by C. M. Carney
“Ouch,” Simon said. “I feel awful. Did we get it?”
Lex smiled and then laughed, earning an odd glance from Simon. Lex pointed skyward to the distant form of the abomination. It had floated far from the disc and a moment later a bank of the liquified clouds passed in front of it, shrouding the beast from sight.
“You did good kid. We did good.” And they had. Despite taking some hits, all of them still lived.
22
“What the hell was that?” Lex roared. Simon still cradled in Lex’s arms, cringed at the volume.
“Some kind of chaos terror beast,” Seraphine offered, her tone adding the dialogue tag that implied ‘Duh.’
“I know that. I was talking about the wonky ass gravity thing, and what the hell was that tunnel? It can’t just drop us up, or down, or whatever into open space like that. It could kill somebody. They should put up a sign or something.”
“Yeah, because the Realm of Chaos is big on rules,” Vonn grunted in pained amusement from somewhere behind him.
“Errat suggests that friend Lex should … what was the phrase … write a strongly worded letter to management.”
An unbidden laugh burst past Lex’s mouth. Errat had the uncanny ability to mock Lex, forcing him to see his foolishness as foolishness. That Errat's mocking was unintentional made it all the better.
We are still alive. His shoulder throbbed and he sat. The group didn’t speak for several minutes while Errat healed their wounds as best as he was able. They supplemented his limited abilities with copious amounts of healing potions. The pleasant tasting red liquid was part of the magical mission pack that each of them carried on Grimliir’s insistence.
The strong leather case held a wide variety of tinctures, powders, and potions concocted by the Master Alchemist Bruunhilde, and a few more advanced, one use, Icons imbued by Yrriel. The pack represented a significant investment in materials, rare ingredients, master level skills and time. Each was worth the yearly economic output of a small town.
Lex deemed the cost small after seeing them stabilize and heal his people. He would have to ration them carefully since they only had three of the packs. Lex had never been a miser, but each potion drank meant one less available for the next catastrophe. If he’d learned one thing about the Realm of Chaos, it was that the next catastrophe was already heading their way.
Despite, or perhaps because of the sense of impending doom, Lex handed Seraphine a pair of healing potions for the next encounter. Not only had she saved all their lives, she still wore the body of an innocent, or mostly innocent, boy. If the gift meant Furrick’s body survived long enough to be returned to him, Lex would consider it an investment well made.
Seraphine nodded, acknowledging Lex’s unspoken comment and stashed the vials in her pack. Vonn stumbled up, the wound in his side closed because of Errat’s efforts. He waved of Lex’s concern, saying he was in pain, but would live. Errat flexed his forearm which looked as good as new. Lex envied the warborn’s incredible regenerative capabilities until he remembered that Errat’s body, though powerful and resilient, lacked a fundamental component. Lex’s eyes danced unbidden to the warborn’s crotch, a space Lex knew was as barren as a treeless hill.
All things have their price, he heard Gryph say in his head, a memory from the moment Lex had learned of the warborn’s groinal deficiency.
Lex grumbled at his traitorous imagination until his eyes fell on Simon. The undead teen was not doing well, or more accurately the reanimated body of Dirge he inhabited was not doing well. As Simon explained it, the Death Magic that permeated the Barrow powered the body. The Barrow had literally constructed it in a manner akin to the 3D printers of Earth. It would have to be a twisted 3D printer to be sure, but the principles applied.
While Simon inhabited the body, he did not have access to his own mana pool, nor that of the Barrow. He could not regenerate lost mana as living beings could. Instead, his body was like a battery, fully charged at the moment of its creation. Inside the Barrow, the body would receive constant recharging. Outside, it had no way of replenishing lost mana. Once drained of mana, the body would ‘die.’ Simon had used an immense amount of mana taking control of the corpses that had comprised the dire chaos abomination. Now he was paying the price.
“Why didn’t you tell us this before we left the Barrow?” Lex demanded.
“Cuz you wouldn’t have let me come,” Simon countered.
“Well no shit guy, that’s the point.” Lex turned, anger and worry filling him. Vonn placed a hand on Lex’s shoulder trying to calm his friend.
