The dials along the left side of the panel looked they were were measuring the boiler system. They were indicating that the boiler was rapidly losing steam, likely, Mungo surmised, due to the fact that the coal-shovelers were both unconscious. Not a major concern, he felt, since the boiler was nothing more than an elaborate special-effect. A way to use science to make something else look like science.
There were two joysticks on the lower part of the console with a bank of buttons next to each. Mungo wiggled one. He heard a grinding of sandy gears as one of the automaton’s arms wriggled in response. He pushed forward and watched the left arm raise to point straight ahead. He pressed one of the buttons next to it and gave a happy squeak as a huge gout of flame erupted from the fist. Well, at least some of the science was functional. Unless Frothnozzle had cheated there as well and was just having the djinn shoot fire. He pressed another button and watched as a salvo of spinning blades fired from the forearm. He rubbed his hands together and cackled. He pulled levers until they were facing back the way they’d come. He didn’t know for sure how the fight at the Mazerynth was going but he was willing to wager that a giant robot would definitely give a tilt on the odds. He pressed both levers forward and the brass giant began stomping its way back to Khomen-Te.
Chapter Fifteen
“Haven’t seen anything like this since the blood-cave goblin wars,” Gong said. He was crouched next to Thud, peering out from behind the wagon they’d taken cover behind. On the other side of the wagon, Khomen-Te was burning.
It had started as a good idea, as such things often did. They’d retreated from the Mazerynth mirror-maze and up onto the pyramid’s base floor, straight into hundreds of ifreet adventurers. There followed a new escape plan being made via Dadger yelling, “THIS WAY!”, taking them out through the giant door the automaton had left through. Rasp had made a heroic drop down to land on the camel-driver and put a stop to the winches that would have pulled the door closed. His impact with the driver’s head had been more significant than Mungo’s had been.
A pyramid full of ifreet mimics at the heart of a city full of adventurers and they’d jammed open the gate that separated the two. There were few things adventurers hated more than mimics. An enemy with a power level that copied their own rather than the easy pickings they tended to prefer. Yelling “Mimics!” while fighting one had been enough to get things started. The ifreet were charging after them out of the Mazerynth, their blue shoes making them easy to separate from the real adventurers. A passing group of barbarians joined the fray with enthusiasm, chopping their way through an ifreet mimicking an adventurer who’d dressed in robes and carried a stick. The flying pieces burst into sprays of goo and sand and that was enough to convince the onlookers in the dungeon queue. The line broke ranks and the weapons began to swing as the adventurers rushed to meet the enemy.
The sides seemed even but the ifreet had the advantage of being a cohesive army with units and commanders. Their initial advance had little order to it but now they were grouping into squads, guarding each other’s flanks, unifying their front. The adventurers, on the other hand, ran about in small groups doing whatever they felt like. Some were making forays against the ifreet, testing how effective their defense was. Others were fighting amongst themselves, perhaps deciding that anyone not in their own group was suspect. Still others were simply taking the opportunity to loot all of the shops and murder the shopkeepers.
The dwarves had taken cover in one of the loot markets, using the wares to form a defensive perimeter. Thud figured that piles of armor and weapons improved the barrier power of an overturned table or wagon. It was at least enough to provide a safe minute or two to determine what came next.
The mummy lord emerged from the gate of the Mazerynth. The ifreet divided in front of it like parting water, clearing its way. It stood there a moment, bandaged head lowered, fists clenched at its sides as if waiting for everyone to notice it. Then it threw its head back and spread its arms wide and a tide of scarab beetles boiled out of the sands in front of it, sweeping into the city like a devouring blanket. Clouds of locusts began forming around it.
“That’s gonna be a problem,” Cardamon said from the other side of Thud.
“So glad I hired a troublespotter,” Thud muttered. “You saw them dungeon instructions. How are you supposed to take the mummy lord down?”
“S’posed to find a scepter at the heart of that mirror maze. It’s his canopic thingamajig. His heart’s in the top of it. Break the end of the scepter and you can destroy the heart and kill the mummy.”
“There has to be a better option than trying to run back in there to the mirror maze, navigate it…”
“No need,” Gong said. “I can see at least three of those scepters scattered in the rest of the junk here.”
“Likely all fakes,” Cardamon said. “They don’t want you to actually kill the mummy when you’re in the dungeon. All part of the act.”
“There are multiple dungeons down there,” Thud said. “They can’t have had a mummy lord for each one.”
“Mimics, most of them,” Cardamon said. “But they would have needed one to copy and I think we’re looking at it.”
“Thought they destroyed what they copied,” Thud said. He poked his head back over the top of the wagon. The mummy lord was sending whirlwinds of sand spinning along the streets. Lightning crackled around it, arcing from tornado to tornado. Thud dropped his head back down.
“I ain’t an expert on ifreets or mummy lords,” he said. “But that one seems on a scale higher than I’d have placed ‘em.”
Gong elbowed him and pointed toward the river. “That’s because it’s not a mummy lord.”
