by Phil Tucker
He nodded. “It’s what’s keeping me going right now. Freaking wonderful. But yeah. Some more healing would be appreciated.”
Balthus muttered another spell, and a revolving wheel of green runes appeared around Falkon’s wound. He immediately let out a sigh of relief.
Lagash stepped up, and the sheer intensity of her presence caused us all to orient on her. Her eyes were narrowed as she searched the floor.
“What is it?” asked Delphina, a sliver of nervousness entering her tone once more.
“Gear,” said Lagash. “Vanatos and Makarios should have dropped theirs when they died. They didn’t.”
As a group, we spun around and examined the floor, but it was immediately obvious that she was right.
“What does that mean?” asked Michaela. “That they didn’t truly die?”
“They died,” said Balthus. “I saw them take mortal wounds.”
Delphina held up a finger. “Unless they were teleported away, and we simply saw illusions of their deaths.”
“But why go through such effort?” asked Michaela.
“To demoralize us, perhaps,” said Balthus.
My racing heart had slowed. The back and forth of conversation had given me something to focus on, to get past the pain in my shoulder and the realization that I’d very nearly died. “Listen up.”
They turned to regard me. Balthus, Delphina, and Lagash. Michaela and Falkon.
“If they’re not dead, we stand a chance of rescuing them. For all we know, they could be in the same place Lotharia is. So we focus on healing up and we press on. Let’s go round. Report if you’re hurt and how much mana you have left. My shoulder’s busted and I’m down to a little less than a third of my points. Michaela?”
It was as I’d suspected. Everybody had burned through their resources. Balthus was nearly tapped out, while Lagash was only halfway depleted. Everyone else was roughly at where I was.
“That means we can survive maybe one more big encounter,” I said. “We can’t escape the keep to rest. Perhaps we can try and meditate here, set up camp.”
“I don’t like it,” said Lagash. “This place won’t let us rest. I can feel it.”
Balthus grunted. “I agree, though I wouldn’t mind being proved wrong.”
Falkon stood carefully and swung his arm a couple of times. “I’ll be ready to move on soon. Don’t rest because of me.”
“Look sharp,” said Delphina, voice suddenly taut. “Slugs are massing.”
Lagash hissed and marched back to the high table where she set about slashing at the mound of slugs that had been coalescing while we’d talked.
“There’s our answer right there,” said Michaela, “unless we come up with a permanent way of destroying that guy.”
“Let’s try and find a more defensible spot,” I said. “What about retreating to the ground floor of the keep? Resting in the kitchen or pantry?”
“Smart,” said Balthus. “That, I approve of.”
“Agreed,” said Michaela. “If the keep works like any regular dungeon, that should be a safe move.”
“If,” snorted Delphina. “Big fucking ‘if’.”
Lagash booted a final slug against the wall, then turned to face us. “Retreat?”
“Retreat,” I confirmed. “Falkon?”
“Ready,” he said. He held out the periapt. “Here. Heal up.”
“Keep it a little longer,” I said. “You’re still looking peaky.”
“Peaky?” he asked, eyebrow raising, then laughed. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Lagash marched down one of the long tables, stepping over corpses and kicking goblets aside, then dropped down and moved to the archway through which she’d entered. She stopped.
“Passage has changed,” she said.
We crowded in behind her and saw a short corridor that ended in a new doorway of black wood banded with gold.
“I’m starting to think this place doesn’t want us to have a good time,” said Falkon.
“Told you,” said Delphina.
I took another deep breath and carefully rotated my injured arm. My shoulder crunched and popped, causing me to wince. Thank Brianna for my armor ring. That and my spider silk shirt were the reason I still had an arm. “So much for that, then. You guys ready?”
Balthus punched one heavy-gloved hand into the palm of the other. “Mostly.”
“Come on, then.” I walked alongside Lagash to the gold-banded doorway, our steps loud in the tight hallway. The hinges were on the other side, indicating that it swung into the far room. I drew my Void Blade and nodded to Lagash, who pushed the door open with the tip of her falchion and moved inside.
