Empire Builder 3: Breed, Populate, Conquer

by Dante King

  He took a deep breath and focused himself. His muscles were ready, his mana was charged.

  Up ahead, the orcs stepped apart, and a figure decked out in black and silver robes appeared. He was middle-aged, with long, black hair tied into a braid and a trimmed beard. A sword hung at his side, long, thin and curved, reminding Ben of a katana from Japan back on Earth. As the man drew near, Ben noticed that the length of the blade was adorned with runes.

  The wizard approached, waving to the audience as if he were on the lead float of a parade.

  “My name is Julien,” he said once he was near Ben. “And you’re the one who everyone’s been talking about? You don’t seem like much.”

  Ben could already tell Julien was as arrogant as they came.

  “You’ll see what I am in a few minutes,” Ben said firmly.

  The crowd roared again, and Ben turned toward the third entrance into the arena. The orcs guarding the passageway turned toward the darkness, roars sounding out as they spotted whatever was coming.

  “Let’s get out of here!” one of them shouted as the group broke formation and ran across the arena, disappearing down the other passages. Ben watched as they vanished. Then he turned back toward the entrance to the tunnel.

  He saw right away what the orcs had been running from.

  A creature appeared—there was no other way to describe it. At first, it looked like a beastkin, a lion type, but there was more to it than that. Other beastkins seemed to have been grafted onto it horribly—the body reminded Ben of a rhino with appendages that seemed like tentacles. It walked on two human feet. Its mouth snapped open and shut, drool dripping down onto its fur.

  It was a nightmare. It shambled toward them, standing about ten feet tall. Ben’s hand instinctively went for his sword, as if the creature might snap at any moment and attack them like wild animals.

  “There are no rules!” the wizard announcer shouted. “No tactics are forbidden. The last one standing will be crowned the winner of the gladiator games! Good luck, contestants!”

  With that, the wizard went translucent and hurried off.

  The crowd roared in anticipation.

  Chapter 17

  Julien began the battle by pulling out his blade and shouting a spell, a purple flash of magic washing over him and his blade crackling with energy. Ben focused his mind, activating Siphon in the hopes of draining Julien of his magic.

  But there was nothing to be found.

  You’re not going to win this match that easily.

  Ben was confused at first, but when he looked up to see the battlemage sneering at him, he realized what was happening—the mage had cast a spell of magical protection that prevented Ben from using Siphon on him.

  Might want to look out.

  Ben turned to see the mutated monsterkin snarl toward him. Not even having time to take out his blade, Ben used Force Wave at an angle against the ground, launching himself away from his spot and toward the edge of the arena, flying toward the wall. Before he hit, he shot another blast of Force Wave against the wall, using that to guide his landing to the ground. He felt like Iron Man learning to fly, but he didn’t have time to think about that.

  That move got cheers from the crowd, but applause was the last thing on Ben’s mind. He pulled out his longsword and looked up at Julien and the mutated monsterkin, watching them begin their battle. Julien flourished his charged blade and swung it in a quick, downward swipe. A gust of energy rushed out from it, hitting the monsterkin and knocking him off his balance.

  Nice weapon, Ben thought. Looks like it can be charged with magic. Wouldn’t mind having a sword like that.

  When the monsterkin had been pushed back far enough, it fell down onto all fours and reared its head back, letting out a booming roar. A cone of visible sound waves shot from its mouth, blasting toward Julien. The battlemage staggered backward, falling to his ass and dropping his sword.

  Julien didn’t stay down for long. He stuck out his hand toward the sword, using some sort of magic to bring it back to his hand without having to touch it.

  Telekinetic magic? Ben thought. Nice.

  Ben, sword in hand, rushed back into the fray. The monsterkin turned his attention toward him, and Ben announced his presence with a burst of Flame Cannon toward the hideous creature.

