Umbra Online- Halgor's Horde

by K D Brand

  Fortunately, a set of short, steep stairs had been carved alongside the shaft, offering a less dangerous path into the dungeon—albeit only slightly less. They dripped with moisture and shined with patches of forming ice where the water pooled, making each and every step a challenge.

  The air was stale and carried a hint of decay, more of a long-unused type of stink rather than that of corpses and evil monsters.

  That’s a good thing.

  “I guess we’ve stood here long enough avoiding the place,” he said, handing the torch to Amon, drawing his sword, and starting for the stairs.

  “I disagree,” Deven muttered, but the big butcher followed him anyway.

  Amon came next, holding the torch up high, and Char took up the rear, casting furtive glance over her shoulder.

  They weren’t much to look at, but Ty was pretty proud of them. He willed a party invitation to the group so he could keep track of them, and he carefully made his way down the stairs as the system sent a notification as each NPC joined his merry band of misfits.

  After what seemed like forever, Ty having lost count of the stairs at about six hundred, the party winding down deeper and deeper in delirious circles, they came to a broad landing. A narrow tunnel extended beyond it, and frosty air whistled through it.

  Quiet shuffling sounds echoed somewhere in the distant blackness of the tunnel, and the quiet plop of dripping water reverberated like a drum beat, thundering to a steady rhythm.

  Ty held a hand up to bring the party to a halt, and they spread out to catch their collective breath.

  “I’m thinking we should have used the slide,” Amon grumbled, hands on his knees as he sucked in great gulps of air.

  Deven pointed at him, then offered a thumbs-up in agreement.

  The group stood there a bit, and then Ty finally waved them on. His nandao leading the way, he readied his mind to cast if need be…then he groaned, shaking his head at his stupidity.

  Once more he’d forgotten what he was capable of.

  “Rancid meatballs,” he cursed.

  “What?” Char asked, glancing about, expecting to be attacked.

  “I could have cast illumination earlier.”

  She grunted. “That’s it? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, frustrated by his oversight.

  This being a spellcaster is going to take some getting used to.

  Still, it was probably good he didn’t waste his spell points on a lingering spell. If he burned all his points out on illumination, he wouldn’t be able to use his other spells should he need him.

  Foolish as he’d been to forget his spells, it was probably a good thing in the long run.

  Pushing his annoyance aside, he started off down the tunnel. As they tramped on, a vague memory urged him to look at the stony floor, and he glanced down just in time to spot a small slab of the ground that looked slightly smoother than the rest.

  “It’s a trap!” he called out, chortling as he pointed it out to the others.

  “What’s so funny about a trap?” Deven questioned, glaring at Ty.

  Ty shook his head in disappointment. He missed his real-world friends, the one’s who’d get his jokes, no matter how bad they might be.

  “Nothing,” he said sullenly. “Just don’t step there or you’ll set something off.”

  The party avoided the trip-plate and moved on. They’d made it about another fifty feet before the tunnel split three ways, jutting off like a trident in front of them.

  Each of the tunnels were dark and indistinct, and they offered no hint as to which direction would be the best to take. And despite racking his brain, Ty couldn’t remember what lay down any of them except for vague memories of the undead lurking.

  He picked the center one at random and scratched a small arrow into the wall with his sword, the point aimed toward the way out.

  “This way’s as good as any,” he said and started down the narrow corridor.

  He practiced moving slowly and quietly as he went, but the clumping footsteps of Char and Deven defeated any real efforts at stealth, so he gave up after a while. They continued through the long, empty tunnel until the corridor suddenly widened, the roughened floor and walls turning into smooth stone.

  As they crept forward, they noticed a dozen alcoves carved into the walls, six on each side. Each contained a marble statue, graven images of warriors past, standing frozen at attention. Ty didn’t remember any of them.

  Paranoia creeping in and setting his nerves alight, he waved for the party to halt. “You smell anything, Amon?” he asked.

  “Dust and old rock,” he answered. “And more dust.”

