Delvers LLC: Adventure Capital

by Blaise Corvin

  “In fact, you could probably let some of your demon pets just eat her limbs. She just has to survive to be ‘Bonded. Without limbs, she’d be even easier to kill. All the prisoners would be.”

  Hiisa’s eyes widened and the priestess of Asag hissed. Yelm immediately knew he’d made a mistake. It’d been extremely difficult to keep rising up the ranks of the Asag cultists. Jeopardizing all of his progress would be unforgivable, especially with an offhand comment about how inefficient the cultists were being. He was supposed to be helpful, not critical.

  “Terrans,” snarled Hiisa. “Vile. Some of the methods we use to build the return of Lord Asag are dark, but some things are also unnecessary.”

  Yelm kept his face blank, but he was mentally snorting. The cultists literally already did feed limbs of living prisoners to their captive demons. They’d force the prisoner’s arm or leg into a cage, then stop the bleeding with a tourniquet. They did this for a week until it was time to throw the still-living torso to one of the larger beasts.

  What made these orb prisoners different, Yelm didn’t know. But for some reason, the Asag cultists still apparently had some sort of reverence for orbs. Yelm suspected, deep down, they feared bringing the wrath of Dolos down upon themselves before their own god could protect them.

  Hiisa’s outrage was hollow, but Yelm had come too far to throw everything away. “Of course,” he said, further modulating his earlier tone. “It was just a thought. But, Priestess Hiisa, I request that I be kept informed of any new developments with Henry and Jason. They are important targets.”

  “Yes, I know you have personal interest in them. But they are targets of Asag before any concern of yours,” Hiisa said, waving her hand. As she spoke, an acolyte scurried into the chamber, a box in her hands. Hiisa opened the box and removed the Dolos orb inside. She pointed and a couple nearby cultists opened the cage, dragging the young prisoner out. The girl tried to scream, but it came out muted, raw. She’d had her tongue cut out.

  Yelm tried a different approach. “It would not cost anything to keep me informed, correct? And I am going to be involved in neutralizing them anyway. If I am told of new developments, I can better prepare.”

  “Fine, but don’t be tempted to do anything on your own. You are being constantly watched. I am sure you know that,” said Hiisa, her plain, Areva features twisting in mirth. She casually reached down and yanked the prisoner’s head up. The air around the young girl’s mouth solidified, connecting to Hiisa’s arm.

  The priestess used her magic to pry open the girl’s mouth, and another cord of air lifted the orb from her other hand before diving down the girl’s throat into her stomach. The prisoner’s eyes watered, tears streaming down her face. She looked at Yelm, pleading with her eyes, but he ignored her. There was no room in him for pity, not for a long, long time. Plus, everything he did now, he did for Jeth.

  “Thank you, Priestess.” The words grated, but he said them anyway. He had to remind himself that the cultists were tools, and tools could be discarded after he was finished with them. “There is news?”

  “Yes, our eyes and ears report that Delvers LLC has almost arrived at Rose Lake. Once they reach the main roads in Tolstey, they should travel much faster. We are planning an ambush for them. Our spies report they will be guarded to pass the mountains, so the timing will be important.”

  “Excellent, Priestess. Thank you for telling me. I will be ready.”

  “Yes, yes, of course you will. We are all aware you have an axe to grind. Now go make yourself useful and dispose of some of the new gunpowder.”

  Yelm made an effort not to openly grit his teeth. “Yes, Priestess Hiisa. Priestess Celina also mentioned that you were planning another raid soon?”

  “Perhaps I should have a talk with Priestess Celina, but yes we are, and yes you can come. I know you are eager to practice your magic. Just be sure not to let your own goals ever come before the will of Lord Asag.” Hiisa pointed at the captive being shoved back into the cage. “You have been useful so far, but if you lose your way, at least you can still provide us with a spirit stone.”

  The threat clear, Yelm bowed his head. “Yes, Priestess,” he said, backing away. His heart burned with hate, and he yearned for the day that he could watch the cultists perish. He’d watch everything crumble.

