by Ramy Vance
Suzuki made a face at the door, pulling his lips down with his fingers and sticking out his tongue.
The door sneered at Suzuki and then blew up its cheeks so they looked like a chipmunk’s.
Suzuki copied the door’s gesture, causing it to chuckle before closing one eye and pushing its nose up, which Suzuki mirrored.
The door laughed, an odd sound akin to old wood bending. Then its face drooped and trickled off the door as it swung open.
Suzuki knelt and looked at the remnants of the door inching away like a slug. “See, not nearly as terrible.”
Anabelle nodded, silently wishing she’d come across a door with such banal sensibilities.
The Mundanes and the DGA crept into the dark treasure room. Sandy raised her wand, ready to cast an illumination spell, but Suzuki grabbed her arm to keep her from casting. “Wait,” he whispered. “There’s probably a shit ton of defenses in here. Let’s scope the place out before you brighten it all up. Beth, can you see anything?”
Beth leaned down and took a pair of binoculars out of her bag, then scanned the treasure room. “Nope, there doesn’t look like there’s anything else here. A shit-ton of gold and something floating in the middle of the room, but I don’t see anything like an enemy. Unless the gold is cursed. Now that I think about it, it probably is. Stew, don’t touch anything. I mean it. I’m not going to let Sandy save your ass this time.”
Stew scoffed. “I don’t even care about gold.”
Suzuki released Sandy’s arm. “All right, light it up.”
Sandy cast an illumination spell, instantly brightening the room.
Beth hadn’t been lying. There were piles of gold, some of them stretching nearly to the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a jar, floating innocuously.
Anabelle took a step toward the jar, but Suzuki held up his hand. “Hold on. There’s no way there’s just a soul jar in the middle of the room. This should be heavily guarded.”
Beth looked at the ceiling and yelped quietly. “Oh, it’s definitely heavily guarded. Why do you think there are so many piles of gold?”
Suzuki sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is.”
Terra stepped forward, her eyes bright with excitement. “Wait, is it a dragon?”
Beth pointed at the ceiling.
Above the jar was a gold dragon, its scales glittering in the light of the illumination spell. It was nearly the size of the entire ceiling. Its wings were wrapped around its body like a giant gold bat’s. Anabelle couldn’t tell where its legs were.
Suzuki scratched his head. “What the hell is a golden dragon doing in the middle of a dungeon? Those guys are supposed to be the pinnacle of goodness. Not that you can’t be good and live underground, but a dungeon?”
Terra shrugged, not taking her eyes of the dragon. “Who cares? Are we going to fight it or not?”
Suzuki shook his head. “You don’t want to fight one of those. They’re the most powerful dragons out there. We’d best try to avoid a fight. We can attempt to sneak around him and avoid the whole thing.”
Suddenly, the golden dragon’s eyes opened. They zeroed in on the Mundanes and the DGA.
Suzuki drew his sword, as did the others. “Looks like that’s off the menu.”
The dragon stretched out its wings and unleashed a torrent of golden fire, melting the gold beneath him. The soul jar was not affected.
Beth stepped back, away from the flames. “You guys ever fought a gold dragon before?”
Terra counted on her hand, looking up as she thought. “Uh, I fought a red dragon, a silver dragon, and there’s that dragon that was kinda teal. Or I thought it was teal. The light was kinda weird. And…well, there were a lot of dragons. You guys were there for that one, I think.”
The dragon fell from the ceiling, stretching out its wings as it let loose a roar that set the elf’s skin crawling.
Stew, whose bravado had finally disappeared, swallowed. “Yeah, we were there for a dragon, but I can’t remember what color it was.”
The dragon loosed another gout of flame that stretched to the ceiling, revealing how deep in the cavern they all were.
Sandy cast a barrier shield around both parties as the dragon unleashed another torrent of flame.
The dragon leaned forward, smoke fuming from its nose and spoke, its voice deep and ancient. “Who dares step into my chambers?”
