Warsinger

by James Osiris Baldwin

  [Suri takes 190 electrical damage!]

  [Suri is burned!]

  [Suri’s Rage builds as she is injured! Damage reduction and attack power drastically increases!]

  “Eat a bag of dicks!” I recalled the energy and discharged it a second time. A massive crown of thorns spun up around my weapon, then shattered into splinters of black ice that hailed down. Rain of Glass obliterated two of the men on Suri’s back and crippled four others. She reached around, grabbed the remaining man by the top of his head, and threw him at the fence. He flew by Vash and smashed limply into the bars. I dropped to the ground behind Suri and faced off with the remaining guards. Swords and rifle barrels flashed as I darted in, a blur of speed and shadow, and cut a swathe through them.

  [You use Whirlwind Butcher!]

  [You killed Witch Hunter!]

  [Suri is Level 25!]

  Suri, her flesh smoking through the plates of her armor, discharged a rolling shockwave that knocked down the nearest ten soldiers attacking her and cleared the space around us. When fighting with a polearm, every foot of space I had put me at an advantage. I smashed the blade down against a witch hunter’s scimitar, knocking the woman back, then gave it a tricky twirl, hooked the sword, and flipped it out of her hands. In the moment of shock, Vash flew past me in a blur, a flying kick that hit her in the side of the face, snapped her neck to the side, and pitched her to the ground in a heap. He bounced off her, wove under a firing rifle, and pushed it up into the grenadier’s face as they fired off another couple of rounds.

  “The Sultir’s soldiers are on the way!” he snarled, pulling the gun back past his head with one hand and smashing his other fist into the man’s nose. “We need to wrap this up, Dragozin!”

  I scanned the area, searching for a way out. Having Karalti change back out of human form was not an option. Bridges, paths, and canals crowded the sky like a net, many of the gaps too small for a dragon to pass between. Worse, the cavalry was here: quazi, smaller winged creatures the size of griffons, were streaking toward us from the north.

  “Back around the compound, to the alleyway! There’s a sewer grate there!” I Shadow Danced out of the way of a big guard who came in swinging, then swung low and tripped him. “We can get to the undercity from there, right? Suri?”

  “Should be able to, yeah!” She headbutted another guard, then shoved him aside. “Out of my way, ya cunts!”

  We let Suri bulldoze through the remaining pack, waving Karalti in as we ran by. She fled after us, Mehkhet trailing along in a billowing cloud of shadow, and cut around the fence line. The two Sandstrider guards formed a wall, blocking the exit into the road. The mechs pivoted toward us, scythe-like limbs raised.

  “Karalti! Watch out for those lanterns!” Suri slammed the visor of her helmet down as the guards up top opened fire on us. Arrows did as much damage as bullets, but didn’t damage armor the same way musket rounds did. Archers could load and shoot about twice as fast, though, and while Suri could deflect most of them, neither Vash nor Karalti wore much protection.

  [Critical hit! Karalti takes 260 damage!]

  [Sandstrider Elite uses Focused Shot! Vash takes 390 damage!]

  “Find cover!” I charged up and shot forward in a plume of red-black haze as Suri stomped a foot, shook her head, and ran at the legs of the Sandstrider like a quarterback. She dragged the tip of her sword along the ground, sending up sparks, but I struck first. Blood Sprint accelerated my hits to lightning speed, letting me level ten solid blows against the mech’s legs. Sparks rained off the metal, but it was Suri’s attack that sent the machine staggering. Crimson tendrils of energy leaped up around the Berserker as she smashed into the leg and knocked the Artifact’s knee out from under it. It managed to stay upright, but pitched the archer off its back onto the street. Vash and Karalti ran over to pummel the second Sandstrider while we focused on the first. The machine could fight independently, limping at Suri and bringing its bladed arms down. She caught them on the edge of her sword with a grunt, pushing back. It left the machine wide open from the flank.

  “Suck on this!” The air around me shrieked in protest as it condensed around the Spear. The blade struck home, and black ice erupted from the Artifact’s knee, jamming the gears before they wrenched apart. It crumpled to the ground, fizzing and spitting. The lantern was crushed beneath its weight, sending a cloud of ozone into the air. The archer gave a cry of fear and scrambled back, fleeing the battle.