  Everything for Jeth.

  Crimson Travel

  Not long after starting her nightly watch shift, Mareen stared out at Rose Lake. Even after giving the Deepwater Rose her answer, she’d felt it pulling at her for days, reminding her of its offer. The tugging had been a constant distraction over the past week while she otherwise discussed Henry’s strange situation with Jason and Uluula.

  While the group had traveled up the Stem River, they’d exchanged a few more messages with Henry and Aodh. So many MMBs had been summoned, Mareen could swear that she was starting to recognize some of them. She’d first noticed one that had a missing feather on its set of arm wings. Another one had a heart-shaped mark on its beak. Yet another had an extra spiky, feathery crest on top of its tiny, avian head.

  The mysterious little creatures had been acting more friendly towards Mareen, too. It could have just been her imagination, but she was starting to think their croaky voices were getting warmer. Maybe they liked regular customers. Creator knew they’d been getting a lot of messages between Mareen and her absent minded, endearingly oblivious husband.

  Now Henry was completely aware of the developments among the rest of the Delvers, and had let them all know he was building contraptions again. Others had exchanged more messages, too. Aodh had been hit hard by Rark-han’s death and had sent Bezzi-ibbi an MMB message about it, privately.

  The flurry of messages both ways with Henry and Aodh had served to make Mareen surer about her decision concerning the Deepwater Rose’s dark offer. She stared pensively out at the water, some distance away. Rose Lake was enormous, and any large body of water on Ludus was bound to be populated by some truly massive monsters. For safety, the group had set up in a sheltered pocket next to a cliff, far away from the shore.

  Mareen took one look back at the camp. She knew Bezzi-ibbi was in the trees somewhere nearby, watching for threats with his vastly superior vision. The boy was doing his job, and Mareen suppressed a pang of guilt. A small, quiet corner of her mind wouldn’t shut up, feeling like she was betraying her friends. However, she’d made up her mind. Mareen began walking to the distant shore.

  She glanced back again and noticed a small flower, petals the color of blood unfurling where she’d been standing. The Deepwater Rose was keeping its word. The rest of the group would be protected while Mareen was away. In fact, the protection should last until they left the vicinity of Rose Lake, the Deepwater Rose’s area of influence.

  This had been Mareen’s price she’d demanded just to meet with the thing. The fact it had so readily agreed still made her nervous. At least she hadn’t needed to doubt its word. Beings like the Deepwater Rose followed a code more rigid than even the High Priestesses on Ludus or Dolos himself, a truth that every legend and song Mareen knew of agreed on. After thinking about Keeja’s revelations a while back, mulling over them, Mareen though she even might understand why.

  Perhaps if her suspicions were correct, she would even be able to save her soul, or at least her life. The thought was grim, but as Mareen grew closer to the water, she was under no illusions. She was placing herself in danger. Mareen had learned from Henry not to delude herself, to face her decisions head on even if they were foolish, perhaps especially if they were foolish.

  Her life belonged to her. She would live it as she felt best, even if she knew she might regret her decisions one day. The prices demanded by the Deepwater Rose were always high, they were sometimes downright evil, but offers of power were always genuine. At least the stories all said so.

  Mareen’s options were more limited than some of her friends’, but the fact she had a real, tangible way to attain more power was undeniable. Her friends like
Uluula had made due with what they were given the best they could, struggling to find their own place while being true to themselves. Mareen could accept no less from herself. She just wished she could remember a single figure out of legend that hadn’t met with tragedy after meeting the Rose.

  The dusky-skinned woman gritted her teeth. Maybe she would be the first.

  Suddenly, the surrounding land hushed, donning the quiet of an approaching predator. Even the mournful howls and hunting sounds of monsters in the far distance stilled, quiet as the grave. The very land itself seemed afraid. The waves before Mareen churned as something massive approached beneath the murky surface of the lake.

  The water heaved, and an enormous, living nightmare broke through the surf, crashing onto the beach.

