The door continued its slow opening and they all saw gold coins and small gems begin spilling through the seal. A bright flash of intense green suddenly cut through the door’s edges. “The wand has found a host. Apparently, the ogre reached it. This is both good and bad. Bad because the wand is more powerful when it has a wielder. Good because an ogre is not a very good host for it. If the ogre dies, the wand will look for a new host. In this group, I am the most likely target. Then Noboyuki. It prefers clerics and sorcerers. Lets hope the lich is not around. The Jade God enjoys the irony of seizing its Master’s enemies first.”
“I have heard of this but never imagined I would see it,” Noboyuki said. “The stories from Tania and Bloodstone are told here in Ori, but to have it so close. It feels sick.”
“Malcor's friends, we must enter that room. We will support you from a distance but will only get directly involved if we absolutely have to. Remember, do not touch the wand, even accidentally. And while not touching it, do not make eye contact with the ogre or the wand’s ram head!”
Malcor shoved his way in and then helped pull Sako and Jaga through. They were at the bottom of a large round room, bowl-shaped towards the center it appeared. A smaller door higher up with stairs drowning in treasure lied to their left. Movement was hard as the treasure underfoot continually shifted and their feet rolled on fist-sized gems hidden by bullion. Malcor thought he saw movement in the other doorway and they peeked around the heap of tapestries and ornately decorated items to see the green light.
The ogre stood on a table just above the level of the treasure. In its right hand it held a wand carved or made from vertebrae. Its back faced them but as Malcor looked, a ram’s head atop the wand twisted and rotated as if on a neck and something shot at him. He pulled back just as the pile of treasure in front of him burst asunder and then began to turn molten. He pointed to another mound and ran as best he could.
He imagined he could hear laughter, insane demonic laughter. From the side, he saw the ogre turn but the wand never took its eyes off him. In fact, he noted that the wand’s head seemed to take on two other aspects all imposed on top of the original to stare at and track Sako and Jaga’s sprint. He skidded to a stop noticing that three other heads had appeared on the wand. Two looked at where Tembri and Noboyuki waited outside the room, but the other looked up at the doorway. He helped pull the other two out of the green light cast by the wand.
Suddenly, a compulsion struck them. Malcor felt it like a siren call offering an amazing dream. He wanted that dream no matter what – all he had to do was touch that sceptre. If he could just touch it, everything would be his. It called to each of them. Malcor calmed his mind and felt the teardrop scale on his arm burn. The burning there helped him focus on what was real: the treasure beneath his feet, the small portrait of some long forgotten man standing on a beach over there across the way, his friends. Sako, next to him muttered her mouth twitching. Jaga though, Malcor saw a problem. “Yes, yes,” the older man mumbled as he began to stand up.
“No!” Malcor cried as he jumped and tackled Jaga back down.
“Let me go! My wife, my wife, she is there. I can be with her again. She has my little boy! Oh how I missed them… he died so young, so young… let me go!” Jaga collapsed beneath Malcor in a fetal position sobbing. “They took you from me, I’m so sorry! I’ll come for you, yes, I’m coming.”
Fearing Jaga would become violent, Malcor drew back and punched him as hard as he could. The blow rocked Jaga back. He barely noticed a blast of green energy lance through the air where he had become visible to the ogre during his tackle. To make sure, Malcor punched him again and then quickly bound Jaga. It seemed like a good idea so Malcor also placed a blind fold over Jaga’s eyes. “Stay here old man,” Malcor whispered.
Sako did barely better than Jaga but at least responded to Malcor when he asked her how she fared. “I’m, um, here Malcor.” Her body shook and trembled. “I hear voices…”
Malcor put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Stay here, support as you can. Remember what Tembri said, do not look at the ram’s head.”
Malcor glanced back at the door and saw Tembri watching. Silently, he hand signed and Tembri nodded. Moments later, Malcor’s shield magically adjusted with a narrow eye slit opening along its length to help Malcor see. Then, his body filled with strength and the Queen’s blessings rained into him. He took a deep breath of faith. From that breath, he hummed a hymn to the Queen. The battle hymn started low and quiet but as his strength and energy increased, he let it grow louder and louder until Sako looked up at him and her eyes widened. “Your Goddess?” she asked. He nodded and flexed his fingers as his sword, shield, armor, and every aspect of his being increased from his large human frame to that of a giant.
