by Sean Davies
The spider stopped at the circular road surrounding the tower, refusing to go any further with a sad steam hiss from its many brassy joints. Winston wasn’t surprised by this; Olex, the Spidercar that had carried him to the real tower for his quest to obtain the golden quill (to earn himself the prestigious position of Primary Book Wielder within the Shadow Circle gang), had also feared progressing too far into the Demon’s territory. Winston patted the creature’s metal abdomen, slid himself onto the crumbling road, and moved around to lend Veronica a hand.
“Thank you, kind gentleman,” Veronica nodded, accepting his hand in a posh accent.
“You’re welcome, my dear lady,” Winston said with a little bow, trying to ignore the aura of malice radiating from the dark tower.
“And thank you… spider-bot,” Veronica said, unsure of what to call the beast of a machine.
The spider chirped, both grateful and relieved, before scuttling away as quickly as its eight mechanical legs would take it.
The busty Vampire took a deep breath and held Winston’s hand. “Right, time to get you back in the driver’s seat.”
“Wait, I’m trying to summon a DVO missile…” Winston scrunched his face up in concentration, only half-joking. “Nope, shit, looks like we’ve got to do this the hard way.”
“Yeah, I just tried manifesting a fleet of airships. At least we’ve got some weapons, though,” Veronica said, waving her sword.
Winston pulled out his pistol, checked the clip, and took his wife’s hand again. “Yep, better than nothing. Though if we have to face another giant robot, we’re well and truly fucked.”
“Something tells me if Omniosis could’ve done that, we’d already be squished and back in the void by now,” Veronica reassured him, trying not to look at the unsettling spire ahead. “I reckon the Mayor kicked him right in his groin-mask.”
Winston smiled, but didn’t reply. Instead, he combed his gaze across the plaza and surrounding buildings as they crossed the wide road, ready to act at a moment’s notice. They reached the wide steps that led to the tower without trouble, however, and slowly made their way up to the main path.
Their paint-splattered jeans and hoodies morphed into smart attire simultaneously. Winston received a crisp black pinstriped suit, with the Shadow Circle’s emblem stitched onto his suit jacket’s front pocket in thin gold thread, and Veronica received a silky red dress that clung to her round bust and backside, slit all the way up to her thigh.
“Did you do that?” Veronica asked, furrowing her brows as she looked down at herself in confusion; although the flattering dress was definitely to her taste.
“Nope,” Winston replied, equally baffled. He patted his jacket and sighed with relief when he felt the outline of his minimised book inside. “He changed our clothes but left us with our weapons.”
“I cannot wait for this to be over,” Veronica groaned, losing patience with the Archmage’s bizarre mental playground.
The Book Wielder stopped in his tracks without warning and rubbed the side of his head. “This is where I first met Lewis…”
“Oh, sweetie,” Veronica sighed softly as she gave him a cuddle. “I know it’s difficult, but don’t let what you see in this place get to you. The Archmage has deliberately set it all up to throw us off. But we’re so close now, and I bet he’s shaking in his armour. If we stay on track then we can kill him outright—and start making up for lost time,” she added in a seductive purr.
“You two really need to get a room,” Lewis Thorne, Winston’s deceased best friend, said with a cheeky grin as he stepped out from behind one of the awful statues.
Chapter 11
Revelations – Part One
Constance and Genevieve sat together in the back of a taxi as it took them into the town of Woodsholme, in eastern Rura. It was the early afternoon but they both felt knackered from the night before, although the news of Daedrian Darkheart’s defeat playing on the radio lifted their groggy spirits significantly.
The impromptu party at the Stitches and Britches Bawdy House had only grown wilder as the day progressed, fanned on by Ricardo Stern’s seemingly limitless supply of cash, and the Needle Maiden Spensa's desire to keep Stitches around for as long as possible. Despite Sergeant Matthias Winters’ protests, Spensa had ‘pulled some strings' and arranged for a series of live entertainment acts for the evening, giving the already intoxicated group another excuse to keep the good times rolling.
