Emperor

by Isaac Hooke

  Abigail lobbed fireballs behind her now and then, and she managed to knock the skull clean off one of the skeletons, but the undead creature simply ran on, headless.

  Abigail was on drag, lagging, when withering magic from the lich suddenly darted past the pursuing soldiers and struck her. A translucent half sphere of magic appeared behind her body, and the regal cloak she wore glowed a bright purple as one of its charges was used up.

  The lich magic was persistent, however, and it didn’t dispel, instead continuing to harry Abigail as she ran. And then the shield faded—apparently all of its charges had been spent. The ghostly magic struck Abigail. Malem was terrified that he was going to watch her age before his eyes.

  But then he realized that no, it hadn’t struck her, but the cloak.

  Abigail quickly shrugged off the cloak so that she was only wearing her dress; the lich magic seemed drawn to the thing, with all successive darts swerving downward and into it. The once beautiful cloak quickly became tattered and threadbare, and quickly disintegrated.

  Careful! Malem sent her. Don’t let that magic touch you!

  I tried! she said. The lich can dispatch it fairly fast, when it wants to. Wish there was room to transform in here!

  Can you counter its magic with your own? he asked.

  I don’t know, she replied. I’ll try.

  The skeletons were slowly closing with the party. Abigail, who remained at the rear, would be the first to fall from them when they arrived.

  “You will die for stealing from me!” the lich’s voice echoed from the walls.

  More of that magic came in upon Abigail, sweeping past the undead pursuers.

  Abigail released a ball of flame, striking the lich magic. But the two magics simply passed through one another untouched. The skeletons swerved to avoid the flames, which struck the lich behind them. The man’s robes lit up, and he cackled madly.

  That ghostly magic continued toward Abigail. She had no cloak to protect herself anymore.

  “Uh, guys?” she said.

  Ziatrice slowed down, placing herself between Abigail and the magic; her shield activated, absorbing the withering strikes.

  Need some stamina! Ziatrice said as she struggled to maintain her shield.

  Malem fed the requested stamina to her, drawing from himself, and all those bound to him, so as to evenly distribute the load.

  And then the magical assault ceased, as the lich gave up the attack. For now.

  Ziatrice released her shield, and panted for breath as she continued to run.

  “Fucker.” She launched her chains of dark mist behind her, and shoved them past the skeletons until they wrapped around the lich himself. Then she retracted those chains, drawing in the undead entity.

  Ziatrice… Malem warned.

  But she ignored him, and continued to reel in the lich. The robed body shoved aside some of the undead soldiers as it came toward her, and when lich was within range, she swung her halberd in a wide arc

  The creature’s forward motion, combined with the hot rage she imparted her swing, caused her halberd to split the lich right in half.

  Its twin halves dropped to the ground in steaming masses, and Ziatrice cackled as she continued to run.

  The skeletons didn’t cease their pursuit. They swerved around the severed body parts.

  As Malem watched, the lich lifted up its head and flashed a wild grin. Veins formed between the pieces of its upper and lower body, and the body pulled itself together, mending. The lich stood up—or rather, its body simply propped upright as if shoved from the floor by some invisible force—that wild grin never leaving its face.

  Ahead, the flagstones shifted, and more undead emerged.

  Timlir struck out with his ax as he passed them, and cut off two emerging hands.

  The others swerved around or leaped over the grasping limbs, and avoided the undead before the creatures could grab at them or smite them with their swords. Malem had to swing Balethorn to deflect the blow from a skeleton whose entire torso had emerged in front of him.

  “How do you kill a lich?” Gwen asked.

  “You can’t,” Mauritania said. “I’d recommend collapsing the cave.”

  “Ziatrice?” Malem said.

  “Some stamina!” she said.

  Once more he drew endurance equally from the entire party, and gave it to Ziatrice.

  She began pulling rocks from the ceiling, and tossing them down onto the pursuing skeletons. She crushed them, one at a time, but the others continued onward.

