Power of the Lost

by Cebelius

  She considered what it must be like to love a man, yet have to share him with others. The thought of what he'd done for her earlier warmed more than her ears, but that feeling was tempered by a genuine fear of the unknown. She thought it likely that the others would accept it if she made further advances on Terry, but she had no idea what consummating that growing desire would do to her, physically. She was no eldritch, and she did not trust her luck. His power might transform her into something unspeakable.

  Or ... something amazing.

  Her ears twitched, and she glanced back at him.

  As she looked, a group materialized in the room. There were at least ten of them and with one exception they were all insects like the ones they'd first encountered after defeating the stirges. The last was reptilian, green-scaled with a frill of spikes bridged by taut skin. As they appeared, the dragon proxy locked eyes with Mila and without any preamble said, "It's them. Spare the template, kill the rest. Attack!"

  20

  Ruinous Roominations

  "Attack!"

  Terry was jerked out of a sound sleep at the hissing shriek of the dragon proxy and flailed, one hand catching a long, thin, chitinous leg by sheer luck. He jerked it toward him as he curled up, putting his entire body above his shoulder blades. The creature looming over him was a nightmare insect that looked like nothing so much as a man-sized praying mantis, and with a grunt he kicked with all his might, aiming for the head.

  He connected, and the entire head popped off, struck the ceiling, and exploded as blood fountained from the empty neck. At any other time, Terry would have been sickened, but the sounds of battle raged around him and he barely paused as he kipped up to his feet.

  Prada struck his back and he felt her molding around his waist as he reached down, caught one of the scythe-like arms of the thing he'd just killed, and yanked it out of its socket.

  The blood of the creature was lighter than human blood, and it drenched him as he raised the unsuitable weapon and turned, swinging with all his might as another pair of the creatures closed in, arms raised to strike.

  One of them blocked his blow, but he'd swung so hard that both his improvised weapon and the creature's arm shattered on impact, and he stepped in close as he loaded up and struck hard at the almost impossibly narrow upright portion of the thing's body.

  He felt more than saw Prada moving, probably blocking blows he couldn't see as the insectile head of the creature he faced gaped at him, jaws dropping open as the chiton of its thorax cracked under his fist.

  Terry launched an uppercut, and again the head of the thing popped off in a spray of fluids as he whirled, his heart hammering in his chest.

  He wasn't afraid. He had spent too much time in life or death fights now. Fear simply never materialized. Fear was in the anticipation, not in the act, and he had been thrust into combat without warning, and knew only that if he wanted to survive, he must fight, and win. No rules, no referee, no boundaries.

  The second creature that had charged Terry had fallen to Prada, who had lanced out to bury a pseudopod in the creature's overly large, multi-faceted eye. The creature shuddered, and then Prada left his waist in favor of the creature, which jolted and then jerkily turned to attack one of its nearest fellows as its mouth hissed, "Keep close to me, Husband!"

  Chaos had broken out all around him. The room was too small for any kind of real formation, and there were no battle lines. Mantises had thrown themselves into the fray everywhere, and Terry had no weapon. His ax was in his pack. He jerked it open and plunged his hand in. The solid wood slapped into his palm and he hauled it out with a feral snarl.

  One of the creatures engaged with Yuri had its back to him, and he stepped close, snapped one of its back legs with a low kick, and then hewed through the base of its thorax where it met the abdomen, literally cutting the creature in half.

  Spinning to confront another, he took a hammer blow from one of its scythe-like arms just below the head of his ax and had to step inside the swing of the second, which only put its serrated blade at his back. He kept stepping in though, crouched just a little, and hammered his forehead into the face of the creature.

  There was a heavy crunch as his skull won that particular contest, turning both oversized eyes to paste and sending the dying creature stumbling away.

  He turned in time to see a gout of fire scatter across a light blue field of force as Utlatlahu breathed. In her hands she held a silver target shield and a short sword that looked like nothing so much as an enormous kukri.

  Asturial had her enormous slab of a blade out and wielded it with one hand, her other cupped back toward herself as she held it out, seeming to reflect the shape of the energy shield she held in front of her.