Thud looked where he was pointing. The palace barge occupied the center of the river. It was as beautiful by day as it was by night, all gleaming wood and glittering gold garbed in greenery. Knearaoh Khomen stood on the dais before his throne. He was wreathed in incense, piles of flowers and fruit around his feet. He was holding a lamp in his hands, his gaze intent upon the mummy lord.
“It’s a djinn,” Gong said.
“All things bein’ considered,” Thud said. “I think I’d rather tangle with rabbit-head than either a djinn or a mummy lord.”
Gong frowned. “Ain’t he a god? That could turn out to be a terrible plan.”
“Maybe,” Thud said with a shrug. “But I know we ain’t a match for a djinn mummy. I’ll take my chances on the guy with the rabbit-head.”
“You missed a chance at a terrible pun there.”
“Aye. Couldn’t figure how to work it in proper.”
Gong popped up for a quick look at the battlefield. “Could do with a distraction of some sort. Near all of us are here, though, so not sure how to manage it. If we run for it while that thing is looking our way we’re going to get blasted with sand or bugs or something.”
Lightning sizzled overhead and one of the awnings over the market caught fire.
“Not sure we got time to wait either,” Thud said.
***
Mungo could see the Mazerynth ahead and the city of Khomen-Te spread out behind it. It was a relief. The giant’s head bobbed as it walked and Mungo was feeling rather queasy. He cracked his knuckles and licked his lips then reached for the joysticks.
Frothnozzle slammed into him from behind. Mungo fell against the controls and the room lurched as the giant turned, sending them both tumbling against the wall.
“Thought you’d be rid of me that easily?” Frothnozzle sneered. He rolled away from Mungo and came up on his feet. “I fell straight into that broken chest window and landed on the chair.” He banged on the console with his fist and a panel popped open. He reached in and produced a loaded crossbow then turned to point it at Mungo. “Now you’re on my…hey, wait!” he yelled as he noticed Mungo clambering up through the ejector-seat hole in the top of the head.
The top of the giant was not much of an improvement. The storm raged, sand stinging his skin like flame and the wind tugging
viciously at his grip. That and the head was still bobbing back and forth. Maybe he could vomit at Frothnozzle when he came up? If it accomplished anything at all it would likely be a mere second or two of messy distraction.
His nemesis did not appear through the hole.
Or, Mungo thought, Frothnozzle could go for option B and just leave him stranded. The wind seemed to tear at him with a new ferocity. His goggles kept his eyes clear but there was nothing to see that wasn’t a swirl of brown.
Frothnozzle had gotten back in through the hole in the giant’s chest. It was a possibility more likely to succeed than trying to hang on up here.
He tried to do the math. If he dropped and the wind carried him as he fell, timed with the giant’s forward momentum then he’d need to fire the grapple precisely at…
The wind tore his grip loose and Mungo went spinning into the storm.
He fired the grapple through the twisting eddies of sand.
His calculations had been accurate and it would have worked out wonderfully save for an unforeseen variable. The giant’s arm swung between Mungo and his target. His grapple line caught around its wrist and Mungo was yanked along after it, momentum swinging him out in front of the great brass fist. He reached the end of his tether and made an ‘Ooog’ noise as he folded in half over the belt securing him to the line. At least he didn’t have to vomit anymore. The arm began to swing back, Mungo hanging from the wrist like a charm bracelet. He began struggling up the grapple-line. He managed to reach the wrist and climb on as it reached the end of its backswing. He looped the line around the thing’s thumb to secure his position then turned to assess his options. A sad little sound escaped his throat. He was sitting directly in front of the flamethrower barrel on the djinnimaton’s arm. If Frothnozzle spotted him or anything else that he felt worth flaming then Mungo’s seconds were numbered.
***
Knearaoh Khomen’s nose twitched as he watched the battle. The djinn-mummy was dominating its immediate area but it was only a singular figure in a battle that now raged across the entire monument district. It was time to put his beliefs to the test. It was time for the ifreet to show the so-called adventurers what the heroes of old had been capable of.
He closed his eyes and let his mind expand across his city and its wonders. He could feel the warm glow of the ambient magic in the air and the land, the sparks flowing up from all that lived and worshiped within his realm. The temples with their altars that accumulated and stored, the shrines, shimmering with power, the sacrifices and burnt offerings. He pulled it all to him, the magical equivalent of a raging sandstorm, streaming across the land and into him, focusing. It felt like a white-hot maelstrom churning in his body, threatening to vaporize him the moment he lost control. And then he sent it out, sweeping through the city and into his army of ifreet, soaking the streets in a concentrated, churning surf of magic, the like of which hadn't been seen in centuries.
His beliefs were true.
But the ifreet were not the only ones affected.
All across the battle things changed. Spells that had created flashes of flame now produced roaring balls of fire that exploded when they hit, sending out shrapnel clouds of bouncing sparks. Weapons flared with fire and lightning, staves gave off paralyzing waves of cold. Hammer blows that struck the ground sent rippling waves of shock before them, knocking people from their feet, shattering furniture and market-stalls.
Khomen watched aghast as one of his favorite temples began collapsing amid huge pulsing spheres of colored lights that sent arcs of lightning crackling through anyone caught within them. A swirl of combatants nearby dissolved into a cloud of butterflies that all began flapping their wings mightily to get clear. The chaos storm had come and he had brought it.
