by Deck Davis
Still, every step Dereck took sent tension through him. The cleric’s footsteps were the only sound in the tunnel. When he was just ten meters away from them, Layre suddenly held his hand in the air.
The Seekers stopped. Dereck paused too, as if he’d been frozen to the spot. Layre didn’t say a word, but turned around and pointed in Dereck’s direction.
Their senses wouldn’t have adjusted well enough to the tunnel darkness yet. Dereck was 10 meters away, so there was no way they could see him properly.
“Who’s there?” said Layre.
He nodded at Gevil. The rogue clung close to the wall. He started making his way down the tunnel, using his stealth to creep up on Dereck. Nathan’s instincts told him to step in, but he was confident Gevil wouldn’t do anything.
“I said, who’s there? You’ll regret holding your tongue,” said the wizard.
Dereck took two more steps, then stopped. “It’s me,” he said.
Although Dereck still wouldn’t have been able to see, this halted Gevil for a second. He carried on sneaking forward, getting all the way up to the cleric until he was level with him, but still against the shadow near the wall.
Gevil then reached out and seized Dereck’s arm. The cleric jerked his head to look at him. Nathan’s instincts told him to help, but he needed to be patient for the plan.
“Come on, cleric. You’ve got some explaining to do,” said Gevil.
He pushed Dereck, making him walk forward. Dereck stumbled and just about managed to recover his balance.
“Steady on. You’re the one who abandoned me, remember?” said Dereck.
“Shut up.”
Dereck crossed the tunnels until he met the rest of the Seekers party. He stood next to Layre, who regarded him with stern eyes. The hooded newbies surrounded him, holding their wands.
The pieces of the plan were moving. It was a strategy they’d had to make with haste, but it was all they had. It was getting to the part now where it could go spectacularly wrong. Nathan took a deep breath.
He pulled up his map. In front of him, he saw the icons for the Seekers and Dereck. Beyond them, winding their way through the tunnels, were 2 ‘M’ icons that marked Sherlock and Watson.
“How long have you been here?” said Layre. “A day? 2 days? And yet you haven’t left. That’s curious. And don’t tell me you were lost, cleric. You entered this stinking chamber with Gevil, and his map managed to guide us all the way back in. Don’t try and say yours didn’t.”
This part of the plan wasn’t scripted. Dereck had to keep the Seekers busy while the other cogs in their plan moved. He just hoped the cleric’s improvisation skills were up to scratch.
“Come on,” said Layre. “I’m waiting.”
Behind him, Gevil leered at Dereck. There was something other than anger on his face. Fear, maybe? Worry about what Layre would do?
Dereck didn’t show the same apprehension. He met Layre’s gaze and refused to waver. He didn’t seem bothered that he was surrounded by the guild.
“I decided to stay and explore,” said Layre. “I’m thinking of buying a holiday home here.”
Layre sighed. “I’ll get the truth out of you. Especially since you foolishly decided to end your association with us. Don’t think I didn’t know, cleric. I’m the Seeker leader; I get notified when people leave.”
Then he turned to the hooded figures. “Seize him,” he said.
This was happening a little quicker than he expected, and now it all relied on Sherlock and Watson. Nathan brought up his map. Where were they? He couldn’t see them.
And then he found their markers. Just 2 minutes away from the position. It was now or never.
Let’s hope this works, he said to himself.
And then he gave the signal.
Chapter Fifteen
At first, he didn’t think Dereck had heard him. Two of the hooded figures stepped toward him, ready to grab hold of him. Layre waited with his arms crossed. On Nathan’s map, Sherlock and Watson closed in on the position. But unless Dereck did his part, they were walking into a trap.
Nathan stayed crouched. He felt a nervous energy inside him, like he was a spring coiled up and ready to shoot out. He wondered if he should just pounce on the guild and start tearing them apart with his claws and hope for this best.
No. Just wait.
And the Dereck moved. He reached into his inventory bag. Before any of the others could react, he pulled out his paralysis scroll and read the words. A blue light gathered on the page, before shooting off it and into the tunnels.
The hooded figures looked around them, shocked. The blue light wrapped around them like spectral arms. It twisted around their bodies and bound them in place.
The hooded figures struggled. When it became apparent they couldn’t move, they looked around with pleading eyes.
At the far end, two ‘M’ markers on Nathan’s map closed in. They were 30 seconds away at most now.
It was time for the piece de resistance. The final layer in the plan. This time, Nathan was going to get to use one of his abilities.
They’d decided in advance who he should use them on. Gevil was the most likely target. There was no point using Mind of the Monster on Layre, Dereck had said. He guessed that the wizard’s mental resistance would be too high. They’d need to wear him down a little. There was no sense wasting it on one of the hooded newbies, either. So, the rogue was the mark.
