Jon and the others could not get out. The doors had been wedged shut.
Seething rage quickly replaced his sorrow. “Jon, I know what you said about seeking revenge, but I promise you, they will all pay for this. I hope you understand and will forgive me.”
That promise made, Azerick found the warehouse and the trapdoor it hid and slipped down into his new home beneath the streets of the squatters’ district.
Azerick expected the nightmares that once again filled his dreams. First, the face of his father seemed to hover in the darkness that surrounded him, almost lost in the blackness. The image of his mother quickly replaced it before shifting into the form of Jon, Margaret, Patrick, all of his dead friends and family. Even Beth’s cherubic little face called to him from the inky void and all with the same message.
Seek your vengeance. Become the hand of Sharrellan, and bring death to those who deserve their fate.
Cold sweat beaded on Azerick’s brow as he shouted at the faces before him. “Who are you? What do you want?”
I am Sharrellan, goddess of darkness and death. I want what you want—vengeance. Be my hand and deliver death to the worthy, the voices called out in a strange, discordant harmony.
Impossible, Azerick thought. The gods do not speak with mortals, much less orphaned street rats.
“I will get my revenge,” Azerick shouted at the faces. “I will kill them all, but I do not need you to do it! I don’t need anyone!”
CHAPTER 7
Captain Brellion led his contingent of the King’s special guard through the stone halls of the ancient, abandoned citadel. Legends and lore had it that a long dead sorcerer king once ruled a vast kingdom from the once mighty castle. Now the formerly magnificent citadel held only rubble, dust, orcs, ogres, and goblins.
Each tribe of the creatures had claimed a different portion of the ancient enclave. The goblins lived in two of the erstwhile proud towers, ogres in three others, while the orcs, through their superior numbers, claimed the great central castle and the huge master tower. Brellion was surprised that the evil creatures had been able to maintain some sort of peace for what appeared to be a substantial amount of time.
There was plenty of evidence to suggest that the naturally competitive creatures maintained a tenuous truce at best. Bones of all three species bore the unmistakable marks of death by crude weapons as well as ones constructed of steel.
Brellion and his band had infiltrated the citadel and fought their way to the top of the main tower; mostly bypassing the lairs of the goblins and ogres. He reasoned that if there was an artifact still hidden in this citadel it would be in the dead sorcerer’s tower. After a long and fruitless search of the tower turned up no trace of anything of value, he led his group back down the tower stairs and into the lower catacombs of the castle.
He had lost only three men thus far, and considering the number of orcs his party had cut down, that was not bad. All were members of the King’s special guard and were loyal and highly experienced fighters. King Jarvin had tasked his, as well as other bands of his special guard, to retrieve any magical artifacts they could locate in order to help secure his throne and to keep them out of the hands of his enemies.
The smooth, cut stone that comprised the walls, floor, and ceiling of the subterranean passageway soon turned into natural caverns of rough-hewn rock. Everywhere there were signs of recent activity even this deep underground. Broken stone weapons, bones, and strips of cloth; both old and more recent, lay scattered about the ground.
A sudden cry from the rear of the party made Brellion spin, sword in hand, looking for signs of attack as several monstrosities dropped from the darkness of the high ceiling and bore down the rear guard. Before he was able to shout out any orders, several more of the creatures dropped from the darkness overhead right on top of him. With quick reflexes, he rolled under the surprise strike and came back up on his feet in an instant. A hard carapace covered the creatures, their faces looked like a giant vulture with wickedly curved beaks, and their arms ended in huge hooks instead of hands.
The creatures blocked any chance of escape by dropping onto the front and rear party members, trapping the bulk of the group in the center. Brellion blocked another swipe from the deadly, jagged hook with his shield and returned the attack with a blow from his longsword. The blade cut into the creature’s side and elicited a hiss from the hideous monster. Khalar rushed up next to him, twin scimitars in hand and launched a flurry of blows at the creature, forcing it back several steps before cutting it down completely.