  “Hey! You cocksucking-URRRGH!” his buddy called out, lurching toward us. Suri wasn’t ready this time. The sword arm struck her over the back, bodyslamming her onto the ground. I Jumped straight into the air, vaulting to land on the deck of the Sandstrider. The sniper was too surprised to react to the sudden appearance of a man who’d just leaped twenty feet into the air. I rammed the hilt of the Spear into his belly, spun it around as he doubled over, and then uppercut him under the jaw with it. The man gave a piercing shout, arms windmilling. I kicked him in the chest and sent him flying over the side, then turned to the control panel of the mech as it swayed to one side.

  “Look out!” Karalti cried. “It’s going to stomp Suri!”

  “Which button!? ALL buttons!” I growled, hitting every button I could push. The Sandstrider, its leg raised, suddenly pirouetted around and began to run at the wall of the jail. “Oh shit!”

  I sprung clear just as the artifact careened through the wall and kept going, ploughing a trail toward the carriage station. Suri was back up on her feet, trailing behind the others on their path to the alley. I was still boosted from Blood Sprint, and caught up easily as they reached the ladder.

  [You gain 1100 EXP!]

  [Karalti gains 1100 EXP!]

  “Gentlemen first,” Suri panted.

  “Mmm’lady.” I flashed her a cheesy grin, dropped into the hole, and slid down the ladder for Archemi Sewer Adventure 2: Son of Sewer Adventure.

  Chapter 40

  Dalim’s mid-city sewers were an interesting experience, and one I never wanted to repeat again. We battled our way through giant larvae-like insects, rats – smaller and meaner than the ones in Karhad – and other trash-tier mobs on our way to the undercity. We emerged fairly close to the laundries and Davri’s house after about an hour. We earned about 500 EXP all up: I was reasonably close to Level 25, though Karalti still had a long way to go until she reached Level 15.

  “Christ.” Suri groaned as we hopped down to the ground from a ladder. She pulled her helmet off and ran a hand back through her hair. “I dunno about you guys, but I’m beat.”

  “Do we really have to go and deal with that witch tonight?” Vash said. “Surely there’s some place where a man could lay his head down on the generous loins of a young, supple-”

  “Wait! You!” Mehkhet billowed forward until he hung in front of Suri. “Excuse me, my lady. What is your name?”

  Suri shied back from the shade. “Me? Uhh… Suri.”

  “Suri who?” He edged toward her. “What is your maternal clan name?”

  She glanced at me. “Hadir. Suri Ba’Hadir.”

  “Truly?” Mehkhet brought his hand to his mouth, drifting around her. “Hmm… yes. That brow, the straight aquiline nose, the fierce bright eyes…”

  “What?” She scowled.

  “You don’t know?” The points of light the shadow had in place of eyes glinted as he drifted back. “Even more interesting. As a Fireblooded woman, you surely know that the Old Kingdom was ruled by the Ha’Shazir line, yes?”

  Keeping one wary eye on the street, Suri nodded. “Yeah…”

  “When the Old Kingdom fell and the surviving princesses were spirited away, their names were changed for their safety,” the sage said. “Foremost among them was Sachara’s granddaughter, Princess Kaveeta I. After the fall of the Empire and the death of her mother, Kaveeta was raised by her mother’s bodyguard, who changed her matronymic from Shazir to Hadir. But Kaveeta was murdered in her early twenties, and the Ba’Hadir name was not known to have been pass
ed beyond her. It is one of the names listed in the Scroll of the Bastards, a record the Sultir keeps to this day… records which list the known names of Sachara’s descendants so they can be targeted for assassination.”

  “Princess, huh.” Suri’s brow furrowed. “Hector. Remember what Jacob wrote?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah. ‘Princess’ was their favorite nickname for me.” She grimaced.

  Mehkhet made a graceful gesture. “They, being…?”

  “The wardens of Al-Asad,” she replied. “Pair of creeps.”

  “Fascinating.” Mehkhet stroked his chin. “And you… the Child of the Dark Star. How did you come into possession of that Shield?”