The green light focused on him as his back and legs became exposed. He ignored the malevolent feeling and then Noboyuki’s prayer for strength filled him. Though less potent than the Queen’s, he felt Imperius’ power as a brightness in his morale and courage. He grinned and winked at Sako and then crouched. “Good-bye,” he said to her.
His jump scattered treasure at his feet and he landed some thirty steps from the ogre and the wand. Using his shield, he saw the ogre’s mid-section and the bottom portion of the wand’s spine. Without looking, he knew the wand sought for him. He needed to close the distance and signaled to Tembri for a jump. A second later, he felt it and he leapt at the ogre moments before a green lightning bolt cut into the treasure where he had been. He felt the shockwave and heat boil the metal coins where he had stood and then his shield slammed into the ogre. His battle hymn changed to “Let that which is created, come unmade. Coming Undone - Rage!”
He thrust into the space behind his shield and felt his sword connect with something. Either the ogre or the sceptre, he could not tell so he slashed twisting back and forth. He saw the ogre try to jump away but with unsteady footing, it slipped. He felt, in that moment, how much the sceptre hated the stupid and clumsy ogre. The ogre pointed its other hand at Malcor and magical bolts like the ones Sako used shot in rapid succession cutting through his armor and burning into chest. Already wounded and now this as one after another they smashed into him. He signaled for healing and felt Tembri respond even as the bolts continued to burn into wounded and healing flesh. After what felt like minutes of those fiery darts, they ended and Malcor resumed his assault.
Behind him, the lich watched his ogre lieutenant transform into something not quite undead and not quite ogre. With that bone ram's head, the lich suddenly doubted if even he had enough power to defeat the stupid monster. When it activated, the lich had turned aside to watch what happened next with a simple viewing spell. When the wand looked at him through the spell, he had barely managed to close it down as he felt his existence’s thread condense into one temptingly seductive promise of power and life eternal. “You will be the greatest…!” He still felt that promise. Envy, and aching, and yearning for a wish was a new sensation. To covet power at this level rocked the lich to its core.
He had been following Malcor from that first group and noted the fighter’s peculiar talents. Seeing him leap towards the ogre though had impressed even the lich. When the wand screamed, it tore at the lich the way a mother’s child’s cry of pain would. The lich, for the first time in eons, ached with emotion, with desire to run to his brother and help. The sceptre of Orcus called to him. The sound reminded him all at once of the eldar times, of the bounty of creation, of how matter and life changed at his whimsy. The pain and anguish and that promise overwhelmed the lich who had not felt real mortal emotion in far too long. The lich turned the corner and walked into the trove, his hand reaching for the ram.
Chapter Sixty One - The Sceptre of the Jade God
Sako saw the lich and shot her magical bolts at it. Though they hit, the lich failed to even notice. A crackling sphere of energy became visible around the lich. Full of purple and blue fires, it had started to crack as that sick green light bathed the lich.
She thought she saw the lich wipe a tear from its eye. Its hand uplifted, reaching out for the sceptre, begging for it.
Just moments behind the lich's entrance, one of the Order’s units scythed through a battalion of orcs fortified with a variety of undead. The commander of this unit, R’Dar Verit and his battle priest disintegrated the undead in the Queen’s purifying fires while his healers defended their sides. When they turned their fury on the orcs, and with great initiative, the orcs nearest Verit fell before his holy avenger. A flame strike by the priest pushed them back and when Verit cut through to the next passage, the surviving orcs fled. They heard the sceptre’s scream and felt the Queen’s Voice urge them forward with all due haste.
Outside the fortress, Kendra and Blade both felt the Queen’s warning. When they heard the wand’s scream, it hurt their ears and Blade roared his defiance back down at the mountain. At that sound, the armies encamped around the mountain seemed to lose their focus. Held in impatient waiting for weeks against the rumors they helped spread and the tribute they had helped take from Ori, the armies raced back towards the mountain, or scattered to the wilderness. Blade noted the fortress’ entrance where a wraith commander had suddenly appeared. Kendra knew what Blade would do and so echoed her dread lord’s action. “Glass it,” she whispered and patted the dragon’s neck and began signing her favorite battle hymn in draconian.