  And then she struck upward rapidly with her chains, pulling out several rocks in rapid succession so that the entirely ceiling caved in behind them.

  When the dust cleared, the passage was sealed.

  Malem had slowed down to watch, as had the others, and he saw the flagstones shifting just in front of the cave in: more undead were simply emerging from in front of the collapse.

  Along with the lich himself.

  “Keep going!” Malem said.

  That cave in had allowed them to put some distance between themselves and the enemy, so Malem told Ziatrice to cause another one. He fed her stamina, and she complied.

  But once more, the lich and its skeletons simply remerged on the opposite side of the collapse.

  Still, Malem and the others were slowly pulling ahead.

  He was about to tell Ziatrice to do it again, when Xaxia shouted something from the front.

  “Uraks!” she screamed.

  22

  Malem gazed forward, past the periphery of the light cone produced by Abigail’s flaming globe. The black forms of uraks swarmed the passageway ahead, with every fourth one of them carrying a torch in one hand, and a short sword in the other. The rest wielded their usual two-handed swords. They all wore that strange, multicolored armor with the two bronze horns stamped onto the chest pieces.

  At least he could sense them, unlike the undead. He reached out, searching for any weak-minded among them, but they were all strong-willed, just like the earlier uraks that had attacked at the inn.

  “How did they get in front of us!” Gwen said, firing madly.

  “Obviously there are multiple ways down,” Wendolin said. She caused vines to grow from the shafts of some of the arrows and wrapped them around the uraks. She was weak, however, and the vines weren’t very thick. Most of the uraks simply hacked them away. The stamina bonus from that fountain had already worn off.

  As the uraks approached, they threw their torches at the party. Solan and Gannet, in the front, deflected those flaming brands with their bucklers so that the fires hit the walls harmlessly.

  And then the uraks collided with their ranks.

  Solan and Gannet shoved into them with their shields, while Xaxia, Timlir and Goldenthall used their bladed weapons. Malem stayed close to Ziatrice at the rear, and was ready to defend when the undead came at them from behind. He could see the lich behind the skeletal soldiers; it hadn’t launched any of its withering magic yet, but Malem knew it was coming. No doubt the lich was merely conserving its strength, attempting to recover after using its power to cross all those collapses.

  And then Malem had a thought.

  “Actually…” he said. “Force your way through! Drive a wedge into the urak ranks! Let them fight the undead for us! Remember, target their faces and heads, as their armor might be magic resistant!”

  Solan and Gannet drove forward as requested, shoving the uraks to either side. The other members of the party followed, with Malem and Ziatrice bringing up the rear.

  Xaxia pulled ahead of Solan and Gannet, her blade glowing a bright purple as Biter fed her stamina from the creatures she slew. She moved extremely fast, a veritable blur, full of energy. She had ignored his advice, and was cutting off arms, and hewing directly through the chest pieces of the uraks. Malem guessed that whatever magic-resistant buffs had been applied to the urak armor had worn off long since they entered the dungeon.

  Malem and Ziatrice deflected the blows of several ur
aks on either side, until they were many ranks deep. Behind them, the urak ranks had closed to seal their way back. Those on the outskirts had turned to face the undead they’d spotted beyond.

  Speaking of the undead, those in the forefront arrived only a moment later.

  Uraks shouted war cries as their blades met those of the undead. The eerie silence of the skeletons was all they got in reply.

  But then those war cries became screams as the lich’s magic hit some of the uraks near the outskirts of the battle behind them, and the monsters aged so fast that they dissolved to bones before Malem’s eyes. Their bodies promptly toppled to the floor, a pile of bones and armor; more lich magic came in moments later, and the dead reanimated, standing up once again, skeletons still in their armor, and turned on their brethren.

  Malem sensed a change in the uraks around him. The triumph he’d felt from them switched over to terror, and they fought harder, as if wanting to slay him quickly so they could get the hell out. Some of those behind him had stopped fighting entirely, and simply ran, trying to get away from the undead. They were slain by fellow uraks.

