The Halls of the Fallen King

by Tiger Hebert

  Theros’ mind raced. He looked back to the axe. It wasn’t going to do him any good. He was frantic in his search of the cavern. Then his eyes fell on a large rock near the shoreline. He sprinted forward and grabbed it. He pulled his arm back and hurled it. His aim was true. The tumbling rock struck her.

  “Reeek!” wailed Krithaliel. Her body jerked as it responded to the pain and her tentacles slapped about in rage.

  Theros whipped another stone at her, but it sailed high. He scrambled to find another stone. He popped back up and prepared to launch it, and then he froze as the images of Ogron flooded his mind. He watched as the blade pierced his brother’s body. He watched in horror as bright red blood spilled from him.

  Words were spoken somewhere, but he didn’t hear them. Instead he just watched as his brother cried out in pain as his lifeblood painted the earth. More words were spoken—screamed.

  “Run! Run, stupid!” screamed Nal’drin.

  Theros snapped back to reality as Krithaliel closed in on him. Her tentacles threw water carelessly as she stretched out for him. Clang... clang... clang sounded out in the cavern. Nal’drin fired three shots. The first plummeted harmless into the dark waters, but the second and third were close enough to draw her attention.

  It wasn’t much, but it gave Theros the extra second he needed to clear his mind and flee from her grasp. As he stumbled away, Nal’drin fired one last shot before retreating. The arrow struck the mark.

  “You cannot stop me,” wailed the demoness.

  She seemed unaffected by Nal’drin’s shot, but Sharka was right on cue. Her dagger sailed through the air. The blade met its mark, but failed to slow the creature’s advance. Krithaliel rose up onto the shore. Her entire strangely human body was finally in full view. She pulled herself toward them on thick tentacled legs.

  Theros and Nal’drin retreated. Sharka was next. She threw her last dagger at the creature. It was time to run. She turned to sprint away, but an avalanche of whispers cascaded around her. Whispers of her father’s abuse and betrayal, whispers of inadequacy, and whispers of rejection assaulted her. The words were daggers slicing through her. Her ravaged emotions surged and swelled into her throat. An overwhelming sense of panic set in. Sharka began to cough and gasp as she fought for air. Krithaliel crawled closer.

  “To hell with this,” said Kiriana as she cranked her repeater up to four and pulled the trigger.

  The repeater clanged in response, and violently spat four quarrels at the black creature. The steel barrage darted through the air and pierced her one after another. She wailed again, her high-pitched shriek reverberating through the stone chamber. Still, she crept forward.

  Kiriana pulled the trigger once again and another salvo of bolts flew at the mark. The quarrels dug deep into her slick dark flesh, but she closed in on Sharka. Her tentacles rolled and snapped as they reached for the orc woman. Dark green coils stretched out for Sharka’s throat.

  The words, “burn Krithaliel,” were screamed.

  Woosh!

  A great flash of orange and yellow light lit up the cavern. Krithaliel howled in pain as a ball of flames slammed into her body. She snapped her disfigured face around only to find the ghost king conjuring flames between his hands. She screamed in rage and surged toward him. The king’s mouth formed unheard words as he released the magic upon her again. The conflagration hammered her. The flames swirled about her as they devoured the air. The demoness abandoned her quarry and instead fled toward the waters, but it was too late.

  She let out one final cry, “Reeek!”

  Theros watched as the dwarven king mouthed more words and began to laugh hysterically as the ball of flame leapt from his hands. The flame-lit reflection in Duroc’s ghostly eyes showed the surge of fire overwhelm Krithaliel. The Qarii-fueled inferno consumed her with haste, devouring her wet body. Within seconds, little beyond a still burning heap of ash and the king’s wicked laughter remained.

  Theros and his companions watched the disturbing scene play out. There was no doubt that Duroc had just saved Sharka’s life, but the joy that he seemed to get from the guardian’s death was disturbing. Concern, even fear, started to rise in the orc’s mind.

  The blaze died down and the king’s maniacal laughter with it as the ashes reduced to a smoldering heap. Duroc looked up and found the orc’s gaze locked upon him. Duroc did not hide his satisfaction.