  “We found the Arch-Smith’s tomb in Myszno,” I replied. “Off-side a sewer, of all places. Turned out he was buried under the University of Karhad.”

  “Unsurprising, given that he founded it. May I?” The spirit gestured to the amulet.

  I nodded, took it off, and held it out. “Sachara’s Arch-Smith founded the University of Karhad?”

  “The city in Myszno, now a part of modern Vlachia? Yes. That region was settled by dragons, then Aesari, then humans. Arch-Smith Ba’nadi founded a university there the year after the Aesari were driven out of the region by Sachara’s army.” Mehkhet plucked the amulet from my fingers. When it made contact with his fingers, the metal frosted over. “Oh, it’s real. Look at that… I can actually pick it up. Fascinating, most fascinating. I thought you initially cursed me by bringing me back from my repose, but now, NOW, my gratitude flows like an abundant river. To think, I spent all of my life searching for one of these, only to find it in death!”

  “You’re creeping me out, specter,” Vash said. He slumped over, his hands in his pockets. “As are you, Hector. This is a base form of necromancy. Did you always know how to do this, or…?”

  “No. It’s a Nasaku vampire ability. Pretty recent addition to the arsenal.”

  He grunted, eying Mehkhet unhappily. “Perhaps you’re not as immune to corruption as I thought.”

  “Well, he’s okay with it. If he ever tells me he wants to leave, I’ll let him go.” I shrugged, then turned back to Mehkhet. “Alright, so before we go back to Davri: What do these Shields do?”

  “The Shields of the Firmament are an ancient form of information storage,” Mehkhet replied. “They store vast amounts of knowledge, all of it tightly woven into the script you see here. It was said that, when placed into the right device, one Shield could act as an entire library.”

  So… we’d found a magical fantasy thumb drive. I scratched my head. “What kind of device is it paired with?”

  “Good question,” the Sage said. “No one has ever found one, but I have an inkling where one might locate such a device. The Shrine of the Anvil. The ancient temple of Khors rumored to be buried under the Bashir Desert.”

  Suri tensed. “The Bashir Desert?”

  “Mmm, yes.” Mehkhet stroked the void where his chin used to be. “Sources say it is near the border of Napath.”

  “C’mon, guys. Let’s go to Davri and get this over with,” Karalti said. “I know you guys wanna rest, but I’ve only got a few hours left on my polymorph spell. If I change back to my proper shape here, it’d be bad.”

  “Right.” I gave Vash a pointed look. “We’ll do what we have to do to find the Warsinger.”

  “Warsinger?” The shadow’s head turned toward me. “Is that why you summoned me?”

  “Yeah.” I perked up. “We’re looking for Sachara’s Warsinger.”

  “Or any Warsinger, to be honest,” Suri said. “As long as it works. And if you can tell us where to find it, we don’t need to go back to Davri. We can fuck off, dismiss the quest, and leave her hanging.”

  Mehkhet let out a hollow laugh that raised goosebumps on the back of my arms. “Would that I did. There is only one piece of lore I have found that gives any indication of where Sachara left Withering Rose. A single line from a broken stanza, that reads: ‘The giantess became a mortal woman once more, and left her immortal shell entombed in the Heart of the Lion.’ Why do you all think an intellect of my renown was willing to work for a cretin like Davri?”

  “No idea,” Suri said. “Money, I figured. Protection, maybe.”

  “No. Neither of those things mean much to a man of my position.” The sage sounded amused: as amused as a dead man could be, anyway. “No… I was willing to serve her for one reason, and one reason only. Davri Ha’Fidar, of all people, reputedly knows the location of Sachara’s Tomb. Rumor is, she has visited it… and in visiting it, discovered that an artifact is required to open it.”

  “Ugh. I was really hoping we didn’t have to go back,” Karalti said glumly.

  “An artifact like this one?” I held up the Shield.

  “Perhaps.” The shade bowed his head. “Or… perhaps that magnificent spear you carry.”

  “The Spear of Nine Spheres opens the Dragon Gates, not… wait.” I paused. “You’re saying Sachara might be buried in one of the Gates? With the Warsinger?”

  “An artifact the size and power of a Warsinger required an incredible amount of mana,” the sage replied. “But it is all conjecture until Davri takes us there.”

