by Ben Wolf
His old spear had a wider blade, albeit only by a few inches, but it made a difference with Aeron’s accuracy. Bigger, wider blades had more surface area to strike with. But now his current spear would have to do; he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to help Garrick.
Through their bond, Aeron told Wafer to invert as they flew forward. Wafer rolled in midair, and they spiraled overtop of Garrick and the red tentacle.
Had they not inverted, Wafer would’ve collided with Garrick. But perhaps more importantly, Aeron wouldn’t have had the right angle to strike at the tentacle.
As they flew overhead, Aeron positioned the blade of his spearhead perpendicular with the tentacle, and the edge sliced clean through it. Then Wafer righted himself and veered back around, away from the other shafts of light beyond Garrick’s position.
The lights pinwheeled toward them, and Aeron realized they couldn’t avoid them all. They had to outrun them.
Faster, he urged Wafer, who gladly complied.
Red tentacles snapped out at them as they rushed through the lights, but all of them missed. Below them, Aeron caught a glimpse of Garrick recovering to his feet and drawing his phantom steel weapons.
But the peril that lay ahead of him gave Aeron true cause for concern. He shouted, “Move!”
Raqat and his wyvern knights scattered as best as they could, and Aeron and Wafer tried to slow their approach. The knights got out of the way just in time, and Wafer beat his wings and kicked off of one of the walls to avoid hitting it.
Aeron and Wafer regained control farther down the tunnel, then they looped back in time to rejoin… whatever was happening with the thing in the cavern. It was a thing, not a cavern wall. That much was clear.
But Aeron didn’t realize how massive it was until they made it back to the rest of the wyvern knights.
The wall had stopped shining its lights, but it had continued to shift while Aeron and Wafer were trying to slow down. Now it filled the back of the cavern, blocking any possible escape aside from the way they’d come.
Stranger still, orange lights flickered to Aeron’s right, across a wide chasm where the thing had just been. It was Commander Brove and the other wyvern knights.
Aeron’s heart rate accelerated. Did that mean his truce with Raqat was over?
Whatever the monster at the far end of the cavern was, it wasn’t half as interested in bringing down Aeron as Commander Brove was.
Then Aeron caught sight of Kent and Mehta, bracing themselves up against the far wall across the cavern as the huge thing finally settled in place. At least they’d made it. They might even be able to reunite—if they survived Commander Brove and this beast, first.
“Steelwing!” Commander Brove bellowed. “To me!”
Raqat obeyed immediately, and his wyvern knights followed.
Aeron’s chest shuddered. The truce was over. It had to be.
Then again, was that really such a bad thing? After all, he had promised to send Commander Brove to the Underworld for what he’d done to Kallie.
But Aeron couldn’t think about that now. They had a bigger problem to deal with.
As the wyvern knights flew across, the beast’s shafts of light reawakened and landed on Raqat and the others. Red tentacles launched forward. They smacked against the knights and their wyverns and yanked them out of the air.
Aeron and Wafer shot after them. They might need the other knights to help them beat this thing. He had to save them if he could—and they had once been his brothers in arms. He couldn’t just let them die.
And he didn’t want his truce to die, either.
“Save them, Garrick!” Aeron shouted as he chased the screeching wyverns and their frantic knights toward the beast.
Garrick had already leaped into action, slicing his phantom steel battle-axe at the tentacles in berserker rage anew.
Wafer issued a warning to Aeron through their bond—more like great concern than a true warning—but Aeron made him press on, faster, toward their former comrades.
They reached one of the wyvern knights, arced underneath, and Aeron slashed the tip of his spear back and forth from below while the knight struggled to hack at the tentacles from above. They quickly managed to free the wyvern, but the knight had neglected the tentacles still attached to his own body in the process.
The tentacles wrenched the knight from his saddle, and he screamed as the tentacles hauled him closer. His body hit the outside of the beast’s rocky body with a metallic smack.
His wyvern screeched and flew after him, only to be caught up in a fresh burst of new tentacles.
