by Troy Osgood
But he didn’t tell her to stop.
Tightening his grip on the javelin, he looked to the sides to Dain and Lissie with bows in hand, strings drawn partly back, arrows nocked.
With one last cry of pain, the purple glow flared and died out. Not just the normal faint glow Tulla always had, but gone completely.
And then the ceiling fell.
Large slabs of stone fell, hundreds of smaller ones. The Earth Shields broke loose, falling to the ground in a deafening crash. Hall felt the impacts through the floor, vibrations shaking everything and everyone. He barely managed to keep his balance. The noise was intense, a booming thud. Thick clouds of dust rose.
None of it escaped the triangle that had been formed by the Druids’ spells.
Not waiting for the collapse to stop, Hall rushed the final feet to the top of the wall. He braced himself at the top, finding his balance, looking down into the bowl. Next to him Dain and Lissie searched for targets. He could make out the shapes of the other Rangers to the sides, shadows in the now darker cavern.
Debris covered most of the ley energy pool, blocking the glow.
They had planned for that.
Still searching for targets, Hall could now see as the Druids all stepped up behind the ranged fighters, glowing Greenfire orbs in their hands. Just enough light to see.
Dust was settling, the strange green light showing a much different bottom of the bowl. Mounds of stone, broken bodies. He heard the groans and growls of the wounded. He ignored it all, looking for the ones still moving.
Dain let his arrow go, the shaft finding a demon. There was a cracking noise, barely heard over the settling of the collapsed ceiling, a Skiterk growling in pain. Lissie’s bow moved back and forth, tracking a target.
Hall ignored them both, finding a Norn in white armor pushing himself out of the debris. The armor looked torn, pieces missing. He held an arm out awkwardly. Hall pulled the javelin back and let it go. The long weapon arced down, slamming into the chest of the Norn warrior, piercing his armor, making him fly backwards a couple of feet before crashing to the ground. Not watching the body complete its fall, Hall pulled another javelin from the harness on his back, glad he had filled it while in Timberhearth.
The second javelin landed in the chest of a Mosic, alongside a half dozen arrows. The thing growled in pain, struggling to walk across the now uneven surface of jagged rock. It stopped as two more arrows slammed into its head. With a crash, kicking up more dust, a piece of stone puncturing its chest, the Mosic died.
His last javelin snapped against the hide of a Stontle. Beyond the creature, others were digging out of the stones. The fall hadn’t killed or buried as many as Hall had hoped, but it had helped. The Barghas and all the Skiterks had been crushed. He knew some of the Desmarik and Norns had been caught in the falling stone, but most had escaped, dodging out of the way when they realized what was happening. With the chaos down in the bowl, it was hard to judge how many were still alive.
They were starting to recover.
The Stontle reached the bottom of the slope, its flat head looking for the best way up. Beside him, the Rangers started targeting the Norn and Desmarik spellcasters, trying to keep them from getting spells off.
Hall pulled the spear from his harness.
“Melee,” he shouted, activating Leap.
Flying down the hill, Hall landed in front of the Stontle. He ducked under the swinging arms, planting his legs and pushing up, using his momentum to knock the heavy demon off balance. It fell with a crash, Hall barely able to keep himself from following.
He leaned back, regaining his balance.
The Stontle thrashed around, lying across uneven stone blocks, trying to right itself.
Hall ignored it, seeing one of the Desmarik warriors running his way. Holding a large double-headed axe made out of the strange pitted metal they used, the green-skinned Desmarik roared a battle cry. Hall jumped back, avoiding the swing of the large axe. The Desmarik recovered, stopping the swing and bringing the axe back around. Hall stabbed with the spear, hoping to take advantage of the opening, but the axe-head deflected the spear.
The Desmarik stepped forward, not slicing with the axe, but jabbing with the spike on the top. Hall twisted, avoiding the six-inch projection. He didn’t move far enough, the horizontally lying axe blade slicing across his side. He hadn’t expected an attack like that, not from an axe wielder. The cut was shallow, ripping through his leather armor. He saw the Desmarik, the Warreaver, grip the axe handle tighter, setting his feet. Hall knew what was coming.
