Immix listened to my desires for a time. I explained that the necromancer had crossed me and that he would be a threat to our people.
“Wizards are hard to trick,” Immix replied after I told my wish. “Especially wizards that are long lived. I snuck a glance at Mr. Necroman when he was last visiting, curious about what made him such an important guest. You know what I saw? Around his neck he wears a very special amulet, called the Age of a Thousand. Each time he slays a victim, he gains the remaining years the gods had allotted that person to live naturally.”
That would explain why he was ageless. And why his plan relied on such a slow moving corruption spell. He had the luxury of time.
“But there are, of course, drawbacks to the Age of a Thousand,” Immix continued as he hopped about on one foot, trying his best to stay balanced. “The longer you live, the wearier you become. The crueler, the meaner and the more fearful of death. Go past one lifespan, you become afraid of daytime. Go past three and they say that you become so paranoid that you will kill your entire bloodline by your own hand, for fear of them somehow stealing the amulet. Such rumors are nonsense. Or are they?”
“Blood has something to do with the amulet?” I asked.
Immix chuckled. “As the poem goes, only blood of the same can remove the chain. It is believed that only those who are related to the wearer can remove it.”
“How do you know all of this?”
Immix gave me a sly grin as he finally ceased his hopping. “I may or may not have been planning on stealing the amulet from him. But my magic of lore told me all I needed to know.”
“You would have robbed our patron?” I growled at him, rumbling the ground beneath him a little. “Have you no sense of hospitality?”
“I was not going to steal it for myself, no I was planning on selling it to an old woman who lives by a lake, as a joke. She’d live forever and not know why!” Immix said, chuckling to himself. “And what does it matter to you? Our patron was a liar and a fiend!”
There was, of course, no way to reason with Immix. I moved on instead. “So, if it is believed the Age of a Thousand can only be removed by a blood relative, then Urioc must have killed all of them by now.”
“Or so he thinks. We must simply lead him to believe that a survivor is still around and has made his way into your dungeon,” Immix said. “He will arrive most frantic, for the paranoia is great. His faculties will be compromised, and he won’t suspect your intentions until he is in the belly of the Hurlic!”
This strategy relied upon Urioc’s ignorance of the situation. If he was aware of the truth, that I knew of his betrayal, then this plan would fail. It would tip Urioc off to my true intentions and then he would stay away from me. But then again, if the paranoia was a side effect of the amulet, then maybe he wouldn’t be able to think straight. It was worth the risk.
“Can I leave this task to you then?” I asked. “Are you capable of bringing him here as soon as possible?”
Immix shrugged. “Poor Immix! All he does is work and work for a big old tree and he gets nothing in return.”
“What do you wish of me then?” I asked. It was becoming a custom, at this point, for me to have to pay Immix for his services. If he didn’t get results, I would resent him more, but he was incredibly effective at his work.
“Cut my head off and make me still able to live! A headless goblin who tells poems is a real prize!” Immix cackled.
“Do not tempt me to try and fail.”
“Then if you cannot grant me that, I wish that you were to stop that hideous statue from being erected in the shrine,” Immix said. “It is more interesting to look at than me, and I do not like that.”
What was he talking about? There were no shrines in this… Ehdrid. He must have made a decision. But I could not see it anywhere within my walls. He was hiding this from me. The shaman probably knew that I would try to put a stop to his work.
“I shall owe you a favor then,” I replied, shifting my focus to find Ehdrid. “Do as I ask immediately. I have other things to attend to.”
Immix did not argue. Instead, he began to recite the poem of the Age of a Thousand, chanting it loudly as he made preparations to lure the necromancer to me. I could not find Ehdrid. Normally, when I am working, my presence is entirely in one place. I am effectively “blind” in the rest of the dungeon, unable to watch what is happening. I am still aware of what is going on, but the more intense my focus, the less I notice. However, I am easily capable of seeing everywhere within me at once. This is my normal view when I am simply observing. But I could not find Ehdrid anywhere.
“EHDRID,” I bellowed, allowing my voice to boom throughout the entire dungeon. I was greatly displeased by his efforts to conceal his work. “SHOW YOURSELF NOW!”
And then, almost at once, a new part of my dungeon came into view. It was beneath the goblin village, a large empty shrine. Ehdrid was standing before a statue of Gannix that was strewn out on the ground. The statue was still being worked on by a few craftsmen, who were toiling away to get the image perfectly. I could perceive a slight tint of divine energy radiating around the statue, but it was not the same as the god of corruption and plagues. Not yet anyway.
“I see you have found out the truth,” Ehdrid said, his voice quiet and weak. He ordered the workers to leave the shrine, allowing us to speak privately.
I was angered by his actions. This was not appropriate behavior for my right hand man. But I would allow him to explain himself. I was not in the habit of losing my temper without hearing out my allies.
“Speak then, why have you hidden this from me?” I asked.
Ehdrid sighed. I could see that he looked weary, exhausted. As if he had been awake for days. There was such sorrow on him that, at once, I felt the anger leave me. He was not trying to cover his deception. He had been trying to cover up his shame.