What the Needle Maiden hadn't told them was that her live entertainment consisted of some of the biggest names in the mixed-species music industry, all of whom owed her a favour or two from somewhere down the line. Connie and Genie went crazy when the Alt singer Iggsta Baxta and the rest of her band Gloom Honey strolled into the brothel, followed by the Alternatives and humans belonging to both The Queens of the Dark Age and Lacuna Toil, and then finally the demonic-looking Marionette Mason; an up-and-coming industrial rock and metal sensation, and a proudly altered human.
The girls had partied into the early hours of the morning, singing along to the music, head-banging, dancing, and grabbing autographs, while knocking back the drinks and drugs, before retreating up to a private room on the top floor of the establishment for a night of unabated passion.
Sergeant Winters—who was especially moody after a night of guarding Ricardo Stern’s room as the adventurer satisfied his Needle Maiden lover Emileelee loudly—had woken Constance and Genie a few hours after they'd dozed off, by banging rudely on their door.
Constance had embraced Genevieve's cold body lovingly, ignoring the Sergeant’s angry yelling for as long as possible and savouring the moment for as long as she could.
Genevieve had kissed Connie passionately as she clutched her large firm backside, before reluctantly rolling herself out of their heart-shaped bed, cracking a joke about how the Book Wielder had ruined the sheets during their night of pleasure.
After Constance had walloped the Vampire on the arm, both girls had quickly gotten dressed to shut the angry Justiciar up, and headed downstairs, where they’d found that they hadn't been the only ones who had overindulged themselves during the revelries.
Stitches had spent the night with Spensa, and although he was sheepish about the experience, he had shown Constance and Genevieve an embroidery tattoo on his shoulder—a red heart with ‘Stitches & Spensa 4eva' written inside—which had sent the two young women into a bout of wild giggles.
The Tropican troopers, Olishia and Joran, had looked terribly dishevelled and had been acting incredibly awkward around the Justiciars, Hector and Licinia. Genevieve had whispered that she’d seen the four troopers pairing off on the dancefloor, and chuckled as she'd suggested that the ‘teambuilding' between the TMF and Justiciars had probably worked a little too well in their case.
Az, Kyle, and Kieran of the Swords of Fortune appeared completely unfazed by the night's partying, and had been drinking pints of beer with their fried full-Imperian breakfasts; however, the gruff Werewolf, Till Vanderborg, had remained face-down on a table until it had been time to leave.
Quoronastra had also escaped the night without any ill effects, even though he'd been knocking back sherry like it was water. The Dragon had claimed that his kind didn't suffer from hangovers while he’d toasted a lump of meat from the kitchen with his purple flame breath, only to consume it in a dignified fashion with a knife and fork.
Ricardo had been the last down the stairs, escorted by the tired-eyed Sergeant Winters, and they had left shortly after the adventurer had pulled himself away from the beautiful yet terrifying Emileelee. The Needle Maiden had requested that Ricardo’s corpse be brought back to her for ‘special treatment’ in the event of his demise, a gesture the adventurer had found incredibly sweet.
They had said their goodbyes, and the smitten Stitches had said his romantic farewells to Spensa in person, before the main group left directly for Gaelliard City in south-east Rura while Constance and Genevieve hailed a cab for Woodsholme.
Althou
gh the night had taken a drastic turn from a simple bonding exercise to an all-out party, the group had still managed to learn more about each other, making it somewhat of a success (even if the stringent Matthias Winters didn’t agree).
The brothers, Kyle the Ranger and Kieran the Warrior—who were equipped with deadly Archmage weapons and armour—used excessive amounts of Alchemical potions before battle to give them the strength, speed, and endurance of a Supernatural.