He activated Leap, jumping into the air just as the Warreaver swung the axe to the side, whipping it back at where Hall had been, intending to cleave him in two. He felt the axe cut through the air beneath his feet, just missing.
With Leaping Stab, Hall slammed the point of his spear into the open spot to the side of the spiked pauldrons, stabbing into the Desmarik’s shoulder. His jump carried him over the Desmarik, spear ripping out of the warrior’s shoulder. Landing, Hall quickly pivoted on his feet, aiming the spear low. The tip caught the Warreaver in the back of the leg, sinking in deep. Stumbling forward, pulling the tip out, the Warreaver tried to turn. Hall didn’t let him.
With Double Thrust, he sent the spear’s tip twice more into the unarmored back of the leg. Twisting the weapon, Hall tore large gashes in the Desmarik’s leg. Unable to support him, the Warreaver fell to the ground. He roared in rage and pain, flailing back with the axe, holding it in one hand. Hall stepped back, avoiding the reach of the weapon. He caught the axe on the shaft of his spear, stepping into it, pushing the weapon high. Unable to bring the spear down to finish off the Warreaver, Hall instead stepped down hard on the ruined leg.
The Desmarik roared in pain, dropping the axe, allowing Hall to rotate the spear around and drive it into the Warreaver. The warrior stopped screaming in pain.
Hall yelled in pain, dropping the spear, as something heavy slammed into his side. He thought a rib cracked, something he was sadly used to now. Landing hard on the uneven stones, slicing his arm along the side of one, he saw the Stontle lumbering his way. It had shot out one of its arms, covering the distance; now it was closing that distance to finish Hall off.
He pushed himself up off the ground into a crouch, his side throbbing. The spear lay between him and the Stontle, near the body of the Warreaver. The demon would reach it quicker. Pulling a throwing knife from his bracer, Hall launched the small blade. It slammed into the Stontle, erupting in sparks and bolts of lightning that cascaded around the demon’s cracked body.
It barely slowed down.
Standing up, he drew his sword, shifting his feet to find balance on the uneven floor. The blade wouldn’t be much good against the Stontle, but it would have to do. One step, another, the Stontle seemed to know Hall was hurt and didn’t have a weapon that could cause much harm. It slowed, almost anticipating what was coming.
Then It fell to the ground, falling forward to slam against the stones. Angus stood behind it, hooves pawing at the ground. Two large holes were in the back of the demon, cracks splitting off from the wounds. With a loud moo, Angus reared back. He fell forward, hooves slamming onto the Stontle’s back, right at the holes, sending small bits of stone flying into the air. Another moo and Angus started stomping on the demon. It tried to get up, but Angus was too heavy.
Laughing, Hall sheathed his sword, walking around the thrashing Angus and pieces of demon that exploded outward. He grabbed his spear, turning back to the cow.
“Thanks.”
Angus just mooed, stomping harder on the demon, which had stopped moving.
Hall looked for another target, picking his way carefully over the broken stone from the ceiling. He heard a clattering sound, a strange clicking, coming from at his feet. Looking down, he saw a Skiterk trapped beneath a large chunk of the cavern’s former ceiling. Most of its legs were broken, one eyestalk drooping, the rear of the creature under the stone. The other eyes looked at Hall with hate,
the other feet trying to drag it to attack. Hall stabbed down, ending the thing’s pitiful life.
There didn’t appear to be any more Desmarik or Norns, not even any demons. Around the cavern, his friends and allies were fighting the last of them.
SLAIN: Cerulean Airsword
+40 Experience (+40 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Red Growl Caste Warreaver
+40 Experience (+40 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Minor Viridian Mosic
+15 Experience
SLAIN: Minor Umber Stontle
+15 Experience
Skill Gain!
Light Armor Rank Three +.8
Skill Gain!
