by James Hunter
“She’s right,” Cutter added, massaging his blood-smeared leg with one hand. “I’ve never felt like such a useless sod in all my life, Jack. I’ve fought some tough monsters in my days, but nothing like that. Never. Even that dragon priestess didn’t compare—she was a candle next to the bloody sun. I hate to say it, but this might be one fight we can’t win. Maybe we should start thinking about other ways to beat Osmark.”
Everyone was quiet for a spell, thinking about our options—most of them bad.
We’d gone up against seemingly impossible odds before, but each time we’d overcome. For the first time, we’d lost. Really lost. I lay back down, intertwining my hands behind my head, brooding. There had to be a way. Had to be. Even if a quest was infernally difficult, no quest was impossible. There was a solution, if only I was smart enough to find it.. Something Amara had said trickled up into my brain. No creature is indestructible. She is formidable in body, true, but not more formidable than the mind.
That’s when it hit me like a cinder block to the forehead.
Innovation was the solution. Innovation was always the solution. I’d grown a lot as a Shadowmancer over the past couple weeks—so much so, I was primarily relying on my powers and physical abilities to win my battles these days. And that was my problem. Admittedly, I’d used some clever tactics against Arzokh, but in the end, I’d gone at her head-on like an idiot, working to take her out using brute strength. And that would never work. Every “impossible” task I’d accomplished so far was not by force, but by careful planning and a fistful of good old-fashioned cunning.
I’d never stood a chance against the Moss Hag, so I’d lured her into the heart of Hellwood Hollow and let the Spider Queen and her minions do the heavy lifting for me. And I’d used the same strategy against Carrera and Rowanheath—not attacking the gates like a traditional army, but finding a way to bypass their strengths and hit where they were weakest. Even against the Dragon Priestess Elanor, I’d used an improvised alchemic grenade in a highly unorthodox way to win the fight.
If I had any hope of taking the Sky Maiden down, I needed to work smarter, not harder—a truism my dad had lived by.
I thought back to the battle in the Twilight Lands, replaying it in my head, examining it and reexamining it from different angles. Getting her to the ground wasn’t good enough, not even close. What I needed was a way to catch her. To catch her and hold her long enough for me to pry that amulet from her throat. “What we need is a trap …” I mumbled, reaching up and rubbing at one temple. But what kind of trap could possibly hold something as large and powerful as Arzokh? And assuming we could get such a trap, how would we deploy it?
My mind reeled this way and that, searching frantically for an answer.
I let my eyes go out of focus, staring at the diamond-studded ceiling above. “Vlad,” I finally said, sitting up as the inkling of an idea drifted into my head. “That rope you showed me back in your lab. You said it was stronger than steel, right? Do you think it would be strong enough to hold a creature like Arzokh?”
The Russian was silent—contemplative—scratching distractedly at his chin, as though he were running the numbers in his head. Knowing Vlad, he probably was running the numbers. “Perhaps,” he said after a time. “But the amount of rope we would need … A thousand yards of it at least, and it’s not easy to make. The ingredients are quite rare.”
I grinned, recalling the conversation. “Yeah. You said it required spider silk and powdered diamond, right? Those are the two main ingredients?”
“Da.” He nodded, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
I pointed at the cavern ceiling, studded with stars that weren’t stars at all. An almost endless supply of swamp diamond. “Do you think that would be enough?”
He gulped, wide-eyed, and nodded. “Yes, yes. We’ll need to find a way to mine it,” he mumbled, staring at the ceiling, the gears whizzing away in his head, “but that should do it.” He faltered, canted his head, and frowned. “Still, even with access to the resources, it could take most of a day to construct. How long before the mission expires and you die?”
I pulled up my interface and scrolled over to my active effects screen:
<<<>>>
Current Debuffs
Death-Head Mode: You’ve temporarily activated Death-Head Mode! Time until the Gut Check debuff takes effect: 10 hours 9 minutes 16 seconds.
<<<>>>
“I have ten hours until the next debuff hits, which means thirty-four hours until the mission expires and I kick the bucket.”