  The mutant’s tentacles whirled in front of it, spinning so quickly that they put out a gust of wind that halted the fire. The flames faded in midair, and the monsterkin responded to Ben’s attack with another sonic roar. The noise hit Ben with the force of a body slam by a wrestler, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying into the sand. Pain rushed through him, and he quickly stretched his limbs to make sure nothing in his body had been broken or torn.

  Julien took advantage of the monster’s distraction, lunging forward with his blade and flicking his wrist, the tip slicing through one of the tentacles. The appendage fell to the ground with a soft thud. The audience cheered in response, and Julien wore a pleased smile as he stepped back. The monsterkin roared, launching a few of its tentacles like whips at the battlemage. Julien stuck his arm out and let one of the tentacles wrap around his wrist, then grabbed the end with his hand. Once the tentacle was in his grasp, he cleaved through with his blade and severed it from the beast’s body.

  The monster recoiled in pain, Julien responding by waving his hand in front of him and summoning a collection of electric[10] daggers. With another sweep of his hand, he launched them toward the monster, the creature diving out of the way at the last moment.

  Julien moved toward the monsterkin. With a yell, a crackling, jagged arc of electricity shot from his hand and toward the monster, who formed another shield with its tentacles. The spell blasted off a pair of the appendages.

  It’d be smart to take one of them out while they’re busy with each other, Ben thought.

  Right as he had the thought, Julien turned toward the crowd. A big smile had spread across his face, his arms outstretched as he soaked up the wild applause from his performance.

  Then he turned to Ben, still grinning.

  “I can take care of the monster last,” he said. “What I want to see right now is how this kid managed to make it this far.” Total disdain hung on his words, and he held the blade over his head, pointing it toward Ben.

  Ben was ready. “Come here—I’ll show you.”

  Julien waved his hand, his palm moving in a slow circle. Thick, purplish vines of electricity sparked over the ground. They snapped at him, flicking like whips. The largest slithered closer, trying to wrap itself around Ben’s arm.

  Before it could, Ben cast Sand Summon. A wall of sand rose from the ground, blocking the main attack, but they still snapped at him. Ben focused on the blade in his hand, then launched Whirlwind Strike. He spun through the air like a corkscrew, sending out a blast of wind in all directions. When he landed on his feet, the last of his sand wall fell and the electric vines had dissipated.[11]

  The crowd went wild. Ben’s heart raced, but he wasn’t done. He rushed toward Julien, bringing his sword down hard. Seemingly stunned by what he was seeing, he only barely had time to raise his own blade to block. Ben attacked with a flurry of strikes, Julien just barely blocking them as they landed.

  Julien raised his foot and kicked Ben in the gut, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Ben fell back onto his rear, the pain from the kick more than he’d been expecting. When he was down, he raised his palm and focused, trying Force Wave. He held the spell, charging it until the air in front of him shook. Then he launched it.

  But the wave went harmlessly over Julien.

  “Spell shield, remember?” he asked, a look of amusement still on his features. Then he raised the blade with both hands, preparing to strike down hard.

  That didn’t happen. A rush of something came in from the left, pulling back just as quickly as it had arrived. When it was gone, so was a huge chunk of Julien’s side.

  He looked down, his expression one of curiosity. He regarded the
bite, waving his hand through it as he stood, blood pouring from the wound.

  “Shit.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I forgot about the damn monster.”

  He dropped to his knees and then into a heap. The battlemage was dead.

  The crowd burst into applause, thrilled at the sight of blood and gore. Ben turned his attention to the direction where the monsterkin had leaped in from. Sure enough, blood ringed its mouth as it chomped and chewed the flesh it’d snatched away.

  Ben took advantage of the distraction, tossing his longsword aside and reaching for Julien’s katana. He clasped the hilt and right away noticed how light and balanced the weapon was—it felt no heavier than a solidly-built dagger.

  Let’s see how hard this thing is to use, he thought.

  Ben focused on his spells, closing his eyes and summoning Flame Cannon. Instead of imagining it shooting from his palms, he pictured it running down his wrists, over his hands, and onto the blade.

