Deadline

by Domino Finn

"A whole unit of troops sympathetic to our cause?" muttered Kyle. "We should've been with them. Instead we were stuck in a tunnel."

  "We don't have Hex yet," stressed the thief. "And this is too good to pass up. With knight chasing knight in the mountains, we have free run of the fortress."

  Glinda released a long groan. "Isn't everybody ignoring something? How can Hadrian leave the castle if he's on lockdown?"

  They blinked at each other. Kyle hadn't been tracking the clock, but something was definitely amiss.

  Kyle: Talon, can you still locate Hadrian by his player ID?

  Talon: Sure. Let me see... That's impossible. He's not in Oakengard.

  Kyle: He skipped out on his lockdown twelve hours early. Where is he?

  Talon: Northeast of the city. I don't have any map data so that area's a giant gray smudge.

  Kyle relayed the confirmation to Bravo Team, but they were already moving on. Crux led them down the dark halls, keeping their travel to the abandoned bottom floor. Without anyone to hear suspicious noises, even Lash and Conan were ghosts. Once they arrived at the staircase nearest their destination, Crux snuck upstairs, scouted ahead, and waved them forward through a few more halls, all empty.

  For the first time, Kyle understood why the thief was such a famed dungeon diver. He hadn't spent the day dilly-dallying in hiding. Not that the rest of them had a choice about it. He followed with growing curiosity, feeling safer in the foreign city.

  Finally, without encountering a soul, Crux escorted them to a circular aviary with a high ceiling that opened up to a third floor. Skylights flooded the room, painting moonlight on plants in clay pots and small fountains. Vegetation was extremely rare in the mountains around Oakengard. This room was primed to show off the biological treasures.

  It had been, anyway, long ago. The plants were withered and brown. The water in the fountains was stagnant and black. Dead finches and starlings dotted the floor and a multitude of bird cages that adorned the walkways.

  "Gross," observed Kyle.

  Crux pointed upward. A heavy chain hung from the center of the ceiling. Suspended high above and between the viewing balconies was a giant steel cage.

  "There aren't stairs to the viewing balconies from this room," reported Crux. "The third floor has more activity and is harder to search, but I managed. Thing is, the balconies are warded with strong magical traps. I don't know how to disarm them."

  Kyle frowned. From their vantage on the floor, the oversize birdcage was mostly an opaque bottom. "What's in that thing?"

  "My sister."

  Kyle swallowed.

  Bravo Team fanned out, checking the room for dangers, but mostly attempting to get a better view of their petrified party member above. "I see the problem," said Lash. "The easy access is from the balcony, but that's where the strongest defenses are. And that's if we can sneak a bunch of us up there at all."

  Glinda patted the smooth walls. "The cage is too high to reach, and there's no ready way to climb, I imagine?"

  Crux shook his head. "I checked. Maybe if Talon was here."

  Conan spun his greataxe in his hands. "I can break that chain with a good throw."

  Glinda rolled her eyes. "No you can't."

  The barbarian's head snapped to her, shocked that his statement would be challenged. "Of course I can. I am Conan."

  The old witch huffed. "Everyone knows you're strong, you big dummy, but that's a thick chain and it's thirty feet above our heads. You could never pull that off."

  "I can so."

  Crux sighed impatiently. "Please, guys. Even if you manage to break the chain without causing a racket, when the heavy cage crashes to the ground, Hex would crumble apart. We don't know if she'd respawn after that."

  Kyle bit his lip. It stood to reason that she should respawn, but players weren't supposed to turn to stone for days at a time in the first place. These were uncharted waters.

  "What about a rope?" asked Kyle. "Just toss one up with a grappling hook and climb."

  "That was my next thought after the balconies," explained the thief. "But check out those hinges on the cage floor."

  Kyle squinted. "What are those for?"

  "The mechanism extends to the top of the cage. If additional weight is put onto it and the cage pulls lower, the floor drops out."

  Kyle blanched. "And so does Hex. Okay," he muttered, pacing around the puzzle. "We can't climb up or pull her down. We can't reach her with the balconies. And if we touch the cage, she falls. What do you want us to do?"

