The Dungeons of Arcadia

by Dan Allen

  “I’m sorry, Ruby. I’m so sorry.”

  “Ruby?” The Midnight Queen’s head turned in Gork’s direction. “The Princess Ruby of Crystalia Castle?”

  “She is dead,” cried the Midnight Queen’s chief Nether Elf. “The Destroyer has done what the armies of the Dark Consul couldn’t manage in fifteen years.” It cackled with cruel laughter.

  “The Destroyer dared defy me!”

  “Apparently so, my lady of darkest deeds.”

  “And it killed her?” said the Midnight Queen, her voice rising as her figure seemed to ripple with rage. She pushed her staff through the center of the portal and drew it back, its tip instantly blazed with moonlight, a beam that seemed to cast as much darkness as light. The elf nearest her fell back, cowering in the fierce blaze coming from the gem at the tip of the sorceress’s staff. “Send its carcass to the abyss!”

  The Midnight Queen swung her staff in a wide circle and the light from her crystal splayed out, igniting the tips of the arrows of more than a hundred Nether Elves with icy white flame. The Nether Elves turned and fired in unison. The frosty arrows pummeled The Destroyer’s stone remains on all sides, coating him in an ever-thicker layer of black ice, until, like a piece of paper being crushed in a fist, the entire glossy black figure of the fallen demon crumpled inward and disappeared as the Nether Elves shrieked in devilish delight.

  By the Goddess . . . Gork had never seen magic like that.

  A hiss from Nyan-Nyan’s voice woke him from his reverie of grief.

  “Do it,” Terras said, crouching low near the wall of the cavern next to Nyan-Nyan. “We can’t fight that kind of magic.”

  Gork glanced over his shoulder. Nyan’s ears pivoted to one side and Gork’s eyes followed until he saw it.

  The sword.

  The Dark Consul’s blade lay only a few yards away. Gork looked to the swarm of Nether Elves surrounding the dark enchantress, but only the golem’s watchful eye seemed drawn to it.

  It was still glowing, its brightness ticking slowly upward.

  How?

  Gork looked about and was surprised to see that the tonnerians still had strength enough to power the Hyrian amulets.

  Gork’s heart swelled. They didn’t give up.

  The Midnight Queen rapped her staff on the ground, and the shrieking of the Nether Elves fell instantly silent. She turned her attention back to Gork and the tonnerians. She pointed to Ruby’s fallen form with her staff. “Daemonus, I want that body. Bring it to me!”

  Gork scampered away as the hulking golem lumbered forward. He shielded the sword with his body as he turned it until the pommel faced the portal.

  At first, there was no effect. But then the wavering seams of torn reality began to diminish.

  It’s working.

  Meanwhile Daemonus bent to lift Ruby’s body.

  No.

  Again, Gork had a choice. Despite his grief, he could not let go of the sword to defend the slain princess’s body. She had saved his life and given hers in return. He had to finish what she started. It was the only way to give any meaning to her sacrifice. He would not let her down, though his very soul ached as the clockmaker’s golem bent down and reached for Ruby.

  In the corner of his eye, Gork spied the green glow of fae magic. The Druid was summoning a powerful spell.

  Go, Terras!

  The Druid ran forward and pressed his hand on the fallen princess. White vines erupted between his fingers lacing the body in a tight weave of impermeable binding.

  Confused, the clockwork creation drew back as Ruby was wrapped in a tight chrysalis of semitransparent vines.

  “Get Ruby’s body!” cried the Midnight Queen, “It’s inside that wrapping, you dimwit.”

  A Nether Elf knelt before the Midnight Queen. “Mistress of the dark, the portal is closing.”

  “What?” The Midnight Queen turned to see the rapidly diminished conduit to the Dark Realm. “How is that possible?”

  But the realization had come too late. The portal was already half-sealed. The Dark Consul’s sword sizzled with heat as the essence of the slain Destroyer and the combined strength of the tonnerians channeled through it. It shook with powerful vibrations, but Gork’s strong hand kept it steady. The smell of burning skin reached his nose. His forger’s skin, thick with calluses, held off the worst of it, though Gork didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

  “Flee, my queen!” cried a Nether Elf. “We’ll be cut off from the darkness. You’ll be vulnerable.”