  Theros’ unnerved mind raced. That thing just tried to kill all of us without provocation, but he’s sitting here reveling in her destruction. That’s not normal.

  Duroc sensed his unease and said, “Plox that Krithaliel! After three-hundred years of her twisting your dreams, you’d burn her alive too!” He punctuated it by spitting on her remains.

  Krithaliel, Krithaliel. The name was repeated in Kiriana’s mind. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Because she was one of the titans,” answered Sharka in a reverent tone.

  “Ahh, very good Sharky,” said Duroc with an approving nod.

  “You mean, we just fought a titan?” asked Nal’drin.

  “Yes, and you did well,” said the ghost king.

  “You knowingly put us up against a titan?” asked Kiriana.

  “She wasn’t technically a titan anymore. Like the dragons, many of the titans were altered during the shattering. Krithaliel had perhaps the most tragic tale of them all. She was once the beautiful maiden of dreams, but the shattering left her maimed and crippled. She grew mad in the pursuit of a remedy for her affliction. After my imprisonment she recovered one of the gems, but she was already too far gone,” answered Duroc.

  “How could you send us up against her?” demanded Sharka.

  “It had to be done,” said Duroc.

  “She almost killed us!” said Kiriana as her anger was kindled.

  “And I killed her before she could touch any of you,” said the king with a smug smile. “Listen, you guys already knew you were the bait from the beginning of the plan; it’s how Hammerfist drew it up. It was the only way to end her reign of terror and recover the stone.”

  “But you could have at least let us know what we were up against,” said the red-faced Nal’drin.

  The tone in Duroc’s voice only grew more arrogant. “Why, so you could have pissed yourselves at the thought of facing a titan? You think that was a better plan? I don’t think so. Do I take risks, yes—calculated ones.”

  Theros gestured a calming hand to both parties and said, “We don’t have to like it, but he is right on this one. Krithaliel was already manipulating us with our fears and our pasts, giving her more ammunition would have been disastrous.”

  Then Theros turned to look the king squarely in his ghostly face and his voice turned savage. “Don’t risk the lives of my friends ever again!”

  Duroc heard the murder in his voice; it was unmistakable. Somehow chills managed to run down his ethereal spine. Duroc loved to push the limits, to cross the lines, and over-step the boundaries, but for once he thought better of it.

  Something caught Nal’drin’s attention. Excitement filled his voice. “Look, look!” His outstretched arm pointed to the disintegrating pile of ash.

  There in the midst of the fallen titan’s smoldering remains sat an enormous sapphire. The solitary stone, about the size of a woman’s fist, glowed with a subtle blue brilliance. They had recovered the fourth Elder Stone.

  Nal’drin grabbed his sword and used the long blade to pull the stone free from the ash. The stone clacked and clattered as it tumbled across the cavern’s uneven terrain. The young king squatted down and stretched his fingers out to see if heat radiated out from the gem. To his surprise the gem was still cool. Nal’drin picked up the gem and brushed away the ash and soot, revealing the stone’s splendor.

  “Well done. This is no small victory. Now we must hurry back so we can tend to your friend,” said Duroc as he turned to depart the cavern.

  Nal’drin just shrugged and stuffed the gem into his satchel. No one said anything,
instead they simply waited for Theros to do as the king had suggested.

  “Very well.” Theros retrieved the massive axe, and made his way toward the exit.

  Kiriana halted in her tracks and threw a hand up in the air. “Wait, what’s that?”

  “What?” asked Theros.

  “Shhh.” She listened.

  The distant sounds of clattering and scraping became evident.

  “What is that?”

  Duroc cursed.

  “What?” demanded Kiriana.

  “Mahlzur!”

  Nal’drin asked, “Smokey, you got any fire left for these things?”

  The nervous look on the king’s ghostly face said it all.

  Theros grabbed Vrasch en Drak with two hands and stepped up into the tunnel, the pale blue light of his pendant illuminating their end of the passage.

  “Nal’drin, nothing gets past us.”

