Battleborne Book 2: Wrack and Ruin

by Dave Willmarth

  The next thing he did was try to memorize the layout of the cavern, and trace himself the most direct possible path through the maze. After focusing for nearly a minute, he was able to view a rough map of the cavern by zooming in his interface map. It was all in grey, as he’d only observed the room, not walked through it. Zooming back out, he saw the tunnel he’d just followed, crossed occasionally by side tunnels he’d observed or poked his head into. Zooming out even further, he saw the town and the bridge.

  “Red, is there any way to add scale to this map? Like, to help me see how far away that other safe zone was?”

  “Hmm… there might be. I’ll look into it.” Red tapped her chin with one finger. “I can see how that would be helpful.”

  Max nodded once, taking a deep breath, then drew his sword and stepped forward. He walked slowly, his Fade ability activated, keeping his head on a swivel as he tried to trace his chosen path through the cavern. He ducked under an arch here, turned left through a short tunnel there, then doubled back, sure that he’d gone the wrong way.

  Fifteen minutes later, he began to see the orange glow from before. It was just around the bend ahead, through a smaller version of the worm tunnel he’d been in earlier. Max’s pulse rate quickened as he continued forward, crouched down now, though he wasn’t sure why. His grip tight on Storm Reaver’s handle, he peered around the corner, and his shoulders slumped slightly.

  The glow was emanating from a small pit in the floor, in which magma boiled and bubbled quietly. Another, larger pit sat a stone’s throw away. Shaking his head, his stress level dropping slightly, Max carefully stepped around the first pit, walking toward the second. The need to avoid fire was always there in the back of his mind.

  Just as he was passing by the larger pool, a voice echoed through an arch ahead of him. “Very clever, using my own gates to lock out my minions.”

  Max froze, his eyes searching everywhere.

  “Come, come, chimera. I have watched you through my minions’ eyes since you arrived through the portal. Had I wanted you dead, you’d have been added to my army already. I so rarely get to speak to the living these days. Enter my temple and sit a while. It’s just ahead of you.”

  As if to prove its point, the ceiling above Max’s head began to shift. Hundreds of small undead spiders moved just enough so that Max would notice them, then settled back down. They blended perfectly into the stone around them.

  Max gritted his teeth and focused his mind, trying not to be creeped out. Thinking about how many zombie spiders he must have walked underneath since arriving in Deepcrag was not going to help him. His spine itched like something was crawling up his back, and he shivered. Ignoring the sensation, he stepped forward through the arch, having to duck down as he did so.

  The temple wasn’t what he’d expected. It was a small, natural chamber, the floor covered in stalagmites and scattered magma pools. The ceiling was low, and dozens of stalactites hanging down made it seem even lower than it was. The room was filled with shadows cast by the stone formations above and below. To his left, a set of roughly cut stone steps led up to a dais with an altar straight out of horror movies. A flat obsidian table was littered with skulls, shattered bones, wicked looking blades that were stained with long-dried blood.

  “Welcome, chimera.” The lich stood atop the dais, next to the altar. Max guessed its body had originally been that of an elf, with long white hair and sharply pointed ears. But the undead body was so emaciated that every rib showed clearly through the thin skin of its torso under a badly tattered robe that was little more than scraps. Its arms were long and thin, just bone, muscle, and skin, ending in oversized hands with sharp claws. Its head was basically a mummified skull still covered in leathery skin, its cheeks sunken deeply, withered gums and sharp yellowed teeth exposed. Only its crimson colored eyes held any life as it stared at him. “Please, be at ease. We will doubtlessly attempt to kill one another at some point, but for now, I wish to talk.”

  Max stepped farther into the room, putting his back to the wall to one side of the entrance. He thought he heard slight movement in the shadows, but his darksight was having trouble adjusting to the difference between the magma-lit and shadowed areas of the temple.

  “Are you the lich who tricked Nogroz into surrendering his soul?”

