Beastborne- Mark of the Founder

by James T Callum

  If he had to defend himself, it would be with magic. Not steel.

  “Maybe we should go back,” Ashera said.

  “Every place we go seems worse than the last. Do you really think that another door has anything better?” Hal asked, fighting hard to keep his mounting fear from creating a tremor in his voice.

  Your Persuasion has risen to Level 5.

  +1% Persuasion success (+5%).

  +0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (+2.5%).

  +5% Reputation gain (+5%).

  -2% Reputation loss (-2%).

  He didn’t even intend on persuading her. It was the simple, unvarnished truth. The next door probably would have been a pit into a Shoggoth den.

  They walked on in silence. Each turn brought them back around in a winding path that was clearly designed to disorient and split up a larger force.

  Even Nothricient seemed perturbed as she was forced to float behind Hal. She couldn’t get high enough over the blocks of stone, couldn’t squeeze between the half-foot gaps between, and the stones were just as solid to her as they were to Hal.

  Once they reached the first crossroads, a tall thin spike marking the center, Hal’s nerves began to unravel. His feet were nearly rooted to the hard floor beneath the obscuring currents of fog. Hal fought hard not to turn tail and run.

  He was so distracted by his internal battle that he didn’t notice Ashera had stopped only a few feet ahead of him. She stood in front of the spike, glittering runes carved all over its smooth surface.

  Confused and more than a little concerned, Hal stepped up to Ashera’s side wondering what was wrong. She was staring at the ground as if she could see something.

  As soon as Hal stepped alongside her, he understood.

  The grayed out name of Elora flickered to life. Her HP was redlining.

  <“Hal? Ashera, is that really you?”> her voice was raw with emotion.

  60

  “Bring it down!” Mira shouted from somewhere up above.

  The Stone Golem had come alive with a rage that stole the breath from Elora. What was once a pile of unsuspecting gray rough-hewn stones assembled itself into the vague outline of a ten-foot-tall humanoid.

  She barely managed to avoid the killing strike from the thing’s massive assembly of fist-sized stones that made up its arm.

  Even that glancing blow launched her ten feet into the air as it rampaged toward the rest of her party. Mira had leaped into the air, predictably getting out of its range.

  That would have been smart, had the golem not cast a slowing spell on her. A cube of rippling gel shot out of the creation’s arm and nailed the Dragoon dead center. Slowing her movements to such a degree that without any aid, she would be stuck for nearly an hour.

  Or until the spell ran out.

  Slowed, she hung thirty feet in the air, still gaining altitude with each second but at a fraction of her typical speed. In one casual enfeebling spell, the golem had the deadly Dragoon out of the fight.

  Even if she eventually managed to resist the spell’s effect, the precious seconds that she was hanging uselessly out of range shifted the battle in favor of the hulking creation of stone.

  Giel wasn’t quite as lucky.

  He got his wide blade up in an awkward parry but the golem blasted the blade aside with a sidelong swipe. Its next attack took Giel straight in the stomach. The big lamora doubled over onto the fist, a spray of blood bursting from his lips in a harsh hacking cough.

  Elora was up by then, nocking an arrow as she settled into a crouch and imbuing it with fire magic. Flames licked and swirled along the shaft’s length. She took a moment to get the creature in her sights and loosed the arrow.

  Before the golem could get a follow-up strike on Giel, a flaming arrow blasted into the side of the thing’s head. As it turned to regard the threat, two more arrows - one of ice and one of wind - slammed into the thing, rocking it back onto its blocky heels.

  And, most importantly, away from the wounded Giel.

  Elora noted the impact of each arrow. Her keen eyes didn’t miss the way her wind arrow had scoured a deep groove across its many stones.

  Now she had its full attention.

  The Stone Golem thundered toward her with a speed that belied its half-ton weight. Made from an assortment of fist-sized stones, each etched with a rune that together gave the creature a simulacrum of life, a single golem was enough to take down double their number.