The Mundanes looked at Suzuki. “Don’t you have a dragon girlfriend or something?” Beth asked.
Suzuki turned red, and he stumbled over his words. “She’s not my girlfriend. It’s different from that.”
The dragon fired another blast of fire.
Sandy’s barrier quivered, weakening and ready to give. “Whatever it is, just fucking do it!”
Suzuki cleared his throat and stepped forward. “All right, I’ll give it a shot.”
Chapter Eighteen
Roy and the mysterious orc sat in a corner of the bar, sizing each other up. There was nothing about the orc to give away why he knew about Grok. Roy watched him closely. If it came down to a fight, he would be able to cover his ass. It also helped that the bar was full of newly made allies.
But the orc didn’t seem to be here to fight. If he was, a sneak attack would have been more appropriate. One thing Roy could tell was that the orc was a fighter, and a fighter would have exploited his comfort at the bar and used it to their advantage.
The orc leaned toward Roy. “Name’s Yegoth. You’re Roy, correct?”
The mech rider’s eyes narrowed as he watched the orc. “Who wants to know?”
“I just introduced myself. Yegoth. Why would—”
“It’s just a saying, like an idiom. Never mind. Why does Yegoth want to know?”
Yegoth looked over his shoulder at Blackwell, who was sitting at the bar. “Should you invite your associate over? Blackwell, I believe.”
Roy nodded politely. He understood what Yegoth was trying to do—show that he’d been watching them or had received a good bit of intel without being threatening. It was a simple code for most spies. Lay everything on the table for the people they were interested in talking to, not killing. “Yeah, I’ll call him over,” Roy said.
He shouted Blackwell’s name, motioning for him to join them at the table. The orc introduced himself to Blackwell and vice versa.
“Now that you have both our attention, you want to tell me what this is about?” Roy asked.
Yegoth pulled back his hood. His face was heavily scarred, and he had a giant tattoo on the side of his bald head. “I’m an agent in the orcish spy network. I come with news you might find interesting.”
“What would that be? Does it concern Grok?”
Yegoth shook his head. “Only tangentially, but I thought it would be a good place to start.”
Blackwell gave him a curious look. “How could the orcs have a spy network? The twelve tribes have been broken up for years, and the rest were enslaved by the Dark One. Did you think we’d believe there were enough orcs united for a whole network?”
“That’s part of the information I’m bringing you. Let’s get that one out of the way. Although the orcs have been splintered for a time, there has always been a network that supersedes the individual desires of any tribes. An old ordination from the original council of twelve.”
Roy’s ears perked up at that. “I’ve never heard of the council.”
“It’s an ancient practice that historically worked behind the scenes. There are the tribal leaders, and each tribe had a council leader. The council was responsible for keeping the orcs together. They created three means to that: the Fist, the Eyes, and the Heart.”
“You’re going to have to explain that.”
“The Fist was an elite warrior class designed to put down insurrections. The Eyes were the spy network responsible for keeping tabs on possible issues, and the Heart were the shamans, who were needed to preserve orcish culture, history, and spirituality. Grok was the last of
the Fist. I lead the Eyes, and your friend Cire is, for all intents and purposes, the last shaman.”
Roy wanted to ask more questions, and he wished Terra and Cire were with him. He also knew his questions would have to be direct and not waste any time. Curiosity could be satisfied later. “And this council?”
“They’ve asked me to intervene in a set of coming events.”
Blackwell shook his head. “How could there still be a council if the tribes have been split up?”
“The tribes split, but the council didn’t. They lost the ability to help steer our people in the right direction, but since Terra and Cire united the tribes, there is a chance for real leadership again.”