Behind her, the Apprentice leapt off the dragon and stood mid-air. “I will monitor and ensure none escape.” Already a gate had begun to open behind him from which he would call forth any creature required to guarantee victory.
Blade, with a paladin on his back, no longer had to worry about the less hearty mage, and so at last he stepped out of the River and let go of the self-control that enabled him to exist side by side with these frail mortal things. So far above the mountain, his shadow of terror and might fell on the monsters below. Many of them collapsed to the ground shaking in fright. Those closest to any cover, ran like possessed for it. Those already escaping into the wilderness began to sprint, casting aside gear and weapons in their haste. Blade drank their fear from the River into his belly and felt it kindle and ignite. At a distance, he dove for the mountain’s entrance as fire drooled from his jaws.
Kendra cut herself from the world of the real and joined Blade on the River’s banks relishing in the ecstasy of her lord in his glory. Like a burning god, Blade’s flames rained down over the mountain like a meteor storm. In contrast to the vivid red swords of fire, the mountain looked gray and sickly with cracks of green and purple running throughout it. The fire tapped the River and part of the River turned and smashed into the mountain. The pale sick gray of chaos-drunken stone burst into the molten red and orange of the dread lord's particular aura. Within the River, the fire consumed and drowned all it touched with death. Even the mountain stone writhed and liquefied into glass that dripped down to trap the burnt bones in an eternal coffin.
Blade opened wings just before smashing into the mountainside. Molten glass splashed up from his landing and the mountain quivered as his massive claws tore at the tiniest cracks to spear and smash those still surviving. He turned his fire on the upper parts of the mountain as the River’s fury glassed it to slag. Perhaps in terror or mindless survival instinct, a few orcs turned their bows on the dragon but the missiles deflected against the updrafts heat raging around Blade. Kendra noted them and flicked her sword their way, where it snaked across incredible distance to spear them. The destruction, as befitted a dragon, was total but left just a few survivors running into the wilderness to tell the tale.
From the gates above, the Apprentice pulled in elementals from the realm of Earth, who fell to the ground and then melted into the glass. Moments later, an Order of Water paladin found the hot steam and lava-riddled passages that would speed their way to the golden seal.
Within the vault, Malcor slashed into the ogre and again the wand’s spine caught his sword. Unlike other times, Coming Undone had no effect on the sceptre; it mocked his faith. And again, Malcor felt his sword shriek as the unclean sceptre tried to bend its will away from its wielder. Again and again, he stabbed and slashed at the ogre’s lower extremities using his shield to block any accidental viewing of the wand at the ogre’s head. Each time, he saw the ogre try to move towards the lich, he slashed and battered it into the slippery treasure floor. His shield became a hammer. Only the Queen’s power held it and him together. His shield arm had broken but he hardly felt it.
The Queen’s Voice overpowered the dissonance of their combat and he obeyed. “Feint right, tumble left, jump, counterthrust, kick…” and so it continued. Though he did not know it, his heart leapt with joy when Blade’s landing rocked the mountain with an earthquake. Around them, support piers and pylons shattered as Blade raged on the mountain. Suddenly, the voice in his heart screamed a warning and Malcor fell back only to bump into something soft.
The lich’s sphere shield caught Malcor and then let him through. Malcor stumbled to his knees looking for better footing, and then the cold death of the lich brushed him. He tried to roll away but the lich, like a child trailing its fingers in water, just barely brushed Mal’s arm. From just that moment, his vitality raced away from Malcor, and then the lich broke contact.
Though he had felt undead attacks during his Rite of Pain, the lich had in that single moment taken more from him than hours of the Rite had. He looked down at his arm holding his shield and saw how his skin had turned into leather and how his bones and tendons could almost be seen. His shoulder aged and withered and then skin worms began crawling along his fingers, which turned gangrenous. Air rushed into his lungs to scream in agony but he felt asthmatic, choking for breath and not getting as much as he wished. He signaled for help, praying for Tembri to notice, for the Queen for anyone to respond and help.
