Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock

by Jak Koke

  Perhaps the bodyguards are questors of some Passion, and this chamber will be used for ritual ceremony. If so, Sarbeneck did not want to know about it. He didn’t really care as long as he was paid.

  “Come along,” Pontin said, “you’ll want to be close to us when the spell begins.”

  “What spell is that?”

  “Just trust me, you’ll want to be in the chamber and not the tunnel.”

  Sarbeneck gave a questioning look to Nancri. “Should we?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose so. This will prove interesting at the very least.”

  “I’m not sure ‘interesting’ is worth the risk,” Sarbeneck said.

  “Don’t worry, Sarbeneck,” Pontin said. “We will not hurt or delay you. As soon as the ritual is complete, we’ll be able to walk through the tunnel safely. If everything goes as planned, we can even remove the orichalcum.”

  I’ll kill him if he breaks his word again, Sarbeneck thought.

  He fixed Pontin with a hard stare, said, “We will come.”

  “I’m so glad.” Pontin’s whine was exceptionally patroniz-ing. “But we should hurry; these two are anxious to begin the spell.”

  Sarbeneck gave Nancri a grim smile, then motioned for her to lead the way down the tunnel. He followed the rest of the way up to the newly finished chamber at the end of the corridor.

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  the tunnel until they became the lattice which coated the walls, ceiling and floor. The hemispherical chamber glimmered reddish gold in the artificial light. While he admitted that the whole thing was awe-inspiring, it made Sarbeneck ill to see orichalcum wasted like this.

  Pontin took up a position on the left side of the chamber, behind an arc of rock which mimicked the curve of the wall.

  An indentation had been carved into the rock’s surface behind the fake wall, presumably for three or four smallish people to stand or sit.

  Sarbeneck whispered to Nancri. “Watch what happens in astral space, and describe it to me.”

  She nodded.

  “Over here,” Pontin said, waving. “Stand in here with me.”

  Sarbeneck and Nancri climbed around the false wall into the indentation. “What is going on?” Sarbeneck said. “Hon-estly, I’m annoyed by all the surprises. I thought I was being hired to mine and smelt, then you give me two days to build a chamber that would be the envy of a questor of Upandal. Now, I’m watching some sort of spell. I just —”

  “Your role in all of this is nearly over,” Pontin said. “Then I will pay the remainder of your contract, and you can march back to Throal. Now, be quiet and observe.”

  Sarbeneck watched the two guards finish making the final measurements. And as he looked, the illusion faltered. In place of Pontin’s guards stood two obsidimen and Sarbeneck nearly bolted out of the tunnel.

  Pontin caught his shoulder. “They’re with us,” he said.

  The two rock men were huge — immensely broad and quite tall. Their skin was the color of dark rock, one black onyx and the other gray like slate. Gone were the weapons the dwarfs had carried, as well as the armor and other gear. These obsidimen bore no clothing, their bodies naked except for fiery red paint which traced fragmented patterns across their This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  skin.

  They paced around the chamber, searching the walls and ceiling for blemishes, flaws in the orichalcum lattice, divots in the perfect curve of the rock. They found nothing; Sarbeneck had done his job well.

  When they were satisfied with the construction of the chamber, they started weaving the spell. They faced each other and began to hum. Deep and resonant, the two rock men formed long, multi-syllable words in a language unfamiliar to Sarbeneck. The two touched palms, momentarily, then turned around — back to back.

  They pressed against each other, black skin against gray, the red paint patterns on their skin melting together as they became one body. One body with two heads, one facing each direction. And four arms, four legs.

  By Raggok, Sarbeneck thought. He had never seen anything like it, though he had heard stories of rock men merging with each other. Never had he imaged them to be true. Sarbeneck looked to Nancri and Pontin for a reaction, but got nothing. They were captivated.

  The low droning chant continued from each mouth as the body walked awkwardly on four legs, moving slowly toward the wall opposite the tunnel. Two of its arms traced cryptic patterns in the air, and Sarbeneck thought he could see wisps of light at its finger tips.

  Nancri’s breath came into his ear. “They’re creating some sort of spell, drawing power through the spiral of orichalcum.

  The spell pattern looks like hundreds of tiny filaments, maybe thousands, twisting together.”

  Sarbeneck couldn’t see any of that; he could only hear the low rumbling voices of the merged thing; feel the crackle of magical energy in the air make his hair stand on end. The combined obsidimen reached the far wall, and it brushed the rock surface with its other two hands, not engaged in casting This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  the spell.

  “Now, they’re trying to merge with the liferock,” Nancri said.

  Sarbeneck watch with awe as the fingers of the two hands which traced along the surface of the rock melted into the stone momentarily, only to jerk back as though stung. The hands continued their motion, only to merge a little farther the next time.

  “The rock is resisting,” Nancri said. “But the obsidimen get deeper with each try.” Sarbeneck heard wonder and respect in her tone. “This spell is very complex,” she said.

  “What do you see?”