Brellion was glad to have the dark-skinned man from the southern desert kingdom at his side. He wore light chain armor, and moved like the wind as his scimitars brought death to anything foolish enough to cross him. Some people had a hard time trusting the foreigner, but Brellion knew the man to have a code of honor even stricter than many of the knights he knew.
Brellion returned the favor by blocking one of the troglin’s attacks with his shield as both men hacked into the creatures. The rest of the party defended themselves from what appeared to be the main host of the attackers. Nearly a dozen more of the creatures attacked the rear and middle of the group. Berret defended the mage, Alleel, so she could bring her formidable power to bear. He slashed and blocked with his longsword and dagger while Alleel finished her incantation. A powerful cone of force erupted from her outstretched hand, flinging three of the beasts back and dashing them upon the unyielding stone of the cavern wall.
Vanier; a Chosen of Solarian, Bevin, and Cyrgan fought several creatures at the rear. Bevin and Cyrgan fought in tandem while Vanier chanted his prayers. The cleric called upon his god and a pillar of flame erupted down upon two of the troglins, burning them into stinking, charred corpses. Bevin and Cyrgan hacked into another pair, guarding each other’s vulnerable flanks, and dispatching their foes in relatively short order.
Back at the front, Brellion and Khalar fought the remaining pair that blocked the path forward. Khalar suddenly lost his footing on the loose scree of the cavern floor. Brellion thrust his shield out to ward the southerner, blocking a questing hook that tried to take his throat out.
This left his side vulnerable and the troglin took advantage of it. Brellion felt burning agony as the rock-hard claw pierced his breastplate and sank into the flesh on his left side. Brellion responded with a vicious overhand chop, removing the offending arm below the lower of its two elbows. Khalar quickly regained his footing and assaulted the creatures with renewed vigor. His rapid, unflagging blows cut the throat out of one while emptying the contents of the other’s stomach onto Brellion’s heavy boots. The battle was soon over and Vanier tended the wounded while Brellion took count of their losses.
“How did we fare, Vanier?” Brellion asked his cleric.
“We lost Peter. He was the first one that got pulled down when they dropped onto us. Cyrgan got a nasty gash to his shoulder and Bevin got his thigh pierced by a claw. Yours is the worst wound, from the look of it. Let us pull that breastplate off and tend to it. I’ll heal the others after that,” Vanier replied as he pulled at the buckles securing the breastplate.
The injured warriors removed their armor so that the cleric could tend to their wounds, and then strapped it back into place before continuing on and making their way deeper into the earth.
“What makes you believe that we will find your king’s artifact down in the bowels of the earth?” Khalar asked Brellion as they once again took up the point position.
“Bishop Caalendor researched some ancient tome in his library before sending us on this mission. He had it on good authority that the breastplate of Dundalor was last known to be in the possession of this dead sorcerer king. It was most likely in his tower or hidden deep under his fortress. Since we didn’t find it in the tower, this is likely where he hid it; assuming of course that someone has not already appropriated it.”
“What is so remarkable about this breastplate that your king seems to think his throne is in jeopardy without it?”
Khalar asked in his broken accent.
“He is your king as well, Khalar, ever since you took your vows to serve,” Brellion reminded his friend with a smile. “The breastplate is the centerpiece of the whole artifact. It is powerful in its own right in protecting the wearer from many forms of harm, but when joined with the rest of the suit of armor, no harm can come to the wearer. No sword, arrow, axe or spear can pierce it, no magic can penetrate it, and no fire can burn the one that wears the complete suit of armor.”
“But still, just one man, even invulnerable to damage, is still just one man; he could not defeat an army. Unless the armor made him as strong as a god, he could simply be pulled down and have a large rock chained to his leg. That would serve to stop him.”
“It is said the armor grants the wearer great strength, but that’s not the point. As long as there is a link to the King’s bloodline alive, he or she will always be the heir to the throne. If a usurper could find each piece and don the entire set, the church would willingly support the wearer of the armor and his claim to the throne, almost ensuring the people’s acceptance.”