“I know you think you’re the only one that cares about Gryph,” Simon said louder than was necessary. He realized this, for his next words were at a much lower, but no less intense, volume. “Without Gryph, I'd still be a prisoner in Ouzeriuo’s private hell.” Simon swilled hard as his emotions threatened to overcome him. “You’re not the only one who needs to find him.”
Lex sighed and closed his eyes. The kid was right, but there was no way in hell he could let him know that. He’d likely take some fool risk and end up dead, like for real dead. “I don’t like it, but there isn’t much I can do about it now. But, don’t do it again or you’re grounded.”
“Fine.” Simon crossed his arms and turned his face into a pout.
Errat pulled both of them into a massive bear hug, that squashed Lex’s face far too close to the warborn’s barren field of manhood. Claustrophobia welled up inside him when another coughing fit wracked his body. Errat pulled away, a look of deep concern on his face.
Thank the Realms for small blessings, Lex thought as he brought his hand to his mouth.
“Does friend Lex need more healing?” The warborn poked and prodded him like some horrifying caricature of a pediatrician.
“I’ll be …. um good” Lex squirmed away from Errat. His health ticked down another notch, and he felt weaker and dumber. The Chaos Necrosis continued worming its way through his body. If he didn’t stop it soon, he’d die an agonizing death. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for that to happen. He dug in his pack and pulled a brilliant green Icon. He activated his Identify skill.
You have found a Purge Stone.
Purge Stones are powerful one-use Life Magic Icons designed to fight infections, diseases, and poisons. Unlike traditional healing spells or cure disease potions, Purge Icons do not counteract the contagion. Instead, they analyze, isolate and remove them, binding them inside the powerful Life Magic matrix contained inside the Icon.
Yrriel, with the aid of several of Sylvan Aenor’s life mages, had crafted the powerful healing devices. Lex still remembered the moment Yrriel had presented them to the group. While the gift had humbled the others, Lex, ever the fool, had remarked that Yrriel must be crushing on him hardcore to shower him with such fine bling.
If I survive this, I need to get her something nice. Perhaps the head of a Prince of Chaos.
He laughed at his own idiocy, which brought on another coughing fit. Pain wracked his body, and he collapsed to his knees. As ever, Errat was there, playing the role of giant Frankenstein’s nurse. He cradled Lex’s head in his lap and took the Icon from Lex’s weakening grasp.
“Let Errat handle this. Friend Lex needs rest.” The warborn placed the Icon over the wound in the NPC’s shoulder, closed his eyes and began to hum a wordless tune. Lex eyed the matronly warborn for a moment before a flash of green light pulsed from the Icon and flowed into his body.
The wound buzzed and tingled, and Lex imagined it was frothing in the way hydrogen peroxide did when it encountered an infection. Instead of a burning sting, the healing power of the stone felt like sinking into a warm bath steaming with fragrant mint, and citrus.
He half expected the Chaos Necrosis to fight against the healing power of the stone as the Phage had, but evidently, it did not harbor the same sentience. Lex gave thanks for that small miracle.
“It is done, friend Lex,” Errat said in a joyous voice.
Lex opened his ey
es to find the warborn smiling down on him, holding the Icon between his thumb and forefinger. The bright green stone had gone dull, its insides writhing with red-black sludge. The Icon had siphoned and contained the infection.
Errat helped Lex to his feet and handed the spent Icon to him. It weighed heavy in Lex’s palm. He smiled at the others, pulled back and threw it into the odd sky above him. It zipped much further than Lex believed it should before some tweak of gravity grabbed ahold of it and it rebounded like a child bouncing on a trampoline.
The stone sped back towards the ground, forcing them to scatter and dive as it slammed into the surface of the disc. Dust and bits of cracked stone floated away from the impact crater, slowing and stopping a dozen feet above the ground. There it hung motionless for several seconds before reversing course and raining down upon them again.
“What the hell?” Lex muttered, spitting grit. The illogical physics had caught him so off-guard that’d he’d stared into the sky all slack jawed. That error had led to a mouthful of chaos grit.