  “It appears that they’re weaving some sort of thread, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s huge, so large it defies description. It is pulsing with red and black filaments, interwoven with wisps of white. They’re spooling it out along the spiral hairs of orichalcum in the tunnel which is twisting it for them, making it strong enough to hold together.”

  Nancri paused a second, glancing questioningly at Pontin. “I know they’re trying to attach one end of the spell’s pattern to the liferock inside the tepuis, but what about the other end?”

  “Just watch,” Pontin said.

  Sarbeneck watched the two merged obsidimen creep closer and closer to merging through the orichalcum-lattice wall into the liferock. There was no real danger here, just weird magic. And while Nancri’s descriptions were interesting, he eventually grew bored. Over an hour had passed and it didn’t seem like they were any closer to finishing the spell.

  “When can I get out of here?” he said.

  “Try and relax,” Pontin said. “Obsidiman magic is mighty impressive, but it tends to be a little on the slow side. I’m afraid you’re stuck here for the duration.” He pulled some bread and cheese from a pouch under his cloak. “But I brought a few goodies to pass the time.”

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  “How thoughtful.”

  “Do you want some or not?”

  “Did you bring wine?” Sarbeneck asked.

  “But of course.”

  “Then sure, I’d love some.”

  “Shh,” said Nancri. “Something is happening.”

  “What?” Sarbeneck said.

  “Look, they’re having a lot of trouble merging with the rock.”

  Just as Nancri finished speaking, the merged obsidiman body was thrown clear of the wall. It flopped back and landed in the center of the chamber. The rock where they had tried to merge was no longer glimmering
red-gold along the threads of orichalcum; instead the lattice looked mottled with tiny holes and pockmarks.

  “Something just reached out and shoved them back.”

  The obsidiman body stood as one, still merged with each other, and approached the wall again. One of the hands produced a sharp metal blade from somewhere, glinting cold in the crystal light. The hand pressed the edge of the blade against the forehead facing the wall. Then it drew the sharp metal across its skin in a slow motion slice, cutting a gash into its own flesh.

  The iron tang of blood filled the stifling air, and the tone of the humming shifted slightly, increasing in urgency as blood flowed from its wounded forehead. The melded obsidimen pressed the gash against the stone, the dark red liquid flowing freely over the rock. The blood was black in the dim light, and the rock yielded under it, melting beneath the pressure of their joined head.

  A deep sound of drums and cracking rock rebounded around the cavern, deafening Sarbeneck. He brought his hands to his ears to block out the noise, but his action did no good.

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  Several bulges formed in the side of the cavern across from Sarbeneck, body shapes glimmering like life-size gold statues. Then another grew from the rock wall just on Sarbeneck’s left, near to the merged obsidimen. And another bulge appeared next to Sarbeneck — an obsidiman shape protruding out from the rock, its facial features blurred by the webbing of orichalcum.

  He startled and jumped into Nancri.

  “They shouldn’t be able to penetrate the orichalcum lattice,” Pontin said. “It’s their own liferock and they can’t even get out.” He gave a little laugh which sent chills along Sarbeneck’s spine.

  He said they shouldn’t be able to get out, Sarbeneck thought. Which means, maybe they can. Sarbeneck remembered the iron grip of an obsidiman hand against his throat.

  Chaiel was his name. If he gets through now, there’s not much chance I’ll get out alive.

  The bulges struggled to break through the orichalcum webbing for a few minutes, their suffocating bodies lunging out of the rock only to be slung back by the alien metal. Finally they gave up and faded back into the rock.

  Maybe they can’t get out of the rock here, he thought. But what about coming up the tunnel. I hope the guards can hold them off.

  Blood flowed over the rock between the liferock and the joined obsidimen. Its body seemed to be mostly merged with the rock now, its black and gray flesh partially melted into the cracking lattice of the wall’s surface. The glow crystals dimmed suddenly, and Sarbeneck smelled sulfur and steam.

  Voices and movement came from down the tunnel.

  “What’s happening?”

  “I can’t really tell,” Nancri said. “But I think they’re warping astral space.”

  A deep red glow lit up the cavern now, and Sarbeneck This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  could hear the drip, drip, drip of water. “What does that mean, warping?”

  “It means something with immense power is folding astral space. I think they’re trying to connect the spell’s pattern to the liferock and something else.”

  Suddenly, the rock yielded completely under the body of the two merged obsidimen. There was liquid popping sound, like the rush of fluid from a ruptured membrane as it gave way to building pressure. The red glow filled the cavern with heat and light for second, then dissipated and the white glow crystals brightened again. The sulfur smell vanished, and silence replaced the voices. The chamber had returned to normal.

  “They did it,” Nancri said, astonishment in her voice. “I wouldn’t have believed it, but they did it.”

  Sarbeneck was still at a loss. “Who did what?”

  “The obsidimen, there.” Nancri pointed at the dark, amor-phous lump merged into the rock at the back end of the chamber. “They connected that huge rope-looking spell into the liferock and into whatever was on the other side of the warped astral space.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means the pattern of the liferock is directly linked with the pattern of that thing. They are intertwined.”

