my whole body. I sat up and stared at my feet. They didn’t hurt at all. Nothing on my body hurt at all!

“What–” I muttered, passing my hands all over myself. I felt great.

“You’re welcome,” a woman crouched next to me said sourly, rubbing her hands vigorously on her white apron. “Another ten minutes and your lungs would have filled with fluid. I don’t know what happened to you, but don’t do it again.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said fervently. I scrambled to my feet.

“Healing is expensive,” the scribe said, leaning forward over his table, quill in hand. “The King doesn’t give away these services for free.”

“I didn’t ask you to call her!” I protested.

“A single match and we’ll call it even,” he said, holding out the quill to me. “Just sign your name. Make an X if you can’t write.”

“I can write,” I told him. “But I’m telling you I can’t enter the tournament. I don’t know how to duel!” I wanted to run away, but the guards were back at the gates, having successfully chased off Harker and the others. If I tried to bolt, I was sure it wouldn’t go well for me. Nobody wearing armor could keep from clobbering a street kid that was running away. It was in the rules somewhere.

“It’s enter the tourney or get turned over to the Watch for theft of services,” the scribe said with a nasty smile. “I heard you ask for healing. Hermika, didn’t you hear that?”

The healer woman rolled her eyes. “Ugh, are we extorting street children now?”

“Hermika…” the scribe Soul said in a warning tone.

She sighed. “Fine, I heard it.”

“You… liars!” I gaped at both of them. Of course I knew rich folks always played false – that was how they got rich – but I wasn’t used to them doing it to me.

“I’ll feel very bad about it in Pamplus’ Mind Home tonight,” the scribe Soul assured me. “Sign here, please.”

I took one more look at the gate. Harker and her toadies were sure to be lurking nearby and watching for me. Even if I made it past the guards, they’d be there, and my cards still weren’t refreshed and ready to summon. I was stuck.

“I get the gold crown after my first match,” I told him, reaching for the quill but not taking it yet.

“My word of honor,” the Soul said blithely.

He pulled out a paper with a strange, branching tree on it. Each straight line had a name written above it, and he pointed to one where the name Corbicus had been crossed out. “Right here, please.”

I dipped the quill in his pot of ink and scratched HULL above the crossed-out name. My penmanship was bad, but seeing as how I was probably the only seventeen-year-old from the Lows that even knew how to read, I ignored the prissy fellow’s judgmental sniff.

He scattered sand on the ink to soak up the extra. “Welcome to the Rising Stars Tournament, Hull. Go through the tunnel over there, ask for Garrod, and tell him you’re my new number 27. He’ll understand, and he’ll get you a list of the rules. Your first match starts in less than an hour.”

“And then I get my gold,” I said, fixing him with a firm eye.

He laughed as he nodded. “I’ve changed my mind, young man: you’re not half bad. Those rich kids you were talking about had better watch themselves.” He pointed toward the tunnel leading into the Coliseum, shooing me on. “Fortune favor your Summons!”