Tembri saw Malcor wither against the lich and fall back but the lich’s sphere still held Malcor even as the lich reached out to take the sceptre. The ogre seeing it pulled the sceptre back but the sceptre had other ideas. The ogre’s flesh collapsed when the wand declared, “Anorex.” Dying in that instant, the ogre fell through death into unlife and knelt to present the Jade God's sceptre to the lich. The ram smiled wide as the vertebrae snaked along the lich’s arm and interlocked into and along the lich’s back to place the ram’s head like a helmet over the lich’s head. Though Tembri’s flame strike consumed everything around it, it did not penetrate the lich’s sphere.
In desperation, Tembri enacted an atonement for a desperate battle priest spell, and sent his own vitality to Malcor. For just a moment, their arms superimposed on each other and then averaged out their relative health. Tembri grunted in shock and pain at the level of sickness the withering had inflicted. Though muscle and connective tissue mended, the bones did not. With the spell still struggling against the continued decay of Malcor’s fingers, Tembri slammed his arm against a treasure chest, and pulled so the bones would correctly align, and prayed Malcor would remain conscious.
R’Dar Verit charged into the chamber just in time to see the dreaded wand interlink with the lich’s spine. “No!” he screamed signaling for power. His battle priest’s flame strike, strengthening, healing, and blessing rose up around him as his jump carried him to the lich. At the last second, he saw the sphere of power surrounding the lich. Like Malcor, the sphere let him through and though he landed on the lich’s back, the lich did not move. The sphere shifted colors then to expel both Verit and Malcor. An invisible force kicked them flying through the air to smash into the walls surrounding the vault. Verit landed nimbly, while Malcor hit with a damning crack of bone too far away for Tembri, Sako, or anyone to help. He landed broken and limp bleeding on priceless piles of treasure.
Still connected, Tembri sent what he had left to Malcor and prayed for the strength to retain consciousness and free will. When Malcor breathed, Tembri ended the spell and felt deep abiding pain in his hip, spinal sections, jaw, and several ribs. If Malcor died now, they would not be abl
e to revive him. Tembri began re-enacting the atonement but the Queen cautioned him, “Have faith precious Tembri. Trust the son of Kell.”
Verit signaled the need for reinforcements and a mage even as tunnels opened into the vault around them. The paladins of the Order of Water stood in each looking down at the possessed lich. Verit ignited his holy sword and began voicing a prayer of faith to the Queen, one that would protect him from all manner of magic. His sword burning in Takhissis’ multicolored flames, the knight walked towards the lich with only his faith to protect him. The other paladins did the same and began advancing on the lich.
Malcor looked up and saw Verit, exactly as he imagined a knight should be when confronted with a mighty foe. His shield arm broken. His hip, multiple ribs, lower back maybe, he could not quite tell through the pain, all had shattered. Though miraculously, Tembri had done something that preserved his life. Any movement felt like agony and he knew, “I should be where Verit is.” Again, that fading dream and hope began to crash in on him and his teardrop scar ached and itched. “I must be with Verit…” and Malcor reached his right arm out and pulled his body forward. Black pain threatened him with unconsciousness and his vision swam. “I must…”
He saw Tembri running towards him, but looked very far away. Sako also appeared to be scrambling to his aid. She also appeared far away. His teardrop ached and he watched helpless and crawling as Verit smashed into the lich’s shield with blue lightning crackling along his sword only to be thrown back against a wall hundreds of feet behind him. The lich laughed and its richly evil cackling filled the huge room. The ram’s skull split apart into many to keep its eyes on Verit’s comrades and those watching from the tunnels high above.
With a familiarity born by the Jade God, the lich stretched out a pointed finger and said, “Morbatten, how I spite thee! I will take your lands and your peoples and your Queen as my pet whore. Despair and die!” Underneath the vast floor of treasure, the lich had interred thousands of long dead soldiers from the Ori fighting and endless tribal struggles. The mountain had also held several orc tribes that had buried their strongest in this room. Necromantic power called them to life even as the lich cancelled the scrying block so the sceptre could open a gate for his hellhound brothers to come through. “No dragons here to help you,” the ram’s head jeered at them.
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