by Phil Tucker
Vanatos gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you for the hospitality. If possible, however, we would rather be on our way.”
We were all crowded within the great door. Lagash had the foresight to ease her way in and step aside so the wall was to her back, but the rest of us were bottled up. Rather than contribute to the problem, I did the opposite of Lagash, stepping out of sight and behind the archway’s left side. I caught Michaela’s eye and nodded; she then did the same.
“You refuse immortality? Seated here are the finest heroes to have graced the lands of Euphoria. The bravest and most bold. You would turn down the chance to join their ranks?”
“We seek not to feast, but to find our prey. Now, my thanks once more, but we must insist on passing through.”
I itched to watch, but caution prevailed. I was the only one here in Death March mode. Whatever happened, I’d know soon enough.
“Very well. It grieves me to hear your refusal, but I shall not contest it. Come. Make your way through my hall.”
I could see Vanatos’ back from where I stood. He rocked from his heels to the balls of his feet. He was clearly as suspicious as I was. Balthus murmured a spell, and Delphina did the same, whispering to herself as she knitted a cat’s cradle of glowing green lines between her fingertips.
“Thank you,” said Vanatos at last. “We seek the one that calls himself Xylagothoth. Do you know where we can find him?”
“I am not familiar with the name.”
“Do you know what lies beyond your hall?”
“Only lesser experiences.”
“Very well,” said Vanatos. “Then we shall proceed.”
Eletherios ducked its head and floated into the room, rings almost overlapping as if ready to fire at the slightest provocation. Vanatos stepped forward, leaving my line of sight. Footsteps joined his own, and I surmised that Lagash and Falkon had fallen in behind him. Balthus and Makarios moved into the room next.
I took a breath and stepped into the doorway. Over forty warriors sat along the lengths of both tables. The great black knight yet stood at his solitary table, his gauntlet closed around his large spear. Vanatos had stepped to the left, intent on following the wall to the sole other doorway.
The knight hefted his spear at the precise moment Vanatos moved behind one of the support pillars.
“Watch out!” I yelled, my voice overlapping with those of Lagash and Balthus.
Vanatos had the wit to freeze in place, but faster than I’d have ever believed the knight hurled his spear straight through the column. It smashed its way through the wood, sending splinters and shards flying, and then burst through Michaela’s ward and buried itself in Vanatos’ neck, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the wall where the spearhead impaled itself in the stone.
Chaos erupted in the feast hall. The forty warriors screamed with bloodlust and leapt to their feet, snatching up their weapons and knocking over their benches. Overhead, Eletherios disappeared.
I dropped a Night Shroud on the table closest to Falkon and Lagash just as Makarios summoned his fire web, filling the hall with filaments of fiery orange and crimson. Lagash and Falkon’s charge faltered as their closest foes were enveloped in darkness, but a moment later five warriors burst free of the shadows to attack them.
The urge to blast through my mana was nearly overwhelming, but instead I forced myself to calm down and observe. I was down to sixteen points. I had to make each one count.
The huge knight pulled another spear from the shadows and lifted it to his shoulder, sighting with unerring accuracy at where Lagash fought.
Warriors were running toward where I stood with Balthus, Makarios and Michaela in the doorway, weaving their way through the flaming strands, screaming in fury where they failed to negotiate a path.
Time to act.
I dove into my Shroud and then Double Stepped. A second later I emerged, crouched in the shadows behind the vast form of the knight. He drew the spear back, armor scraping and creaking, and I lashed out with my sword, activating its shadow ability to cut through his knee.
My blade passed through his leg like a breeze and the knight grunted and staggered, dropping his spear as he caught his weight on the broad table, which buckled and nearly broke. He was fearsomely fast, however, and swung a massive gauntleted fist down in a hammer blow toward my head.
No thanks.