  Lucky for Elora that her father had schooled her well on magical constructs. Arcana were the bane of more than one group of adventurers who had come ill-prepared to deal with such a beast.

  The Ranger was up on her feet in a flash.

  She cut a sharp route perpendicular to the charging behemoth. The worked stone floor trembled with each step of the ten-foot-tall creature. She fired one or two shots over her shoulder, more to keep the golem’s attention on her than to score any hits.

  Each non-imbued arrow skipped harmlessly off its stony body as she had expected.

  <“Only elemental and magical damage will harm it!”> she called to each of them. It was always a toss-up whether a golem could understand your language. The best precaution was simply not to find out. <“If you can find the runes etched onto each stone, break them or alter them and it will make the stone inert.”>

  The other reason she used the party communication was that the golem’s thunderously heavy footfalls and her own labored breathing made anything other than party communication impossible to hear.

  With plenty of room in the large chamber to maneuver, Elora felt confident she could keep the golem from landing a hit. Provided, of course, that the creature didn’t get a slowing spell on her.

  She also knew that a single hit from the golem would likely spell her end. That single glancing blow took a tenth of her HP, dropping her to 462 HP.

  Giel’s HP, as hefty as it seemed, had dropped a fifth from a single hit. The big man was still getting the wind into lungs that didn’t quite work.

  With both her allies out of commission, Elora didn’t have many options but to keep cutting tighter and tighter turns to avoid the golem’s constant charges.

  The golem lacked the Ranger’s agility but it more than matched her in raw speed. Elora’s only hope was to keep changing direction but that prevented her from landing anything more than a glancing blow.

  Each wind-enhanced arrow cost her 12 MP. Hardly a drain compared to her considerable pool of 455. But when each arrow barely did more than chip at the rocky beast, she would need every arrow to find its mark if she wanted to destroy the magical runes etched onto each stone.

  Something she couldn’t do while running for her life.

  <“I don’t have any magic to tap,”> Giel said, finally regaining his composure. <“But I can imbue my blade with Fury.”>

  From what Elora knew of Warriors, a Fury-enhanced strike would technically be magical but it would make Giel vulnerable. He was big and by far the slowest member of the party except for Hal. If he drew the golem’s full attention and Elora couldn’t convince it that she was a bigger threat, Giel wouldn’t last long.

  Not while he was in an offensive Fury.

  But it wasn’t like they had any better options.

  <“Do it.”> Elora circled back around, bringing the golem hot on her heels. Only her superior agility and long bouts of training balance kept her on her feet as the golem’s weight shook the floor with every gaining step.

  <“Wait until I pass.”> Elora poured all her effort into gaining a considerable lead on the golem as she sprinted past Giel. Skidding on her heels, she twisted around, a swirl of green wind encircling her drawn bow.

  <“Any time you feel like contributing to the group, Mira, that would be great!”> Elora never took her eyes off the charging golem.

  <“Yeah, thanks boss! I’ll get right on that, yesiree!”> Mira complained from high up above, still encased in the gelatinous spell.

  The golem, predictably, recognized Elora as the prime t
hreat. It paid the Warrior no more mind than it would a statue. Giel didn’t waste the opportunity. His Fury Gauge lit with orange flames. Curling orange-red mana swirled up his large sword and Giel gave a mighty sweeping cut with the blade.

  Too late, the golem realized its mistake. It began to turn awkwardly mid-stride before Giel’s blade blasted the golem’s right leg into powder. Already off-balance, it crashed to the ground.

  The burly Warrior was still in his initial strike as Elora let loose a Volley of wind arrows. They blasted into the struggling golem, each hit dug a small crater in its stone as the creature reoriented itself.

  More than a few of its etched designs were ruined by the onslaught. Several stones dropped to the ground, suddenly inert.

  As it rose to its newly reformed feet – taking several stones from elsewhere in its body during the process – the now eight-foot-tall construct turned to the nearest threat.