Their father, the proud and honourable leader of the Swords of Fortune—who was also equipped with priceless magically-infused armour and weaponry—had a more unusual specialisation, and a remarkable anecdote to go along with it. Az had discovered a pre-merger Archmage ruin underground on one of Ricardo’s early exploration runs, and although the ruin had been little more than an unturned dwelling with no rare finds, Az had discovered multiple scrolls and books belonging to a witch hunter from the original Inquisition in the times of the Shadow Wars. According to the scrolls, the witch hunter had survived the destruction of his fellow kind at the hands of the Trinity of Old, only to become an isolated hermit fearing for every day of his life, until he’d finally cracked and disintegrated himself with a vial of Sanctium. The scrolls had described the witch hunter’s great disillusionment after discovering that he was, for all intents and purposes, just a Mage with anti-Supernatural abilities, as were many of his comrades in the original Inquisition—some had even unknowingly been Book Wielders, the same Supernaturals they had sworn to wipe out of existence. The books described their rare spells and abilities in great detail, specifying exactly how they were able to do things such as create sunlight, tamper with a Mage’s spells, enrage Werewolves to the point where they were only a danger to themselves, and use arcane energy to heal and bolster one’s physical form to aid in close combat. Az had become enthralled by the idea of being a magic-wielding knight, and soon sought out a Mage to turn him. After the painful transformation from a human to a Supernatural, the leader of the Swords of Fortune had trained himself using the old witch hunters’ writings, becoming what Az himself referred to as a ‘Paladin’.
The brash Werewolf, Till Vanderborg, hadn’t spoken much other than the occasional offensive comment and curse word, but they had discovered from Ricardo Stern that he was actually a deadly fighter, combining a rare and difficult mix of Brutebeast might and Shaman elemental magic to devastate his foes in melee combat (as well as being a loot-hungry booze-hound, of course).
The two troopers from the Tropican Military Forces had revealed that they’d volunteered for the deadly quest to impress Queen Azalea, and hoped to earn themselves a place on her elite Royal Guard in the process, while the trigger-happy Justiciars, Hector Webb and Licinia Florens, had just signed up to see some serious action and test their mettle.
Ricardo had revealed little about himself, other than his love for sex, money, glory, and keeping himself in one piece. He’d deflected most serious questions by flirting in such an overly charming and ridiculous fashion that even the out-and-out lesbian Genevieve was giggling bashfully at his deliberately lame chat-up lines, especially when he’d praised her business sense and writing skills; he had even gone so far as to offer her the job of writing his next book.
The Dragon Quoronastra had also avoided mingling, but eventually succumbed to the questioning of his travelling companions, if only to get them to leave him alone. Quoronastra had made his reasons for diving head first into what he referred to as the ‘access shaft’ perfectly clear; he wanted to deny Ricardo sole ownership of the greatest discovery in recent history, and to prevent the roguish adventurer and his ‘goon squad’ from hoarding the artefacts and relics all for themselves.
Sergeant Matthias Winters had simply told the group that he was doing his duty for Mydia, the Justiciars, and Lord Imperator Alice Eve. He had discussed the hazards, traps, and automated defence systems of Archmage buildings with Az in gruelling detail, whilst keeping his serious brown eyes on the crafty Ricardo at all times.
Half way through their journey, surrounded by eastern Rura’s rich countryside, Constance was resting her head on Genevieve’s shoulder while the Vampire Nightclaw combed Connie’s dark wavy hair with her fingers, when the taxi driver slammed on his brakes.
“Bloody hell!” the driver cursed as the ground rumbled, and a pack of horned direwolves leapt across the country lane and stampeded through the neighbouring cornfield. “What's got them so rattled?”
Genevieve watched the large wolves running away, as Constance looked in the direction they'd come from. There was a pocket of tightly-packed trees at the heart of another corn field, and Connie caught the glimmer of metal amongst the dark green leaves.
“There's something in there,” the Book Wielder said, nudging Genie and pointing it what she'd seen.
“Yeah, you're right,” Genevieve agreed, using her enhanced Vampire vision to get a better look. “It's some sort of spire, I think. Want to investigate?”