  The glum thief shrugged both shoulders. "Think of something I didn't."

  "That's all, huh?" Kyle snorted. He'd really picked a bad time to abstain from swearing.

  "Well, I got nothing," admitted Lash. "My tool set is mostly limited to killing and protecting. Same goes for Conan and Glinda."

  The white witch raised a meek finger. "Mostly just protecting, on my part."

  The barbarian nodded. "Killing over here."

  "I'm confident I can pick the lock on the cage," offered Crux, "if I can get to it—as well as disable any physical traps in place—but I'm afraid I'm not the acrobat Talon is." Crux was a deft spelunker but was less splashy.

  Kyle pressed his lips out. The thief had read his mind. Talon or Izzy would be able to solve this puzzle in no time. Their fearless leader would vault circles around this room. Izzy would use her magic to conjure up a bridge of ice or something. And that was if neither was in the mood to utilize their dragon or frost giant.

  The brewmaster sighed. None of that meant he was chopped liver over here. He was, after all, one of the highest-level players in Haven. He had a legendary ability just like Talon and Izzy and Lash. As a crafter, his had a deal more flexibility than theirs too.

  "Don't you have that whatchamacallit potion?" asked Conan. "The one that gives you solutions to problems?"

  "Yes and no," he answered. "I can use Dorfin's Decanter, and the enchantment should give us something helpful to our situation, but it doesn't necessarily give you what you want. I've wasted it by using it too early before. It's best to save it as a last resort."

  Crux winced. "What do you mean last resort? Don't be precious with your abilities now. This is my sister we're talking about!"

  "Wait," said Lash in a commanding voice. She stepped forward and rested a gauntlet on the thief's shoulder. "Kyle's come through before. I think we should hear him out."

  To the brewmaster's surprise, everyone turned to him and waited. Lash's eyes twinkled. "Okay then, frat boy, what exactly do you suggest?"

  1870 Going Commando

  Errol and the cutthroats silently glided through the current, lost in the mist beneath Shorehome's main dock. The wooden structure was huge, branching out into several subdocks capable of housing full frigates themselves. Behind them, Hadrian's men scoured the beach and the wreckage of the Cutter. Above, assassins stomped on the dock into town after unloading.

  "Where are they?" demanded one as he shoved forward.

  Errol pressed his back against the dock piling and gently nudged his crew past. Between the waves and the trampling overhead, there was enough noise to make them ghosts, but one idle mistake could be their undoing. Avisa was taking up the rear, and as she passed Errol hooked her waist and pulled her into him. She inhaled sharply as their bodies met, their faces inches from each other.

  "I have t' say, raidin' with ye again really brings back memories."

  She glanced down. "It feels like more than memories stirring."

  "Won't ye offer me a kiss fer g'luck?"

  "Pirates make their own luck, which is why our kissing days are done." She tried to push away but he held her tight.

  "What if I wish t' know ye well again?"

  She sighed. "You never knew me, Errol. That was the problem. The sum of your interest was focused on the bedroom."

  "And what be wrong with that? 'Sides, you an' me hardly waited fer a proper bedroom. I seem t' remember ye havin' a thin' fer the wind whipping 'gainst yer naked bosom."<
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  Avisa's lashes fluttered. Her body relaxed and the water glistened on her skin. The sergeant placed a light hand on his cheek and leaned forward, squeezing her cleavage into his chest. She smelled like the summer breeze and tickled his ear with a whisper.

  "You're getting sentimental on me in your old age." Avisa's other hand gripped a rounded fish knife to his balls.

  Errol grinned. "Ain't old age but wisdom, me flower o' the sea."

  She snorted. "Corny, too."

  "If ye tryin' t' turn me on, dear, ye need t' squeeze a little harder."

  Avisa rolled her eyes and pushed away. She put the small blade to her mouth and bit down playfully before winking and moving ahead. She was trying to turn him on.

  To escape the pursuit of loyalists, the group of sixty-two pirates was making their way to the end of the dock where the Void was anchored. It was an overly large force to take a ship by stealth, but they had nowhere else to go.