But what was the loss of his city against the power of three djinn lamps?
Nothing.
The djinn could replace the city and serve him up a feast and a party at the same time.
He was going to win and there was nothing left to go wrong.
***
In a swirl of sand and wind the brass giant stepped into view from behind the pyramid, followed moments later by a stream of ifreet adventurers charging their way into battle.
“Like they needed reinforcements,” Thud grumbled. He was crouched next to Gong and Keezix, hiding in a copse of papyrus reeds at the edge of the river. The hull of the palace barge was a dozen yards away, the Knearaoh standing at the bow, arms folded, watching the battle. He looked confused by the giant returning to the city. He held his hand up and the storm around the giant ceased its roar, the sand dropping in tattered ribbons across the ifreet below. A few last crackles of electricity arced across the giant’s surface, loud in the sudden silence of the wind’s absence.
The giant kept striding forward.
“Either that storm wasn’t actually powering the thing or there’s something else going on,” Keezix said. “Some kinda batteries, maybe?”
The Knearaoh looked even more confused.
“Think he might be havin’ the same questions,” Thud said. “Start swimmin’. We ain’t going to get a better distraction than a rogue giant and a magic fireworks show blastin’ the city apart.” Gong nodded and splashed into the water, working the pump to inflate his armor’s flotation bladders. Keezix followed after him, holding her hammer over her head to keep it dry.
Beams of light streamed from the giant’s eyes, carving a path of destruction through the adventurers and the ifreet. It stomped its massive feet onto scurrying figures below. The ifreet that had accompanied it scattered to get clear. The giant was not discriminating when it came to target choices. The automaton raised its arm so that its fist pointed menacingly in front of it. A voice boomed from it.
“HAHA! MEET YOUR NEW MASTER! AHAHAHAHAHA!” A massive gout of flame shot from the right arm, sweeping across the ground before it, billows of fire leaping up in response as it ignited anything and anyone flammable. It completed its sweep and lowered the arm, the left arm coming up to replace it.
“FLEE BEFORE ME, ANTS! AHAHAHAHAHA…AHHHHHHH!”
This last scream came as several hundred different spells all arrived at once.
The giant was replaced by a towering column of magic, swirls of lightning, crackling fireballs, flashing auras of colors outside the normal spectrum that left a kaleidescope of afterimages. Everything with fifty yards of it was blasted clear, walls and pillars tumbling, magical shields flickering around tumbling adventurers.
“And you thought the giant was the best distraction we’d get,” Gong said as they reached the side of the ship. Thud grabbed onto a hanging curtain of beads that, in his mind at least, was just an artistic knotted-rope. As soon as he started up he saw Givup Notachance looking down.
“Took you long enough,” she hissed.
***
The giant stepped out of the maelstrom of magic.
Mungo was delighted at having not been vaporized. He’d had to drop the emergency blast-shields on his goggles to block out the light-show but the defenses that the djinn had thrown up were more than a match for the spells hammering against its protective magic. It was almost certainly drawing on whatever was fueling the magic in the fight below. That was no guarantee, however, that the djinn’s shield was going to hold up against another blast like that. Or that it was even damaged by it. It was possible that the giant was impervious as long as it had a djinn inside of it. At least impervious to attacks from more than ten feet out, as Mungo had just witnessed.
It raised its arms to fire its flamethrowers again.
“PUNY FOOLS!” Frothnozzle’s voice boomed out. The flamethrowers fired. “AAAAAAH!” the voice yelled as one of the flamethrowers fired straight back into the giant’s face.
Mungo grinned. Attacks from within that ten foot barrier? Not so impervious. Reorienting the barrel of the flamethrower had just taken a minute of work with the spindriver.
He fired the grappling hook from his perch on the giant’s shoulder and let it
pull him back on top of the head where he almost smoothly slid across the slick brass and almost gracefully tumbled headfirst into the cockpit. The interior was hazy and blackened with singe. Frothnozzle lay in a tangle of machinery and tendrils of smoke, hands batting at the last few tufts of flame on his clothes.
Mungo scrambled to his feet and yanked the joysticks on the console, turning the giant, aiming it toward the gaping doorway in the side of the Mazerynth. It was time to return the thing to its home.
“What do you hope to accomplish?” Frothnozzle’s voice was twisted with contempt. “Once we’re inside there will be a swarm of my ifreet waiting to take care of you, free me and fix the automaton. You’ve accomplished nothing.”
“I believe you’ll find,” Mungo said as he strapped himself into the copilot chair, “That I’ve activated the self-destruct system.”
“Ha!” Frothnozzle’s laugh was full of contempt. “I didn’t include a self-destruct system, you fool.”
“An egregious design failure on your part,” Mungo said. “One which I’ve taken steps to rectify. During the entirety of our conflict my associate Gryngo has been down below installing one for you.” Mungo didn’t have a hat to tip so he settled for saluting instead. “I bid you good day.” And with that he pulled the eject lever on the copilot chair and went soaring into the sky above.
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