As Aeron watched, the middle of the knight’s torso crystallized with ice. The knight wailed, and then his body snapped in half with a loud crack. His cries severed alone with his spine, and the beast’s hole widened and pulled the knight inside bit by bit until he disappeared entirely.
The sight of it made Aeron want to vomit, but it wasn’t nearly as horrific as seeing it happen to the wyvern next. Instead of one sickening crack, the tentacles and the holes ripped the wyvern apart again and again while it shrieked and wailed and struggled in vain.
But Aeron couldn’t focus on the horror. He was within striking distance of the tentacles that had Raqat and Trokos, and he needed to try to save them.
His spear went to work, slicing through tentacles in concert with Raqat’s own efforts, and Raqat and Trokos managed to get free.
Raqat gave Aeron a curt nod, but he quickly retreated to Commander Brove’s position nonetheless. Aeron didn’t know what to make of it, but now wasn’t the time to try to figure it out, anyway.
Garrick and the other wyvern knights had managed to free themselves as well, thanks in part to Kent, who’d summoned rocks, cracked them into jagged pieces, and hurled them at the tentacles. But, as before, Garrick’s weapons proved more harmful than good.
As the others retreated out of the range of the beast’s tentacles, Garrick continued to press forward.
Like an idiot.
“I’ve got him!” Kent yelled from behind Aeron.
Aeron looked back and saw a massive boulder soaring across the chasm.
Garrick noticed it too. Now fully under the weapons’ influence, he ducked under it and snarled at Kent. But the boulder came back and hit Garrick from behind, and it shot back toward Kent. The boulder launched Garrick across the chasm, and he landed on the cavern floor and tumbled to a stop.
Yet despite all of that, he hadn’t released his weapons. Instead, he jumped to his feet and ran toward Kent and Mehta, brimming with rage.
Meanwhile, the tentacles kept coming, chasing Garrick’s footsteps, eager to grab him next, as he was the closest of anyone to the beast’s position.
“Redirect him!” Aeron shouted down to Kent. If Garrick was going to rage against something, it might as well be the thing they were all fighting against. “Redirect him, and join the fight. We have to find a way to bring it down!”
But Kent didn’t have to redirect Garrick. One of the tentacles slapped against the back of Garrick’s thigh and started trying to pull him back. It was enough to get his attention, and he whirled back and severed it in one mighty blow from his battle-axe.
“Aeron, the torch!” Kent shouted and pointed all at once.
Across the chasm, on the side where Aeron and Garrick had first encountered the beast and its shafts of light, lay a solitary torch, still burning. One of Raqat’s knights must’ve dropped it during their struggle to escape the beast’s grasp.
The beast used ice to freeze and break its prey into pieces before devouring it. Fire would probably harm it more than their weapons would—even more than Garrick’s. And Kent no doubt wanted it as a source for his magic.
Aeron and Wafer swooped low, and Wafer snatched the torch into his talons. They curled back toward Kent and the others, dodged the shafts of blue light, and dropped the torch over Kent’s head. Kent caught it, reached his glowing blue hand into its flame, and grabbed fire.
He tossed the torc
h to Mehta, who caught it in one hand. Then, together, they ran after Garrick, toward the beast.
Aeron flew toward Commander Brove, Raqat, and the seven other remaining wyvern knights. He shouted, “Rally with us. You have torches. We can bring it down with fire.”
“Hold your positions,” Commander Brove ordered even before Aeron finished his call to action. “This abomination has already devoured one of our number. If they want to fight it, let them. We will collect whoever is left and take them to trial in Govalia.”
Aeron cursed under his breath. “You’re a wretched pile of wyvern dung, and someday you’ll get what’s coming to you, coward.”
“That’s the second time today I’ve been accused of cowardice,” Commander Brove said. “And it’s the second time the source has been terribly mistaken.”
“Or it’s so obvious that two independent sources confirmed it,” Aeron fired back. He looked at Raqat. “Join us. We could use the help.”