  Errol: If these next few minutes go well, we may have Brugo without even enterin' the city.

  Talon: Good to hear someone's on schedule. Keep me in the loop.

  Errol: Aye aye.

  With the main force of loyalists unloaded and approaching the boardwalk, Errol and his men circled the hull of the Void and gathered around the floating buoy of the bower anchor. Avisa, knife in mouth, hoisted herself up the rope first. She deftly scaled the bow and vaulted over the bulwark. A second later, a cutthroat came flying over the edge and splashed down in the surf. Pirates converged on him with blades.

  The ever-impressive woman peeked down and waved them up. It would take time for so many to board so Errol went next. His boots ran up the hull and hit the deck beside Avisa and another dead crew member. A scan of the enemy ship revealed another deckhand on the far side. Errol couldn't believe it. The loyalists had practically given them their flagship.

  But then, it wasn't theirs to begin with.

  "I'll take this one," he gloated.

  Errol drew a large hunting blade and approached the man from behind. Staying low, he pulled at the man's head and sliced the neck clean, dragging him to the deck. The stealth kill had gone off smoothly. By the time he returned, Grug, Grom, and a few Brothers in Black had joined them.

  "When everyone's aboard," commanded Avisa, "raise anchor and cast off. We'll cut the crew off from reinforcements."

  "Are we sure the Papa's here?" asked Errol.

  "One way to find out."

  They headed toward the wide stairway that led below deck. Errol and Avisa descended side by side.

  "What the—?" blurted out a guard.

  Like a dance, Errol and Avisa drew rapier and saber, his right hand mirroring her left. They advanced and plunged their swords into the unfortunate man.

  "The brig is three decks down," said Avisa.

  Errol nodded. "Aye. You men clear the ship, one deck at a time."

  Blades flashed against candlelight as pirates rushed past. Errol followed Avisa to a pole running into the depths of the Void. She curled a leg around it.

  Errol opened his mouth.

  "Don't say it," she snapped. "Too obvious."

  He conceded a nod as she slid down. He jumped on after her and slid two decks down. Another surprised crew member was woefully unmatched. By the time the two descended another set of stairs and burst into the brig, they were racing each other to the next kill. Three dead loyalists lay at their feet outside a steel cage in the center of the room.

  "I applaud you," said Papa Brugo, the cage's only occupant. "But I'm afraid opening the cage will prove harder than swordplay."

  Errol reached a hand between steel bars. "You've seen better days, Papa."

  "Ha!" bristled the crime boss. He clasped Errol's wrist in greeting. "There is no better day than one surrounded by friends. It is good of you to come for me."

  Avisa picked at the lock with her fish knife and hissed in frustration. "Fie! I'll need to put my best burglar on it."

  "Don't bother," said the large man. He crossed stout arms over his barrel chest. "It's magically warded. We'll need a metal mage."

  Grug scuttled down the stairs. "Captain, the occupying crew has been dispatched. The Void is ours." His eyes snapped to Brugo's twisted smile. "Er, what I mean to say, of course, is that she's yers, Papa of all Papas."

  The trapped kingpin grumbled.

  "Cast off!" came a hurried cry from above. Errol rushed up a level and peeked out the gun port. The long dock stretched from their midship to the boardwalk. Thirty loyalists advanced with swords drawn.

  Errol searched the room and patted down the various pouches at his waist. He produced a wood match, struck it against the iron of the already-deployed heavy cannon, and lit the fuse. It was only at the last second that he thought to tilt the aim downward. The black powder exploded in his face. Errol flew back several feet and landed on his ass.

  "You crazy fool!" exclaimed Avisa, hurrying to his side.

  Errol groaned as she crouched over him and leaned in to check his breath. That's when he wrapped both arms around her back, squeezed her tight, and gave her a shameless kiss.

  He'd expected soft lips. What surprised him was that they kissed back. He'd also expected a friendly slap once it was over. He was once again surprised when she kneed him forcefully in the groin. Errol recoiled into a fetal position as she rose.

  "I'm not the type of woman to bluff," she said instructively.

  Errol grimaced. "All's fair in love an' war."