  Terry's glance took in the rest of the room and he found to his pleasant surprise that the rest of his team had made short work of the mantis soldiers. Laina had an assortment of body parts in front of her and was breathing hard as she stared wide-eyed at the dragon proxies facing off only a few feet away.

  Mila had backed into a corner and shouted, "Everyone to me! Do not get involved! Let Asturial handle her!"

  Laina reached her in three broad steps, and Shy arrived at about the same time, along with Yuri and Marcus. Terry and Prada, unfortunately, were on the opposite side of the room and cut off. The only way for either of them to get to Mila was to go through the fight developing between the dragons.

  The green-scaled jungle dragon had just hammered physically through Asturial's force field, and was deflecting a mighty swing with her seemingly puny shield.

  Terry expected the shield to break, but it didn't, nor did the force of the blow fling her bodily aside. Instead, she caught the blow and hissed venomously at Asturial, then spit at her.

  The glob of greenish mucus hit Asturial in the face, catching her completely by surprise. The red-scaled dragon screamed and dropped her sword to swipe furiously at her face.

  Not thinking of anything in just that moment but saving his companion, Terry did the only thing he could think to do.

  He charged in, swinging for all he was worth.

  He made no noise, but somehow Utlatlahu seemed to sense him and whirled, catching his ax on her shield as she hissed, "Stay out of this, template! I will make it worth your while!"

  "One dragon is enough for me, thanks!" Terry grunted, twisting his ax in his hands and bringing it up from underneath. She blocked with her sword and hissed venomously at him as she said, "I entered the Labyrinth for you! If you want to survive, you will submit! I am your only chance to escape alive!"

  She was backing away from him rather than attacking, and Terry pressed his luck. He was swinging fast, but she had both a shield and a sword, and knew how to use them both quite a bit better than he did.

  He glanced behind her and saw that Asturial had fallen and was on her back, shivering as she covered her face with both hands.

  Desperate to create an opening, he nodded wide-eyed, obviously looking over Utlatlahu's shoulder.

  No one from his neighborhood would ever have bought that shit.

  The green-scaled dragon however, did.

  It was only a glance, but as fast as Terry was, that glance was enough.

  He hooked her shield with the head of the ax, getting his weapon behind it, then surged forward, jamming it straight into her muzzle. Unlike Asturial, Utlatlahu had a face that was almost alligator-like, and the head of his ax smashed her snout and shattered her teeth.

  In what seemed a pure reflex, the stricken dragon hit him in the face with her shield. The trade-off of his move was that he had no defense, nor any time to dodge. When she hit him, stars burst in his vision and his nose snapped, making his eyes water with pain.

  He kept hold of his ax, but was too over-extended to do anything useful with it. Their eyes met, and Terry saw the exact instant Utlatlahu decided to kill him.

  Blood dripped from the front of her shattered snout as she hissed and raised her sword, its forward bent blade more than heav
y enough to tear his head from his shoulders even if the arm wielding it hadn't possessed a dragon's strength.

  Terry flung himself backward, or tried to. The green-scaled dragon caught his extended wrist with her shield hand and absently crushed it as she pinned him close, the head of his ax uselessly past her head now.

  The sword flashed toward him, and a mantis warrior interposed itself between the blade and him, literally throwing itself at the deadly weapon.

  Prada poured herself out of the head of the corpse and shot over to wrap herself around the dragon's neck. Terry was close enough to see the innumerable spikes Prada shot through the soft scales of Utlatlahu's throat. The dragon's eyes bulged and she dropped her weapons to attempt to grapple the slime, to no avail. Prada visibly increased in size, which only gave her more avenues with which to feed.

  The dragon staggered, sagged to her knees, then collapsed. Terry watched Prada pulse and grow as she drained the dragon proxy of every drop of blood. In the end, the only thing he could think to say was, "Damn."

  "Tee! Are you all right?" Shy asked as she and the others surrounded him.

