Quest SMASH

by Joseph Lallo

  Cyrus looked at Andren, eyes wide. “That's what you see? And it looks as clear as if he were alive?”

  “I can see a bit better than you can but that has more to do with my age and magical training. I would imagine it would be clear to a powerful necromancer. What I see is a bit of a distorted image – as though smoke is obscuring the lines of their faces, and their words were being spoken through a waterfall.”

  Any further questions were drowned out by Elisabeth's order to move the invasion force back into the center of the Eusian Tower. As they walked back up the tunnel the temperature returned to a bearable level. The chill, however, failed to leave them.

  Chapter 21

  As they mulled around the center of the tower, Cyrus passed Erith, still riding on her horse, as he strode to the front of the army. Catching his eye, she spoke. “I miss healing you today. Any other day, I wouldn’t, but today I’m healing a dark knight, and he takes two hits and crumples like a ranger in a windstorm.”

  “Hey!” the dark knight and ranger in Erith’s group chorused in unison, outraged.

  “What?” she snapped back over her shoulder. “It’s not my fault that the two of you can't get hit without dying.” She turned back to Cyrus. “I’d have better luck keeping an ant alive while a child stomped on its anthill.” Rolling her eyes at the dissenting opinions behind her, she tossed another insult over her shoulder. “The ant would probably be more grateful, too,” she grumbled. “Your fighter dies one or three times…”

  Elisabeth rallied their army into the tunnel opposite the one they had just left. As they descended, there was another dramatic temperature change – this one turning the air brutally hot.

  “It's like an oven-heated punch to the face,” Andren said.

  “Feels kinda like home,” Vaste said. The tunnel opened to another large cavern, this one again having a deep gash in the middle of it – but instead of containing ice, there was a lake of bubbling, boiling oil stretching into the distance.

  “You think there are more lost souls in there?” Cyrus asked.

  Vaste nodded. “Mortus is not a benevolent god. Those worthy of torment in the afterlife are subject to him, and remain with him for eternity.”

  Andren took a swig of liquor from his flask. “Any guesses as to what it takes to land yourself here for eternity?”

  Vaste's eyes narrowed. “It's all speculative, but there is the traditional range of sins – murder, thievery, intemperance...” The troll looked at Andren.

  “Intemperance?” Andren asked, eyes wide. “You mean drinking?” An almost imperceptible nod from Vaste sent a visible shudder through Andren. “I reckon I'll be quitting drinking, then.” Cyrus raised an eyebrow at the healer, who looked offended. “I can quit any time, you know.” Cyrus held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, at which point Andren began to nervously eye the boiling oil again.

  A few of the adventurers wandered closer to the edge of the bubbling lake; Cyrus remained leery and kept his distance. In an instant the surface of the oil erupted in several places around the bank of the pool as something shot out of it. Whatever it is, Cy reflected, looks a hell of a lot like snakes held by their tails out of the oil.

  With a reptilian head atop a long, twisting segment of scaled neck, seven of the creatures burst forth and attacked those that had wandered too close to the shore. Cyrus watched as several adventurers were grasped between the jaws of the snake heads – or in the case of one of Goliath's rangers, grasped by the ankle and flung into the oil. Cyrus caught a glimpse of Malpravus, among those standing close to the shore, calm in the midst of the storm of action.

  Cyrus rushed toward the shore, but before he could get there, he heard an elven voice behind him proclaim, “I can handle this.” Something in the way it was said caused him to turn around. Nyad was already casting a spell, flames forming around her hands.

  “No!” he shouted, but to no avail – the fire spell burst from her fingertips and blasted past the snake heads to hit the oil behind it. Flames began to spread across the surface of the lake.

  “Oops!” Nyad said. “I'll fix it!” Once more, she began to cast a spell, this time with a whiff of what looked like smoke as a warning, something flew from her hand to the edge of the pool of now flaming oil, expanding into a cloud and raining on it.

  Cyrus did not even have time to react. An explosion rocked the cavern, sending a burst of fire surging in all directions. The warrior dropped to his knees and covered his face as a wall of flame washed over the Alliance army. It dissipated quickly, but not before catching a few people on fire, including Nyad herself. He tackled the wizard, rolling on the ground to suffocate the flames.