"You have a strange way of choosing your kings. In Sumara, the King is the king as long as he can hold his kingdom. If someone can take it, then he is King. Much simpler."
The party of King's guards continued their descent, walking through miles of subterranean passages. Several times, they came to a branching path but always stayed true to what appeared to be the main passageway.
Shadows and dark shapes skittered and flitted about just outside the magical light provided by Vanier and Alleel. Chittering animal sounds that may have been a language echoed from the shadows ahead but thus far, they had failed to reveal themselves. Brellion cautioned everyone to stay alert, but whatever the hidden watchers were, they did not appear interested in attacking the formidable group. At least not yet.
The walls and floors started to smooth out, apparently worked by skilled hands, once again. A little further on, tiles of polished stone replaced the natural rough surface of the walls, floors, and eventually the ceiling as well. The corridor was widening and sconces and braziers decorated the walls. Murals covered several yards of wall in fading paint, and large ornate vases stood next to the walls with smaller ones still resting on marble pedestals.
Ahead, the passage ended in ornately-carved ten-foot tall double doors banded in copper and bronze. To each side of the door an ornamental guard of full plate armor stood with halberd in hand.
"I think we have found your sorcerer king's secret lair," whispered Khalar.
"The breastplate must be beyond those doors. I can almost feel it," Brellion said with anticipation, eager to finish this mission. He had lost too many friends already on this high stakes scavenger's hunt. "Careful now, people, we're almost home. Be ready for any surprises. I will be very surprised if it was left unguarded."
Brellion and Khalar cautiously approached the large doors and paused to examine them closely. There were hundreds of figures carved into the door, but none appeared to be a hex or ward. Brellion called Alleel up to the front who quickly confirmed his observation.
"I detect no emanations of magic nor do I see any glyphs or wards carved into the wood," reported the lady mage.
With a sigh, Brellion gave the massive wooden portal a push and met surprisingly little resistance. The huge doors swung open without a sound, expertly balanced and smooth as if the hinges were regularly oiled. A vast chamber lay beyond the doors. A dozen more suits of gleaming armor lined the walls and every surface was finished in highly polished marble that seemed to defy age and dust alike.
A blood-red carpet with golden sigils woven into the thick fabric led to a marble dais upon which rested a throne of polished red marble. The throne sat several feet above the chamber floor atop thirteen black marble steps. Upon the throne rested another suit of armor, larger than its silent sentinel brethren.
Not only was the fearsome-looking guardian larger, but the armor that comprised its body was of a significantly different construction. The full helm, arms, greaves and boots were steel covered in black enamel, but it was the breastplate that truly set it apart. It was also black, but it was so dark and depthless that it seemed to absorb all the light in the room but at the same time reflected it and shone with an inner brilliance.
Brellion was almost spellbound as he and his party stepped into the room and edged closer to the fearsome figure wearing the most splendid piece of armor any of them had ever seen. As the King's guards moved further into the room, the golden sigils within the carpet suddenly flared with a golden light. The once inanimate, armored shells instantly sprang to life and advanced on the living interlopers with malevolent purpose.
Vanier knew instinctively that these magical constructs would not be easily defeated, if they could be defeated at all with normal weapons. He quickly chanted a prayer to his god, and his company's weapons took on a divine glow.
Alleel launched a massive fireball and caught four of the animated horrors in its scorching inferno. She could hear metal warp and creak in protest, but the constructs still came on. She immediately began another incantation and conjured huge chunks of ice that fell in a hail of freezing, crushing force. The bitterly cold blocks of ice were more than the heated metal of the constructs could handle. Steel screeched, cracked, and shattered, destroying four of the otherwise silent guardians.
Brellion and Khalar worked together to hack into another of the advancing constructs. Brellion mostly played the part of defense, using his shield to block the swings of the animated deadly metal shell while Khalar savaged its unprotected flank. Two previously inanimate warriors pressed Bevin and Cyrgan as they shambled through the large ornate doors to attack their rear.