“Do we have time? I mean, Sergeant Serious is pissed enough as it is,” Connie fretted, feeling guilty for leaving the others to fulfil her mission.
“I reckon so,” Genie said, wanting to sate her curiosity. “It's going to take them a while to get to Gaelliard, and then the Swords of Fortune are going to have to snoop around for their old mates, so we should have plenty of time. We're just missing out the boring bits.”
Connie smirked and leant forward to speak to the driver. “We're going for a wander—will you wait for us?”
“Aye, but I'm leaving the meter running,” the driver informed them with a greedy grin.
“What? You won't even be moving!” Constance snapped angrily.
“Well, I could just drive off and leave you here,” the driver scowled.
“It’s fine. I've got the cash,” Genevieve said, patting him on the shoulder. “Come on, Connie Lee.”
“Okay,” the Book Wielder conceded moodily. “I still think it takes the piss…”
“Annabelle always used to snog taxi drivers for a discount,” Genie chuckled when they'd closed the passenger doors. “Maybe you two should kiss and make up, and save me a few Credits.”
Constance pouted. “Driving me into the hairy arms of a cab driver… are you that bored of me already?”
Genie laughed, slapping the Book Wielder’s backside playfully. “I haven't even started with you yet.”
Connie bit her lip excitedly, quickly letting go of her temper, and leaned in for a kiss.
Genevieve opened the trunk of the taxi, dug out a Sunshield potion from a metal briefcase of Alchemy supplies (one of several that Veronica had given them for their mission) to top up her protection from the uncomfortable sunlight, slung on a back strap and Katana, and passed Constance her handbag and a pistol.
Constance took her bag, but refused the gun. “No thanks, I've got my book,” she said, patting her bag where it was secured.
“You can do magic and fire a pistol,” the Vampire insisted, still holding it out to Connie. “Who knows what we'll run into in there.”
“Ugh, fine. But please don't laugh if my aim's shit,” she groaned, putting the pistol away in her handbag.
“Would I?” Genie asked innocently.
“Yes, you bloody well would,” Connie scowled, elbowing her playfully as they found a gap in the field's prickly hedge.
It was a gloriously sunny day in eastern Rura, not too hot and with a cool pleasant breeze, and there were only a few fluffy white clouds in the blue and purple sky, so the young women took their time as they crossed the field. They walked hand in hand along a flat patch of corn that had been squashed by thick tractor tires, and then pushed their way through to the few remaining stalks that had survived the dire wolves’ trampling paws towards the woodland.
“It's so beautiful here,” Constance reflected as they walked amongst the trees.
Magical flowers and mushrooms glowed between the mundane plants and foliage, lighting the undergrowth in wonderful hues of vibrant colours, while butterflies
and sparkling fairies fluttered around the cool air.
“It is something else, isn’t it?” Genevieve replied peacefully. “I would've thought this was nothing compared to the Tropican Archipelago, though.”
“It's got some amazing scenery, but it doesn't diminish this incredible place in the slightest,” Connie said, captivated by the enchanting forest. “Have you ever been?”
“Just the once, when me and Anna went travelling around Mydia on our gap year.” Genevieve fiddled with her necklace as she remembered the simpler times of being an unsuspecting human (with a not-so-simple relationship). “I really enjoyed it. I'd love to visit again,” she added, letting go of the heart-shaped locket.
“Well, you’re welcome to stay at mine—well, my parent's place, if that's not awkward... and if I survive this mission,” Connie blustered inelegantly, cursing herself because it had all sounded so smooth in her head.
Genevieve smiled at the flustered Book Wielder. “Sure, that would be cool. And nothing's going to happen to you in that damn pillar—I'll make sure of it.”
Constance grinned back, but couldn't shake the foreboding sensation that she was heading towards her end.
“Do you think your parents will like me? Would they approve of... us?” Genie asked.
“Yeah, of course, they'll think you're awesome—‘cause you are,” Constance told her cheerily, before wondering nervously if Genie’s parents would be as accepting of her. “What about yours?”