  Turning his attention back to the lake, the seven heads remained above the thick, flaming liquid, unaffected by the fires around them. Smaller pools had also caught on fire, making the cavern look like the den of Ashan'agar.

  “Ah,” Vaste said from the ground next to Cyrus, “there's the fire and brimstone I was looking for and... damnation.”

  “I think,” Cyrus said, running his fingertips over the scorch marks on his already blackened armor, “I'm going to have to cut the heads off some snakes now.”

  “Do run along then,” Vaste said from a prone position. “I'll be here, watching in case you get hurt.”

  “Much appreciated,” Cyrus grunted as he lifted himself to his feet.

  “Thank you,” Nyad said in a muffled voice, face in the dirt as the warrior ran past her to the edge of the pool.

  He looked to the lake of fire, seven snake heads still dancing back and forth within it, trying to grasp at any poor soul close to the edge. Malpravus stood by the shores, ignored by the waving heads. Cy dived to avoid two of them as they swept toward him. They missed him narrowly and with such force that one of them drove into the ground and did not move after the impact.

  Rolling to his feet, Cyrus grasped the hilt of his sword in both hands, and swung it from over his shoulder into the unmoving neck. The beast screamed and flailed, but could not muster enough strength to break free. The warrior stomped on the hilt of his sword with a plated boot, driving the blade the rest of the way through the neck. The head screamed and the neck retracted into the pool of fire. As it entered the flames, the severed head screamed and stopped moving.

  Two more heads swept in with a violent attack on the warrior, who dodged one of them but was caught flat-footed by the second, knocking him into the dirt. A healing wind ran through him, repairing the arm he knew had been broken. Rolling from his back to his hands and knees, he stood and charged past Vaste (“You're welcome!” the troll shouted, still laying on the ground) to be greeted by the same two snake heads, writhing at the end of their reach, snapping their teeth at him.

  “It's a hydra,” came the calm voice of Malpravus, who was gently stroking the neck of one of the snakes. “The heads are all part of the same beast.”

  Cyrus stayed out of the reach of the hydra heads, thrusting forward with his sword to strike a stinging blow to one of the heads, which hissed and withdrew. “Two questions come to mind – one, why isn't it attacking you, and two – could you help me out?”

  A wide, almost malevolent grin split the necromancer's face. “Yes, I can help you, I suppose.” Reaching into his robes, the dark elf pulled a long dagger from a scabbard on his belt. Whispering something too low to be heard over the fire and screaming in the cave, Malpravus drew the dagger back and thrust it into the neck of the hydra that he had been stroking only moments before. The neck stiffened and dropped to the ground, great tongue lolling out of its scaly mouth. Malpravus cackled and brought the dagger to his lips.

  “That is not normal,” Cyrus said before he lunged to strike at the remaining head. Malpravus made another bow to the warrior, arms extended out from his body, wide smile still fixed on his face. Then the dark elf turned on his heel, and swept away from the lake of fire, gliding back to where most of the Allied army was recovering from the explosion and avoidi
ng the heads of the hydra.

  Cyrus lunged once more, committing all his weight to the attack, and caught the hydra head off guard; he rammed his sword into the mouth of the creature. It screamed and tried to flee, but to no avail – close enough now to engage the beast physically, Cyrus threw his legs around the hydra's neck and jammed the sword further into the mouth, pushing it until it burst through the top of the hydra's head. The neck went limp, and the snake head dropped, pinning Cyrus to the ground.

  “Yes!” exulted Tolada, who rushed up with a hammer and began to pound on the head that lay across Cyrus.

  “Hey!” the warrior shouted, unpleasant impacts to the head reverberating through him. “It's dead already! Why don't you either pick a live one to attack or help get it off me?”

  “It's all the same beast!” Tolada said, face alight with glee. “It can still feel this!”

  “Tell you what,” Cyrus said, eyes narrowed in irritation. “I'm gonna stab you through the hand until you can't move it anymore. Then I'm going to pound what's left of it with a hammer, and you let me know if you can feel it!”