Other members of their party defended their left flank from several more of the animated suits of armor. The automatons charged their foes at little more than a quick walking pace, but there was nothing slow about their furious sword blows. A man named Lawrence blocked a vicious swing from one of the metal horrors with his sword, but a second one cleaved him from his shoulder clear through his heart.
Brellion hacked deeply into the knee joint of one of the dread guards and let out a shout of triumph as the metal monster toppled to the ground. A cry of surprise quickly replaced his shout of elation as Khalar tackled him from the side.
His confusion was short lived as a sword as long as his own height shattered the floor tiles where he had just been standing. The dread knight lord had vacated his throne and entered the fray with astonishing speed. This was no typical slow-moving automaton! The thing moved with the speed of a living man and struck like a snake.
Vanier chanted another prayer to Solarian, and a white ball of light formed over his head and floated to injured men. When it touched a wounded man, some of his wounds closed and the bleeding slowed. Brellion could see no visual affect from the cleric's next prayer, but he felt some of his pain lessen and his energy renewed.
Alleel sent a stream of magical bolts into both dread guards that Bevin and Cyrgan were keeping from savaging their rear. The two brothers selected one of the metal constructs to focus their energy on while another King's guard fought the second. The pair managed to dispatch their foe then switched to the other, quickly disabling it as well. All three then shifted their attacks to the left flank where two dread guards still fought to destroy those that dared to intrude into their sanctum.
Brellion and Khalar were fighting for all they were worth just trying to keep the dread lord from cutting them down. Alleel called for the pair to dive aside to give her a clear shot at the deadly creature.
Brellion dove to his left as Khalar tumbled right when the massive armored construct tried to split them both in twain with another overhead swing that sent a shower of marble tile chunks flying in every direction. Alleel sent a powerful bolt of lightning into the creature's chest but with no apparent affect.
The dread lord charged the new source of danger and swung its mighty, over-sized longsword at th
e mage. Sparks flew from the magical shield Alleel had protected herself with as she ducked and just narrowly avoided having her head taken off.
The dread lord was frighteningly fast and kicked out with its large, steel foot before the wizard could retreat. The blow caught her in the chest with the sickening crunch of breaking ribs. She flew back several feet, crumpled into a heap upon the marble floor, and did not stir.
With a thought, Vanier directed his luminescent healing orb to attend to the fallen mage while the rest of the party that was still able to fight surrounded the seemingly unstoppable, metal, killing machine. Swords clanged off the magnificent breastplate without as much as a scratch. However, the other blows that found arms and legs had made dents and even a few gashes in the creature's steel hide.
"Aim for the arms and legs, or try to take its head off! Leave the body alone!" Brellion directed his remaining warriors.
Vanier called upon his Solarian for strength to help in bringing this monstrosity down. Power filled his arms, legs, and body. The head of his mighty war hammer burst into righteous flame, which he used to rein blow after blow down upon the dread lord, denting and rending the metal that comprised its body.
The men around him were encouraged by the sudden ferocity of the cleric and the sight of the damage he managed to inflict and swung their own swords with renewed fury.
Unlike a living man, the construct knew neither fear nor pain, but it was aware of the damage inflicted upon it. It knew that it must not fail in its charge to protect its master's treasure. The dread lord launched into a furious assault of its own, suddenly spinning with a swiftness that belied its great bulk and weight. Swinging its huge sword out in an arc of death, the massive blade opened Cyrgan's throat just below the jaw while severing his brother's head clean off his shoulders.
Brellion let out a shout of outrage and hacked with his sword like a man gone mad at the murderous creature. Khalar swept his scimitars in short swift arcs with a speed that defied the eye's ability to track their lethal paths. The desert dweller’s fury of blows landed so fast against the dread lord's legs that each ringing toll of steel on steel was indistinguishable from another.
The Sorcerer's Ascension (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 11