  The young king nodded. The tip of his two-handed sword rested on the ground, his fingers squeezing the leather grip. Kiriana loaded two new cartridges, and Sharka drew her blades. The once distant sounds grew close. The ragged forms of the undead rat-men emerged from the tunnel’s darkness. The creatures charged.

  Kiriana aimed. The trigger clicked, the mechanism whirred as it spun, and the quarrels were launched. The bolts tore through the first creature’s dirty rags. The mahlzur made no noise as it stumbled, then crashed to the ground, and was trampled underfoot. It didn’t slow the others down at all. Kiriana cursed.

  “Now would be a good time to do that white fire thing, big guy,” said Nal’drin.

  “I don’t know how,” growled Theros before releasing a war cry.

  Theros surged forward and swung the giant axe in a sweeping arc. The speeding weapon ripped through the rib cages of the first two mahlzur, but the next wave rammed into him. Even with his great mass, their momentum knocked him into the tunnel wall.

  Nal’drin met their charge with a wild swing. His blade loped the sword arm off the first assailant and shattered the jaw of the second creature. The amputated creature tried to grab its severed arm and fell over in front of the one to its right. The mahlzur with the shattered jaw tripped over it and flew forward into Nal’drin. The creature crashed into his shoulder. His sword was knocked free from his grasp, and he was driven backward. He tried to keep his feet, but he stumbled and he fell. The mahlzur on top of him began a furious assault with its crude wooden club.

  Nal’drin managed to lift his left arm in time to shield his face from the first blow.

  “Ahh!” he cried out as the assault began.

  Sharka lunged forward and smashed the creature’s already broken face with a vicious right cross. Crack! The sickening sound was accompanied by the creature’s head jerking around unnaturally to the side. The second punch knocked the head backward, and the creature fell away. Nal’drin struggled to get to his feet, and Theros was in danger as two spear wielding mahlzur rushed at him.

  She didn’t have time to pull her blades. Sharka darted forward. Bringing her left arm up, she caught the nearest enemy’s spear, then with a quick palm strike of her right hand, she snapped it in half. She allowed the momentum to take her. She spun to her right and drove the end of the spear through the second creature’s throat.

  With Nal’drin down, and Sharka and Theros out of the way, the path was clear for Kiriana. She fired. Steel bolts peppered the handful of remaining mahlzur. One went down, but two remained. Kiriana pulled the triggers.

  Click! Nothing happened. Kiriana cursed. “I’m out!”

  She dropped her crossbows, and picked up a buckler from one of the fallen enemies. With the round shield in front of her, she sprinted forward. She slammed shield first into the rat-men in the middle of the tunnel. The impact caught it in the chest and sent the creature flying over. Its feet left the ground as it flipped backward. The mahlzur crashed hard onto the stone floor. Kiriana made sure the task was finished and brought the shield down on the creature’s skull.

  Only one creature remained. It charged ahead with reckless abandon and a pickaxe. Sharka dropped low and swept the legs out from underneath the last rat-men, and finished by burying a freshly drawn dagger into the creature’s abdomen. It writhed and lashed out with the pick, but Sharka rolled out of the way and drove her second dagger through the creature’s chest. Then she collapsed back onto the floor.

  Nal’drin looked up from the floor with an approving grin. “You... are two badass ladies!”

  Theros said, “And I’m glad you’re both on our side. Duroc, are they finished or do we need to burn them?”

  “Let’s get moving; I’ll clean this up,” said Duroc with a nod.

  The team took several steps up the tunnel, away from the mahlzur remains.

  Duroc muttered something under his breath, as the furthest corpses began to stir. Duroc flicked his wrist toward the corpse, and it caught fire. Duroc lifted his arms and twisted his head in apprehension, as if he were bracing himself for something.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Kiriana.

  The ghost king’s eyes grew wide. “We’ve run out of time, they’re coming!”

  “Who?” asked Kiriana, though her answer had just come.

  The wailing groan of the goraung echoed in the deep. Two and three times it called out, eliciting fear in any that heard it.

  “Goblins,” said Sharka with alarm.

  “Hurry to the sanctum,” said Theros in a commanding voice, as he led his companions up the tunnel.

