by J. A. Hunter
Only a master on the Path of the Blood Phoenix may hope to harness Asima’s Will.
<<<>>>
Wow. It wasn’t a weapon, but the stats and bonus that came with it were incredible.
For Cutter, there was an odd-looking belt buckle in the shape of a lockpick. Called Carlyle’s Luck, it would be any thief’s best friend. It increased gold drop amounts and magical weapon drop rates and boosted a ton of lock-picking related skills. It also granted the wearer the Night Eye ability and offered a wicked ability called Obscurity, which prevented them from accruing Infamy or a Bounty while wearing the belt buckle.
Ari got a miniature battle-axe, hardly bigger than my index finger, which glittered as though were made from solid diamond. On top of some impressive stat boosts, it also gave her a once-a-day ability called Fierce Growth, which would increase her physical size, strength, and speed by 700% for 5 minutes. If my math was right, she’d basically be able to scale up to Forge’s size and deal out some series DPS in the process.
Amara’s “weapon,” was actually a simple bone earring chiseled with jagged marks that glowed an eerie green. The Wolf’s-Kin Earring was a Huntress-class specialty with some impressive stats and skill bonuses; it also came with a very intriguing skill that I’d rarely seen in the game so far: Greater Lycanthropy. Several times a day she would be able to trigger the effect, turning herself into a massive, two-legged she-wolf with some formidable fighting prowess: +50 to Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution, a 25% movement bonus, a 19% increased chance to evade attacks, and complete poison and disease immunity.
Forge received a flat gold-and-sapphire disk, about the size of my closed fist, which attached to the outside of his bracer like a giant magnet. An Animated Shield, which, when activated, transformed into a floating energy shield, drawing aggro, deflecting blows, and absorbing damage. But real kicker was, Forge didn’t actually have to wield it. The shield hung in the air and fought independently of Forge—orbiting him like his own personal moon—meaning the Risi warrior could still use the massive two-handed axes he was so effective with.
Unsurprisingly, Carl got a leather-bound tome with an embossed cover that amped his Cleric powers right through the roof.
The last item was mine—a jade cloak pin in the shape of a raven’s feather. Curious, I pulled up the description.
<<<>>>
Broach of the Shadow Raven
Armor Type: Relic; Cloak Pin
Class: Ancient Artifact
Base Defense: 32
Primary Effects:
+25 Spirit
+25 Intelligence
+15% resistance to slashing, blunt, and piercing damage
27% increased chance to avoid movement-restricting debuffs
Secondary Set Effects:
Increases Umbra Bolt and Umbra Flame damage by 11%
Passive Effect: Raven’s Shadow Decrease the chance of being noticed by guards or nearby noncombat witnesses by 25% while in Stealth!
+1 Dark Harmony; +1 Shadow Minded; +1 Black Strength; +1 Third Eye
Soul Smith’s Blessing 1: +450 XP per kill
Soul Smith’s Price: -200 XP per kill
Restriction: Useable by Shadowmancers only!
Take cover in the shadow of the dark Raven’s wing.
<<<>>>
“I can see the question in your eyes,” Lars said as I closed out of my interface. “Why? Why these trinkets and not some fancy weapons? It’s simple really. I want you to use this gear for as long as possible. With most of my clients, a shiny new weapon or a bit of armor makes the most sense, but you and your crew are at a different level. With the dungeons you’re raiding and the quests you’re finishing, it would only be a matter of time before any weapon I made got replaced by some top-tier quest loot. So instead, I went in the other direction. I found the items with the lowest instances of legendary drops, meaning these trinkets offer substantial benefits with almost no chance of being naturally replaced.”
He folded his arms across his chest, looking smug all the way down to his toes. I had to admit it was very clever thinking.
“I don’t say this... ever,” he said, “but if you ever decide you want another commission, well. I might be open. Won’t have the strength to take on a project for a month or more, but I might entertain it. Now you folk go and get out of my shop. Let an old man smoke his pipe in peace already. Oh.” He paused at the door. “And good luck out there. Whatever you folks are huntin’, I hope you find it. Find it and kill it good.” With that, he shouldered his way into the back, the door swinging closed behind him.