  “Nogroz?” The lich tilted its head to one side, thinking. “Ah, yes. The dwarf king. So long ago!” its eyes blazed. “Are you a historian? Come to get the true story of the origin of the grey dwarves?” the lich clapped its hands together as if excited.

  “Of a sort…” Max replied. “I am Maximilian Storm, King of Stormhaven, formerly known as Nogroz. I killed the grey dwarf king Agnor and took his throne. And yes, I am curious about the history.”

  “Ah, yes. I saw the gods’ notification about you.” The lich stared at him a moment longer, eyes still glowing. “A chimera, a king, and a Battleborne as well! Wonderful!” The lich’s smile revealed even more of its sharp teeth. It was not a reassuring gesture for Max.

  “What can you tell me about the ritual involving the heart of the mountain?” Max leaned back against the wall, trying to relax his body and slow his heart rate a bit. He needed to conserve his energy in the event of an attack.

  “Well, let me see. When I found the dwarf king, I had only recently become a lich myself. I had lived a long life as a necromancer, but my living body was growing old. I bound my soul to a phylactery and ended my mortal existence, being reborn as a lich, immortal as long as there are souls for me to drain!” It rubbed its hands together, staring greedily at Max.

  “Nogroz had a heart corrupted by greed. He was jealous of his dwarf cousins, who had larger cities, larger clans, more power. His was a simple trading town, only valued for its location in relation to others. A safe place to stop and refresh oneself between destinations. He grew the city from a trade outpost into a small kingdom through sheer determination and guile. A discreet theft and murder of a merchant here and there, the proceeds going directly into his pockets. He had been a thief before taking over the town, and he used the thieves’ guild to do his dirty work. For a share of the spoils, of course, and his protection.”

  Max nodded, the attacks by the thieves guild and the missing treasury starting to make more sense to him. If the guild had ties to the throne, and maintained them through all these centuries… his thoughts were interrupted as the lich continued.

  “It was a simple thing to hide my identity from him, to whisper into his ear of greater power and wealth. I assisted him in his conquest of this place, or rather of Deepcrag above. It was another trade outpost, similar in size to Nogroz. His thieves crept into the city and poisoned everyone, a slow and painful death that allowed me to harvest unbelievable power for myself. I fed off their delicious pain and sorrow, then captured their souls to create the minions you met earlier. I also gained nearly twenty levels in one night, and was awarded several new skills.”

  Max growled deep in his chest. Some base part of himself was longing to rip the lich’s head from its shoulders. The lich, oblivious as it relived its memories, continued on.

  “Those few thieves that managed to escape me reported my actions to Nogroz, revealing my true nature. He was furious! But when I told him that a similar ritual, using the heart of the mountain as its power source, could grant him near immortality, he calmed down. When I presented him with the wealth of the entire town of Deepcrag, I was forgiven. It enabled him to expand his own city considerably. As well as to sell the various recently vacated and undamaged properties in the town to allied merchants, profiting handsomely. It wasn’t long before he journeyed to the mountain’s core and secured the heart for our ritual. The fool believed every lie I fed him.”

  “So you used the ritual to steal his soul.” Max accused. “And to twist the souls of his people, creating the grey dwarves.”

  The lich threw its head back and laughed, a deep and throaty sound. “I did, and I did not. You give me too much credit, Battleborne. I did pla
n to steal his soul, and to transfer my own soul into the heart of the mountain in the process. The power in that stone…” the lich shook its head. “But I had no intentions toward his people. At least, not at that time. When the ritual began, and the dwarf king realized that I had tricked him yet again, he fought me. That one possessed an iron will, and he resisted the ritual. Our battle of wills lasted quite some time, and the power drain was immense, both of us drawing from the stone. When the power within the heart of the mountain faded, I used the power I’d gathered from the citizens of Deepcrag, and he figured out how to do the same to his own people. He drew from them, but he was untrained, and enraged, and cared not for their welfare. When I finally defeated him, he had taken something… vital from all of them, and given back something unhealthy from within himself.”