  Ty inched forward to take a closer look at the nearest statue. Any second now, he expected the thing to come alive and start swinging at him. He kept his sword in front of him, just in case. And examined the statue without getting right up on it.

  It appeared to be crafted after an elf of some sort. Pointed ears jutted out from beneath its stone helmet, and long, chiseled white hair flowed over the statue’s shoulders. The elf was tall and thin, yet the statue’s form was shown to be wearing a suit of plate armor, looking awkwardly bulky on the lithe frame of the elf.

  Taking a chance, Ty poked the statue with the tip of his sword, and he was relieved when nothing responded to the metallic clink of him chipping a piece of stone away.

  “I think we’re okay,” he said and started forward again, keeping an eye on each of the statues as he walked by.

  They were about halfway through the statue display when a rumbling grinding sound erupted.

  “What the—?” Ty muttered.

  One of the statues breaking loose of its mooring and toppling down on top of him cut his questioning off abruptly.

  “Guuh!” he groaned as the full weight of the statue hit him and drove him to the floor.

  -8 HP!

  “Ty!” Char shouted, racing toward him, but she had her own statue to contend with.

  She darted back a step as a statue carved in the likeness of a human crashed to the floor right in front of her, shattering into pieces, kicking up a whirling white dust in its wake.

  “What’s going on?” Deven growled.

  The answer to his question spilled from holes in the walls just behind where the collapsed statues had stood a moment before.

  Skeletal warriors spilled from the newly-revealed passages and into the crowded tunnel. The rusty swords in their hands cast orangish-red reflections in the torchlight.

  Amon howled as he backed into one of the skeletons, its bony hand clawing at him. He spun away just in time to avoid being run through.

  Char leapt over the broken bits of statue ahead of her and raced toward Ty as Deven stood his ground.

  The old butcher shoved one of the skeletons into the wall, its bones rattling at the impact, and then he cleaved the skull from another as it emerged from the alcove beside the other.

  Ty, trapped under the statue, groaned, regretting his decision not to put any level points into strength. It was like the Statue of Liberty had fallen on him. There was nothing he could do to move the great hunk of stone off him.

  That only seemed to encourage the skeletal warriors.

  Teeth chattering, two of them closed on Ty, tiny red dots glowing inside the black pits of their eye sockets. He knew it was simply his perception of their bared teeth, but the skeletons appeared to be grinning at him as they loomed over him.

  Char slammed into one of them right then, sending it careening backward to clatter to the ground down the hall. It gnashed its teeth in its fury.

  The remaining skeleton turned its attention to Char and raised its sword, preparing to cut her down.

  “No!” Ty screamed, drawing on his magic and summoning mystic knives.

  The blades appeared, floating in the air, when the skeleton spun about. Its eyes gleamed, casting a red pallor over Ty as he urged the knives to fly. But the dead warrior acted first, seemingly fueled by an anger Ty co
uldn’t comprehend.

  The rusty blade dropped, and Ty, caught in the middle of casting his spell, could only watch.

  He regretted that decision instantly.

  Trapped beneath the statue, barely able to move, he did his best to duck behind the stone elf, but it wasn’t enough.

  The blade bit into his forearm, cleaving through flesh and bone until it clanked against the cold stone of the statue.

  -40 HP!

  Ty shrieked as a wave of searing pain ignited the blood in his veins, and the world spun around him as he slumped to the floor. Something warm spattered across his face as his head lolled, and he unconsciously registered the coppery tang of blood. Cold washed over him like being dunked in a frigid tub full of ice water.

  You have been crippled!

  The sense of the notification was washed out by a clatter of bones above him, followed by a string of crude invectives that would have had his mother reaching for the soap and Tabasco sauce.

  Then a cold hand clasped his neck, pulling his head upward. The world spun around him as he struggled to open his eyes.

  “Hey…what—?” he struggled to speak, the words sticking to his swollen tongue.

  “Here, drink this,” someone told him.