I completed my Double Step and emerged back within my Shroud, crouched beneath the feasting table. A crowd of warriors bulged around the doorway. Michaela and the others had retreated to make it a choke point, but none of them were front-line fighters or tanks. A quick glance showed me Lagash was more than holding her own, hewing down her assailants with insanely vicious blows, Falkon darting out from behind her to parry or stab at her opponents as the opportunities presented themselves.
I raised my fist at the twenty or so warriors hacking at Michaela’s ward and whispered, “Blammo.”
A torrent of wind poured out from my Ring of the Bull and hit the back of the crowd with hurricane force. Warriors were lifted off their feet and thrown into each other, crushing those unfortunate enough to be standing by the wall. In a cacophony of crashing metal and cursing they collapsed to the ground, and then I was out from under the table, Void Blade in hand.
I simply held the blade’s dark, shadowy edge down at a diagonal as I raced around the outer edge of the fallen group, allowing its tip to pass through helms, pauldrons and breastplates. Men screamed, jerked, and died. I dodged around a flaming tendril of fire only to come face to face with one of the enemy that hadn’t fallen. He roared, spraying spittle, and swung his blade at my head.
I had barely enough wit to phase my blade back into its solid form in time to parry. The force of the blow numbed my arm, and I backpedaled, allowing my ridiculous dexterity to compensate for my Melee: Basic (III).
A slash got through and would have sliced open my shoulder but for a flare of blue from my armor ring; three more blocks and then he drove the point of his sword straight into my gut. My armor ring once again blunted the attack and my spider silk shirt stopped it completely, but the force of the stab knocked the wind out of me, forcing me to stagger back.
Another warrior appeared to my left and brought a warhammer down upon my head with a roar. For a second, I contemplated trying to parry, and then simply pulled the hem of my cloak over me as I fell into a crouch against the wall.
The shock of the hammer blow hit a mere moment after I willed my cloak into stone form, followed by the rasp of a futile slash. Three more blows and then suddenly they multiplied into what felt like dozens – the other warriors had no doubt gained their feet and turned on me.
My cloak was running out of mana. I was about to Shadow Step from out of its enclosing darkness when a roar filled the air, followed by a wave of heat, and then the blows stopped.
I dropped my cloak and blinked at the cindered bodies that lay around me. Makarios gave me the middle finger as he turned to search for another opponent, only to be lifted off his feet as a huge spear caught him in the chest and drove him back through the doorway as if he’d been hit by a truck.
“No!” I screamed, leaping up, but it was too late. I couldn’t see him, but there could be no doubt that Makarios was dead.
I activated Ledge Runner and Expert Leaper and jumped up onto the closest table, racing down its length, my feet finding clear spaces between the bowls, platters and flagons with impossible ease. The black knight was drawing another spear from the shadows, propping himself up with his other hand, and he turned to stare at me as I ran toward the far end of his own table.
He drew the spear back. I leapt up nimbly onto his table, pivoted with consummate skill and charged him. I could see writhing sparks of green electricity playing over his body, but they had no effect. With a grunt, he hurled the spear right at my chest, and at the last moment I activated my
shadow belt so his weapon passed right through me.
Then I was upon him. I slashed my Void Blade through his head as I ran past, and he jerked back and fell. I was livid, furious at myself for not having done this the first time, for only having cut through one leg instead of both. But there was no time for recriminations. I reached the end of the table and was ready to leap to Lagash’s help when a wet, muscular sound came from behind me.
I spun and dropped into a crouch, nearly sliding right off the end of the table before my boots found traction. Corgi-sized black slugs were thrashing up from the fallen knight’s body, erupting through the plate armor and slapping at the table with such force they shattered its boards.
I leapt easily down to the ground and stared, mesmerized, as the monstrosity tore itself free of the knight’s corpse. It rose up like a construct made of pitch-black slugs that contorted their bodies to form a vaguely humanoid shape, two glowing spots of red lighting up within the slimy crevices of its head.