  “Fight, you coward!” one of the uraks said as it lopped off an urak head. That particular monster was hit by withering magic a moment later.

  “Mage!” Xaxia shouted from the front, where she was leading the drive through the uraks, full of the stamina Biter granted her.

  Malem glanced to the forefront, and saw a woman standing there among the uraks, a few ranks past Xaxia. She was dressed in bright red robes, and held a red, crystal sword in hand.

  She lifted that blade, and it glowed a bright red.

  Mauritania’s backpack lit up as she fought. From it, the Light Pearl emerged, shining brightly, almost blindingly so, sliding upward of its own accord. Wincing, Mauritania glanced up as it passed by, but was drawn back into the fighting a moment later as an urak lunged at her.

  “Get the pearl!” Malem shouted.

  Abigail lunged at it, but the Light Pearl darted away from her, and flung toward the red mage.

  To Malem’s horror, the woman chopped down with the sword, and cut the Light Pearl in two. The brightness from the pearl faded instantly, and the two black halves fell to the floor, where they shattered, leaving several dark pieces.

  “No,” Malem said.

  The red glow from the sword faded, and the mage lowered her crystal weapon.

  An urak blade stabbed for Malem’s throat, drawing his attention back to the battle; he deflected the enemy’s sword in anger.

  And then the buzzing returned in his head. Louder than ever.

  Shit!

  He couldn’t take on the uraks, the undead, and Vorgon’s Darkness.

  A portal appeared in the wall beside him, beyond the uraks there.

  The Darkness emerged.

  It struck the urak beside him, and black veins wrapped around its body, killing it.

  Malem dove forward with Ziatrice, flinging his sword frantically at the enemies beside him. He grabbed onto the elbow of an orak, clutching hard, and flung the creature toward the Darkness behind him. Malem knew that every time it ate an opponent, the Darkness slowed, and he used that to his advantage.

  Ahead, he spotted a passageway to the left of the mage, which opened off the main in a sort of T intersection. As far as he could tell, it was empty. And his beast sense told him no creatures resided within—not that he trusted it.

  “Take the leftmost passage!” Malem said.

  Xaxia had just reached the mage, and she swung Biter down upon the woman. But the mage didn’t move, save to grin defiantly at Xaxia.

  A magical shield activated, and Xaxia’s blade deflected harmlessly.

  Solan and Gannet hewed down the uraks that were blocking the path on the left, and entered the side passage. The rest of the party followed.

  “Left!” Malem repeated for Xaxia’s benefit.

  She pulled away from the mage, and dove into the passage in question. The mage did nothing to stop her.

  Malem and Ziatrice deflected the blows of the uraks that remained on either side and in front, and followed the others into the side passage—there were no enemies waiting in that corridor to further block their advance. Malem kept waiting for the red mage to intervene, or somehow attack him, but she did nothing.

  The uraks flowed in front of the woman and into the passageway behind him in pursuit.

  The Darkness also pursued, but this time wove between the uraks, not wanting any further delays.

  It moved quickly, and for a moment Malem feared it was going to outrun them, when Goldenthall did something.

  The man summoned an orak just in front of the Darkness. The black hands were unable to avoid the orak, and struck it. But since the orak was only partially through the gate that had appeared, the dark veins spread very slowly across its body, as if the Darkness was having trouble digesting it.

  “That will hold it for a few minutes,” Goldenthall said. “We don’t have much time!”

  Malem continued to run. He took the first right, and quickly lost sight of the pursuing uraks. A moment later, he took the next right, hoping to get back to the main passage so that they could find the stairs down to the next level, or some other way out.

  Behind him, above the muted footfalls of the party members, he could hear the clang of blade upon blade as the uraks engaged the undead. No doubt the lich wasn’t very happy to see even more intruders in its domain. He also heard the thud of booted feet, barely above the footfalls of himself and his party members, which told him some uraks still pursued. He sensed them on his beast sense, not far behind.