  Muttering something about a lack of allied cooperation, the dwarf put aside his hammer to help roll the hydra head off of Cyrus. By the time the warrior got to his feet, the Alliance force had engaged the other heads. Spells were flying through the air, bringing the waving heads to the ground one at a time, where they were greeted by vicious attacks from the melee combatants. Within a few minutes, the hydra was defeated.

  “All right,” Elisabeth said, “let's drag it on shore.”

  “Drag it out?” Cyrus sputtered. “I vote we toss it back into the flaming oil.”

  She smiled at him in understanding. “Do you know how valuable the bodies of the creatures we kill are? That's some of the real wealth of these Realms – the same as it is with dragons. Sure, there's a hoard of treasures around here somewhere, but there's gold in selling the skins, the scales, things that yield high prices. That's the reason why guilds like Amarath's Raiders, Endeavor and Burnt Offerings are wealthy. They have access to materials no one else does and trade agreements with shops and companies that make them more money.”

  “I don't care if his left buttcheek is worth a million gold; let's toss this thing back in and be done with it.”

  Elisabeth frowned. “His butt isn't worth anything. Hydra testicles, however, are worth a few hundred thousand gold each.” She brightened. “Let's hope this one is a boy!”

  Once they had finished extracting the most valuable of the materials from the corpse of the hydra (including three testicles, to the delight of Elisabeth and Malpravus), and those that had been tossed into the flaming oil had been recovered and revived, the Alliance army moved back up the long tunnel and into the platform of the entryway once more. Casting a sidelong look at the door to Mortus's chambers, Cyrus saw they were still sealed.

  “I'm not sure what's going on here,” Elisabeth said. “I was told that defeating the enemies within both caves would get the attention of Mortus's guards...”

  A loud noise filled the entryway and the enormous doors split and began to open, sweeping wide to reveal an army within. A moment of panic set in among the allies. “We need to face them outside!” Elisabeth shouted. “Retreat to the Fields of Paxis!”

  The Allied army broke and ran, retreating over the entry bridge and down the steps. Once outside, Elisabeth commanded once more, “Stop! Hold position here!” For the most part, her command was obeyed and they reformed at the bottom of the hill outside the Eusian Tower. A few adventurers continued beyond the rally point and up the hill, stopping once they reached the top.

  The first rank of the army of Mortus appeared in the doorway to the Eusian Tower; four rows of the horrific wendigos, followed by demons with red skin, bulging muscles and fearsome teeth. Pointed ears stood atop their heads, giving them all the appearance of a devil. There were fewer of them than there were wendigos, but each of the devils stood one and a half times the height of a human and was armed with a weapon.

  “The hell of it is,” Cyrus heard Andren say from somewhere behind him. “There are actually more of us than them.” He paused. “But I suspect they might pack a slightly nastier punch than most of us.”

  J'anda called out, “Those demon knights – I cannot mesmerize them; their will is too strong.”

  A few of the gray-skinned fiends halted their advance, bedazzled by the enchanters' spells. The remaining wendigos broke ranks and charged, demon knights following behind.

  The first wave of foes hit their front line warriors hard. The sheer numbers forced every Alliance fighter and some of the spell casters into one-on-one combat. The wendigos were strong and vicious, creating a poor match for most of the allied combatants. Cyrus swung his sword with all his strength, dispatching two of the bloody creatures in a row. By the time he had killed the second wendigo, the battle had turned into a complete melee. A demon knight waded toward him, accidentally killing a wendigo on its way.

  Cyrus brought his sword up in time to block the first blow from the demon knight, which wielded a blade that looked like a massive meat cleaver. The strength of the demon knight's strike chipped some of the steel from his sword where the blow impacted. Guess I'll be needing a new sword soon, Cyrus thought. I'm sure Belkan will be pleased.

  He successfully dodged the next attack and drove his sword into the leg of the demon knight which elicited a grunt and a backhand slap that sent Cyrus reeling, dragging his sword out of the wound. A small geyser of blood shot from the hole in the demon knight's leg, but the grotesque face of the creature displayed no reaction beyond a strange slurping sound as its tongue danced outside its lips.