But now, Nathan wasn’t so sure. Layre was frozen in place just like the rest of them, which meant his resistance couldn’t have been all that great. Maybe he should use his power on Layre and infect the wizard with fear?
“Now, Nathan,” hissed Dereck.
The M’s on the map were seconds way now. How long did paralysis scrolls last? A couple of minutes?
Nathan concentrated on Gevil. He studied the contours of the rogue’s face. He stared at his skin, took in every wrinkle. And then he let himself delve deeper so that he went beyond the skin. He floated his own consciousness into Gevil’s thoughts.
Then, using Mind of the Monster, he let a toxic mist seep out into Gevil’s brain. It was a dark mist, the color of squid ink. It spread over the tendrils of the rogue’s mind like a fog and infected every brain synapse with fear. The rogue was still paralyzed, but hopefully, it would have an effect.
Mind of the Monster fear check…
Current Insanity meter: 25%...
Failed!
Damn! His insanity needed to be higher for him to have a better chance.
He wouldn’t dwell on the failure of his power. Using Mind of the Monster was only going to be the cherry on the cake; the paralysis was the real filling of the dessert. The plan could still work.
“How long before the spell wears off?” said Nathan.
“Forty-five seconds,” called Dereck.
Nathan stayed in position. He tensed up and got ready to strike.
At the far end, he saw that Sherlock and Watson had arrived. They had their daggers out. They approached the Seekers warily, focusing on each guild member in turn.
Now, Nathan was on one side, the minions on the other. They had them trapped.
“How long until paralysis wears off?” he asked.
“Thirty seconds.”
“Okay. Do it. Sherlock, Watson, go ahead.”
His heart pounded as he watched the goblins approach Layre, daggers out. In a normal fight, they would have been no match for the wizard. Now, though, the Seekers guild were frozen in time, oblivious to what happened around them. The plan had been for Dereck to get into the middle of them all so that his paralysis scroll would have maximum reach. Then, Nathan and the minions would move in from the sides. It was working.
As Watson took a step toward Layre, something happened. Nobody else in the room would have noticed it except Nathan. His newly-attuned senses meant he perceived imperceptible movements that others didn’t.
The wizard had blinked.
It was a split-second movement, but Nath
an was sure he’d seen it.
He was going to call out to Watson to warn him when Layre smirked. He turned and faced the goblin. Without giving him a second to react, Layre raised his hands in the air. Purple light gathered on his fingertips, fizzing and sparking. Then, he shouted something, and the light shot out toward Watson.
The poor minion had no chance. The purple light hit him in the chest. It scolded his skin instantly. So much so that it took just 2 seconds for Nathan to smell the burning aroma of goblin flesh.
Watson hit the floor. After a second, he stirred. He looked around, dazed. His chest was a burned mess. He looked down at his wound and then wailed in pain.
“Heal him,” Nathan shouted to Dereck.
The cleric turned to look at the goblin. He started to mouth the words to a spell.
As he did, Gevil stirred. The paralysis effect had worn off for him much quicker than it had for the hooded figures. Maybe it was due to him being a higher level.
Gevil took 3 nimble steps across the room. He clutched his dagger, then leapt forward and drove it through Watson’s throat.
“No!” shouted Dereck.
It was too late. The tip of the blade pierced the goblin’s throat. Blood splashed out, and Watson made a horrible gargling sound. Gevil drew back his dagger and let the goblin flop to the ground.
Sherlock gave a grunt. It was higher pitched than Nathan had ever heard him make. He knelt to the floor and grabbed hold of Watson. He shook his friend, but the goblin didn’t react. His head flopped back limply, and his eyes were glazed over.
Sherlock held his friend and cried out. The sound was too horrible to listen to, and in that second Nathan would have gladly given away his new senses.
He had to help. Screw the plan – it had gone belly up. The paralysis scroll hadn’t affected the wizard, that was obvious. He’d just been pretending.
He ran forward down the tunnels, aware that it took away their last element of surprise. What else could he do? If he didn’t act, Dereck and Sherlock were screwed.
As he ran down the passageway, the hooded figures started to stir. They blinked. They shook their legs. 2 of them looked around in surprise, wondering what had happened. The scroll effect had worn off.
“Stupid cleric,” said Layre. “Did you think a couple of goblins would be much help? And look – here comes our monster.”
He had to get to Dereck and Sherlock before they got hurt. He pushed his sadness about Watson to one side. He’d deal with it later. But now, he had to protect his friends.
The hooded figures collected themselves. Holding their wands, they ran to face Nathan. They held them in the air, and he saw different colored lights gather on the ends of their instruments.
He felt his blood start to heat up. It didn’t just flow through him it, it rushed to every limb in a torrent. He felt hot. Enraged. Like he could wipe out and cut off their heads like dandelions stalks.
The figures ran at him. Nathan stayed still. He was tense. Ready to cut down the first that reached him.