  She offered her hand again and he finally took it earnestly. On shaky feet, he limped to the gun port to see Shorehome's primary dock in flames. Half the charging loyalists had jumped into the water. The other half were backing off and taking cover. Finally, the Void jerked as the anchor pulled away from the seabed. They rushed up the decks until greeted by the salty breeze. Grom surrendered the wheel and Errol steered the destroyer-class frigate northward, away from the coast.

  1880 Steel Cage Challenge

  Bravo Team stood under a bird cage, swapping glances between it and Kyle. They were counting on him.

  The brewmaster dug into his inventory. His legendary power made him a stockrigger. That meant he could combine sets of equipment into impossible creations and utilize them for a whole hour. There had to be something that could free Hex from her prison. He just had to figure out what and how.

  The mirror shield was his best standard item. It was great for stockrigging because its reflective qualities extended to many applications. He puzzled over a way to somehow "reflect" Hex's state from stone to flesh, but nothing came to him. It seemed like a reach, anyway.

  His alchemy also failed him. Corrosives were a good solution to locks, but the metal in Oakengard seemed resistant. Besides, they had the thief for locks. And flame gel didn't solve anything.

  Kyle studied his dual eagle crossbow. As the name implied, it had two simultaneously loaded bolts. He'd equipped them with glass tips filled with his brewery creations. The primary advantage the crossbow afforded was a delivery mechanism. Kyle could get something to the cage from across the room if he needed to.

  Then there was the bishop gauntlet, one of two drops acquired by defeating Bishop Tannen. While it had proved handy in straight-up fisticuffs against shadows, the brewmaster's specialties didn't lie with light magic.

  Kyle had armor, a brewer's belt, and standard adventuring equipment like camping supplies, rations, and the aforementioned grappling hook and rope. It wasn't much to go on. Then he realized he had more than that at his disposal. He had Lash and Conan, Glinda and Crux. Not only their equipment but their skill sets as well.

  "What about the balcony walls?" he asked, pointing to one level with the cage. "Can we get a grappling hook onto one?"

  "It's not close enough to the cage to do us any good," said Glinda.

  "I can try," said Conan, producing a rope and swinging the hook around to gain momentum.

  "Wait," said Lash, stepping to the center of the room.

  [Lash] cast Reveal Magic<
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  Ruby sigils glittered into existence. Hundreds of them were inscribed on the surfaces of the aviary, starting from just above their heads and running past the cage and to the ceiling. The room was covered with them.

  Crux widened his eyes. "Good thing I didn't get very high trying to climb. I sensed danger, but I had no idea it was this extensive."

  Kyle frowned. "So we can see the traps now, but we can't disarm them."

  "Too much even for my magic resistance," added Lash. "I might be able to withstand some, but anyone who touches this is gonna get fried."

  Conan plucked a dead bird from the floor and beamed it at the wall. As soon as it made contact, a white-hot ball erupted and vaporized the finch. "Hasta la vista, birdy."

  While Kyle respected Conan's dedication to his character, it was hard to be flippant. Those same wards would prevent the rope from hooking onto the balconies.

  "Look at the wall." Lash pointed to where the finch had hit. The exploded sigil had gone black. Over a few seconds, color from the neighboring wards faded and bled over. "They're re-energizing themselves. Any hope of brute-forcing a path on the wall is shot."

  "That's a lot of magic," noted Glinda. "There must be a limit to it."

  "Which means," asserted Kyle, "we need to find its source."

  He found a wooden chair beside a small fountain. Kyle picked it up and flung it above his head. The chair bounced several times on the rounded wall, fireballs exploding in its wake. It destructed into burning pieces that clattered to the floor. A wide path of sigils blackened in its wake. They quickly refilled.

  "It's the moonlight," said Lash. "From the skylight. It's recharging their energy. The sun probably does the same during the day."

  The brewmaster's awe turned to conviction as he noted the dead foliage lining the entire wall. "I have an idea."

  Kyle liked blowing things up. It was kinda his thing, and he was good at it. Blowing things up was a reward in itself, but it was especially rewarding when other people appreciated it. When fire was a solution.