  Roars erupted from the crowd. Ben opened his eyes to see that it had worked—his sword was aflame.

  The monsterkin gathered magical energy at the end of its remaining tentacles, firing bursts of purple super-heated air—reminding Ben of plasma. He swung his blade in a circle, creating a barrier of fire that the energy was unable to penetrate. When the fire vanished, the plasma went with it.

  Ben raised his free hand, channeling Energy Darts and shooting them like bullets at the monster. They hit home—not enough to damage the beast, but still distracting it. Ben didn’t waste any time taking advantage of the precious seconds. He fired Force Wave at the ground behind him, the blast shooting him through the air toward the beast. Ben raised his blade over his head, the monster growing larger as he hurtled at it.

  He slammed the blade down.

  It struck.

  Ben landed on his feet. Right before him was the beast. It was still as stone, its wild eyes wide, looking up at the blade jammed into its forehead as it stood frozen in the position just before a pounce.

  It collapsed into a heap, the crowd silent as they realized what had happened. Then they burst into wild applause, cheers so loud Ben had to take off his helmet to prevent them from ringing against his head.

  The announcer wizard approached, a huge smile on his face as he grabbed Ben’s hand and lifted it into the air.

  “The winner!” More applause, more cheers.

  Everything that happened next was a wild blur. Ben was hurried off into a separate room, this one a fancier dressing area, and bathed again, his hair trimmed and his stubble shaved off by the staff that flocked around him like birds. He was dressed in robes of red and gold and given soft-footed slippers to wear. When that was all done, he was spritzed with cologne.

  He hated it. All he could think of was his new blade, and what he wanted to do with it.

  “Dinner is in one hour,” one of the attendants said. “It will be with The One and his closest circle. Wait in the main elevator room when the time comes, and don’t be late.”

  With that, he was left alone. Ben wasted no time in hurrying back to the arena, where the staff was at work cleaning up the mess of the battle. He found Julien’s katana laying in the sand and quickly picked it up. Then, on the mangled corpse of the battlemage, he spotted the sturdy, leather scabbard, a white ribbon tied around the end. The scabbard had a strap, which allowed Ben to wear the blade slung tight around his back.

  Then he wasted no time in going back to the ready room. Just as he’d hoped, Graven was there, a glimmer of enthusiasm in his eye.

  “You did it!” he said, getting up and coming over to shake Ben’s hand. “How do you feel?”

  “Like the night’s only just begun,” Ben said.

  The smile faded from Graven’s face, and he nodded somberly. “You’re right about that. No rest, huh? You’re going to dine with The One and his people, and after that, you’ll have a private meeting with the man himself. The purpose of this meeting is to let him see you up close, for him to best determine how to use your talents. He’s hands-on like that.”

  “What else can you tell me about him?”

  Graven shook his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. Only that he’s a tactical mastermind, and as good with a blade as he is with a spell. A lot like you are, actually.” He cocked his head to the side. “There’s also that… well, no one knows where he came from.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “I mean just that. One day the tower was appeared, the next it was occupied, run by The One. No one seems to know where The One lived before he showed up in the tower.”

  It was strange, and it reminded Ben of his own journey to this new world. Was it possible that The One had come from another planet? Maybe even Earth?

  Ben put all that out of his head as he turned his mind to the evening head. There was no way to explain all of that to Graven without giving every detail.

  “None of that matters right now,” Graven said, echoing Ben’s thoughts. “What does matter is killing The One and lighting the brazier. I began spreading word around the slave camps as soon as I saw you put that blade into the mutated monsterkin’s head. What’s more, staff around the tower will also be joining in the fight. All you need to do is kill The One and light the brazier.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

  Graven placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

  “You’ve done much for our people, Ben. I assure you that when we’ve persevered, we’ll do all we can to return the favor.”

  Ben only nodded, his mind racing with plans for the monsterkin when the yoke of The One over their necks was finally broken.