Vlad nodded his head, bottom lip protruding, one index finger tap-tap-tapping against his knee. “Okay,” he finally said with a shrug. “There is a chance, a small one, but I think I can do what you ask.”
“Good. I need three separate strands, each a hundred yards long with some heavy-duty meat hooks on each end. Now Abby,” I said, rounding on her, “can you get ahold of Anton?”
“Yeah, of course,” she replied, eyes hazy and distant as she accessed her interface, already working on the request. “What do you need?”
“Three things,” I replied. “First, we’ll need a team of miners.” I stuck one finger up into the air. “Second, we’ll also need every Alchemist we can get our hands on”—another finger joined the first—“and last, a full platoon of spider-riders to produce the silk and help harvest the swamp diamond.” A third finger entered the fray. “When they get here, put them to work right away.”
“Wait, what?” she asked, dismissing her interface with a curt wave. “Where are you going?”
I grinned and hoofed it out of the glade. “Producing a rope sturdy enough to capture Arzokh is only half the battle,” I called back. “We need to find a way to deploy it, and I have an idea that might do the trick. I’ll be back in a few hours.” I pulled up my map, located the grave of Isra Spiritcaller, and headed deeper into the forest, leaving the others behind. After fifteen minutes of cutting through dense tree cover, ducking strangle-thorn vines, and avoiding bog pits, I made it to the craggy fissure leading to Isra Spiritcaller’s tomb.
I loitered on the edge of the tree line, waiting in a low crouch, cloaked in Stealth. I studied the pair of hulking, twisting trees flanking the catacomb entrance, searching the knotted boughs, covered in broad leaves and green melons, for any sign of opposition. But nothing. The way looked clear, which was problematic, because I hadn’t come to explore the tomb, I’d come specifically for the sentries. The Void Watchers. Remembering my first encounter, I triggered Shadow Stride, slipping into the Shadowverse as smoothly as silk.
That’s when I saw the eyes. A small army of Void Terrors, tucked away in the foliage, stared down on the clearing with hungry, predatory gazes. Just waiting to ambush the crap out of anyone foolish enough to step into the open. There were maybe thirty of them, all smaller than Nikko—[Standard Void Watchers] instead of the Greater Void Watcher variety—but that didn’t matter. Not really. The important thing was they were smart, they could fly, they could use weapons, and, most important of all, with the Pack Animal ability I could summon more than one at a time.
They were exactly what I needed for my plan to work. Quickly, I toggled over to my Character Screen and dropped two of my three remaining Proficiency Points into the Void Terror skill—granting me another two slots on my minion team.
That done, I closed out of the menu, pulled my warhammer free, and conjured an Umbra Bolt in my left hand as I stepped from the shadows, visible as the sun at noonday. “Come get me,” I said, voice level and brimming with self-assurance. “I’m looking to recruit.” I marched forward a few steps. “So, who wants to be on team Jack? Any volunteers?” For a second the Watchers were silent, seemingly bewildered by my boldness. Bewildered was no good, though. I needed angry. I thrust my left hand forward and launched the pent-up Umbra energy into the heart of the pack.
The bolt landed with a crack of purple light, knocking one of the chimps from the tree and unleashing absolute havoc. In a heartbeat, the chimps po
ured from the trees—driven on by red-hot rage—swooping at me, claws flashing, blunt teeth snapping. I raised my hammer and charged, offering a war cry in retaliation …
The tussle took a solid hour.
An hour of Umbra Bogs and monkey bites, of Umbra flames and retaliatory scratches, of Savage Blows and hurled stones. It was a grueling, tedious fight, made worse by the fact that I needed a few of these things alive. That and the stupid Diseased debuff, reducing my Attack power and my Regen rates. Eventually, though, I bagged two Void Apes, both males—a level 12, which I named Kong, and a level 10, who earned the handle Mighty Joe. An excellent pair of minions, not nearly as large or feisty as Nikko, but angry, stubborn, and deadly in their own right. Both had demonstrated remarkable intelligence, and had fought like a pair of wild bobcats when I invoked the Contest of Wills.
Honestly, they were perfect.