  The creature was so large, some of its bulk extended back into the lake behind it, but what Mareen could see was ghastly and alien. It had no visible eyes, and its body was long, but swelled massively near the head. A pair of dark, fleshy lips peeled back from a massive, elongated jaw full of sharp, serrated teeth. Small, antenna-like, fleshy masses wriggled about and oriented on Mareen.

  The creature had two rings of massive tentacles. The group higher up on its body, like a disturbing halo behind its bulbous head, were long, thick, and ended in fleshy pads. The rear set had a sharp claw on the end of each tip, shimmering with venom.

  After its massive head swiveled towards Mareen, the nightmare’s pale body flashed with dark patches moving underneath its skin and it levered itself forward, using its larger set of tentacles to pull its bulk closer. The mouth opened wider, and a massive tongue lolled out, the end looking like a fleshy flower of wriggling muscle.

  Mareen’s fear reaction was just a spasm at the back of her mind, muted by the decision she’d already made to talk with the Deepwater Rose. How to actually meet with it had been a question that had not even occurred to her. Rose Lake was the size of what Henry had called a ‘state’ back in his country on Earth. The Deepwater Rose was rumored to exist in the very center of the lake. It would take days, or even weeks to travel there by boat.

  The horrible creature before her stopped moving, but she could still smell its rancid breath from its huge, glistening jaws. Some of its jagged teeth were almost as long as her arm. Suddenly, the terrible mouth opened wider and a horrible, but strangely familiar voice assaulted her ears, pressing in on her soul.

  YOU HAVE COME, DAUGHTER OF FADED GREATNESS.

  Mareen winced, but she didn’t bother covering her ears. She could sense that the gesture wouldn’t do any good. Luckily, her ‘Bonded abilities were at second rank now, and she was tougher both mentally and physically than she could have imagined a year before.

  THIS SERVANT WILL BRING YOU TO ME. STEP INTO THE PORTAL ONCE IT HAS FORMED AND WE WILL BARGAIN.

  The terrible, pale, fleshy creature before her moved again, closing its massive jaws with a snap and rearing upwards. Mareen swallowed as her eyes followed the thing. The only weapon she still wore was her blessed steel dagger. She’d left almost everything else back at the camp, so if she died her friends could still use or sell her gear.

  But thinking about the dagger now was laughable. Attacking this creature with anything less than Henry’s cannons on the Battlewagon would be like trying to kill a draft yucka with a toothpick.

  Huge, pulsing tentacles arced forward and Mareen’s eyes widened as the fleshy tips began glowing. It is using magic. Her blood ran cold as she thought about how much damage a monster like this could do to a coastal town or city. Could anyone even kill it? No wonder port cities always had such powerful defenses.

  The creature moved the tips of its tentacles together, and the space between flashed red, creating a sheet of energy. The hair on the back of Mareen’s neck stood on end. The doorway that the huge abomination had just created for her looked like a gateway into hell. The huge, disfigured head loomed over the portal. Its sinister, elongated jaw and disturbing eyeless gaze tracked her every move.

  Mareen’s eyes narrowed and she gripped the hilt of the dagger behind her back, the same dagger that had almost ended her life. She had survived that situation, and she would survive this one. Her husband and her friends were all pushing to be more powerful, to be stronger. She could expect no less of herself.

  And, more importantly, there were people out there somewhere responsible for the death of her parents, and more recently for her grandfather, George. Mareen could not fan the flame of justice or avenge her family if she refused every offer of power that was dangled in front of her face. She knew there would be a high price, she could live to regret her choice or even die. But ultimately, she had unfinished business, and Mareen was finished ever being in need of saving again.

  Henry had always been right about one thing: Some people just needed killing. Whoever had murdered her sweet, caring, honorable grandfather deserved to be exterminated.

  Mareen walked forward into the portal and was gone.

  ***

  Bezzi-ibbi watched Mareen vanish from the lake shore and shook his head. Developing his abilities over the last few months had been slow, but steady. His uncle, Yanno-ibbi, had passed down hidden wisdom and training techniques for Mo’hali Heroes that Bezzi-ibbi hadn’t even known existed.

