Chapter 8: Buried Alive

Words : 1800 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

Jordan worked with brutal efficiency. An hour after Ian Juggins gave a direct order, truck after truck loaded with ice rumbled into the camp. Half the remaining soldiers at the camp stripped to the waist and lined up, moving like a vast, disciplined human assembly line. An hour later, a ring-shaped wall of ice blocks as tall as a person had been stacked, and more than ten tons of Dragonbane Powder lay scattered across the grounds. The air filled with the acrid reek of the stuff. It stung the nose and burned the throat. At the same time, the warriors who had writhed and howled under the torment of the hex began to quiet down. One after another, they sank into heavy sleep. Jason Yare checked on them again, still uneasy. The result reassured him. The Viper Hex had been effectively suppressed. It was no longer tearing through the meridians; it had gone dormant. Jordan stood in the square and listened to the snores rolling out. He felt the weight on his chest ease a little. He hurried to Jason's side, seized his hand, and said with raw gratitude, "It's all thanks to you, young man. The boys have been howling all day. At last they can sleep." "On behalf of everyone in the 32nd Battalion, thank you-truly." He raised a hand in salute. Tears shone at the corners of his eyes. As the deputy commander stationed here year-round, he had the deepest bond with the men. Nearly two thousand had dropped all at once today. He had panicked. Seeing them in agony worse than death, he had wished he could trade his life for their safety. Jason awkwardly copied the salute, flustered. "Treating the soldiers is my honor," he said, sounding a little awkward. Marlee Juggins stepped up and handed Jordan a notebook. "Save the thanks for later," she said. "I've already lined up a supplier to deliver silkie chickens and Dragonbane Brew. We still need Touchblight Bloom stalks. Could you have your men dig them up?" Jordan glanced through the notebook and grunted assent. "There is plenty of Touchblight Bloom on Drakon. I will assemble a team at once." He turned and strode off. Marlee looked back at Jason, smiling. "Let me buy you dinner. Just a small thank-you." "Uh…" He had meant to refuse. His stomach betrayed him with a loud gurgle. "Then I won't say no." For five years in a vegetative state, he had lived on liquids and nutrient drips. After he woke, his body should have needed a long stretch to recover. It was King Balam's Legacy that had reforged his marrow, tendons, and flesh, letting him move like a man reborn. After half a day's hard work, it was time to refuel the old-fashioned way. They drove out of the military camp. Once they cleared the base of Drakon, a weight lifted from Jason's shoulders, and he let out a slow breath. In there, he had nearly two thousand lives on his shoulders. The pressure had crushed the air from his lungs. "My grandpa always says, the greater the ability, the greater the responsibility," Marlee said. "When crisis hits, and only you can fix it, then no matter how hard it is, you grit your teeth and charge." She smiled, reached out a hand, and said, "Miracle Doc, proper introduction: I am Marlee Juggins." "Thanks." He shook her hand lightly. "Uncle Ben said that too," he added, half under his breath. Marlee caught on at once and teased, "So are you going to be a superhero doctor?" Jason managed a wry smile. With King Balam's Legacy on his back, he suspected there would be no shortage of lives to save. He was about to answer when a boxy cargo van careened into their lane head-on. Honk, honk! The blare of the horn scraped the night. Marlee yanked the wheel left and stamped the brake. The BMW spun a clean one-eighty. The van whooshed past, close enough to shave paint, without the slightest sign of slowing. In that instant Jason caught a look at the people in the van, and his eyes went wide. Those two scumbags. Anger flared hot and immediate. Bang! The BMW smacked the guardrail and stopped. Thanks to Marlee's quick hands, they had not rolled. "You okay?" she asked, turning to him. His face had gone as dark as a storm front. Jason shook his head, pushed the door open, and climbed out. The van disappeared around a bend, gone. Marlee got out and called the police at once. She was still pale. If not for her reflexes, with the speed that van carried, they would have been lucky to live. She hung up and said, "The police are on their way. Are you really all right?" She thought he had been scared senseless. She was about to offer a few comforting words when Jason cut in. "Is the car still drivable?" She blinked, glanced at the front. "The bumper's trashed, but it's still drivable." "Let's go after them," Jason said, a thread of urgency in his eyes. "Can we?" For a heartbeat Marlee meant to refuse. Then, as if something tugged inside her, she nodded. "Okay." They climbed back in. The engine roared, and the BMW leaped forward. When they hit a hundred, the night wind slapped their cheeks, loud as surf. Marlee snapped back to herself. How had she agreed to such a reckless chase? She snuck a glance at Jason. His features were set with iron resolve, and in his gaze there was a coldness that chilled her. What is happening to him, she wondered. In the short time she had known him, he had felt steady and reassuring. Now, nerves fluttered under her ribs. In the passenger seat, Jason quietly unclasped the hand sign he'd been holding. A method from King Balam's Talisman Manuscript had flashed into his mind a moment ago-the Soul Capturing Spell. He had not hesitated. He had cast it on Marlee, a subtle charm that nudged the mind. He wanted to see what those two scumbags were doing in the wilderness at midnight. Ten minutes later, they spotted the van pulled over by the roadside. They got out. A stand of cypress trees bordered the road. From deep inside came the sound of cursing. Jason moved quietly into the trees. Marlee hesitated, then followed. After about 150 feet, firelight flickered ahead. The voices reached Jason clearly. "Old bitch. You went behind my back and transferred the house to that useless cripple." "Five years. Five years. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to babysit your crippled son for five years? Do you?" Smack. A sharp slap cracked through the trees. Jason edged close enough to see. "That five hundred grand is gone. And you're not walking away either-we'll bury you right here." In the glow of the campfire, he saw Janice Yale standing over a woman who knelt before her, bound hand and foot. Not far away, Spencer Jenkins was digging a pit. The woman let out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Even if I die and come back as a ghost, I won't let you two get away with this." At the sound of her voice, Jason's mind reeled. A face rose from memory, a beloved relative he had not seen in far too long. The next heartbeat, Marlee felt a blur of motion. Jason streaked out like lightning. "Janice Yale, fuck you and your whole family!"

Chapter 8: Buried Alive

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