By the time I made it back to the sacred clearing with my new knuckle-draggers in tow, our reinforcements had arrived: a regular caravan of miners—loaded down with pickaxes, shovels, and dynamite—scuttling in on the backs of bulbous bodied, hair-legged brown arachnids. Children of the Spider Queen, Lowyth the Immortal Orbweaver, a dungeon boss who also happened to be our closest ally, thanks to our Recruitment faction ability. Trailing behind them were Alchemists. The long, baggy-sleeved robes and bags packed with powders and glass beakers were a dead giveaway.
Alright. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation, my mind racing along at a million miles an hour. It was late, I felt more beat than a dead horse, but we had a lot of work to do—time to get crafty …
THIRTY-TWO: Round Two
Thirty hours later—with a mere four hours to spare before my quest timer expired—I stood in front of the shimmering gateway to the Twilight Lands for a second time. It had been a long, tedious, punishing day filled with a few cold meals, a handful of occasional naps, and what felt like endless hours of backbreaking mine-work, hanging from the cavern ceiling, suspended by a thick strand of spider-webbing, chipping away at stone. True, plenty of actual miners had shown up—guys with serious skills and crazy perks—but we needed a lot of diamond, and even my low mining level helped.
A little.
By the end, I’d earned three levels in mining, which wasn’t too shabby.
And while we worked tirelessly above, Alchemists—all junior members of the Crafter’s Guild—slaved away below. Grinding powders, gathering spider silk, or brewing strange concoctions, all under Vlad’s careful, and often harsh, guidance. Apparently, work-Vlad was very different from the often-bumbling adventure-Vlad. Work-Vlad was stern-faced. Work-Vlad was far more prone to offer biting criticism than even moderate praise. And most of all, work-Vlad was a production-demon. Even with the task of teaching the junior Alchemists the formula and overseeing the work, somehow—almost impossibly—he turned out three times as much rope as anyone else.
He may not have been much use as a frontline brawler, but holy crap could the guy craft.
And with his supervision—and a dump truck worth of elbow grease—we’d somehow managed to turn my half-cocked vision into a reality. Three pieces, each the length of a football field from end to end, with a fist-sized, rune-etched hook, sharp enough to pierce even dragon scale, secured to either end. Essentially, we’d built three giant, improvised bolas. Unfortunately, the ropes were pretty much all I could carry—aside from my hammer, armor, and a handful of Regen potions—because the things weighed in at a whopping five hundred pounds.
Typically, five hundred pounds wouldn’t break the bank, but I’d been drop-kicked in the face by the second Death-Head debuff, Gut Punch, a few hours ago, which zapped all my primary stats by 10 points. And in the grand scheme of things, 10 missing points from every attribute hurt badly—reducing everything from Attack and Spell Strength to overall HP and carrying capacity. Instead of 655 pounds, I was down to 590, which gave me barely enough raw power to carry my gear and my new trio of items.
It would be fine, though, because it had to be—this was my last chance, and if this didn’t work … Well, the Death-Head debuff would finish me off and that would be all she wrote.
Besides, I wasn’t going to fight, I reminded myself. I was going in for the capture.
“Jack,” Abby said from behind me. My steps faltered, and I glanced back at her. The miners and the Alchemists were all gone now, returned to Yunnam for hot food and decent rest, but my friends remained, spread out behind me in a half-circle. “Are you sure you don’t want anyone else to come with you?” she asked for about the billionth time, a polite, but worried smile stretching across her face.
“She’s right, mate,” Cutter added, absently twirling one dagger like a street performer looking to earn a quick buck. “Someone could go with you on this suicide mission.”
“Thanks for offering—”
He cut me off with an upraised hand before I could say more. “Oh, I’m not offering, friend. No, no, no. There’s not enough gold in the world to make me tangle with that monster again.” He rubbed absently at his left leg, healed now, though stained with crusted brown blood. “I was merely sayin’ one of these other sods would probably go with you.” He jerked his head toward Forge, who’d respawned and hoofed it over as quickly as he could. “He seems fool enough to do it.”