The room beyond was a large, gleaming white hall, with slowly revolving columns whose surfaces were covered with shards of broken mirror. The ceiling was high above us, easily some twenty feet up, and I couldn’t see the source of the glittering, harsh light that reflected off the broken mirrors and forced me to slit my eyes.
“Vanatos,” called Lagash, and I saw that she was right: he stood at the far end of the room, Eletherios hovering above and behind him. Makarios stood off to one side.
It was hard to make him out in the glare, so I stepped forward, one hand raised to shield my eyes. It wasn’t just the light that was making it hard to focus on him, however; my gaze kept being drawn to the slowly spinning columns and my broken reflection.
A feverish flush ran through me, and I shuddered violently. My vision blurred, then stung.
“Back,” I shouted, but my voice sounded strange. “Something’s wrong. Get back!”
A rushing, roaring sound filled my ears, and I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. I felt different. I was different. I no longer held the Void Blade, but rather a stone falchion in each green-fisted hand.
Shit.
Someone slammed into me and knocked me staggering away just as a thick beam of searing light slashed through where I’d been standing. My body regained its balance with incredible ease, however, and as the roaring in my mind cleared away I was suffused with a physical prowess that was exhilarating.
Holy crap. I was in Lagash’ body.
Which meant—
I saw myself – my body, that is, me – racing away to dive behind a pillar.
Hot damn, Lagash’s player was faster on the uptake than I was.
At the far end of the room Eletherios overlapped its rings once more. The glare didn’t faze Lagash’s avatar as much as it did mine. Makarios was racing wide, looping around to my left.
All right. A ripple of excitement ran through me. Let’s see what a level thirty-one fighter could do.
I punched up Lagash’s sheet as I threw myself into a forward roll, aiming to come up behind one of the glittering pillars. My leap covered some six or seven yards alone, and the roll was so soft and smooth I felt as if I were performing it on a mattress. I came up into a crouch as my sheet popped up before me. No time to dig in deep: I just needed to know what I was working with.
My back to the column, the rough edges of which rubbed against my piecemeal plate armor and furs, I studied the sheet before me. Strength twenty-four. Dex twenty-two. Con twenty-six. Hot damn!
The skills list was too long to absorb, but the talents list was slightly shorter. I caught sight of abilities like Behemoth Blow, Eviscerate, Chest Tunnel, and Tornado Cleave.
Just then, the pillar over my head exploded into an avalanche of stone chunks and mirror fragments as a beam of light as thick as my leg cut through it. I dismissed the sheet and bolted away. Makarios was almost level with me, a good twenty yards away and with two columns between us. At the sight of my approach, his eyes widened and he slammed his boot into the ground, cratering it as a wave of force slammed out in every direction.
I leapt, activating Expert Leaper in the hope Lagash had it. She did. I soared up, fa
lchions crossed before me, spinning through the air and over the wave of force to come down in a sprint only ten yards from Makarios.
He backpedaled frantically and then slashed at the air before him with both claws to create a net of fire that snarled into life, the gaps between each fiery thread only a foot wide.
I slid to a halt, stymied. How to cross through and get at him?
“Makarios!” I yelled, my voice that of Lagash yet with cadences that were mine. “What the hell are you doing?”
“New master,” he said. “Apologies and all that. Ain’t got a choice. You’ll understand when you join us. Now. Time to burn!”
He slammed both fists together and fired off a swath of flame that billowed through the net and unfurled around me.
I crossed both falchions before me and dove forward, feeling my shoulders and face blister, but the crossed falchions somehow caused the worst of the fire to part before me. I felt like a space shuttle re-entering the atmosphere, the heat building up, flames on all sides, then I roared and was through, powering right at Makarios, who yelled in fear and turned to run.