Damn, but Lars was one strange guy.
No time to dwell on that, though. It was high past time for us to get gone—just a few hours until twilight. Enough time to grab a quick bit to eat, meet up with the rest of the crew, and get over to Crystal Forest, where the entrance to the Doom Forge waited.
The Trials
WHEN TWILIGHT FINALLY descended on the world of Stone Reach, we found ourselves standing in front of a rather unremarkable statue, twenty feet tall, ten feet across the shoulders. The stone was worn completely smooth by the relentless grinding of the ages, the features completely obliterated so that it was impossible to tell who the statue had once represented. The figure was humanoid, and sitting, cross-legged, hands raised into the Namaste prayer position. Strands of purple moss hung from the arms and shoulders like tattered garments, and luminescent mushrooms peeked out from between the statue’s toes.
Around us rose the bone-white trees of the Crystal Forest, the trunks unnaturally straight and streaked with veins of red and orange, the leaves all in ethereal shades of gold, silver, and copper. To my surprise, it turned out that those leaves didn’t just look like metal, they were metal. The Dwarves did indeed work in a variety of mine shafts which permeated the underground mountain, but the vast majority of Dwarven metal was harvested from the trees themselves—taken from the leaves or from the ore deposits that grew inside the trunks.
The trees were a big part of the reason Dwarves were so hesitant to let in outsiders, since the wealth that forest represented might prove too great a temptation.
Off in the distance, the “Giant” rose up impossibly high, dwarfing even the largest of the redwoods I’d seen IRL. Its shadow fell over us, slowly creeping across the ground and a little closer to the statue with every passing minute. And then, after what felt like an endless wait, the shadow stretched long enough to reach its inky silhouette across the statue, climbing up its smooth stone front before eventually coming to a rest at the statue’s throat. It left a deep, dark line that legitimately appeared to “decapitate” the sitting figure.
There was a faint crack followed by the subtle shifting and grinding of stones, though there was no obvious change to the statue itself.
“Bloody shite,” Cutter murmured, ghosting forward on silent feet. “There’s a door right there.” He squinted and jabbed a finger toward the thing’s chest. “I’d swear to the gods above and below it wasn’t there a second ago, but sure enough.” He hoisted himself up into the statue’s lap, crawling along stone legs. When he got to the statue’s belly, he rose, hands snaking along the surface, pushing and prodding at things only he could see.
For a long beat nothing happened, but then there was a second audible click, this one much louder than the first, and a secret door popped open right in the center of the statue—a dark entryway with a set of corkscrewing stairs on the other side.
“Anyone want to turn back now?” I asked, turning to face our assembled crew. Forge, Vlad, Abby, Cutter, and Carl stood grim-faced and ready, decked out in their best gear, including the new items we’d picked up at Blue Blazes. Going to take on a god with only six people seemed crazy, but if any crew had a chance of accomplishing such an insane mission, it was this one.
“Hells no,” Forge said, sliding free his axe with a rasp. “We’ve come this far, ain’t nothing gonna stop me.”
Amara and Ari were there too, though they wouldn’t be comi
ng in with us. Instead, they’d stand watch over the statue, hiding under the cover of magic and shadow to make sure no one else tried to slip in behind us. With Peng dead, there wasn’t much chance that another group of Darklings would come bumbling along after us, but you could never be too careful.
Amara shot Cutter a long, weighing look. “Be wise, my heart,” she said. “Be brave. But most importantly, be safe.” I couldn’t help but notice that there was a glint of gold and silver hugging her finger. I held my tongue because it wasn’t my place to say anything, but I felt a wave of joy and pride wash through me. This life wasn’t easy—the missions, the chaos, the constant fear and soul-crushingly high stakes—but small things like that made it bearable.
“I make no promises,” he said, shooting her a wink, his gaze momentarily darting to the simple band. “But as I’ve always said, I’m too damned handsome to die, and, thanks to you, even if I do, this isn’t the end. Not for me. One way or another, I’ll see you tomorrow.” In a surprising act of gentleness, he raised a hand to his lips and blew her a kiss.
She rolled her eyes and shooed him on, but still I noticed she “caught” the kiss.