  Giel was already moving. He followed through with a powerful overhand strike that carved into the golem’s back with a shockwave of Fury-laced mana. The thick stone floor cracked from the strength of that blow.

  Wherever Giel attacked, dozens of the golem’s stones were smashed into rubble. But he couldn’t keep it up forever.

  Giel was too close. He had overcommitted his last attack and the golem was recovering faster than he could.

  Elora let loose an elvish curse and channeled wind and fire into her arrow, soaking the shaft with wind and infusing the fine metal tip with fire. She poured her mana in, watching Giel’s death rise up onto one knee, then the other.

  Giel’s wide-eyed expression told her he knew his doom as completely as she did but could do nothing about it. He had expended every ounce of Fury for that last attack.

  Any other creature would have been in too much pain to retaliate. But golems felt no pain. Physical damage was only an inconvenience.

  <“Shut your eyes, Giel, and hold your breath!”> she called out in warning as she let fly her latest creation. A paper-thin barrier of unaspected mana separated the wind and fire mana, just enough to keep the arrow stable in flight.

  Three more arrows of similar make leaped into the air behind the first.

  Giel would be caught in the blast, but the resulting force should push the Warrior clear of the golem and remind the golem who its real target should be. She could only hope that the blast damage would be less than what the golem had in mind for him.

  If only Taunt’s enmity effect would work on magical constructs, or else she would’ve used that Paladin ability instead. It was curious it worked on the Shadow Crawlers at all.

  Right on cue, the first arrow cracked against the golem as it towered over Giel, ready to crush him into a fine paste. The impact caused the volatile elements to mix and then combust. The resulting rush of over-saturated wind and fire mana created an explosive ball of flame. Giel hardly moved more than a couple of feet from the resulting blast.

  Elora winced when she saw the scorch marks running up the burly lamora’s arms.

  More to her liking was the effect it had on the golem. It staggered back under the assault and nearly toppled. The three weaker arrows landed a second later, their explosive blasts pushed Giel farther away this time.

  As she had intended, the golem forgot all about him.

  Elora fired one final wind arrow at it and turned to cut across the room.

  The golem had other ideas.

  A syrupy cube of rippling mana appeared ahead of Elora. She prided herself on her speed and agility but it wasn’t enough. She crashed headlong into the slowing spell.

  Her only advantage was stolen from her in an instant.

  Everything slowed for the typically quick-footed Ranger. She watched as her arms and legs moved with a fraction of their normal swiftness. It was like trying to run in a dream, her mind screamed out its orders but her body refused to comply.

  The golem bared down on her. She shut her eyes, bringing to her mind’s eye the smiling face of Ashera. If she was going to die, she wanted a friendly face to be the last thing she saw.

  Pain drove the image out of her head and Elora’s eyes flew open as the golem knocked her from her feet with a sweep of its much smaller arm. Even smaller and weaker from losing so many of its stones, the Stone Golem packed a punch.

  Elora went sailing through the air.

  Her stunned mind clung tenaciously to consciousness. The golem would be on her again soon. She labored for breath. At least three of her ribs were crushed but she had been lucky. Her arm was unharmed.

  Her mind screamed at her that something about this was important. Through the agony that wracked her lithe form, Elora began to sort it out.

  As soon as the golem hit her, she was no longer slowed. “Some control spells are conditional,” her father had told her. “Often they require that the affected creature not be stricken, to do so breaks the bond of the spell. The pain gives just enough power to the afflicted to shrug off the spell’s effects. Have a care, Isila, when using such magicks.”

  Hearing her father’s voice filled her with a sense of peace. Isila, he had called her, his “unbending flower” in his native dialect of elvish.

  Through the haze of pain and her rapidly darkening vision, Elora sorted out a desperate plan. As she flew through the air, the Ranger nocked one final arrow.

  She sighted the hazy form of Mira and let the arrow fly a fraction of a second before the air in her lungs was blown out from the bone-rattling impact against the stone wall.