“So, the council is planning on swooping in and ending all the work we’ve been—”
Yegoth raised his hand, cutting Blackwell off. “To start, no one rules the orcs but ourselves. Secondly, that is not the council’s aim. There is a considerable amount of infighting among the tribes now. Some of the former leaders have those who whisper in their ears, suggesting that Terra is an outsider who will never understand orc ways. Whispers that would have her killed and try to take her position. My sources have those orcs pinpointed. They would be weak leaders. Doom the twelve tribes.”
Blackwell started to grasp what Yegoth was getting at. “And you want us to take them out?”
“No. We are spies, not assassins. I propose something more delicate. The council will make itself known again and offer Terra a seat on it. She’ll retain her commanding power over the twelve tribes, but the council will be able to veto any decisions she makes that might prove detrimental to our people. It will strengthen the resolve of the tribes and keep them from splitting again. Granted, I understand that might not seem like a good deal on your side of things.”
Blackwell shook his head as he sipped his beer. “It sounds like you want to diminish Terra’s power and relegate her to a bureaucrat.”
“It would be a diminishing of power in some regards, but she will be seen as more orc, and the tribes will trust her more. But I will make a concession. The council will be unable to veto any war-related decisions. That will make her even more trusted by the orcs. A new embodiment of our old war chiefs, who existed for one purpose and one alone.”
Roy thought it over for a second. Terra and Cire had made it known on multiple occasions how uncomfortable they were with the idea of a human leading the orcs indefinitely. They’d also tried to make their own tweaks to the system to be accepted better. Roy knew it was only a matter of time before there was some kind of orc unrest. This could fix the problem before it got started. “I’m going to do something I don’t often do, which is trust you on this. You and your council want what’s best for the orcs?”
Yegoth smiled softly and nodded. “That was why I came unarmed and with a soft voice. Regardless of what you do, the council will act. We believe the council would be stronger with Terra. She is an exceptional leader hampered by the fact that she is not a full orc, but given some time on the council, the orc population will cease to see that.”
“Deal. What next?”
“The council will reach out to you when they are ready to convene. Now on to more pressing business.”
Blackwell chuckled quietly. “The orc insurrection wasn’t the pressing business?”
“For me, perhaps, but not for you. This concerns the Dark One’s plans. I doubt you know this explicitly, but Grok and Persephone were extremely special agents of the Dark One. Grok had been with the Dark One for some time. Persephone, on the other hand, was still being trained. A lucky situation for you, seeing as she has joined your side. But there is a third.”
Roy shrugged as his brow darkened. “I don’t see why that is a problem. We’ve taken care of two of his special agents already.”
“Yes, but at what cost? One of yours was taken and tortured for weeks. Grok defeated you multiple times, resulting in a large loss of human lives, and if she had not broken Anabelle, there is a good chance she would have decimated you and your new orc army. I would think you’d want to avoid that again.”
Roy tried not to betray his bruised pride. Yegoth was right. “All right, what do you know?”
“Before Rasputina went rogue, the Dark One had her acquire a soul for him—one he’s performed unholy experiments on, but who is also elevating the Dark One’s tech. A human, actually. Nikola Tesla.”
Blackwell groaned. “Are you serious? Is the Dark One getting all his ideas from bad steampunk comics?”
Yegoth stared in confusion at Blackwell. “I don’t know what steampunk is, but if you have resources on Tesla, I believe you should use them to your best advantage. I’ve been unable to find how he plans to deploy his new agent, but I would suggest using your spy networks to find out. The Dark One is growing reckless. All of his agents have disappeared, and his wildcard, Rasputina, is off the grid. These situations make a dangerous enemy.”
Yegoth stood and extended his hand to Roy and Blackwell.
“Wait, you’re just going to give us all this information?” Roy asked.
The orc shook the two humans’ hands. “Yes. We have the same enemy, and there is nothing more important than destroying the Dark One. We also hope our spy networks grow to share information with each other. The orcs have nothing to hide. We’ve spent too long on the outskirts of the nine realms. It is time we fixed that. You’ll hear from us soon.”