Cutter turned and headed into the gloomy dark, followed by Forge, Abby, Carl, and Vlad. I brought up the rear in case anything particularly nasty tried to get the drop on us from behind. Pressure and biting cold washed over my skin as I stepped over the threshold as though I’d passed under an enormous waterfall, invisible to the eye. Out of curiosity I faltered and turned back, sticking my hand through the door. Except, I couldn’t. My hand battered against some invisible barrier as hard and unyielding as glass. Amara stole up to me, likewise extending a hand, only to find the same barrier in place.
Six in, no way out. My hand dropped away, and I pressed my lips into a thin line. I shot Amara a curt nod, then wheeled and plunged into the dark after the rest of the party.
The stairs spiraled down for thirty, forty, fifty feet, the air growing progressively cooler the deeper we went. The steps underfoot were gritty with loose rock, tangles of roots shooting up in places, making the trip even more treacherous. There were no lights or torches to mark the path, but Abby had kindly conjured an orb of flickering fire above her staff, which gave us just enough light to see the steps beneath our boots. Eventually the stairs let out into a cramped hallway, wide enough for us to stand three abreast, which terminated at a giant metal door studded with quarter-sized iron rivets, brass steam pipes, and a variety of pressure gauges.
“Well, shit,” Forge said in his Texas drawl. “If this ain’t some Osmark, steampunk bullshit, I’ll kick my own ass. The one time we could use that guy and he’s nowhere to be seen. Figures.”
“Such is life,” Vlad said stoically. “But no worries. Robots, they are no problem.” He pulled out a glass orb filled with swirling silver liquid and gave it a swish. “Have brought corrosive orb to deal with their kind.”
“Huh,” Forge said, scratching at his chin. “What other heat you packin’?”
Vlad grinned, a dangerous glint in his eyes, and pulled back the lapel of his thick leather duster, revealing a bandolier near-to-bursting with colorful orbs. “Am packing all the heat,” he replied.
“Look,” Abby said, thrusting a finger at the door as fiery script abruptly burst to life, working its way across the face of the metal. “‘The fires quenched must be relit. The way forward is down.’” The letters crawled with living flame before sizzling and disappearing with a whiff of gray steam, leaving the iron door unmarked.
“Yep. This is gonna be awesome,” I said, pulling out my warhammer as I took point. I pushed my way in with one hand, the doors swinging open without a sound and not even an ounce of resistance. Beyond was a circular room, sixty feet in diameter, the walls covered in thick slabs of steel, held in place by more rivets. Copper piping and iron tubes filled the air, while enormous cogs churned and clicked away like the inside of some giant pocket watch.
The floor, far below, wasn’t really a floor at all but a giant vat of burning metal, super heating the air, sending curling fingers of steam wafting straight up.
Extending from the magma pit was a metal column the size of a telephone pole, and perched on top of it was a horizontal cog, twenty feet across, slowly spinning in a clockwise direction. Hanging above the clockwork dais were a variety of steel platforms, all precariously suspended from iron chains, which were, in turn, attached to a complicated series of pulleys up above. Dotting each of those platforms were clockwork levers, which, at a guess, would probably raise and lower the various platforms.
Set high up into the far wall was a metal door, identical to the one I’d just opened—the obvious way out. The only problem was that it was set at least thirty feet up and was set flush into the wall. No way to just waltz up to the thing and push it open. This looked like one giant puzzle where we were supposed to use the platforms, pulleys, and levers to access the door on the far side.
“Hey, Jack,” Cutter called from behind me as I analyzed the room, “don’t mean to rush you, but we’re in a spot of bloody trouble here!” I glanced at him over one shoulder and noticed that the spiral staircase we’d come down was gone. The entryway into the hall had been replaced by a steel plate that filled the entire hallway—blocking the way back. Worse, the steel wall was covered in razor-sharp spikes, each a foot long, and it was slowly advancing toward us. We had maybe thirty seconds before that thing would force us to move.
The enormous clockwork floor suspended over the magma pit was the only way to go, but it was at least a ten-foot drop, and it would be awfully easy to miss the slowly turning platform altogether and plunge into the molten pit below.