  Max tried to imagine being willing to sacrifice hundreds or thousands of his own people to preserve his life. He’d killed that many in his career, either personally, or by calling down artillery or air strikes. A few had even been civilians. He’d regretted it each time, had needed counseling afterward more than once, but they had been enemies, and he was a soldier following orders. What Nogroz had done… Max shook his head. “And after you defeated him?”

  “We had held the ritual within his keep, in a secret chamber he’d built deep in the stone of the mountain. When his people felt what he did, they followed the magic straight to us, stormed the keep, and trapped me inside. I held them off for some time, claiming many more souls as I fought. But eventually they overwhelmed me and destroyed my body.” The lich struck a pose and gestured toward its current form. “It was nearly five thousand years before a group of elven adventurers seeking treasure located my phylactery. The one who snatched up my crystal was weak-minded. I managed to manipulate him into killing one of his comrades, and took control of this body.”

  “Five thousand years inside a crystal?” Max whispered to himself.

  Having elven hearing to go with its elven body, the lich heard him. “Yes, it was… unpleasant, to say the least. I went quite insane!” the lich giggled, covering its mouth with its hands in an odd gesture for such a creature.

  Max changed the subject. “What of the stone? The heart of the mountain?”

  “Bah! Who cares? It was all but useless, drained of power, before I was killed. Likely the newly twisted dwarves thought it nothing more than a bit of rubble. The chamber took some damage during our battle…”

  “And where exactly was this chamber?” Max asked the question that might allow him to complete the quest.

  “As I said, it was cut into the stone of the mountain, much deeper than the rest of his palace, which was still being cut into the stone at that time. Those dwarves, they are an industrious lot, and talented. They had shapers that could liquify stone and reshape it to their will. I remember watching them create the skylights in one of their great halls before I died. In… Darkholm, I think. They shaped these tunnels that ran at angles up to the surface, the interiors so smooth that they reflected the sunlight all the way down through the skylights in the hall. One of them even figured out how to place the openings so that the sunbeams in the hall shifted from east to west as the day progressed. Pure genius!” The lich paused. “Where was I?”

  “The location of the ritual chamber.” Max growled impatiently.

  “Ah, yes! Well, I suppose I could give you exact directions. Tell you where to find the hidden door that would lead you to it. But I’m afraid the information would do you no good. I’ve enjoyed our chat, chimera, but I have delayed you long enough. My minions have unlocked the gate up above, and the horde has nearly arrived. There is no escape for you.” The lich held out one hand, palm facing up, and a green flame appeared just above it. “It has been a long time since any sentients have ventured into Deepcrag, and I’m told that the soul of a Battleborne contains great power. I shall feed on you for days before I claim your soul. I apologize in advance, Maximilian. I’m afraid it will be quite painful for you.”

  As the lich spoke, four undead elves emerged from the shadows around the chamber. They moved faster than the shamblers upstairs, but not as fast as live elves would have. “Meet the adventurers who were kind enough to set me free! They are quite strong, but they will not hurt you any more than necessary. Resistance is futile. If you cooperate, the process will be less painful for you.”

  Max used Identify on the first undead he saw.

  Undead Acolyte

  Elite

  Level 30

  Health: 4,000/4,000

  He was so focused on his interface that he nearly missed the lich’s throwing motion that sent the green flame flying toward his chest. Max dodged to the left, nearly crashing into one of the acolytes, which grabbed at his sword arm. Its claws dug into his forearm, easily penetrating the leather bracer, and tugged at him with surprising strength for a scrawny undead elf.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Max growled as he grabbed it by the neck with his free hand and dug in with his own claws. Twisting his body around, he slammed the creature into the wall. When that seemed to have no effect, he lifted it off the ground and brought it down atop one of the stalagmites, the point penetrating its back, then bursting through its chest as it sank farther onto the stone. Max left it there, struggling like a bug on its back, not having time to finish it before the others reached him. As he turned back toward the lich, another green fireball struck him in the chest, the flash momentarily blinding him. He swung his sword blindly in front of him, feeling it impact something. Taking a step back, he blinked rapidly and shook his head, swinging again to keep attackers at bay, trying not to panic at the idea of being hit by fire with open wounds on his arm. When his vision cleared, a one- armed acolyte was reaching for his face, its other arm laying on the stone floor behind it. Max ducked down, the clawed hand barely scratching his face, then lunged upward with his sword, driving it in under the monster’s chin. The sword’s tip exited through the top of its skull, and the acolyte went lifeless. Max ripped the sword free, shattering the skull from the inside.