  The Midnight Queen took a step toward Gork and then looked back. The rate of closure was accelerating. In moments, the portal would be gone.

  “Come, Daemonus!” she cried, pushing aside Nether Elves and lunging for the portal. “We will return via a spawning point. I want that body!” Droves of Nether Elves followed, crashing into each other in a mad rush to reach the portal. The hulking golem turned its head away from Gork and took heavy steps toward its master. But the fleeing Nether Elves crowded ahead of it. There was no chance it would make the portal before it closed.

  “Daemonus!” cried the Midnight Queen from within the portal. The voice was hollow and distant.

  But the portal was already too small for the golem.

  In rage, the Midnight Queen cried her final order. “Slay them all and bring the body through a spawning point!”

  The portal sealed with a hiss and the oppressive drain from the ruby amulet faded into nothingness.

  It was done—the first breech sealed. For now.

  The Midnight Queen was gone. But her parting command to Daemonus was to claim Ruby’s body. That, Gork could not allow. He would not allow the darkness to corrupt her. Who knew what evil use the Dark Consul and his Midnight Queen could imagine?

  Unable to disobey, the nearly indestructible golem would never stop until it had finished the Midnight Queen’s final order.

  But there was no help for stopping the golem. The tonnerians were exhausted from pouring their energy into the sword. Gork himself had little strength remaining and no weapon besides the steaming sword of the Dark Consul. He struggled to stand as the golem lumbered forward, its one eye fixed on Ruby.

  Gork fell to his knees. “I have no strength,” he whispered as the golem stomped angrily towards Ruby’s enshrouded body.

  Suddenly the little finger of his hand began to vibrate.

  Father’s ring.

  Energy flooded into Gork, beginning with his hand and arm, then spreading through his shoulders and chest. His heart once again beat with the unconquerable strength of the Hearthsworn. Gork felt as though he had somehow become his father, a powerful dwarf with fists like iron and muscles like a snow bear.

  And there was one more thing, fleeting like a distant memory. This, from his mother.

  Hope.

  Chapter 19: Victory and Defeat

  Gork dodged the golem’s first swipe. He raced sideways, stepping past two arrows. The golem stooped to pick up the magically-bound chrysalis containing Ruby’s body.

  As the golem stood, raising the princess’s body up, Gork leapt into the blind spot under the chrysalis, and with all the strength of his forefathers and muscle born of decades of pounding metal with the hammer of the Hearthsworn, he drove the Dark Consul’s sword deep into the clockmaker’s golem’s belly.

  White sparks arced from the clockmaker’s golem into the sword. The golem jolted. Its joints locked. Ruby’s body fell into Gork’s arms, and the golem tipped back with a thunderous crash.

  It was done. Ruby’s body was safe.

  Gork put one knee down and bowed his head. His heart thundered in his chest. Then over the cheers of the tonnerians, he felt another source of shaking.

  Near the entrance, huge figures loomed in the semidarkness.

  Nyan-Nyan sniffed the air, and the fur on her arms and back stood on end. “The gargoyles.”

  The great stony creatures lumbered into the room, towering over Gork, Ter
ras, and the tonnerians.

  The few tonnerians remaining alive rallied together beside Gork and his friends. Their arms shook as their exhausted arms held their forearm shields in defensive poses.

  Only three dozen tonnerians remained of the sixty-five that entered the tomb.

  Torbin was not among them.

  But the huge gargoyles did not attack.

  “I don’t think they want to fight us,” Terras said. A wide grin spread across his face, an exhausted look of relief.

  “Thank the Goddess,” Nyan-Nyan said. “Although, I’m still gonna clobber whichever one of those tried to step on my tail.”

  Meeraz’s vertical slitted eyes turned from one side of the mass of hulking stone creatures to the other. “How did they get in? I thought the magical barrier that we crossed through would stop them.”

  “It did,” Gork said. “But its source of magic is gone—we closed the portal.”

  A gargoyle in the front of the assembly spoke. “You summoned us, Master of the Rubies.”

  Gork looked around, realizing the gargoyle was speaking to him. “I . . . did?”