“Can you not do that again,” Seraphine grumbled, brushing dust and rock from her hair.
Lex cringed, once again feeling the fool. If he didn’t wise up and soon, someone would die. He met the gaze of the others one at a time, making silent apologies. Then, to ensure they understood he spoke. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better the next time we face off against some dickhead chaos thing.”
No sooner had the words passed his lips, a howling roar rumbled from somewhere above them. All eyes snapped to the sky where they saw the dire chaos abomination spinning all willy-nilly, like a beach ball caught in the surf.
It bounced off the underside of a mass of liquified clouds and an arc of black lightning lanced down, pummeling into the beast. It howled again, not in pain or rage, but in joy, like a zipper masked man getting flogged by his dominatrix.
“Well that’s just creepy,” Lex muttered and then his eyes widened as the dire chaos abomination grew larger. “Uh, am I the only one who just saw what I think I saw?”
“No,” Vonn said. “It grows with each impact.”
In proof, the abomination bounced into the cloud layer again and another bolt of chaos lightning lashed into the beast. It screamed and pulsed and expanded again. The impact caused it to spin and pick up speed. Another flash of black lit the sky, and a rush of wind followed, shredding through the clouds like a shark fin through the waves.
The wind altered the abomination’s trajectory and Lex’s eyes widened at its likely destination. A tall, thin tower sprouted from the center of the disk’s underside and pushed up and through the cloud cover. The clouds shrouded the top of the tower until the winds slammed into them, pushing them forward like snow before a plow, revealing the top of the tower.
There, moored by several ropes, was a ship, their ship. To Lex’s untrained eye, it looked like an ancient sailing vessel clad in plates of dull bronze. Emblazoned on its main sail was an eight-pointed star, each of its eight arrows meant to represent the erratic and random nature of chaos.
Jagged black chain lightning exploded through the clouds illuminating the sky. If the chaotic winds continued to blow, the abomination would reach the top of the tower, and soon.
“We need to get to that ship, while there’s still a ship to get to.”
23
Lex ran, and the others followed. His first step sent him farther and higher than expected as if he were an astronaut walking on the moon. Lex laughed in surprise as he landed and skip-pushed himself further with his next step. A childlike grin brightened his face as each step took him higher and sent him farther.
That glee dimmed as Errat bounded by him with ease, each skip of his long legs taking him much further than Lex’s own. A moment later Vonn surged past followed by Seraphine. No fair. Furrick’s legs are way shorter than mine, Lex pouted to himself.
At least Simon hadn’t zipped past him. He turned back to see the undead teen struggling. The Dirge body had lost much of its natural dexterity and its degradation had increased after Simon’s attack on the abomination. How much longer will he last?
That thought, as well as his breath, was forced from Lex as he lurched forward and face-planted the ground. His toe had caught on a jutting stone. Simon skipped by, gazing down at him in concern, but Lex waved him on with an annoyed grunt.
Lex stood, dusted himself off and bounded after his friends, his concentration dedicated to keeping his feet under him. A few minutes later, the base of the tower came into clear view. Surrounding the base was an odd platform with a quartet of ropes lashed to it at random spots. It took only a moment for Lex to understand he was looking at the worst elevator he’d ever seen.
Lex’s knees grew light, and he stumbled. Great, now I have a fear of heights too, he thought to nobody in particular. As they closed the last hundred feet, a small hut, previously hidden in the shadows of the tower’s base, came into view. The shack was built from bits of fused bone and stretched leather that looked suspiciously like human skin. Its roof was a single scale of some massive beast tossed atop the walls. They'd painted the entire structure the red of dried blood.
His team arrived and secured the area with weapons drawn. Lex slowed his skipping and came to rest near the front door of the hut. The roof of the structure only came up to Lex’s chin, and a sign hung on the door at an odd angle. The sign read "Bläärt No Home" in an ochre-brown scrawl that would have embarrassed a five-year-old. The low-grade rumble of many creatures snoring vibrated the walls of the shack.