I somehow noticed the bolt of searing light a split second before it hit me, and threw myself into a dive just before it burned away my head. I came up right behind Makarios and slashed a falchion through his back, activating Behemoth Blow as I did so.
Makarios parted before my blade in a welter of gore. I staggered to a stop, confused, and then realized I’d cut him in two. The parts fell to the ground then disappeared, but still no gear was left behind.
I whipped around, taking in the hall. Eletherios was firing off blasts of light every few seconds as it drifted forward. Falkon was desperately dodging even as Michaela threw bolts of burning green light at it. Delphina and Balthus were crouched behind pillars.
I had to take out Vanatos. I took off at a run, angling to keep as many pillars between us as I could. A bolt of searing light flashed toward me and I dove once more, this time taking a hit across my leg that seared me as if I’d dipped it in scalding water.
My roll turned into a spill and I hit the ground hard. It didn’t faze me. I did a push-up that lifted me high enough to get my feet back under me, and even with my mangled leg I powered on.
I opened my character sheet again, searching the Talents. There had to be something here. Suicide Charge. Demon Speed. Unstoppable Wrath.
I activated each in turn and swelled with bloodcurdling fury even as my legs blurred beneath me. A roar tore itself from my throat, a bellowing scream of defiance, and flame flickered about my feet as I gained even more speed.
Eletherios fired blast after blast at me, but I was able to dodge and weave with such skill that each went wide. Vanatos turned to run, not in panic but simply out of a desire to stay alive, circling around to put Eletherios between us.
A bolt of necrotic green light splashed the ground before me and I leapt over it, seeing Michaela trying to close to one side. She raised her hands and suddenly pain tore through my body as my bones shuddered within their casement of flesh. I staggered and collapsed onto my side, momentum causing me to slide a good six yards.
Growling, I fought to overcome the pain, but my bones were wrenching themselves within me, fighting my own musculature. The agony was excruciating.
Michaela’s damned Bone Puppet spell, I realized. She’d somehow been turned. Could the keep control her through her bond to the Dread Lord?
I rose to my feet with jittery awkwardness and was forced to turn toward my remaining allies. She was going to force me to fight for her. I roared and tried to tear myself away, only to feel sinews and tendons sprain and nearly snap as my bones began to march.
Michaela’s laughter was abruptly cut off as she was enveloped in green light, disappearing an instant later as my Chris avatar appeared behind her to slice his Void Blade through where she’d stood.
Had the keep saved her?
Immediately, the spell that had ensorcelled my skeleton disappeared. Lagash in my Chris avatar sprinted on, disappearing behind a column.
The pain faded quicker than I’d anticipated, and I scooped up my falchions as I resumed my charge toward Vanatos.
Someone came sprinting toward me and I wheeled to see Falkon as he roared and swung his bastard sword.
I blocked it with a flick of my falchion, my arms seeming to know what to do before I did, and then backed away as he attacked with everything he had, roaring his fury and slamming at me with powerful blows.
“Falkon—what—”
He grimaced and thrust his sword at my chest. I wheeled away, parrying the attack and slamming my elbow into the side of his head without meaning to. He stumbled, caught himself, then riposted with wicked ferocity.
This time I caught the attack between my falchions, crossing them into a large ‘X’ so that his swing was stopped cold.
“Falkon!” I shouted at him in desperation, but his eyes were wide, his gaze unfocused. Damn it! They’d gotten him as well. He snatched his blade away then came at me, slicing and slashing, low then high, trying to find a chink in my defenses.
This was Lagash, however. He didn’t stand a chance. It was surreal to move with such confidence and speed when I’d never fought at this level of intensity before, but I parried Falkon’s every blow, noting how he telegraphed each attack, seeing how I could easily slide my blade into him from any number of different directions as he left himself open to a counter-attack.
Yet I couldn’t. His familiar face was contorted in effort, but it was Falkon. My friend. The thought of striking him down was abhorrent.
He screamed in frustration and then leapt, blade rising high for a downward cleave.