He saw red lights shoot his way. They missed him by 3 inches, but he felt the heat on his face. More light gathered on the wands around him. It was a technicolor display of destruction that would be aimed at him.
The first of the newbies was just a foot away now. Nathan slashed out at him, angling his claws to catch him on the neck. He felt his sharp weapons pierce through the newbie’s flesh. He heard the man try to scream, but it was impossible with a giant claw through his throat. Instead, he just gurgled.
Two more were nearby now; one on each side. One aimed a shot of blue light at him. It struck his left arm and sent a shiver of cold across his skin. It spread across his arm like ice, and pain shot through him. The other newbie aimed with a red light, planning to complement his friend’s ice attack with one of fire.
Nathan held his claws in front of him. Without warning, he stabbed them out to the side. One claw cleaved through a newbie’s face, cutting through skin and crushing his nose bone. The other claw cleaved the newbie to his right, slicing the top of his head – hood, hair and all – clean off.
A chiming sound told him that he’d been rewarded with exp for his efforts. A message appeared and informed him that he’d reached level 3, with a boost to his HP, attack and defence. Another told him that his insanity meter was now at 45%. He ignored it for now.
Across the tunnel, Layre caught Nathan’s eye with a steely gaze. His eyes were aflame in the darkness. He stood up tall, and his shadow seemed to fill the hallway. He cut such a fearsome figure that even Gevil backed away.
Sherlock stood up behind him. He gave one last glance to Watson, who lay limp on the ground. Sherlock’s face was twisted in an anger so furious that even Nathan wouldn’t have wanted to be near him.
“Dereck,” said Nathan. “Get Sherlock out of here.”
Layre raised his hands above his head. He held them out. Light began to gather in his palms, and his eyes burned with fury. Whatever the wizard was doing, this was going to be one hell of an attack.
“Dereck, Sherlock, get over here,” said Nathan.
It was time to leave. Regroup. With Watson gone, Sherlock wasn’t thinking clearly.
The cleric grabbed hold of Sherlock’s sleeve. The goblin shrugged him off.
“We need to leave,” said Dereck.
The goblin wouldn’t move.
The light in Layre’s hands was a deep, blood-colored red now. It filled the passageway above and around him. He was almost ready to use it. His arms tremored with the effort of gathering the spell around him.
Dereck tugged on Sherlock’s arm. The goblin wouldn’t move. Layre’s face twisted in concentration as his mana burned and fizzed in the air around him.
“Get back here now,” shouted Nathan.
Dereck ran across the tunnel and stood by him. He panted and tried to catch his breath. “I can’t get him to move,” he said.
And then Layre pointed his hands at Nathan. He bellowed strange words, and the light around him changed. It formed spherical shapes. They looked like hot balls of lava floating in the air, and they seemed to shake with energy bursting to get out. Layre flung his arms forward and sent the spheres hurtling across the cavern.
One of the spheres touched the cavern roof just in front of Nathan. As it did, it exploded. A shower of stone and rubble fell to the floor, and Nathan felt dust hit his face.
Another sphere smashed into the wall to his left. Another explosion. His eardrums hurt, and he heard a ringing sound.
He kept moving back out of instinct. With every explosion, more rubble piled up in front of him. The spheres got closer and closer. The tunnels filled with a burning smell.
He felt dizzy. Every time he heard a sphere blow up, it stirred something in him. A dull throbbing in his head. Images flashing in his mind, but too quickly to hold on to.
He stumbled back. He felt Dereck take hold of him.
“This way,” said the cleric, leading him toward a turning.
More explosions. Getting closer and closer. Dirt spraying into the air and then raining down on the tunnels. He felt Dereck try and drag him away.
The explosions were doing something to him. They were twisting his mind. Images were flooding his head but too quickly for him to process them.
What were the images?
More spheres smashed into stone and blew up.
The images shot through his mind, but he couldn’t focus on them enough to see them. What were they?
They were memories. Memories trying to break through his mental wall.
“Sherlock,” said Nathan. “Where is he?”
The cleric shook his head sadly. A shot of panic crossed Nathan’s chest.
He looked behind the cleric. He saw that where there had once been a passageway, now there was just a barrier of exploded rocks.
Sherlock was separated from them, and he was stuck with Layre, Gevil, and the Seekers.
Chapter Sixteen
Dereck guided him through the t
unnels until he judged it was safe to pause for a break.
“Where now?” he asked. His cheeks were covered in charcoal-colored dust.
Nathan recovered his senses enough to look around. His ears still rang from the explosions. He checked his map, and he saw a light-colored part of the wall nearby.
“This way,” he said.
He smashed it with his claws, then stepped through.
When he did, he saw that it wasn’t just a shortcut, but a room. It was a dead end, no bigger than a garden shed. The walls were craggy and made from stone that had a silver tint to it. Dew ran down them and made a dripping sound when rivulets hit the ground.