  The demon knight jumped forward with no warning, knocking aside Cyrus's sword and burying its teeth into the veins of his neck. Cy brought his sword down, burying it through the eye of the demon knight, which relinquished its biting grasp and fell over, dead.

  Cyrus felt himself fall, warm blood rushing through his fingers as he tried to staunch the bleeding. He looked up to see Niamh, fingers glowing with a small healing spell, and he felt a swell of vitality as she kept him alive until he felt the spell from a healer that completely mended his wound.

  Pushing back to his feet again, Cyrus ignored the agony from the now-healed wound as all battle around him stopped. A commotion came from atop the hill behind them. Something was thundering on the other side, and when it crested the ridge, Cyrus's jaw dropped in shock.

  It was the bones of a dragon, but not just any dragon. The crests and gnarls of the skeleton, the jutting spikes and fearsome teeth, left no doubt which dragon the skeleton belonged to. Kalam, Cy thought in astonishment. Shit. Shooting a searing glare at those around him, he yelled, “Who helped Terian resurrect that thing?”

  Vaste shouted over the crowd. “It's not resurrected. Kalam must be on his merry way to the afterlife or else he got co-opted by Mortus to defend this Realm. It's probably his penance.”

  A rumbling came from the skeletal jaw of the dragon's bones. A hot rush shot through Cyrus, flushing his face and spurring him into action. A demon knight in front of him had turned its back to see the events unfolding on the hilltop. Behind the demon knight, Tolada stooped down to pick up the hammer that he had dropped in shock at the sight of Kalam.

  With two long strides, Cyrus used the dwarf as a step to launch himself through the air and bury his sword in the neck of the unsuspecting demon knight. As it fell, Cy pulled the sword as roughly as he could, decapitating the demon, and dropping the head to the ground. He reached down to retrieve it and ran toward the base of the hill.

  The battle had resumed, wendigos and demon knights hacking at the allied army. Shuffling his way through the fight, stabbing wendigos and knights as he passed, Cyrus finally broke through the battle and climbed to an elevated position on the hill. From the height it afforded him, the warrior could see J'anda working to mesmerize the wendigos. “J'anda!” Cyrus yelled. “Can you charm the wendigos and
use them to battle for us?”

  The dark elf did not respond for a moment, eyes closed, but then nodded.

  “Do it!” Cyrus shouted. The dragon corpse lingered at the top of the hill, cutting off any chance of retreat for the Alliance army. Cy let loose a bellowing warcry that caught the attention of everyone, even the fiends. Thrusting the head of the demon knight into the air above him, Cyrus taunted them. “You over-bulked, under-brained servants of Mortus don't even have the stones to take on a real threat – you're content to wade in among spell casters and rangers who can't give you a taste of real combat – COWARDS!”

  Without waiting for reply, Cyrus threw the head at the nearest demon knight, only a few paces away. It caught the head and stared at it for a brief moment, shocked. Cyrus slammed into the demon full force on a downhill charge – his sword pierced it and he jammed the edge of his right vambrace into the mouth of the knight, breaking its lower teeth and cutting open its lip. A squeal of outrage filled the air as it attempted to push the warrior away. Cyrus gripped tighter, bringing his sword down again and again. His final blow penetrated the heart of the demon knight, ending its resistance.

  Howls of outrage came from the forces of Death's Realm. Cy ran back up the hill. His speed and quick action by two of J'anda's charmed wendigos were the only thing that saved the warrior from being hauled down by the entire army of Mortus, now solely focused on him and following him up the hill.

  Cyrus could see a faint light in the bone-dragon’s eye sockets as it thundered down the hill toward him. How the hell do I fight a pile of bones? he wondered. And a battalion of these damned demon knights at the same time? The dragon's enchanted... and even if it's a magical creature, it can take damage...

  The dragon's skeleton let out a hiss as he approached. Its head swung down, jaws open and extended. A rattling voice could be heard: “I am Kalam, defender of Mortus, the God of Death.”