  “It simply means,” Pontin said, interrupting. “That our work here is complete.”

  This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com)  Chapter Thirty-Two 

  The pain hit Pabl and Reid at the same time. Pabl winced as a sharp edge of agony sliced into his gut like a knife.

  Reid doubled over in front of him, clutching at his stomach. Reid sank to his knees and pitched forward onto the floor.

  “What is it?” Pabl asked.

  Reid writhed on the floor, curling his knees into his chest, gritting his teeth against the pain. He gasped and sputtered, but couldn’t form words.

  Then pain wracked through Pabl again. He felt life energy spill out of him as though he were bleeding all over the rock.

  Yet there was no wound.

  “It’s Ganwetrammus,” Reid croaked.

  “Ganwetrammus? How?”

  “Sangolin is attacking it,” Reid said.

  Pabl nodded. He knew that had to be true. “How is that possible?”

  “Don’t know.” Reid struggled to his feet, agony evident in his grimace.

  Pabl’s pain had dulled to a slow draining ache that spread 229

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  from his gut into his bones. “We must stop it.”

  Reid shook his head. “No, I can’t leave. I told you —”

  “I will hear no more excuses,” Pabl said. “You must come with me, don’t you see now? If you don’t, Ganwetrammus will die, just like Othellium. Is that what you want?”

  Reid tried to speak, but he was in too much agony to answer. He sank to his knees again.

  “At least try.”

  Reid shook his head again, violently, placing his hands down on the floor to help him back to his feet. “I —”

  “No excuses!” Pabl said, feeling his anger building against the pain inside him. Ganwetrammus is dying while we debate.

  I can brook this brother’s weakness no longer. “You will come with me,” Pabl said, “or I will be forced to kill you to save the liferock.” His breath rattled in his chest, partially from the pain. Mostly from his realization that what he said was true.

  Reid looked into Pabl’s eyes, holding his stare for a moment. “All right,” he said. “I will come with you as far as I can.”

  Pabl watched as a wave of pain shook through Reid, forcing him to the floor again. Pabl felt the pang of agony in his chest, but he fought to ignore it.

  Reid’s fingers pressed tightly into the muscle of Pabl’s arms, grasping to be helped to his feet. When Reid was standing on his own, Pabl hoisted his backpack and led the way out of the cave. He ran, hauling Reid behind him as fast as he could go. He needed to get them far away from Sangolin before Reid was called. Before Reid changed his mind.

  They passed along the cliff edge and through the hollow.

  The sun had set, leaving a red orange glow in the west, silhouetting the clouds of steam and mist which blew slowly through the clearing. Pabl and Reid sped past the brothers who were preparing the late-evening feast of flesh. It looked like they had netted a gargoyle, and were struggling to subdue This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ scarab@mindspring.com) Liferock 

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  it enough to get it on the spit.

  Pabl and Reid reached the base of the trail which led up and over the mountains before the pain vanished. Just as quickly as it had come, the agony was gone. The grimace on Reid’s face gave way to a far off stare of contentment. And Pabl’s jaw went slack as the ache dissipated, replaced by a gentle longing.

&nb
sp; “Now you see why I cannot leave this place,” Reid said.

  “You understand.” He extended an arm towards Pabl, palm open, beckoning.

  The longing grew to an insistent urge. Delirious desire overcame Pabl. He nodded slowly and placed his hand into Reid’s.

  Reid clasped tightly, the strength of his grip pressing bruises into the muscles of Pabl’s hand. Like a vice. Then Reid’s skin softened under Pabl’s palm — an invitation to join in self-Dreaming.

  Pabl resisted out of instinct. It was a violation, an invasion of the flesh. But his resistance was fleeting. He wanted Sangolin and Reid would be his guide. He yielded to the merge and lost his mind.

  In the flash of an instant, Reid’s memories possessed Pabl’s mind. His thousands of mergings with Sangolin crashed in upon Pabl. The gradual loss of Reid’s mind to the Gathering which became Sangolin had taken him hundred of years, but Pabl’s mind became its slave in less than a minute.

  Pabl’s memory split as the events of Reid’s past jumbled together with his own plus bits and pieces of others he didn’t know. All disconnected, shattered like broken glass, fragmented into a million isolated moments. Meaning nothing.

  Only Sangolin held meaning for them now.

  As one, they turned and walked back down the slope toward their sweet. Sangolin called to them, and all else was forgotten.

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  As it should be. As it always will be.

  Pabl. A distant echo in the back of his mind. Stop!

  “Pabl!” Something tapped his shoulder, but he ignored it.

  Couldn’t be important. Sangolin called and they would join it.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Suddenly, his body lifted into the air. Not far, just a few feet. Then a hard shaft of wood slammed into his head.

  What by Thystonius’s wrath was that? Pabl turned slowly to see a dwarf and an elf standing behind him. They seemed anomalously out of place here. It was the dwarf who spoke, “Pabl, are you all right. We’ve been looking for you.”