The room filled with cries of ecstasy and pain, and the remaining warriors – down to twenty or so – contorted and staggered as tentacles and insect legs burst out of their armpits or from under their chins or groins.
“Sssssit at my table,” hissed the monstrous aberration, and it extended its arm and unleashed a firehose of slugs in my direction, something right out of Akira when Tetsuo loses control of his body. I screamed and vaulted over the tilted table, tumbling out of the way just before a deluge of slugs slammed into the wall behind me.
I rolled over plates and mugs, and then my Ledge Runner feet found purchase and hauled me upright just as a warrior swung his blade at my shins. I turned my momentum into a somersault, spinning over his blade, but Ledge Runner and Expert Leaper gave out right then so that I crashed down hard upon the table, cracking my chin against the wood and spilling out onto the floor.
Sheer survival instinct caused me to roll over and then scoot forward into my Shroud, where I came to a stop, trying to get my bearings. Who had my periapt? Falkon. He fought desperately beside Lagash, both pinned against the wall and facing a semi-circle of blades.
Delphina and Michaela were hidden from view, standing behind Balthus who in turn stood behind a pair of slain warriors that had turned to fight their own comrades. The pair of them filled the doorway, flickering with protective magics as they parried blow after blow.
I looked over my shoulder. The sluggoid knight-thing was massing up toward the ceiling, a column that bent forward over the table, an arm extending toward Lagash. Its form rippled and glistened, bloated with power, and I knew that nobody was going to tackle it but me.
I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves, and forced myself to focus on the boss. Its left shoulder swelled up violently, a swelling which surged down its arm in what was no doubt going to be an explosive slug attack on Lagash.
Double Step. No time to think. Through the shadows, out behind the throne, Void Blade hissing down to cut through the arm at the wrist just before the boss unleashed its attack.
It was like cutting a firehose in half. Slugs exploded in every direction, battering me as if a dozen people were hurling sirloin steaks at my head with everything they had. I crossed my arms and dropped a Night Shroud just before the sluggoid knight directed the deluge into a vicious stream at where I stood, completing my Double Step to appear on its far side a second later.
I activated Stunning Backstab and sank my Void Blade into the knight’s back, the blade sliding in to the hilt. It shrieked and arched its back, but the blow had only killed the slugs my blade had passed through. Those were immediately pushed out and replaced by fresh slugs, and then the knight’s back exploded out in my direction, lifting me off my feet as if I’d been clotheslined by an avalanche of cooked whole chickens.
I Double Stepped just before I was thrown clear of my Shroud, and appeared at the apex close to its head. This time I activated Bleeding Attack and hacked at its corpus as I dropped, slicing free an entire hunk of its side, the component slugs of which immediately shriveled and died.
Before it could react, I completed the Double Step and appeared high on its other side. This time I layered Sabotage Defenses over my other active buffs, and hacked the Void Blade through its head.
The sluggoid knight exploded in every direction with a roar. I was lifted up and thrown free of the Shroud, tumbling through the air only to feel a cordon of slugs tighten around my waist. I hit a table, bounced, rolled over onto my side. The slugs were a rope that sought to crush me to death; a dozen of them were interlaced around me.
My Void Blade was too long and dangerous to bring to bear, so I summoned my Death Dagger in my left hand and slashed through the crushing belt of slugs. In moments I was free. I pushed myself up to sitting. The boss was reforming itself.
How the hell were we supposed to kill it? An area of effect attack like a fireball? Did it have a core I’d missed?
Half a body flew past me, spraying gore, and Lagash screamed in defiance as she stepped in after it, stone falchions dripping blood, her body slashed and cut. I blinked. She’d somehow killed the ten warriors that had been facing her.
“Help the others,” she growled. “I’ll finish the boss.”
Falkon staggered up, looking awestruck, and all I could do was nod. Lagash leapt atop the table and ran toward the slug column, falchions held out to each side, kicking and powering her way through the platters and bowls.