Raqat tensed, but neither he nor Trokos moved from their hovering position near Commander Brove.
“Trying to lead yet another of my wyvern knights into treasonous behavior, Ironglade?” Commander Brove scoffed. “The list of your crimes against Govalia continues to grow. Run along. Help your criminal friends in their folly.”
“Then give me a torch, at least, so I can fight with them.” Aeron extended one of his hands toward them, but again, none of them moved.
“You will get no aid from—” As Commander Brove said it, Raqat tossed his own torch toward Aeron.
It careened through the stale cavern air in a tall arc until Aeron caught it in his open hand.
Commander Brove shot a livid glare at Raqat, but Raqat just donned a mask of innocence and shrugged. “I was already throwing it before you said not to.”
Aeron grinned. He had what he needed, so he and Wafer left the wyvern knights to work it out among themselves.
Kent had long since accepted his role in the Blood Mercs. Whenever the envenomed pincers of death—or, in this case, the sticky tentacles of yet another subterranean beast—threatened them, Kent would use his magic to ransom them.
First, he had fended off multiple reptides in the dungeon below the temple in Muroth. Then they had encountered the pit beast—though, admittedly, Kent hadn’t contributed to its demise. They’d just let it be, free to gorge itself on the bodies of slain reptides.
Next came the water golem, which Kent had dispatched with raw magic, and within the last hour, Kent had yet again used raw magic to eliminate the frostbloods that had come for them. Though if he’d had fire, he would’ve used it. It wasn’t a leap to assume fire would bring them down as well.
Now he charged toward another monstrous foe, one born of earth and ice, with fire yet again swirling around his hands. He figured he was just as likely to perish in the attempt as he was to succeed, but at this point, he had no other options, so he continued to run toward the danger.
As the lights from the beast’s various orifices shined on Kent, red tentacles smacked into his chest, arms, and legs. Each time he seared them off with small billows of flame, and the tentacles retreated to their respective holes, crispy and blackened at the ends.
Mehta ran alongside Kent and seemed to be handling the tentacles nearly as well, alternating between slashing and searing them before they could reach him. But he was keeping up, which bolstered Kent’s hope that they could prevail.
Ahead of them and to the left, near the edge of the chasm, Garrick whirled and slashed, and slashed and whirled, tangled in red tentacles. More than once, Garrick had actually stepped off the edge of the chasm, but the sheer volume of tentacles clinging to him had kept him from toppling in.
Evidently, the blind rage that accompanied the use of those weapons was as dangerous as it was effective. Garrick’s behavior made Kent all the more thankful he hadn’t attempted to use the phantom steel flail.
Another tentacle smacked into the center of Kent’s chest. He looked straight ahead, at the glowing blue opening that gaped no more than ten feet before him, and he let it pull him toward it.
At five feet, Kent noticed a series of ice crystals moving around the rim of the opening and even more within the opening itself. It was as good a target as any.
He pointed both of his hands at it and sent a swirling stream of fire into it.
The fire hit its target, but the hole shuddered and winked shut immediately. The tentacle attached to Kent’s chest went limp, clipped off when the opening had closed.
The fire had unquestionably harmed it, but not nearly enough.
Kent glanced at Mehta, who had run to Garrick’s aid and begun scorching and slicing the net of tentacles constricting him. Garrick had repaid Mehta’s kindness with a slash meant to remove his head, but Mehta easily ducked out of the way and continued to work to free Garrick.
It worried Kent that Garrick’s continued use of the weapons had affected him to the point that he no longer recognized friend from foe, but Kent couldn’t concentrate on that now. He had a monster to slay, and he had to figure out how to do it. He would deal with Garrick later.
If he managed to get his arm into one of those holes, he could fill it with enough fire to incinerate the beast from within. But he suspected that if his arm even got close, the hole would clamp shut yet again, and it might take his arm with it like it had done to the tentacle.
Kent considered trying the magic technique that could turn him to stone. He could wedge his stone-covered arm through one of the openings and hold it open enough to pour fire into the beast’s insides.