  Graven sighed. “Nothing to do but do it. Good luck, Ben. Gods willing, the next time we meet, we’ll both be free men.”

  Graven grabbed Ben’s upper arm and gave it a squeeze. Then he left.

  Ben wasted no time in gathering his gear and hurrying to the appointed area. He sensed electricity in the air, as if he could feel the energy of the monsterkin staff ready to revolt. More than that, he sensed that he was something of a celebrity. Everywhere he went, people pointed and whispered.

  “Ben!” a familiar voice called, and he turned to see Shrike and Lexi approach. They rushed over and threw their arms around him, each pulling Ben into a tight hug. He couldn’t help but smile—he was happy to see them. Both were clad in flowing dresses, their hair styled and faces made up. He had to admit they looked even more beautiful than normal.

  “That was amazing!” Lexi said, the two women letting go of Ben and stepping back. “How you tore your way through the competition.”

  “You’re truly the one who’s going to lead us,” Shrike said, her eyes moving over Ben as if she were in the presence of someone not quite human.

  “Still plenty to get done,” Ben said, “but if all goes according to plan…”

  “I know it will,” Shrike said. “I have no doubt you’re going to pull it off.”

  “Where were you two?” Ben asked.

  “In the stands,” Lexi said. “We’re going to be your guests to the dinner—for dinner, and the events after.” She winked, and Ben knew right away what she meant. It put his mind a bit at ease to know they would be there to help him in the battle to come.

  “Then let’s go,” Ben said. “It’s just about time.”

  Lexi and Shrike nodded. The group turned to the elevator, the arched doors guarded by two orcs. Their dark, beady eyes flicked onto him, the one on the right pressing a button that opened the doors. The group stepped inside.

  As the elevator rose, the back wall of the vessel turned from stone to glass, the view growing more and more incredible the higher they went. Before too long they were high enough to look out over the river region, to see the dotting of towns along the water’s snaking shape. Off in the far, far distance, Ben saw his tower, the shape no thicker than a toothpick and no taller than a penny. The roaring flames and thick smoke of the industry in front of the northern tower was gone, the sky blue above and fading into orange
and red to the west.

  I’m going to free these people, he thought. And soon, all of this land will be mine. It’ll be the beginnings of a true empire.

  The elevator came to a stop, and Ben turned around to watch as the doors opened, revealing a massive hallway, the walls glowing with what appeared to be magically charged lanterns. Orc guards were posted on both sides of the hall, spaced a dozen feet apart. He and the women stepped into the space, the hall so big that Ben felt like he was a foot tall. He suspected that was the purpose—what better way to let anyone coming down the hall know who was in charge?

  Up ahead, small groups of people were making their way to the huge entry on the far end. Ben, Shrike, and Lexi did the same, the large hallway taking ten minutes to traverse down. When they reached the far end, the doors opened into a huge, circular dining area, the space as ornate and decked-out as they came.

  “This is like the council room at your tower, Ben,” Lexi whispered, “but The One’s not using it for that—it’s a room to impress instead.”

  “Guessing he’s not the type of guy to ask others’ opinions on how to run his empire,” Ben said.

  A pair of orcs at the entrance looked over Ben and his group as they entered, making sure that he was allowed to be there.

  Lots of orc guards, he thought. They’re going to make this task harder.

  He entered, one of the monsterkin staff leading him to a trio of open seats. The moment he sat, Ben began scanning the room for The One—as if he might be hard to spot. There was no sign of him other than a high-backed, throne-like chair at the head of the table. Food was already being served, but Ben was more focused on the mission at hand.

  “You need to eat, Ben,” Lexi said, putting a plate of food—slices of roasted meat, bread, and seasoned vegetables—in front of him. “You don’t want to look like you’re sizing up the place.”

  He knew she was right. He began picking at his meal, keeping in mind that he’d need all the strength he could for the night ahead. Chatter filled the air, The One’s inner circle—many of whom he recognized from the stands of the arena—talking and laughing and getting drunk off the ample wine.