  Something smooth and round was pressed against his lips, and he vaguely recalled the lemon and tree bark taste of whatever it was being poured into his mouth. He swallowed instinctively, though it probably helped that someone was pinching his nose shut and massaging his throat.

  +25 HP!

  A strange warmth enveloped him, and the horrid agony that jabbed his nerves faded a little, but he didn’t get the chance to revel in the feeling. His vision cleared just in time to see Char kneeling front of him, her face contorted in fear and worry.

  Then he saw the sword.

  “Ch-Chaaaar,” he spit out, but it was too late.

  Char screamed as the blade chopped into her shoulder, cleaving deep until it struck bone. The skeletal warrior at her back grinned and yanked his blade out, whipping Char aside with the motion. She slumped to the ground, crimson spilling from her wound.

  Ty offered up a weak growl and reached for her.

  That’s when he noticed his hand was missing.

  Bile gushed into the back of his throat as his mind processed the severing of his arm, and a heavy blanket of darkness came over him, pinning him to the floor. A sickly warmth flooded him, and Ty swooned, his thoughts slowing, stomach churning.

  He only just recognized the sound of battle in the background when that same cloying darkness that held him immobile carried him away on black wings.

  Eighteen

  Severance Package

  “TY!” A FAMILIAR voice called out, echoing inside his skull. “Ty, wake up.”

  “I don’t want to go to school, Mom,” he moaned, rolling over onto his side to go back to sleep, swatting away an offending hand. He fished around for his pillow but couldn’t find it.

  Something in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t be able to move at all, but he ignored that small, still voice and swatted at the hands that kept shaking him.

  “Ty, you need to wake up,” the voice repeated. “Wake up, now!”

  Ty started into consciousness. He stiffened and rolled to his back at the unexpected screech. He looked into the face of Char, wondering for a moment where his mother had gone before remembering where he was.

  “Oh…” he moaned, his eyes shifting immediately to his hand.

  All he found there was a stump, covered in loose, bloody rags.

  “I-I…” He felt ready to vomit, a wave of lightheadedness overwhelming him.

  It really happened.

  His mind swirled right along with his stomach. If he’d any doubt as to the realness of his situation, his injury put a rest to it. He was in the game, and the game was as real as anything else he’d ever experienced. Now, he was crippled.

  Char clung to him, clasping his chin, and turning his gaze from his wound, but the damage was done. Weakness washed over him like a tsunami.

  His head slumped against the wall, and he stared off past Char in a haze.

  Deven was there, looking down on him with concern in his eyes. He swallowed hard, unable to hide his feelings.

  Amon stood beside him, sadness warping his features, his ears pinned to the sides of his furry head. A young woman was there, too, staring at him with a cold, clinical detachment.

  It took Ty several moments to realize he didn’t know the woman.

  “Who are you?” he asked weakly, desperate to focus on anything but his missing hand.

  A grin broke across her face, washing away the neutral mask. She pointed to the glowing blue tag above her head. “Real name’s Nicole, but you can call me Nikky Styx.”

  Ty managed a weak chuckle. “You’re a Mötley Crüe of one.”

  “That’s me.” Nikky giggled. “How you feeling?”

  “Like a guy who just got his arm cut off,” he groaned, fighting the urge to look down at the wound again. Phantom tingles ran the length of his arm, and he could feel repetitive jabs of pain as if someone were poking him with tiny needles over and over and over.

  “Well, you kinda did,” she agreed, “but it’s not all bad.”

  “Because it’s my left and I’m right-handed?” he offered up with a sad huff, his mind still whirling with the idea that he had his arm cut off. What do I do now?

  His stomach gurgled, and he held a hand to his mouth to keep from puking.

  She shook her head and eased around to crouch beside Char. “No, mainly because I fed you a regeneration potion while you were out.” Nikky reached down and grabbed Ty’s wounded arm by the elbow, lifting it up for him to see.

  Ty resisted, pain resonating through the limb, but he was too weak to stop her. He stopped fighting as soon as he saw the twitching nubs of fingers pushing like worms against the bloody bandages that had previously swathed his stump. A surge of hope tore through him.