Polearms Rank Four +1.2
Skill Gain!
Thrown Rank Three +2.3
CULL THE DEMONS
Kill demons in the Northern Territories 59/100
Hall couldn’t believe the plan had worked. No one had been sure the Druids and Tulla would have been able to bring the ceiling down, and if they did, how much of the stone would land where they wanted it to. But it had worked. Most of the falling stone dealt with the numbers of enemy. Most of the Skiterks had been crushed. Hall was a little disappointed it didn’t appear he’d gotten credit for those kills, but he was more glad the demons had been killed.
He looked around for the pedestal with the black iron nail, ready to end the source of the corruption. They had purposefully put the Earth Shields as far from the pedestal as they could, not wanting to bury it under tons of stone. It was a possibility, but had appeared to be slim. He tried to find where it had been. Most of the glowing pool was still visible, no stone along the small strip of shore, the thin river disappearing into the cavern wall.
But no pedestal.
Chapter 40
It had been there, Hall knew, standing on the spot he had seen it.
If the ground had been sand, there would have been an impression, but the solid stone showed nothing. Any dust marks would have been blown away when the ceiling fell.
He turned around, thinking his guess was off. Maybe it had been further away, closer to where the stones had fallen. Maybe the pedestal and the nail were buried. Maybe it had broken under the weight.
But he hadn’t received a quest notification that the source had been destroyed.
Where was it?
His eyes fell to the thin river disappearing into the cavern wall. A tributary from the main flow of ley energy. He walked back toward the cavern, stepping over the jagged edges of stone, using the end of his spear to help maintain his balance.
The cavern wall looked odd in the blue-white glow of the ley energy. The shadows strange. One dark patch, tall and thin, just to the side of where the river came out of the wall. The cavern angled at that point, stepping back a couple of feet.
Hall walked closer to the angled cavern wall. Away from the light, it was just a dark shadow. He looked up at the surrounding wall, where he thought Caryn had been. From her angle, the section of wall would have been lost in shadow, not able to see anything out of the ordinary.
But he was seeing it now.
Not more than a large crack, a couple of feet wide.
A way out of the cavern.
He couldn’t picture how they had gotten the pedestal through it, but somehow they must have. Looking back over the battle, he tried to picture who was missing. What Desmarik or Norn or both had escaped and managed to take the pedestal with them?
Surprised that it had been movable, there was no other explanation.
“I do not like this,” Jackoby muttered, staring at the crack.
It was not quite four feet wide, about eight tall. The sides were rough, sharp, as was the floor and what they could see of the ceiling. It continued into the stone, turning only a couple of feet in.
Hall didn’t like it either, but didn’t see any other choice.
The problem was that they all couldn’t go.
Angus wouldn’t fit. It could be a problem for Jackoby.
Hall thought the big Firbolg would fit. If a Desmarik had managed to get through, so would he. But they weren’t sure a Desmarik had gotten through.
He had quickly dismissed the idea of sending Pike to scout ahead. The tunnel beyond the crack wasn’t wide enough for the dragonhawk to spread his wings. He’d have to ride on Hall’s shoulder or stay behind with Angus.
The other problem was that Tello and Surri were wiped out. They had almost collapsed after casting the Earth Shield spell. Leigh was almost as tired. All three had their Vitality drained. The only reason she was able to keep going was because Leigh was also a Custodian of a Grove. None of them had anticipated Tulla also taking energy from the Druids to power the spell that brought down the ceiling. They couldn’t ask her about it because she was unconscious, had fallen that way once the spell had been unleashed. Hall remembered how much pain she had been in and was glad she was getting rest.
Because her Vitality was so low, Leigh’s spells were at half strength and would take twice as long to cast. Effectively, like the other two, she was out of commission. They’d managed to heal the few wounds the Breakridge Irregulars and Greencloak Rangers had gotten in the fight, but just barely. And that was with using up most of the Energy and Health potions they had brought.