  Darkness closed in on her, narrowing her vision to a distant dark tunnel with the golem as its only focus.

  The chamber resounded with a curse that she could hear even above the golem’s loud rush. Elora smiled through the blood that bubbled up into her mouth and spilled out onto her chin.

  There was no need for the golem to attack her again but on it came. She recognized the signs of a punctured lung. It was an unfeeling, uncaring thing that would crush the life out of her before she drowned in her own blood.

  Elora fought the blackness with every ounce of her considerable willpower. She accepted the pain. Let it wash over her. But she would not surrender her consciousness.

  Never that.

  Elora Othoril would walk to her death with eyes open and forward. But fate, it seemed, had other plans in mind.

  The golem veered to the left ten feet out. Elora laid there, slumped against the stone wall like a doll with its strings cut, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Forcing her eyes open, she began to sort out the strange images before her.

  Mira was crouched upon the thing’s back. Her hands wrapped tight around her spear impaled into the golem’s back. She leaned heavily to the side, somehow managing to steer the thing away from Elora’s half-conscious form.

  Elora’s gaze darkened again. Her eyes drifted shut as the pain began to ebb and all the strength bled out of her. The Ranger struggled to open her eyes again but couldn’t. Not even when a resounding crack, followed by a dull explosion sounded in the distance.

  Chips and debris hit Elora from her side. They cut her exposed skin and gouged her hunting leathers but still, she could not open her eyes.

  When she saw Ashera’s pale green eyes in the darkness of her mind, she knew peace.

  Mira let out a whooping cheer and another rumbling explosion rocked the chamber, followed by Giel’s hearty bellow.

  Pain, sudden and fierce, crashed into the Ranger like a battering ram. At first, she thought the end was near and braced herself.

  Instead, a bright flare of ruddy light dazzled against her too-heavy eyelids. A bottle was pressed against her lips. She could barely taste the syrupy-sweet potion over the blood that filled her mouth.

  61

  The effect, as intended, was immediate. The potion brought her back from the brink. Elora’s flickering lifeforce was stabilized. While she was far from mended, consciousness – and with it, all the pain from her many wounds – came flooding back to her.

  She gr
it her teeth against the pain. Fought through it.

  Her mind tried to catch up and make sense of the scene unfolding around her.

  Elora should have been killed. Crushed to death by a Stone Golem she had been too distracted to notice. Even if the now-dead golem hadn’t killed her, her punctured lung should have done the trick.

  Giel crouched beside her, blood streaming from a wide gash in his forehead and dripping into his swollen eye. He had an empty potion bottle in his hand, with a wide, squat base like an ink jar. Marking it as a [Greater Health Potion].

  That explains why I’m still alive.

  Elora eyed the Warrior and gave him a curt nod of thanks. A grin spread across his friendly, battered face. [Greater Health Potions] were highly regulated goods. She shouldn’t have been surprised Giel had them.

  Not after he shared the secrets of his past with them.

  She had been mistrustful of the lamora from the start. But when he showed his family ties to the Founder Rebels, and after seeing the hoard of contraband he had hidden away….

  There was no denying that he wanted to help. It was still hard to believe it was as simple as following an order his mother gave him, but ever since he saw Hal, the Tavernkeeper had been nothing but forthright.

  Shaking her head, Elora tried to stand, but Giel laid one large mitt on her shoulder and kept her down. “Easy now, girl. Ya’ll took a right nasty spill, give the potion some time to work its magic will ya?”

  The fight went out of her immediately. “All right. Thank you… Giel.” She forced the words out. The big lamora chuckled and in true Giel fashion, sat down next to her.

  If Ashera was here, she’d tell me to stop being so ungrateful.

  Ashera had seen more darkness, known more pain and misery than almost any living person. And still, the woman took it all in stride. She didn’t let it twist and darken her soul.

  While she trusted Giel, her doubts about Mira were harder to dismiss. And they were consistently bolstered by the Dragoon’s battle prowess.