But there was no guarantee that it would work. He didn’t know how strong this thing’s jaws were—if they could be called jaws. If they could crush stone, he might lose his arm anyway.
Furthermore, Kent didn’t know if he’d be able to blend the two techniques together at once. Could he turn halfway to stone and still maintain the fire in his other hand? Especially in his weakened state, having used the ice-forged dagger on the wyvern knight?
Keeping the fire burning was easy, but whenever he’d turned himself to stone in the past, it had required an incredible degree of focus. He had to cycle magic into a stone or a rock and then pull its essence into him to make the technique work.
He doubted he could even hold onto the fire at the same time, much less release an inferno into the belly of the beast.
No, he needed another plan.
As Kent contemplated it, Garrick’s battle-axe dug into the beast’s rocky hide and managed to split it open ever so slightly. Ice-blue light pierced through the opening, and this time, the entire beast shuddered, though it didn’t make any discernible sound.
But the light continued to shine from Garrick’s gash. Kent had found his way in.
“Keep attacking that spot, Garrick!” Kent shouted.
Of course, Garrick completely ignored him. Instead, he returned to attacking the jungle of tentacles around him.
“Mehta, drive your torch into that opening!” Kent called.
Without so much as a nod, Mehta ducked under a tentacle and used the torch to burn another one that was heading for him.
Amazingly, Mehta had thus far entirely avoided every single tentacle that had come for him. He’d leaped over some, sliced several out of the air, and burned others. He’d dodged the rest in acrobatic feats, the likes of which gave Kent pains just watching them.
But his escape spree came to an end when he reached the opening Garrick had split in the beast’s hide. From Kent’s vantage, it amounted to little more than a slit, at least until Mehta dug his knife into it and pulled it open wider.
Tentacles converged on Mehta’s position, but he managed to jam his torch into the opening before they pulled him away. The entire beast shuddered again, and this time Kent heard a low groan—almost like a guttural moo from a gigantic ox.
But the tentacles had finally grabbed Mehta. He’d drawn his other knife and slashed at them but it wouldn’t be enough. Kent had to intervene.
&nbs
p; Rather than attack the tentacles themselves, he launched a new blast of fire at all the openings near Mehta’s position. Each of them snapped shut just like the previous one had, and the tentacles pulling at Mehta snipped off and slapped the cavern floor, lifeless.
Apparently Aeron had seen it all, because he drove a torch in the next gash that Garrick carved into the beast’s hide, and Kent repeated his efforts to save Aeron and Wafer from the tentacles’ deadly embrace.
Garrick’s third gash was the biggest. He’d broken through with his flail, and the spiked ball at the end had gouged a glowing blue wound the size of Kent’s head into the beast’s hide.
That was Kent’s chance.
He rushed toward the opening, spewing fire from both of his hands at the tentacles lashing toward him, ever aware of the growing fatigue permeating his body. The tentacles sizzled and curled against his flames, clearing his path toward the beast as they retracted.
When he reached the wound, Kent dug both his fiery hands inside, pumped every ounce of magic into the flames, and spread the fire throughout the beast’s entire form.
Time to end this.
When an eruption of fire shot out of a nearby hole in the creature’s hide, Mehta staggered back, stunned at the sight. When it happened again from another hole, it was less surprising, but Mehta recoiled even farther.
Kent kept filling it with flames, and the fire would only push out more and more as it consumed the beast’s insides, so Mehta gladly retreated.
Battling the beast’s tentacles had done little to sate Mehta’s thirst, and he couldn’t sift the beast on his own, so he was leaving the battle unfulfilled. Part of him hoped that after this, the wyvern knights might be foolish enough to attack—then he’d have the chance to spill real blood again.
But another part of him didn’t want that. He recognized Kent’s weariness from having to use so much magic all at once, and he acknowledged Garrick’s unpredictability while using those cursed weapons. How they would ever get Garrick to relinquish them again, Mehta didn’t know.