Hall had hoped the Vitality potions would have helped, but it seemed a side effect of the spell was the requirement of a true night’s rest to restore their Vitality. So Hall and the other melee had taken the few Vitality potions they had, almost restoring their meters to full.
Because of the tight space, Jackoby didn’t take the lead. Hall did.
His Limited Night Vision let him see what lay ahead, and because of the walls so close to the sides, only his spear could be effective. And only stabbing forward.
He stood where the tunnel turned, almost ninety degrees to the north. Not stepping around, not yet, Hall could still see that there was a slight angle to the tunnel, putting it away from the ley river, which would have to turn east to meet the main flow. Hall had expected the crack to follow the magical energy as it passed through the solid stone of the island.
Taking a deep breath, he pivoted around the corner, working to get his spear to turn. The tunnel was just barely tall enough for him to hold the weapon upright. He lowered it, point forward, eyes scanning the next length of tunnel.
There were no enemies ahead of him. Just more tunnel.
But it widened out.
Hall stepped forward, feeling a sense of relief in the wider tunnel. Not that it was much wider, only a couple of feet, but he didn’t feel the tightness of thousands of tons of rock just inches away from his body. Behind him, he knew the others felt the same relief. They didn’t talk, but the creaking of armor and weapons as arms stretched, bodies shifted, told him.
The tunnel had an upward slope. He still had to step over small rock formations, step over broken pieces, and the wall was still jagged and rough, but having more space made it easier. As he walked, Hall noticed a turning to the tunnel. Slight at first, but growing more pronounced as they walked. Opening his mental map, he tracked their progress. On the map he could see the curve.
There was no sign of anyone’s passage. Nothing with his Limited Night Vision and nothing with the Greenfire globes. Hall knew the survivors with the pedestal had gone this way; there was no other option.
They passed over the river of magical energy, the curve tightening and the slope growing steeper. The tunnel started to become a spiral, looping over itself as it climbed through the body of Warfang Hill. They were heading to the top of the hill.
The walk became a struggle, the tunnel walls narrowing and widening, sloping up and then down. The ceiling was higher, then lower, enough to make Jackoby have to crouch to move by. Hall had to crouch as well, angling his body forward so the tip of his spear wouldn’t catch. The ground was covered in more loose rocks, jagged formations. They had to crawl over some, step around others, careful not to cut themselves.
Caryn found the first sign
of the Desmarik’s trail.
“Here,” she said, pointing to one of the mounds of rock on the ground.
The edges were sharp, jagged, as if the rock had speared up from below. Hall couldn’t make anything out, just shadows, even in the strange glow of the Greenfire globes. Caryn pointed to a darker patch along the edge.
“Blood.” She looked at the others, seeing their skeptical looks. “I got a skill gain,” she added, which was enough to convince them.
Sometimes the game mechanics come in handy, Hall thought, continuing the climb.
They had known there were Desmarik and possibly Norn ahead of them, but having confirmation made the hike somehow easier. A light at the end of the tunnel.
After what felt like hours, Hall saw the light.
Hall stepped out of the tunnel, not at the top of Warfang Hill but the side. Standing on a thin shelf of exposed rock, Hall looked down to see the steep grass-covered sides of the hill below him, a long way down to the bottom. The shelf, only a couple of feet wide, continued to his left, a steep slope to the top. Looking up into the sky, he could see how even Pike’s sharp eyes had missed the entrance.
The top of the hill widened just over the tunnel entrance, a natural grass-covered roof shielding the tunnel from view. Pike had flown too high to see it. Or maybe it had been covered, Hall thought, looking down at some loose vines along the shelf. Picking one up, it looked like it had been cut. He could see some hanging above. Like the entrance in the forest, time had covered it up until the Desmarik had come through.
Turning to the left, keeping one hand on the grass and stone of the hill, he started up the steep thin path. Leaves, small sticks, dirt and loose rocks covered the path, wind having blown it tight against the hill. It made for bad footing, Hall careful to make sure each step was solid before moving on. He could see some of the loose debris had been disturbed.