  “We serve the Masters of the Rubies.” The voice of the second gargoyle was like a bellows breathing. “Where are the Keepers of the Rubies?”

  Terras transformed and grabbed Gork’s arm. “He means the mages we rescued. They were tomb keepers. Their amulets must have controlled the gargoyles until the Dark Consul bound them to his sword.”

  “But the Dark Consul’s barrier kept the gargoyles from finding the tomb keepers.” Gork’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, the tomb keepers are gone,” Gork said.

  “But we were the last to use the rubies.” Nyan-Nyan looked around the few remaining tonnerians.

  “And Gork used the master ruby in the Dark Consul’s sword.” Terras looked from Gork to the hulking creations. “It’s you they serve now.”

  Nyan-Nyan elbowed Gork.

  “Oh. Yes. Um, that’s me,” Gork announced. “I am the Master of the Rubies.”

  The red flaming eyes and smoke-breathing mouths of at least thirty gargoyles appeared at the entrance of the cavern.

  The largest gargoyle spoke slowly, his coal-red eyes riveted on Gork. “What is your bidding, Master?”

  “Give me a second to catch my breath.”

  “The task is complete,” reported a gargoyle. “May we sleep now?”

  “No,” Gork said. “Not yet. Wait for my next order.”

  The gargoyles stood still as stone.

  “We’re alive,” Nyan-Nyan said, as if finally realizing the quest was over. “We’re alive!”

  “But Torbin is slain,” said a tonnerian warrior. “Who is our new captain?”

  All eyes turned to the silver-skinned cat with his arm draped around Nyan-Nyan, who had her arm wrapped around Meeraz’s waist and didn’t appear to want to let go any time soon.

  “So much for independence,” Gork said out of the side of his mouth. “I think the Chaos Kitty has finally met her mate.” The Druid wolf gave a howl of laughter then transformed back into the familiar half-elf Druid.

  The only light in the room came from the fallen rubies that gave off a dim red glow.

  No. Gork turned to see the translucent casing that wrapped Ruby’s body. It gave off a greenish white luminescence similar to the bulbs of the Deeproot.

  “What is this?” Gork asked. He knelt and ran his hand over the tightly bound vines. He tried to see through the semi-clear enclosure, but only glimpses of Ruby’s pink dress showed through.

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Terras said. “I . . . sort of made it up. It’s meant to protect her body.”

  “Stasis?”

  “Of a sort. It will hold off decay for a while, perhaps long enough to return her body to the king. But she’s dead, Gork. Nothing can change that.”

  Gork nodded, feeling a tear run down his cheek and soak into his beard. Soon, his entire body was racked with sobs. Great tears rolled down his face as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the princess’s white tomb.

  “Come on.” Strong tonnerian paws lifted him to his feet. “We have to get out of here before the Midnight Queen brings reinforcements.”

  “She’ll need a spawning point for that,” Terras said. “But this portal was probably fueling all the nearby spawning points. This branch of the Thorn will be cut off from her access for some time. But in any case, we should not stay.”

  And I shouldn’t leave that sword behind either.

  Gork walked up to the golem and reached for the sword embedded deep in its clay belly.

  “No!” Terras lunged and pulled Gork back. “Leave it.”

  Gork gave him a confused look.

  “You can’t kill a golem by stabbing it—only by destroying its eye.”

  Gork looked at the fallen clockmaker’s golem. “Then why isn’t it moving?”

  “A golem requires a spark of magic to ignite its clockwork mechanism. The magic-sapping sword is too large a load and so the igniter can’t wake it up.”

  “You mean Daemonus is still alive?”

  “Yes.” Terras’s eyes narrowed. “And so are its memories.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The eye of the golem—the gem in its forehead—records everything the golem has seen. If we can find a gnome with the right skills, we might be able to retrieve what it has seen. We could find Amethyst.”

  “Does it matter?” Gork said. “Ruby is dead. The prophecy cannot be fulfilled, even if we find the fifth princess.”

  “I don’t know,” Terras said. “I wonder if perhaps this was Ruby’s part. Perhaps she has done all she was meant to do.”