“She’s a freaking force of nature,” gasped Falkon. “C’mon!”
I followed him straight into full-on melee combat. We hit the rear of the other group by surprise, and I dropped one warrior with a blow of my Void Blade, Falkon’s attack taking another’s arm off at the shoulder.
The others turned to face us and Falkon bellowed in their faces, his cry a soul-stirring evocation: “For the king!”
Strength flooded through me and I parried the downward swing of an ax with my Void Blade, stepping in and slamming my Death Dagger into the warrior’s neck. He gurgled, a tentacle lashing at my face before he fell away. Two more leapt at me, and I danced away from a spear only to take a hammer blow to my shoulder. My arm went numb and I dropped my Void Blade, which clattered to the floor.
Falkon lunged and slid the tip of his bastard sword into the warrior’s neck before it could finish off the job, but my friend took a wicked cut in the side for his efforts. I reversed my grip on my Death Dagger and threw a ball of Light into the spear wielder’s eyes before stepping in and hacking at his face.
A third warrior rammed into Falkon, knocking him to one knee and tangling him with my legs. I braced myself on his shoulder and went to parry the next blow only to see a bolt of green flame envelop the third warrior’s head and char it down to the skull.
Michaela moved into view. Her hands had turned into fearsome claws of bone; she punched straight through another warrior’s chest just as he turned to face her, and then two undead warriors moved in to protect her flanks.
With Delphina’s and Balthus’ support we made short work of the remaining five warriors, and like that the fight was over. Swaying with exhaustion and pain, I turned to stare at the front of the room.
Lagash was defeating the sluggoid knight through sheer ferocity. Screaming in defiance, she hacked again and again at its reforming column. It exploded outward, but she braced herself and crossed her falchions before her, only to return to the attack. Each blow spattered dozens of the massive slugs. Her strength seemed illimitable.
The column collapsed. The rest of us just stood there, gaping, as the orc warrior continued to hack and chop at what remained about her feet, bellowing in a paroxysm of rage. Finally, she straightened, sweat coursing down her features, and kicked a last slug so that it sailed through the air and squelched against the wall.
“Dead,” she grunted, voice hoarse. “And stay dead.”
“Holy shit,” said Falkon, sinking down onto a bench.
“We did it.”
16
I picked up the Void Blade and sheathed it with trembling hands. It took me three attempts to slide the sword home. My chest tightened and the urge to laugh was bubbled up within me, a wild laugh I knew I had to hold back.
“You all right?” Michaela stepped up by my side, hand going to my shoulder.
“Fine.” I took a deep breath, trying to swamp the squirmy sensation of post-combat terror with the sheer volume of air, then exhaled and forced a smile. “Just… that was close. Really close.”
Balthus stood surveying the hall, hands on his hips. “They hurt us badly by taking out Vanatos and Makarios. Our lethality is greatly reduced.”
“Come on, Balthus!” Delphina’s laugh was exactly the crazed kind that I was trying to keep bottled up. “Vanatos ain’t here. We don’t need to talk all fancy and in character. If we’re going to die, we might as well loosen up for once!”
Balthus turned his entire torso toward the elf, and even through the black silk mask that covered his lower face I could see his frown deepen. Before Delphina could react, he muttered a spell and flicked his fingers at her; a revolving circle of golden runes descended over her head, and Delphina let out a shuddering breath. Her shoulders relaxed, and the haunted look left her delicate features.
“I—thanks,” she whispered.
“Not a problem,” rumbled Balthus. “We are all of us under a lot of stress. For that matter, would anybody else appreciate a dose of courage?”
“I shit courage for breakfast,” said Falkon, wincing as he sat and leaned over to examine his bloodied side. “I’d appreciate some healing, though.”
The wound was fearsome. It had mangled his armor and looked to have cleaved through several ribs. I immediately moved to his side.
“You still got the periapt?”