  He glanced at her and offered a wan smile. The ax had clattered to the floor and the bones of his wrist were more than broken. They'd been crushed. The pain was intense, but manageable. By now he'd dealt with far worse too many times. He took his injury in stride and tilted his chin at Asturial as he said, "I'm fine. Go see what you can do for her."

  "I can do nothing for her," Shy answered without even glancing at the red-scaled dragon. She looked at his dangling hand and said, "I will get you a bottle of Laina's milk."

  She hesitated, gazing into his eyes with an expression that seemed a mixture of concern, frustration, and after a moment, admiration. "I do not know why what you do ever surprises me anymore, Tee. Saving Asturial? I would never have expected it, but I am glad you did. You said it yourself, she is one of us."

  He shrugged and scowled as he glanced over at what he realized he had at some point accepted as their dragon, still writhing in pain on the floor with Mila crouched over her. The tigress had one hand extended, chanting what he now recognized as some sort of healing spell as the emerald in her staff glowed. Now, with his newfound sight, he could actually see the tendrils of Mila's aura sinking into Asturial's face. It was bizarre, and he looked away quickly.

  "She is one of us, and we're in this shit show together," he muttered. "Whether I like her or not has nothing to do with it."

  Shy smirked, then left to go get the bottle from his pack. Terry waited right where he was, doing his best not to move. Just because he could handle the pain shooting up his arm didn't mean he was eager to make it worse. A few moments and a pint of Laina's milk later, and his wrist no longer pained him, but it was tingling fiercely, and even after that sensation faded, the joint felt tender.

  Given that his bones had very likely been splintered to bits rather than simply broken, he wasn't surprised, and as he rotated his wrist slowly, resolved to take it easy with his right hand for a while.

  Prada had left the body of Utlatlahu as a desiccated husk of itself, and was now little more than a ruddy puddle on the floor, with so little surface tension to her that she seemed to be bleeding into the cracks and crevices of the stone floor.

  Terry crouched at the edge of the mess and asked with a smirk, "Was it good for you? It looks like dragon blood is good shit, yeah?"

  The blood pool in front of him shimmered, and a glistening fist rose just far enough out of the mess to show him a thumbs-up before sagging back into the shapeless puddle. Despite himself, Terry started chuckling.

  "I am sorry, but that is the best I can do," Mila said.

  Turning his attention to Asturial, Terry stepped over and looked down at her. Her hands were out of the way, but he winced involuntarily at what he saw. Only one of Asturial's eyes was still there. The other socket was empty and raw, and almost all of the flesh of her face looked like half-melted wax. The trim scales that had accented her forehead and cheeks were now wavy and indistinct, and her lips were twisted and seemed incapable of closing. Even her front teeth had been eaten away.

  "Ih ish eyough. Ah wihuh ahyage," Asturial lisped. Her one remaining eye rolled in its socket to focus on Terry, and he could see her eyelids were also gone. She was utterly grotesque.

  His hatred flickered in his heart as their gazes locked, then quietly died. He had never felt like this before, but all at once he knew that he could no longer bring himself to despise her. Intellectually, he knew that she was just taking risks in hope of reward. Nothing about her had changed. She was still a dangerous sociopath, but she had nevertheless willingly suffered not only for him, but for everyone he loved.

  Actions counted. They might never be friends, but Asturial had earned his respect at the very least.

  "Can you fix this damage?" he asked.

  Asturial apparently couldn't make any facial expressions, but after a moment's thought she said, "Ehehnshuahee. Ih wihuh hake heim."

  "We already gave her some of Laina's milk, but it is not as effective on her as it is on others," Mila said quietly.

  "Prada. Come here," Terry said.

  He knew the ruby slime was drunk, but his tone brooked no argument, and a moment later a rather amorphous red blob oozed up next to his leg and hazily asked, "Yes, Husband?"

  He tilted his head down at Asturial and said, "Do what you can for her, even if it is only to protect her remaining eye. Help her."

  Prada shivered and seemed to grow more taut, perhaps an indication of increased focus. Her voice regained some of its sharpness as she said, "As you wish."