“I must do this, I fear,” Ehdrid said. “I cannot allow all of goblin kind to continue suffering at the hands of man.”
“And so, you give them a new illness to suffer?”
“What else can I do? Our village was decimated. We were culled as if we were animals. Adventurers laughed as they struck down my own dear wife. This was not the only village to suffer like that. There are thousands of other communities of my kind out there. They will be slain by the humans too. This will kill a great many of my people, but it will eventually save them.”
“If this does not concern me, then why cover your efforts?”
Ehdrid kept silent for a time. He merely turned from me and gazed upon the statue in progress. “I shall become a monster in my people’s history for this choice. They will not think of me kindly. I am ashamed that I must do this. But what else can be done, really?”
“You have counseled me in many a matter, spoken to me about my problems and have always offered your insight, with respect and care. I must now ask you, friend, may I guide you the same as you have guided me?” I asked.
Ehdrid bowed. “I would be honored to hear your advice.”
“How could you possibly say that this is your decision to make? Let every goblin decide their own fate. You are not their ruler. You are a shepherd who guides and cares for them. You do not own your people like the human kings own their subjects,” I told him. “One goblin cannot choose for all others. Do you think Gannix has only approached us? That a god who arrived so readily and eagerly to me, with plan in hand for a trade, had not tried other shamans? They could not make this decision for you, so why should you make it for them?”
“But what of our people? Our race?”
“They are thriving here, Ehdrid. And they will continue to grow. I see new houses being built frequently. I hear the cries of children. The only humans who step foot in this place are those looking for my treasure, not yours. You would see the laughter of your new generation turn into tears as mothers wither away and die? As fathers fight something that cannot be killed?”
Ehdrid was s
ilent for a time once again. “And you would allow yourself to die as opposed to finding the cure immediately? There is no guarantee that ending Urioc’s life will heal you.”
“You call me your home. I have taken you in and cared for you this long,” I replied. “I could never trade your lives for my own. You know that full well.”
“I do not think I am strong enough to say no to this temptation,” Ehdrid said.
“You are,” I told him. “Just give me the word and I shall do as you wish.”
Ehdrid took in a deep breath. “Can others come here? Other tribes, if invited?”
“No. This place belongs to the Ehdridkin goblins. Perhaps someday, this tribe will grow large enough and strong enough to go out into the world and give aid to others. But I will not take in other groups. I do not trust them as I do you.”
“I understand. You are a true friend for speaking so honestly with me. Collapse this shrine place, shatter it all. Quickly, before I change my mind.”
And so, I crushed the shrine in progress. Ehdrid would continue to shepherd his people and help them grow in their own village. But his attitude after that changed. He began to focus more on training them in the ways of war. He requested that I begin sharing more magical weapons with his people, a request I was all too happy to grant. He was preparing some of his people to leave and perhaps never to return. They would most likely die, fighting to protect some other village, but at least they got to choose that fate. And at least they got to die fighting something real.
Chapter 16
Immix had worked quickly, much faster than when I had first sent him out in the world. Perhaps he had sensed the urgency in my request. Or maybe he simply wanted to cash in on that favor as early as possible. Regardless, the trap had been set, or at least so he insisted.
Rather than contact the necromancer directly, Immix went out and placed a series of posters in just about every tavern in South Yehan. These posters offered a large gold reward for anyone who could offer information as to the whereabouts of the Age of a Thousand. The one offering the reward would be located in a dungeon near the Feverwood.
Immix explained that this was subtle but would work wonders in catching the attention of Urioc. Adventurers would either find Urioc as quickly as they could, or they would cast spells that would look for the answer. Either way, Urioc would become aware that someone was searching for the necklace. The paranoia would do the rest. He would become convinced that a family member had somehow survived and was now in the dungeon where all of his books resided.
It was a subtle plan. I had a great many questions and even objections to the idea as Immix explained it to me. But he knew far more about the world of adventuring than I did. I would have to trust his instincts. As a reward for his efforts, he demanded that I build him a throne as tall as the Hurlic itself. I granted him his throne, placing it at the very bottom of a poisoned spike pit. This amused him to no end and he spent a great deal of time trying to safely climb in and sit upon his throne. He was only poisoned once, which was impressive.
By the end of the week, I felt a presence arrive at my mind. It was a telepathic contact from Urioc. It was similar to the spell he had first used to teach me to speak, but this one felt a little different. I could not only sense his words, but also his emotions. No doubt that he could also sense my own feelings. I would need to be strong and resolute, and mask my true feelings. I had been anticipating some kind of contact, however, so his sudden appearance to me wasn’t a surprise.
“Do you understand me?” Urioc asked. I felt his presence. It was mostly composed of fear, jealousy and rage. The emotions were intense, almost spilling over onto me. I felt myself begin to react with those same feelings but steeled myself against them. I could not let his mania overtake my faculties.
“Urioc? I sense your energy, is there something you wish of me?” I asked.