  “But how can the Dark Consul be defeated with only four princesses—three without Amethyst.”

  “What would Ruby want?” Terras asked.

  Gork gave a nod. “She would want us to find her sister. All right. We’ll have to get the golem to Crystalia Castle.”

  “Just how are we going to haul that thing out?” Meeraz asked. He looked up and saw the army of waiting gargoyles. “Oh.”

  “Protectors of the tomb,” Gork shouted. “Awake!”

  Nothing happened.

  “Use fire,” Terras reminded.

  Gork retrieved a smoldering bit of leather and reached up to wave it in front of a gargoyle’s nose.

  It sniffed. Then its eyes opened.

  “Who dares wake—”

  “It’s me again,” Gork interrupted. “Wake the others and carry this golem out of the tombs, but do not disturb my sword lodged in its belly.”

  “As you wish.”

  “And when you’re done,” Gork added. “Find every scrap of metal armor and weaponry in the catacombs and take it out of the tombs as well.”

  “A cleansing?”

  “Yes,” Gork said. “We must make room in the crypt for the slain tonnerians.”

  “Great warriors?” it asked.

  “Yes,” Gork said. “great warriors all. They must be honored with the kings of old.”

  The gargoyle spoke in a tongue unknown, and the red eyes of the gargoyle army opened one by one. One gargoyle dragged the golem by its stiff legs. Others lifted slain tonnerians, cradling them in their great arms like infants.

  Gork did not trust the body of Ruby to the gargoyles. He carried the wicker-like casket upon his back as he followed his gargoyles out of the cavern.

  The great iron gate had been broken through, and Gork retrieved his long ax. He lifted Ruby’s body again, feeling that terrible weight once again, and followed the long funeral procession through the maze of pillars. This time, by the torch-like light of the flames in the gargoyle’s mouths, Gork inspected several of the fallen pillars and realized they were not solid rock, but stacks of tightly fitted stones, enclosing the bones of ancient warriors.

  The procession followed the perimeter of the maze, passing crypts where the mummified bodies of kings and their trea
sures lay in deep nooks.

  Following Gork’s orders, gargoyles reached into each nook and claimed swords with gemmed hilts and plate armor still gleaming after centuries of neglect. These were clearly the product of ancient magic and would hopefully give the Hearthsworn forges enough material to reverse engineer the magic.

  The weapons were just the beginning of the treasure. The gargoyles carried anything made of metal or mounted in it: gemstones set in ceremonial headpieces, gilded cups, crowns, jeweled scepters—all gifts for the departed kings and queens, along with their most loyal.

  Now that’s loot, Gork thought. Most of the gems, though, would go to the tonnerians, he decided. Their army was greatly weakened by the loss of so many warriors. The wealth of the tombs would buy them food and protection from neighboring realms.

  The weight on Gork’s back never lessened as he ascended the sloped spiral. Each step levied the pain of his broken heart.

  A gargoyle stepped on the sigil of death on its way out of the tomb’s entrance. The stone rune cracked in a dozen places, but the mark on Gork’s hand remained.

  He had not cheated death. Death had cheated him. With a shudder and a tear, Gork wished that he could go back and trade his life for the princess’s. The fact that he could not made it all the worse.

  As he emerged into the sunlight, surrounded by a powerful army of gargoyles and the wealth of the Blasted Tombs, Gork realized what he had to do.

  He set down Ruby’s casket of fused vines and snagged the Chaos Kitty by her arm, pulling her away from Meeraz. “Nyan-Nyan, I’m sending you back to the Frostbyte Reach with the weapons and the gargoyles. Together, these will make a great addition to our army. The stone men will only obey those who wielded the rubies—those who gave their life force to close the portal.”

  “The tonnerians,” Nyan-Nyan guessed, “and me.”

  “Yes, you and the others must take the gargoyles and the armaments from the crypt back to my people in the Dwarfholm Bastion. If the freyjan and Hearthsworn join together, with rune-scribed weapons matched to our foes’ and the help of these tomb protectors . . . we might succeed.” Gork put his hand on the Chaos Kitty’s shoulder. “Nyan-Nyan, the defense of the Frostbyte Reach is in your hands—er, gauntlets.”