  “I…uh…” he mumbled, unable to get any words out.

  “Just have to give it a few more minutes, and you’ll be good as new,” she told him. “You’re lucky I had the good stuff on me. I have a high-level alt with pretty much everything,” she said with a soft laugh.

  “We’re lucky you were here at all,” Char told her, letting out a loud sigh. “We can’t thank you enough for saving us and helping Tyler.”

  “No need to thank me,” Nikky replied. “I just happened to be in the dungeon and saw you all were in danger. I’m here to help. Oh, and speaking of…” She turned Char a little so she could look at her shoulder. Then Nikky smiled. “Your wound’s all healed already. That’s good. I wasn’t sure it would work on you.”

  Char offered a grateful smile, and Deven and Amon muttered their own thanks.

  Nikky took it all in graciously and, not wanting to watch the disturbing growth of new fingers, Ty focused his attention on her rather than the noodly nub of his hand.

  Nikky was an elf. Long, golden blonde hair ran down her back in a tight, decorative braid, but wisps of bangs hung across her forehead, swishing in front of her wide, purplish eyes. Her features were sharp, almost severe, the typical elvish cast, but they brightened when she smiled, like the dawning sun rising over a flowered field.

  She wore a sleek suit of silvery chainmail, and two swords crossed her back in an X, the hilts sticking out within easy reach. Ty could determine their quality despite not being able to see the blades themselves. The hilts were wrapped in dyed leather, and the pommels were shaped like dragon claws clutching to large green gems, which shimmered in the dim light of the dungeon.

  Finally, Ty peeled his eyes from Nikky and glanced at the carnage around them.

  The statues remained on the ground, more or less where they’d fallen, but they had been joined by the scattered bones of the skeletons who’d ambushed them, bony edges hacked and cut apart as though they’d been jammed in a blender.

  “You do good work,” Ty told Nikky.
<
br />   She glanced back at the skeletons and grinned. “Thanks. Probably helps that I’m about six levels above the recommended range for this dungeon,” she said with a wry chuckle. “Speaking of, when I was feeding you the potion, I noticed you don’t have a gamer tag above your head,” Nikky commented. “What’s up with that?”

  “It’s a long story,” Ty replied, biting his lip, and hoping not to get into that particular topic. He didn’t want to have to lie about it again like he’d done with Theolin.

  Making friends in the game was going to be hard enough that he didn’t want to start all of his relationships with a falsehood.

  Nikky straightened, and it was obvious she was examining him through the Umbra Online UI. Her eyes had a glassy sheen to them.

  “I also noticed that you are only level 4, which is interesting as you have to be level 5 to leave any of the starter towns.” One eyebrow rose Spock-like as she glanced at the party. “You’re also accompanied by NPCs who have static locations back in Altunn.” She wagged a finger. “I know this because I was there about a week ago, and this guy…” she pointed at Amon, “crafted a ring for me.”

  Amon looked away, suddenly examining the ground at his feet.

  “And why the hell are you wearing girl pants?” Nikky asked.

  Ty blushed and ducked his head. “That’s…uh… Well, that’s kinda a long story, too.” Ty offered up a halfhearted shrug instead of an answer.

  Nikky scoffed. “Someone might mistake you for a bard with all the stories you have. But certainly not a good one because you’re not telling any of them.” She winked at Ty.

  “I-I…” he sucked in a deep breath so he could get the words out. “You know, I really can’t explain it,” he offered in place of any real answer, shrugging, which he regretted pretty much immediately. His arm twitched, and he bit back a groan.

  “I’d think you were hacking the system…” she said and reached down to tug at the rope holding his armor together, “but if that’s the case, you’re as good a hacker as you are a bard, which isn’t saying much. Something weird is going on here, but I’ll let you have your secrets.” She raised her hands into the air to emphasize her metaphorical surrender. “For now, at least.” She chuckled slyly.