“Who has been in your dungeon? Anyone?”
“Many people,” I replied. “There are dozens within me now, some of them looking for treasure. Others for your Staff. But fear not, they will all be dead soon.” Then I casually added, “well, most of them anyway.”
“What do you mean most of them?” he asked. I could feel a flare of panic rise up as if it were a wave of water crashing into me.
“There is one person who just arrived a few weeks ago. They have just been sitting in my mouth, waiting. They seem to be an artist, though. They continue to paint words on a scroll and then give them to a courier.”
The anger burned deeper, only matched by the panic. I kept my cool, trying not to exude any sense of delight in how effectively this ruse was working.
“Kill them! Kill them now!”
“I fear I cannot, Urioc. They are not moving around through my dungeon, so I cannot use my traps on them. My magic has waned due to new construction. But they seem to be of no threat.”
“No threat…yes, yes, no threat. No threat at all,” Urioc muttered to me. “Contact them, lure them into my study. I will arrive shortly.” The urgency in his mind was great. Immix’s suspicions had been correct. The paranoia caused by the necklace was powerful enough to make him forget that I could just as easily have lured them into one of my traps with his method.
At once, his presence was gone. I felt my emotions return to normal, the effects of the telepathy now diminished. I felt a shock, returning back to my normal feelings so quickly. His anxiety and fear had been so great that, for a short time, it had engulfed me entirely. Urioc would have no chance against me.
Before the hour was up, Urioc had arrived via teleportation. My exterior was shielded properly, to prevent anyone from entering my dungeon from the outside with magic, so he was forced to arrive at my mouth. At once, I could see that he looked haggard and frazzled. His eyes were darting wildly from left to right, and his left hand was nearly permanently clutching his amulet.
“Lead me to my study,” Urioc demanded, not bothering to introduce himself. He took a few steps into the mouth of the dungeon and stepped on one of the teleportation runes. It flashed bright blue and, in an instant, the necromancer was transported to the Magekiller Room.
The anti-magic field worked as intended. Upon him arriving in the room, all of the enchantments he had cast upon himself faded. The field was powerful enough to dampen most normal magical artifacts, but legendary ones, such as the amulet, were made with an old and deep magic that would be immune to anything but the most powerful of spells.
“What is going on?” he cried as he crashed into the ground. I could hear a snap as he landed on one leg. He cried out in agony for a moment, before standing to his feet. He muttered a spell, but much to his surprise, nothing happened.
“You should know what is happening,” I rumbled. I could not communicate via telepathy with magic in the room, so I merely emanated my voice from the dead zone. It was loud enough for him to hear.
“You betray me!” he cried, unaware that behind him stalked the Shrevar. It leapt forward, bringing both hooks down into his back. His blood gushed as it threw him to the ground, shrieking wildly.
The Shrevar went to deliver another blow, but much to my surprise, the necromancer reached out with his hand and muttered a word of power. A flash of light knocked the beast away from him. It yelped in pain, its eye stalks looking in all directions but unable to see.
“An anti-magic field? How pedestrian,” Urioc said. “You should know that it does not have an effect upon divine magic.”
“That light burst was a mere parlor trick,” I said to him as he limped around, desperate to find a way out. The light stones he pulled from his back weren’t working, unable to light the way for him. “You built your entire life upon arcane magic. You won’t survive this.”
“I take it you have learned of my designs,” Urioc snarled. He stretched his arm out and muttered a few words of power again. His right arm began to shift, transforming into a long blade made of bone. The necromancer was still bleeding profusely, but it
was clear he would not go down without a fight. This was to be expected.
The Shrevar recovered from its blindness quickly and turned back around to face Urioc. It shrieked, swiping its blades a little as it approached, weaving erratically. It leapt at him, but the necromancer had the advantage as he swung the blade arm to the right, impaling the Shrevar and stopping it from reaching him.
The Shrevar screeched and writhed for a moment, then ceased moving altogether. It was a powerful beast, but it was most effective when it had the element of surprise. Without that, a competent warrior could kill it. The beast was smart enough to play dead, at least long enough to regenerate its wound and then strike again.
“And this is how you intend to cure yourself? Killing me with some cut-rate monster?” Urioc asked as he stepped away from the beast and began to mumble a longer divine incantation. I was curious as to how he had access to divine magic, but then again, he had lived for a long time. Perhaps in one of those lifetimes, he had been a priest of some forlorn god.
“I won’t kill you, “I replied as the Hurlic leapt from its hiding place above the necromancer. “But he will.”
The giant beast crashed into Urioc, slamming him into the ground. I could hear him scream out in agony, the divine incantation interrupted. The creature did as it was trained, grabbing hold of Urioc with both of its gigantic hands and hoisting him in the air, to crush the life out of him.
“Killing me will not cure you!” he cried.
“Then perhaps a bargain can be made?” I asked. The Hurlic swatted the stalking Shrevar away, who had been walking circles beneath Urioc, following the blood trail to his victim.
Tree Dungeon Page 8