“It’s speeding up, Jack!” Abby called, her voice urgent. I thought for only a second before planting my feet and shooting one hand out, conjuring a six-foot rift. “Cutter, move!” I yelled, gesturing at the hole.
He rushed past me, leaping confidently into the hole in space; a second rift immediately deposited him on the spinning platform rising from the magma pit.
“Everyone, get through now,” I boomed, keeping an eye on the spike-covered wall, which was picking up more and more steam every second. Ten seconds tops before that thing turned us into Swiss cheese. I cast the Shadow-Warp Portal once, twice, a third and fourth time, until everyone was safely through. The spikes were less than a foot away by the time I finished, and unfortunately the portal wouldn’t work for me. I took a deep breath, muttered a silent prayer, then took a few quick stutter steps and leapt, cloak streaming out behind me as I cleared the formidable gap between the ledge and the platform.
I hit with a resounding clang, my legs absorbing the brunt of the shock, then turned it into a smooth roll, which quickly brought me back to my feet.
I wheeled around in time to see the enormous wall of spikes burst through the doorway we’d come through. Definitely not going back that way.
“Cutter, traps. You see anything?” I said, swaying slightly as the clockwork floor beneath my feet clicked and turned, clicked and turned.
The thief spun in a slow crouch, gaze bouncing along the walls, skipping over the clanking cogs and the numerous levers and crank wheels. “Gods, but I don’t even know where to start. Everything in this bloody place is setting off alarms. I’ll have to inspect everything before anyone does anything.”
“Could be worse,” Abby said, scanning the room. “No enemies, so probably just a puzzle room. That could be good news for us. Especially since it looks like the bulk of the challenge is using these levers”—she gestured with one hand around the room—“to manipulate the platforms to get to the door. Jack, I bet you can summon Nikko and her crew to do the bulk of the heavy lifting. Get them to fly from platform to platform and adjust the levers for us. Or, if that doesn’t work, worst-case scenario you can port us directly between the different platforms. Should be simple enough.”
Vlad adjusted the goggles on his eyes, tweaking the lenses as he took stock of the pipes and copper tubes. “Da. It is goo
d plan. But what about crank wheels?” He tapped at the corner of a lens. “Not sure what they do, but they do something.”
“Well, let’s try the easy solutions first,” I said, focusing my will. I would’ve loved to conjure Devil for this, but the room was too cramped for it. His bulk would’ve filled up most of the lurching dais we were cooling our heels on, and thanks to the chains and platforms hanging from the ceiling, there was no way he could fly or maneuver. The Void Apes would do just fine though. Nikko burst into existence with a flash of purple-black smoke and the slight stink of sulfur. She curled her lips in what I knew was a smile—though an awfully ferocious looking one.
Manling. This place, I do not like the way it smells. She shifted on her haunches, leathery knuckles dragging on the metal floor. She sniffed at the air suspiciously, eyes squinted in distrust. What would you have me do, young one? she finally sent.
Couple of things, I replied with a thought. There’s a door up there, set into the wall. I wanted to see if it’ll open for you.
She snorted in reply, clearly unsettled by this place, but lurched into motion and took to wing despite her obvious reservations. Her wings pumped as she rose, circling round and round, gaining altitude with each pass. Eventually, she touched down on a small lip of metal jutting from the wall. It wasn’t much, and I knew it wouldn’t have been wide enough for me to stand on without promptly toppling over to my doom, but she handled it without issue. Feet set, she threw her weight against the door, but it didn’t budge, not an inch.
She tried again, the clang ringing out, but had no more luck the second time. She tried a different route, exploring the door’s nooks and crannies, feeling along the joints for some sort of secret trigger or mechanism. Smart, but that yielded a whole lot of nothing.
Obviously, getting to the door was only half the journey.
“Okay, let’s step back and really think about this,” Abby said, absently smoothing her dress—a nervous tic. “The door must have a lock of some kind, but there’s no discernable keyhole. Which means there must be some other trick to opening it.” She craned her head back, staring at the swaying steel above us. “If the levers shift the platforms, my guess is the crank wheels probably open the door. The question is which wheel will open the door—or could it be a combination of wheels? Hmmm.” She tapped at her lip.