With that, Yegoth pulled his hood back over his face and was gone.
Roy and Blackwell exchanged glances as they sat back down. “I never thought the easiest spy to work with would be an orc. That’s one for the books.”
Blackwell didn’t seem as convinced. “What makes you think he’s telling the truth?”
“Because there is no reason to lie about most of this. The only thing I’m iffy about is the council. That being said, I’ve heard people whispering, and I know how coups go. There is something brewing. Better to take care of it now than get fucked later.”
Blackwell leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly. “Nikola Tesla, eh? This shit gets more ridiculous every month. What next, dinosaurs with tech strapped to them?”
“You ever talk to the Mundanes from the MERC group? They’ll have some stories for you. I heard that exact thing happened to them once.”
“God, I’m so fucking glad I don’t work on Middang3ard.”
Abby sat by the Gate with her drone Gertrude. The drone had been sent to her through the hadron collider back on Earth. Luckily, transporting inorganic material was easier than flesh and bone.
Gertrude had routinely been updated with new tech by Creon while Abby was away on missions. She was surprised by all the gadgets and improvements Creon had added.
Abby stared into the portal, which hadn’t closed. Freezing wind ushered forth from the portal. She was curious to know what was hiding deep within that dark place. She knew it was called the Netherverse, but no one completely understood what that entailed. She was going to find out.
“Hey, I brought you some coffee,” a voice said from behind her.
Abby looked over her shoulder at Persephone, who was walking up the hill with a blanket over her shoulder and two cups of coffee. “Thought you might want some for your all-nighter,” Persephone said. “And yes, I know, technically, you don’t need to eat or drink anything most of the time. But you know, it could be nice.”
Persephone spread the blanket in front of Abby and took a seat between her and the portal.
Abby took the coffee and smiled before kissing Persephone on the cheek. “We’re surprised you’re up this late.”
Persephone looked at the portal and shivered. “I haven’t been able to sleep since you opened that thing. The Dark Melody is getting louder in my head. Nothing terrible, but it’s reacting to whatever is behind that portal.”
Abby watched the drow’s face. Her worry was evident. “We’re going to be okay. Our nanobots are taking readings to adjust our suit, then we’re spending all night prepping. We’
ll be ready for whatever is in there.”
“Just promise you aren’t going to bring an Elder One back, okay?”
Abby nodded as she sipped her coffee. “Trust me, we’ve seen enough of those for a lifetime. Besides, you’re the only Elder One we need.”
Abby wrapped her hand around Persephone’s, and the two watched the blackness flicker behind the Gate.
Chapter Nineteen
The morning was spent preparing Abby’s nanobot armor for the conditions in the Netherverse. From what the recon nanobots had reported, she was in for an interesting experience.
Creon and the rest of the scientists went through the data with Martin, who was using Gertrude as a vessel since there were few holoscreens. Abby thought it was funny to see her first rudimentary creation alongside something as complex as Martin.
From what had been gathered, Martin and Creon explained, it looked like the Netherverse was made up of a reality-fluctuating compound. What existed there was not matter, nor was it antimatter. It was something completely different. Creon had ideas about what it could be but nothing conclusive. He and Martin agreed that the most likely definition of the Netherverse was a realm that existed within the recycled bodies and minds of the Elder Ones.
Abby liked the idea. When she was younger, she’d wanted to be an astronaut. It was a dream that, like most childhood aspirations, had faded. She hadn’t remembered it until now—the way she used to stare up at the stars and wonder if she was ever going to make it up there. Now she’d gone to different realms and planes of reality. She thought it was funny how things could change so quickly and not even be noticed.
During the night, as Abby had stayed up listening to Persephone tell her stories, she’d increased the number of nanobots in her body. Ever since she had used her nanobots to free the orcs from the Dark One’s mind control, Martin and the nanobot consciousness had been working on pushing Abby’s physical threshold to allow her to accommodate more nanobots without risking her health.