  He tried to Break them, but none were injured. He did sense some uraks past them, which were weakened from injury, but there was no point in Breaking them, considering they were presumable already fighting against the undead, judging from their relative lack of movement. Besides, he was actually too weak to perform much Breaking at this point.

  “Why didn’t she attack?” Wendolin asked as she ran.

  “Who, the mage?” Malem asked. “I’m not sure. Maybe Vorgon told her to only destroy the Light Pearl, if we had it. That, and delay us. So he could take me with the Darkness.”

  “Maybe she’s not working for Vorgon at all,” Wendolin said. “Maybe she works for Denfidal.”

  “Anything’s possible,” Malem agreed. “Though why a human would serve a Balor, I don’t know.”

  “You served one,” Abigail said. “And in a sense, you still do. We’re useful tools to them.”

  “Have you ever seen her before?” Gwen asked.

  “Never,” Malem replied.

  The sound of fighting faded into the distance, but he still heard the vague thud of boots above that of the party members. The buzzing was still present in his head as well, if suppressed somewhat: the Darkness still followed, somewhere. When Malem put enough distance between himself and it, the Darkness would eventually give up and return to the Black Realm.

  At least, he hoped it would.

  “The Darkness seemed to move slower this time,” Abigail said. “Than when it chased us while I flew over the Midweald.”

  “Yes,” Malem said. “Vorgon hasn’t recovered from the last use yet, I suspect. Also, I’m not sure if you saw, but Goldenthall threw an orak in its path. Giving it something to digest always slows it down.”

  “You said there were worse things here than Balors?” Weyanna told Mauritania. “That lich certainly comes close!”

  “Some would say it is worse,” Mauritania said. “A lich can’t be killed. A Balor, can. We only escaped because of the uraks.”

  “We haven’t escaped yet,” Malem said, listening to the march of booted feet behind him.

  Ahead, steps appeared, leading down into the dark.

  “More stairs!” Ziatrice said. “We’re never going to get out of here!”

  “We will,” Brita said. “Somehow.”

  “The passage continues forward,” Mauritania said. “We don’t have to take the stairs.”
/>   “I think we do,” Malem said. “If we stay on this floor, eventually we’ll run into the uraks or the lich again. No, we take these stairs.”

  Malem vaulted down the steps two at a time, with Abigail’s flaming globe leading the way.

  “And down to level four,” Xaxia said.

  At the bottom, the bandit pulled ahead of him, while Gwen assumed a defensive position at the base, scanning the way forward. It seemed clear of monsters.

  “Let’s go,” Malem said, pressing on.

  The rectangular passage seemed little different from the floor above. Four of them could stand abreast without crouching, but the ceiling was still low enough that there was no room to transform into dragons.

  “I hate this,” Solan said. “Dungeon traipsing is for humans and other smaller creatures. Not for dragons!”

  “Hey, I hate to break it to you,” Timlir said. “But you’re half human.”

  “Just as I am!” Goldenthall said with a giggle.

  He sensed uraks close by—at the top of the stairs behind him. The buzzing in his head was also louder.

  “They’re catching up,” Malem exclaimed. “Faster!”

  Tight corridors branched off to the left and right, but he ignored them.

  Xaxia, leading the way, shrieked suddenly, and slowed down.

  Malem caught up to her and saw what had scared her: a skeleton stood in the corridor to her left. It wore heavy plate armor, unlike the chain mail of the undead on the level above, with a large red hawk enameled on the chest piece. Its sword remained sheathed, and the pommel at the tip of the hilt glinted in the light, harboring an emerald. The triangular top of a kite shield protruded from where it was secured to the skeleton’s back.

  Malem would have thought it a knight, if not for the skeletal face peering out of that helmet.

  “Death knight!” Mauritania hissed. “They possess dark magic!”

  “It hasn’t attacked yet,” Malem said. “Keep running! Goldenthall, be ready to intercept any magic it hurls!”