  Yanno-ibbi was gone now, crippled for the rest of his life, but he’d taught Bezzi-ibbi everything he’d needed to know. The Jaguar Clan heir was growing strong. He could not shake the very heavens yet like Jason, but Bezzi-ibbi was no longer unsure of his own potential.

  His Hero senses had alerted him to the power setting over the camp, and Bezzi-ibbi hadn’t even been affected by it. He’d been using enough of his Hero ability to cover just past his body. His enhanced control was partially a product of his constant practice, keeping a low-level negation field around his personal space.

  He had a feeling that he’d have been unaffected even without it, though. Bezzi-ibbi was beginning to understand that his Hero ring, received directly from Dolos himself, was not normal.

  Bezzi-ibbi watched Mareen vanish into the glowing red portal created by a gigantic, terrifying looking monster in the distance. The Jaguar Clan youth frowned, committing the scene to memory. He was working on a song, his first as a Jaguar Troubadour. Bezzi-ibbi hoped that Mareen’s section would end well, but the future was not known. For the time being, Mareen was his friend and his Clan brother’s mate. He would extend enough trust to wait before deciding what to do about the nightmare spectacle he’d just witnessed.

  Plus, if the Mo’hali boy extended his senses, he could tell that the aura around the camp wasn’t hostile. The energy of it, the taste made his whiskers bristle, but could tell it was actually protective in nature. Strange, very strange.

  Bezzi-ibbi took one last look at the red flower that bloomed where Mareen had been standing before and shook his head slightly. He knew Mareen had a good heart, and he hoped she knew what she was doing. As someone who had donned a Hero ring, Bezzi-ibbi knew he had no right to criticize the risks other hunters took, but if Mareen did anything to get herself killed or corrupted, he worried for the world. Henry-ibbi’s wrath would be like a force of nature.

  Bezzi-ibbi was a curious boy. He couldn’t wait to be a true troubadour. However, some things were better left as thoughts, never coming true. Some weapons were so poisonous they would kill the hunter along with his prey.

  The young Mo’hali Hero rolled his shoulders, making the starched fabric of his dress shirt rustle. He loved the sound. No matter what happened around him, it would always be comforting to control what he could wear and to dress his best. With that thought, Bezzi-ibbi resumed walking the perimeter of the camp, doing his job as the group’s night watch.

  Everyone had secrets. He hoped Mareen would be able to handle her own. If not, Bezzi-ibbi might need to get involved, possibly to protect the world from his Clan brother.

  Being a Jaguar Troubadour and an adventurer sure could be complicated.

  ***

  Disorientation. Mareen fl
ashed through darkness, bits of light sailing past her vision. She could not see with her eyes, though. In fact, she couldn’t move. Some of the lights had faces. They scared her. In a moment that spanned an eternity, Mareen traveled. Then suddenly, she stopped.

  When the world returned, Mareen found herself in total darkness, cold liquid pressing in on her from every direction, and massive pressure crushing down on her body. She held her breath, her head jerking as she tried to make sense of where she was.

  Suddenly, something slimy, huge, and... wrong made contact with her belly. She didn’t even have time to react before the thing touching her jerked forward, punching her in the gut. All the air in her lungs vomited out her mouth in a cloud of terrified bubbles. Her eyes widened and she knew she was going to die as she inhaled water…

  And found she could breathe.

  The pressure on her body started to fade and slowly, a haze of red began outlining the space around her, allowing her just enough light to see by.

  She wished she had still been blind.

  WELCOME TO MY DOMAIN ON THIS WORLD. The awful voice pulsed through the water, vibrating Mareen’s entire body with its power. She felt slimy fingers rifling through her thoughts, stirring painful memories.

  Scenes were forced through her mind. Her mother’s half-remembered laugh. George’s warm smile and his patient lessons. Her father’s protective embrace. The day she found out her parents had been killed—

  “Get out of MY HEAD!” she screamed. The bubbles coming from her mouth didn’t make much actual noise under water, but she put every ounce of her identity, every bit of her personality into the rejection.