  They dashed up the stone passage until they were back in the central chamber. Kiriana led them back into the king’s sanctum, where Dominar still lay unconscious. Each successive blast of the goblin’s horn announced that they were getting closer.

  Theros’ steely blue eyes bored into the ghost mage. “You got anything left?”

  “Two, maybe three blasts if I can control the intensity,” replied Duroc. “I... I just don’t have the capacity in this state, but I’ll give you what I’ve got.”

  “Any idea how many?”

  “Lots,” answered Duroc.

  “If you can take out the first two waves, we will take care of the rest,” said Theros as he studied the craftsmanship of his battle axe.

  “Just free me, and I’ll take care of all of it,” said Duroc, but there was no time.

  The goraung reverberated through the stone complex as the first goblin swarm neared the outer room. Their hardened bare feet could be heard slapping against the unforgiving stone as they clambered down the hall. The shrill cry of blood-thirsty goblins rose with an unsavory timbre that made most cringe. It filled Theros with fury.

  The orc prepared his hands for battle, and gave the orders, “Duroc starts this fight; we finish it!”

  Kiriana realized that it was time. She set aside her repeaters and drew her short swords from their scabbards. She twirled each blade and ended with a simple thrust. It was good to feel the weight of the blades in her hands again. She was ready.

  The roar of the charging goblins was deafening as they spilled out into the outer room. Their feral howls thundered in that place, but it was nothing compared to what was to come. There in the entrance way between the rooms stood Duroc’s apparition. The ghost king smiled as he twirled orbs of pure flame in each hand.

  The goblins that lead the charge faltered at the sight of him. The first two waves tried to stop. Nearly a dozen of them tripped and fell, and as they crashed to the ground, they were trampled by those that were on their heels. The screaming was about to really begin.

  Duroc smiled as the gangly, yet fat bodies of the goblins piled up before him. “Theros, I don’t know about you, but I prefer my goblins well done.”

  He waited for no response; the overjoyed king snapped his hand forward in a violent gesture. The first ball of flame leapt out of his hand and slammed into the faces of the reeling foes. Hungry orange flame engulfed a handful of goblins. The few that survived the initial impact scattered, their bodies aflame. The goraung sounded once more and a
nother wave of goblins surged through the chaos of their burning kin, only to be met with another blast of furious fire. The second blazing orb slammed into a handful of fresh faces. The searing heat of the blast began to devour its prey. Nearly a dozen shrieking, burning goblins scrambled wildly as they tried to flee the flames’ grasp.

  When Duroc realized he had expended all of his Qarii, he turned with an emphatic bow. “The stage is yours.”

  With his axe in hand Theros charged through the doorway, passing right through the king’s immaterial body.

  “How rude!” barked the scowling king.

  No one paid any mind to him. There was a battle to fight, and they were not about to let Theros go it alone. The orc hacked his way through the small outer room, chopping down burning bodies without a second thought. Kiriana, Nal’drin, and Sharka were right on his heels. They made quick work clearing the room, only to realize that the remaining goblin force had issued the retreat. No less than twenty goblins raced back up the passage that they had come down.

  Theros was dogged in his pursuit, sprinting after his sworn enemies, but the goblins fled with surprising speed. He never could understand just how those stick-legged, pot-bellied pigs could run so damn fast. He cursed them in the old orc tongue, and he chased. As the distance between Theros and Duroc increased, Duroc’s magical binding drew taught, snapping the king’s ghostly form after the sprinting orc.

  “Gaaaaaaaaah! Stop, damn it!” screamed the king as his spirit was drug by his spirit leash. “Stop, you lumbering fool!”

  Theros did finally abandon his pursuit, but it wasn’t for Duroc’s sake. He was simply losing ground. The retreating enemies had escaped—for now. Sharka was the first to catch up with Theros, then Kiriana followed by Nal’drin, and eventually a furious dwarf king.

  “What were you thinking?” demanded the exasperated king.

  Theros ignored him, but Kiriana said, “What? It’s not like it hurt you.”

  “No, but it makes me dizzy as hell!”

  Kiriana then turned to Theros and asked, “What now?”

  Theros turned back to his companions and he said, “Two of us need to get back to Dom, and two should do some scouting.”