  Vash sneered. “Or tells us where to find it.”

  “You would be better off trying to wring blood from a stone,” Mehkhet lisped softly. “But if you cleverly explain to her that I can now only travel in the company of my dear Master, she will have to show you anyway, no? Now - shall we depart?”

  ***

  We returned to Davri's slum palace with Mehkhet drifting along behind us. At the sight of us all - singed, bloody, accompanied by a shade - the guards at the gate got very nervous indeed.

  “What is this?” The guy we'd spoken to earlier was still on shift.

  “The Queen's sage,” Suri said flatly. “Dark and spooky over there is the one and only Mehkhet the Illuminator. Let us through.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “No need to be racist.”

  “You... uh... need to... uh... hand over y-your weapons...” The guard trailed off as Mehkhet drifted toward them, hand outstretched. They scattered like a pack of hyenas, yelping in terror.

  “Don't worry, gents. We'll see ourselves in,” I said, winking at them.

  We opened the gate ourselves, and went inside with Suri in the lead. Davri was circling the garden with her entourage, including Casper. The big man looked relieved to see us - until he spotted the shade, and his dark skin turned an interesting shade of swamp green.

  “Hmm? What is...?” Davri looked over at us. Blinked a few times. “Arnav?”

  “Yes, my queen!” The paunchy guy from earlier stood up suddenly, along with every other guard in the courtyard.

  “Take little sister and her companions to the audience hall. I will meet them there.” The Laundress set her bronze watering can down on the table.

  Arnav was pouring sweat, and I didn't think it was just the early evening desert heat, or the billowing presence of the shade. “Yes, my queen. You lot... come with me.”

  “This wouldn't be some sort of trap, would it?” Suri asked sweetly.

  “The Queen receives strangers in the garden. Guests in the audience hall.” Arnav mopped his brow. “And... this... this is...?”

  “Mehkhet the Illuminator,” I said. “Deceased. But able to speak and answer Davri's questions.”

  “Hello,” Mehkhet said drily. His whispering voice sound like the wind echoing up from the bottom of a well.

  “Uh... uh... I see. Well, please follow me.” Arnav cleared his throat, and marched off back the way we'd come.

  He led us into the main house through a pair of heavy double doors, taking us across a lavish and gaudy foyer to another set of doors, guarded by two men and a pair of mobile turrets very similar to Rin's machines. Davri was already waiting for us inside, attended by a group of what were obviously slaves. Boys with shaven heads held great feather fans. Girls dripping with jewelry lounged around her slippered
feet, their eyes firmly averted toward the floor.

  The self-styled queen smiled indulgently as we came to a stop. “So... do you care to explain what I'm looking at here? I'm afraid I don't understand.”

  “Mehkhet was dead by the time we arrived at the jailhouse,” Suri replied. She was struggling not to fist her hands, and I knew why. The girls on the ground weren't only wearing jewelry: they were wearing welded metal collars. “Fortunately, my man here has a special talent. He's a necromancer.”

  “A necromancer?” Davri's eyebrows arched in amusement. “The old scarred one, the young pretty girl, or... no, it has to be the boy with the strange pale eyes. I'd wondered what flavor of magic he was. So, this thing was Mehkhet the Illuminator?”

  The shade drifted forward, trailing off filaments of darkness into the surrounding air. He bowed deeply. “I am still Mehkhet the Illuminator, my queen. Former Royal Archivist, now and forever a loyal servant of the True Kingdom.”

  Davri smiled, and batted her eyelashes. “Wonderful. But the quest was given on the condition that Mehkhet was brought to me alive, and this ghost, or whatever it is, is quite dead.”

  “Dead, but still willing and able to assist the cause,” the shadow lisped. “And consider this: is there is anything more honest in this world than a dead man?”

  “That is true.” Davri absently picked at her bottom lip, flicking her dead snake's eyes from Suri to me and back. “In that case, I will test your knowledge. I want to know if I am truly what I believe myself to be: the most direct and legitimate descendant of Sachara, the rightful heir of Dakhdir, and the mother of my people. You are... were... reputed to know all of the lineages that descended from the Imperial Court of the Old Kingdom?”