  The ruby slime oozed over Asturial's shoulder and up, covering her head. After a moment, she sank in somewhat, and a glistening ruby approximation of Asturial's undamaged face appeared, though one eye remained closed.

  The dragon sat up, and her fake face went through a variety of expressions, as though she were experimenting with it. Then she looked up at Terry with wonder in her eyes and said, "I ... thank you."

  He smiled at her and offered her his hand. She took it and he leaned as far back as he could to help her to her feet. Despite only being about six feet tall, she easily outweighed Laina. "You're welcome. And I mean that."

  She came to her feet and faced him, not letting go of his hand yet as she said, "I am not certain you should leave your familiar attached to me though. She is your last line of defense."

  Terry grinned and clapped her on the shoulder as he said, "Just don't let whatever it is get past you, and we'll call it even until you can get your face back together. How long do you think it will take?"

  "The damage is extensive, and much of it is internal. A day, not more than two. I will work diligently on it."

  He chuckled and shook his head as he released her hand and said ruefully, "That's just fucking ridiculous."

  "What?" The dragon seemed genuinely confused.

  Prada answered aloud, forming a set of lips on Asturial's throat, "He refers to the fact that anyone else would be disfigured for life. He's not impatient. He's amazed."

  "Oh." Asturial thought about that, then shrugged. "That is natural. I am a dragon. Mortals should always be amazed in our presence."

  Terry blinked, then scowled as Shy openly, though gently, laughed and laid a hand on Asturial's arm. "You were doing so well for just a moment there. Do yourself a favor and don't push it."

  "I don't understand."

  Asturial turned her fake face toward Shy, whose smirk only broadened as she said, "Prada will explain it, I'm sure."

  Terry turned away and found Yuri and Marcus poking through the bodies with Laina. As he joined them he asked, "So what do you think? Will more of these things show up?"

  Marcus raised his heavy head to look at him, then glanced to Yuri, who shrugged and said, "Possibly. I do not think so though. Not for a while at least. Utlatlahu has been defeated here. Presuming she did not move her body first, they will know of her defeat out there. I doubt anyone would dare com
e through knowing that even a dragon proxy died at our hands. If anyone shows up again, it would be her, but it would not surprise me if she is not allowed to enter a second time."

  "Didn't you say something about the Labyrinth moving after someone goes in?" Terry asked.

  "Yes, but no one is certain, and you mentioned this crowd arrived while you were still outside, so they may count as part of our party. It may not move for some period of time, or it may not move until the challenger is defeated, or succeeds."

  "Ariadne decides," Marcus rumbled, then nudged one of the mantis warriors with a foot as he added, "This one lives."

  Yuri looked at Terry and asked, "What do you want to do with him?"

  "Why ask me? We're in a dungeon, which means you're in charge, Chief Running-Mouth."

  "Heh. Well, however he got here, I am inclined to give him a chance to make his own way when he wakes up," Yuri replied. "The Labyrinth is not just a once-in-a-lifetime chance. It is much rarer than that. He may have come here on orders, but now that he is here he should be free to make his own destiny. We will be long gone before he wakes."

  Terry nodded. "Makes sense. We'll have a watch posted, and these guys were no contest. Even if he catches up we can deal with him then."

  In all honesty, Terry knew the smart play would be to stomp the thing's head in and be done with it, but the idea of killing a defenseless man, thing ... just didn't sit well with him. By the same token, he wasn't about to sit down and have a beer with him either. If the Labyrinth killed him, that wasn't Terry's business.

  "Any ideas on that riddle?"

  "Nothing we're certain of," Shy said as she joined them, glancing at the fallen mantis warrior briefly before visibly dismissing him from her mind. "There are three directions listed, the first of which is 'right.'"

  "Okay, sounds good to me," Terry said as he retrieved his pack and hoisted it to his shoulders. Several spiders skittered over and leapt for the pack, or him.

  The proffered solution seemed simple to him, but over-thinking things was just as bad as not thinking enough. He still wanted and felt he needed sleep, but it was obvious that staying in the first room wasn't safe. They needed to get deeper in before he would have a chance to rest.