Errat walked to the makeshift elevator where a monstrous lock secured the platform. He tugged on it before casting a glance back at Lex and Vonn. The two men walked to the warborn’s side to find the lock had no keyhole.
“I cannot pick this lock,” Vonn said.
“Nor can Errat break it.”
Lex thought for a moment, before squinting skyward. He could just make out the tumbling balloon-like shape of the chaos abomination moving through the clouds. A lash of black lightning flashed, its impact fueling another growth spurt.
Lex scowled and walked up to the rickety door of the cabin. He hesitated, before kicking the bottom of the door with his toe. The whole structure shook and threatened to collapse. Inside the snoring surged in surprise and then stopped. Grumbles rose accompanied by the sound of pots falling to the floor. A sharp ‘Shhh’ noise filled the shack and then silence fell heavy.
“Bläärt?” Lex called, unsure of the pronunciation.
“Bläärt no home. Can not you read sign?” The voice sounded like an old man with a loogie lodged in its throat.
"I read sign quite good," Lex retorted and then frowned upon realizing the creature’s fool way of speaking had infected him. “Open the door. We need to get to the top of the tower.”
“No door open for no anybodys but Master. No take nobody to tower top, but Master.”
“I am Master,” Lex countered. “Open the door.”
“You is?” the voice gurgled. “No sound like Master.”
“I … uh, got a new voice.”
“Why want do that? Old voice better, much more sound like breaking bones and tearing apart flesh.”
Lex blinked in surprise and a chill ran through him. Just who the hell’s boat am I stealing here? He cast a sideways glance at Vonn, who shrugged as if saying ‘this conversation is more your speed than mine.’ Lex turned back to the door.
“I did it for the ladies,” Lex said, improvising.
“Ladies like girly sounding Master?”
Lex glowered at the jab but then continued. “Yes, very much, and I want to get to my ship and give much loving to my ladies.”
Seraphine gave a classic ‘WTF?’ look and Lex waved her off with a shrug. Behind her, Errat nodded and gave him an uncomfortable double thumbs-up, a mannerism he’d learned from Lex, but hadn’t yet mastered.
“Grumble,” the voice grumbled. “Fines. Waits one minutes.” A loud banging rose followed by the crash of smashed clay pots and several oomphs
of stepped on stomachs. The door unlatched and creaked inwards a few inches before it hit something that yelped in complaint. A gurgling argument of grunts and burbling snot rose, and the door slammed three more times against the complainant, before pushing out towards Lex and the others.
The rank odor of vinegar mixed with week-old gym socks wafted to Lex’s nose bringing tears to his eyes. From the dim interior a three and a half feet tall cobalt-blue skinned man, if one was forgiving with term man, emerged. A wide nose took up half its face, bulging outwards at an odd angle from beneath a set of vivid orange eyes. Large pointed ears pushed through a mussed mop of receding black hair as it cocked its head on a non-neck so thick that there was no discernible place where the head stopped and the body started. Spindly arms fell well past the creature’s waist and it wore a vivid red kilt. Instead of feet, the creature bore a pair of wooden pegs.
Bläärt the bläärt, for that was the species name that his limited Analyze offered, reminded Lex of a pissed off Ed Asner if he’d shrunk and been tossed into a bucket of blue food dye. Bläärt eyed Lex up and down, his lips growing more pursed in disapproval.
“You no Master.”
“Am so,” Lex countered.
“You look nothing like Master. You am way too pretty.”
“I got a … body upgrade,” Lex said, a squeak of alarm at being called pretty sneaking into his tone. Bläärt squinted as his few brain cells struggled to see through the subterfuge.
“What is name then if you are Master?”
“My name is…” Lex coughed into his fist and muttered nonsense, mumbled and cleared his throat. “And I demand you take me to my pleasure barge where me and my ladies will engage in much pleasure.”
“Hmmm,” Bläärt said, rubbing the billy goat scruff on his chin with a three-fingered hand. “You no look or sound like Master, but you said name right, sooooo…”
“Hurry up, and take me up the tower dammit,” Lex interrupted, hoping to prevent the bläärt from thinking any further on his identity. “My ladies and I do not have all day to wait on the likes of you.”