I grinned and rolled my eyes. “Thanks, all the same,” I said, “but I need to do this on my own. Against something like Arzokh, you guys are more of a liability than a help. If everything goes according to plan, this will be an aerial battle, so there’s nothing any of you could do anyway. Even if I brought one of you up on Devil’s back, you’d only slow us down and I’ll need every advantage I can get. But don’t worry, I’ll have some help.” I shot them a wink, then strode into the portal before anyone else could object.
Frigid power washed over me like a breeze on a summer day followed immediately by pounding heat and a choking cloud of dust. I shielded my eyes against the harsh light, giving my body time to adjust from the port skip and to the radical climate change. A ferocious roar reverberated in the air an instant later as the Sky Maiden exploded from the jagged top of the volcano. Her response was much quicker this time around—she must’ve been ready and waiting for me.
That was okay, though, because I was ready for her, too.
With a minuscule effort of will and a blast of raw Umbra power, I called Devil from the Shadowverse. He appeared a few feet to my right, big, bad, and about a thousand times better looking than the last time I’d seen him—some extended time in the Shadowverse had that effect on Void Terrors. For them, a solid eight hours in the Shadowverse was like a week of R and R on a sunny, sandy Mexican beach. “Ready for round two?” I asked him, eyes locked on the approaching dragon in the distance.
He snarled, his violet eyes narrowing to angry slits, tendrils of smoke wafting up from his nostrils. This time we will crush her, he replied, his voice a guttural snarl. Crush her in blood, bone, and spirit—such is the way of Dragons.
“Good,” I said, swinging onto his back with practiced ease, my hands naturally falling on the reins as my feet slipped into the leather stirrups. “We’re going to take her down, alright,” I said, flicking my wrists and spurring the Drake into motion, “but we’re going to play things a little different this go-around. We’re not going to try to hurt her—you and I are going to be the bait. We need her to focus on us, to follow us, and we’re going to let our new teammates do the hard work.”
New teammates? he asked, his tone a combination of curious and contemptuous.
You’ll see, I replied with a smirk.
He grunted and dipped his head before launching himself from the ground, wings outstretched, catching a hot draft of air which carried us skyward. In seconds we gained altitude, rising one hundred feet, then two, until we soared well above the rocky walls of the canyon below, bringing us ever closer to the final boss.
“So, you’ve come back for more,” she bellowed, rocketing toward us like an intercontinental ballistic
missile on a mission. “Excellent. Your friend was the first good meal I’ve had in five centuries. But I still have plenty of room, especially for Murk Elf meat.”
I ignored her jab—I couldn’t afford to be distracted and I certainly couldn’t get caught up in a villain monolog. Instead, I kept my mouth shut tight and conjured an Umbra Bolt in one hand, holding the icy power as we drew closer. Get ready to move fast, I sent. Vertical climb, inverted barrel roll, then fly like mad.
Done, Devil responded, his mind laser-focused on the task at hand.
At a hundred feet out, Arzokh opened her SUV-sized jaws, and a ball of light, as bright and brilliant as the sun, appeared in the back of her throat: the precursor to Dragon’s Fire. But still Devil and I flew straight on, challenging her to a deadly game of chicken that we could never win. At fifty feet out, a column of fire erupted like a geyser of pure death; I unleashed my Umbra Bolt at the same instant. Her fire was powerful beyond belief, but Umbra Bolt was fast—the little ball of shadow power zipped through the air and smacked into her snout, inflicting no damage, but her jaws snapped shut on impulse, cutting her attack short.
But we were still streaking toward a head-on collision with a creature that dwarfed us in size.
At ten feet out, when I could see the gleam of hatred in her yellow eyes and feel the heat radiating from her jaws, I jerked back on the reins, pulling us into a near vertical climb as the Sky Maiden careened through the airspace we’d occupied moments before, issuing a thunderous roar of frustration. We shot skyward and then, just as I’d told him, Devil executed the inverted barrel roll, flopping straight back—my stomach lurching into my throat as we lost altitude—before corkscrewing gracefully and leveling out.
Suddenly, we were cruising just above Arzokh.