  The other two acolytes had closed, and Max saw the lich forming yet another green fireball. He stepped to one side, putting an acolyte between him and the lich, then kicked it as hard as he could in the chest. The undead elf stumbled backward, managing to scratch the outside of Max’s thigh as it fell, attempting to take hold of his foot, but failing. Its back heel hit the stone steps, and it fell at the lich’s feet, freeing up its line of sight. The lich wasted no time, flinging the sickly green fire at Max’s face.

  Max managed to dodge, but the action put him right into the arms of the fourth acolyte. It wrapped its arms around Max, pinning his arms to his sides. Lifting him off his feet, it began to walk toward the lich and the other acolyte, which was getting to its feet, unharmed. Max tried slamming his head backward, crushing the acolyte’s nose, but it had no effect. He strained to raise his arms, but again to no avail. Having no other choice, he waited for the acolyte by the stairs to get to its feet, then focused on the altar behind it.

  “Boom!” Max cast the spell directly on the stone altar. A moment later it shattered, shards of stone, bone, and metal implements exploding outward. The lich was knocked off its feet, and the acolyte in front of Max was badly shredded. Max took several hits as well, the undead shield not working as well as he’d hoped. His health bar dropped to sixty percent, and his troll regeneration kicked into overdrive to heal the multiple cuts on his right leg, arm, and face.

  The explosion had the added effect of stunning the lich, interrupting its control over the acolytes. The one holding Max, mostly undamaged from the blast, loosened its hold slightly, allowing his feet to touch the ground. That was enough for Max. With a roar, he bent forward at the waist, lifting the acolyte behind him off its feet. Bending his knees, he tucked his head and rolled forward, using the extra weight on his back to his advantage. As he curled further into the roll, the acolyte’s head struck the stone floor, and Max heard the snapping of bone. Its arms relaxed,
and Max simply fell to his side, not able to complete the forward roll over top of its body. He quickly scrambled to his feet and stabbed down into the thing’s skull, to be sure it was dead.

  Stepping toward the lich, which was just getting back on its feet but with its back to Max, he took a second to decapitate the shredded acolyte laying on the steps before advancing on the lich. The creature was descending the steps at the back of the dais, heading for a doorway that had previously been obscured by the altar. Max cast Jump on himself, appearing between the lich and its escape route, turning around to face it as quickly as he could, leading with his sword as he spun. The blade cut deeply into the lich’s ribs, and stayed there. Max channeled Zap! through his hands into the sword, the lightning energy passing through the mithril blade directly into the lich’s body.

  As it seized up, its eyes blazing with insane hatred, Max let go of the sword. Retrieving his axe from his inventory, he swung overhead with both hands, driving the weapon down through the lich’s skull, shattering it. The light in its eyes blinked out, and Max leveled up.

  Red appeared on his shoulder, shouting, “Behind you, Max. Follow the magic!”

  “What magic? Max spun around, seeing nothing.

  “Shit! Ya can’t see it? Through that door. Run!”

  Not understanding, but trusting in Red, Max did as he was told. Leaving his axe and sword stuck in the lich’s corpse, he dashed toward the same door the lich was trying to reach. As he went, Red explained. “There’s a thread o’ magic runnin’ from the corpse back this direction. There was a pulse the moment ye killed it, and now the thread’s gettin’ thin. Run!”