I sidestepped his swing, let him fall into a crouch, then slammed the pommel of my falchion into his temple.
He crumpled as a blast from Eletherios took me full in the side.
Pain. White, annihilating pain. I was lying on the ground, my arm and ribs a river of magma. I groaned and stirred, and my body on instinct activated Pain Resistance: Major (II). Immediately, the agony receded like a low tide, and I managed to sit up.
My right arm was a mangled mess, bone showing here and there, while the flesh and armor from my side had been seared away to reveal ribs. My hip was churned flesh, and blood steamed as it seeped through the cooked flesh.
How was I still alive?
I didn’t have time to take in the horror of my condition. Falkon was rising to his feet, blade in hand. He blinked several times, then turned on me.
Gritting my teeth, I searched for my falchions. They lay out of reach.
Falkon lifted his blade with both hands, eyes going wide as he took in my condition, then stepped forward, teeth gritted.
I drew one of the daggers at my hip and activated Uncanny Aim and Chest Tunnel. Just before Falkon swung his blade, I hurled my dagger at him. It hit his breastplate full on and punched through the metal, disappearing into his chest and leaving a gory hole in its wake.
Falkon staggered to a stop, face pale, and his sword slid from his grip to clatter on the floor. A moment later a gout of blood erupted from the wound and he toppled down to crash upon his side.
Horror flashed through me and I convulsed, doing everything I could to reach his side. I had an overwhelming instinct to comfort him, to apologize – all irrational, but I couldn’t help it. He lay staring at me, eyes wide, and then they glazed over in death and he disappeared.
With grim determination, I crawled over to where a single item had been left behind. The sole piece of gear that hadn’t been his: the periapt.
My clawed hand closed around the necklace and immediately soothing warmth flooded into my body. My chest unlocked a fraction, allowing me to take a deeper breath.
Another moment’s crawl took me to the falchions. I looped the periapt over my head and took them up. Only then did I survey the hall.
Ele
therios had disappeared, and a moment later I confirmed that Vanatos was also gone. Balthus was striding toward a gravely wounded Delphina, who was limping away from him. I couldn’t see myself anywhere, but that wasn’t too surprising.
“Balthus!” My yell drew a glance from him, but had no other effect. With a grimace, I used a falchion like a walking stick to climb to my feet. The periapt was synergizing with some talent of Lagash’s to heal me even faster than normal; glistening flesh had already crawled out to cover the exposed bones.
Delphina whispered something and black mist flew from her lips in Balthus’ direction. He raised a warding arm and the mist faded away before it could envelop him.
I was too far to reach them in time. I drew a second dagger, activated Uncanny Aim and saw that Chest Tunnel wasn’t available yet. Instead, I picked Eviscerate and hurled the blade, nearly falling over as I did so.
The dagger flicked through the brilliantly lit room. Two spinning shields of green runes flared into life and were torn apart by the dagger before it ricocheted off a third. Balthus smirked as he loomed over Delphina, but then a sphere of impenetrable darkness appeared around them both and I could make nothing out.
I hobbled forward, growing stronger by the second. The was a muffled gasp, the sound of tearing flesh, a pained grunt, and then the Shroud disappeared. My Chris avatar stood over Balthus’ fallen body.
A wave of relief passed through me.
“I was too late,” said Lagash in my voice.
“Too late?” I stumbled up and saw Delphina’s eyes rolling up as a network of runes ate their way into her stomach. I went to pull free the periapt and then stopped when Lagash shook his head. My head. Whatever.
Delphina’s eyes fluttered open. “This game sucks,” she whispered, then died.
Her body disappeared, along with its gear.
I turned warily, Lagash moving to stand at my back. We slowly scanned the grand hall, and I saw Delphina appear toward the back. “There.”
“She’s good with mind magic, fear spells, hallucinations, things like that,” said Lagash. “If we come at her from both sides we can overwhelm her.”
“Got it,” I said. We broke away, both of us running out wide then closing back in.