by T J Marquis
"Pierce got three," Ess called from somewhere above. One of her orbs shot between tree branches and blew through the bandit's chest, ending his misery.
The other two approached Pierce cautiously. One of them was very heavyset, and almost as tall as Pierce.
"Four!" came Agrathor's rasping voice.
"Five!" boomed Axebourne from nearby.
The heavy bandit brought his battle axe down in a crushing blow. An ordinary man could not have parried it, but Pierce's training and natural gift saw him through - the bone melter sliced through the axe's very blade, bisecting it, and Pierce fired his blast gauntlet with his off-hand, blowing apart the man's arm below the elbow. He fell to the muddy ground, irrationally trying to collect the pieces of his ruined limb and screaming. His fervor quickly faded as shock took him and he began to bleed out.
Pierce watched the next man carefully, dark eyeslit unreadable. Then his final bandit turned and fled, and Pierce gave chase. The man was fast.
"Nine!" Axebourne growled from behind him. Somehow Pierce had missed the last few counts.
The running man hit the hard-packed road and abandoned his sword, fleeing south in panic. Another bandit from Agrathor's side joined him, but they didn't even give each other a glance.
Pierce could run all day, but blind panic lent the bandits speed. He wasn't sure he'd catch them without using the blast gauntlet for a little boost. He didn't need to worry.
Ess lowered herself closer to the ground in front of the fleeing bandits, her seven liquid orbs floating around her in strange patterns. Her robe began to billow around her at the behest of some unseen force that also stirred the dust of the road. She brought her hands up, letting her drooping sleeves fall away, and Pierce couldn't help but notice how slender and enticingly feminine they were. She had painted the nails white, in strong contrast to her jet-black skin.
His masculine stupor was dispelled when she stretched her hands out to either side, palms up, and violently closed them into fists. The last two bandits screamed in a duet of pain, but the screams were cut short as fountains of blood and bone erupted from the place where they'd been. The sound was like that of a butcher gutting every hog in the shop simultaneously - a mixture of cutting, ripping, and crushing all at once. Pierce had never heard anything like it, and immediately his image of Ess shifted into a more multifaceted thing than it had previously been.
She was no dainty doll.
The moment stretched long, and the gore of the bandits seemed to hang in the air before falling in a splattering rain to the dry dirt. Somewhere, squirrels and rodents fled, rustling leaves and twigs.
The rest of Gorgonbane met back at the road. Pierce was frozen in awe of Ess. Agrathor came up behind and slapped his shoulder, grinning.
"Twelve," he grated.
Though rendered unconscious, the raptorions were unharmed. Nevertheless, Gorgonbane were forced to make camp for the night while they waited for the sedatives to wear off. No one else had been hurt. They were all seated around a cookfire built at the roadside, roasting meat from a freshly hunted wild boar on long, pointy sticks.
"Why would they even try?" Pierce asked. He'd always considered himself a decent person, but even if he had been some kind of criminal or ruffian, and even if he somehow hadn't known who Gorgonbane were, there was no way he would have attacked such an obviously well-armed group.
"Some people think only with their eyes, son," Axebourne said, his big lips were pulled to one side in a contemplative smirk. "Some with their bellies."
"Some with their pants," added Scythia.
"Yes," Axebourne agreed. "Not everyone is as present in life's moments as you are. Surely you must have noticed this before?"
Pierce nodded noncommittally. "Well, I suppose," he said. "I guess it still just doesn't make sense to me."
"Probably won't ever," said Agrathor. "Who can account for foolishness? One man's reason is another man's folly."
"And some are just desperate to survive," said Ess. "They think that, no matter the risk, if just this one roll of the dice comes up favorably, it could be the last big break they ever need. So they commit, and to the Chasm with the consequences."
Pierce considered that. Had he ever been that desperate? Many times, he'd thought that death had finally come for him, but at that point, nearly any risk was worth taking, if it meant keeping one's life. He didn't think he'd ever been so desperate for something more mundane.
"That really was something," he said to Ess.
"You've said," she smiled.
"About ten times," Agrathor grumbled.
"Hey, let the man be impressed," Ess chided. "I have been working alone quite often of late, without the affirmation of sycophants those in the Grand Halls of Discovery enjoy. I could use the praise."
"Which Skill was that?" Pierce asked. "What you used to kill them?"
Ess shook her head. "None of them, merely an intermediate application of biologically-oriented telekinesis."
"Intermediate?" Pierce asked in disbelief. "What is advanced?"
Ess shrugged almost imperceptibly in the mountain of her robes. "Greater numbers, wider range. Moving things with mass substantially greater than mine."
Pierce thought that funny. The slender, young-looking mage seemed quite petite in her generous coverings. What constituted a substantial ratio?
"That thought amuses you," she said, favoring him with bright eyes. "It is true, I am not a large person."
He blushed.
"But when Ess says, 'substantial,'" Axebourne said, "she means it. Push the word to its limits, and a little further, and that's what you get when Ess uses it."
Yet Scythia had said that Agrathor was likely the most powerful of the four of them. Pierce couldn't make it compute, but since it concerned the testy skeleton man, he decided not to pursue it for now.
They ate their boar meat in near silence after that, and the quiet of deepening night gave way to the nocturnal sounds of the dense forest.
The blood-red sun baked Pierce awake, stealing through breaks in the forest canopy. The others were already up. Likely Agrathor at least had not slept at all. Someone had gotten the raptorions on their feet, but they still looked a bit bleary-eyed, so Pierce had been allowed to sleep late while they finished recovering from the sedatives they'd been shot with.
It was nearly mid-morning before Gorgonbane set out again, leaving the unfortunate remains of the unnamed bandits to the scavengers of the forest.
Within a few hours, the forest relinquished its hold on the land, and the road to Grondell wound between a pair of low hills crowned with the ruins of old watchtowers. It looked like a wall and gate had once stood here, guarding the road, but now the rubble and wreckage were overgrown with brush and brambles.
From there it was a swift jaunt down the road as it threaded through ever rising hills to the grand old city of Grondell, standing tall on its mesa. Pierce had been there before, but not for long, and never in such stylish company.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Assuming Command
The mighty gates of Grondell stood open to the pilgrims that flowed toward the old city from the lands without. In any season, thousands of the devout would travel there to work, pray or learn in the Everlasting Temple, and the sub-temples, libraries, colleges and shrines that had grown up around it. There were people here from all corners of Overland. All were welcome, and on the surface at least, there was no distinction made between one parishioner and the next.
Gorgonbane attracted many looks of curiosity as they rode up to the city gates and passed through. Even among many thousands the living legends were well known by their descriptions, and besides this, they were travelling with a levitating wizard and an animated skeleton. They were bound to attract attention anywhere they went.
Grondell was fashioned all of a peculiar stone. The high defensive walls were made of blocks of wood that had been shaped, engraved, petrified by magic, and set in place. The surface of each block shimmered with a pal
e gold light of enchantment, preventing erosion, hardening the stone against impacts and foreign magic. The gates were likewise enchanted, and were massive things - thick bronze monoliths opened and closed by fearsome engines.
Pierce thought that if the Underlord's forces merely attempted some conventional attack, there was no way they would breach this ancient place. Certainly, no one ever had.
Grondell was consistently disorganized in the way of many old cities, but most people living there, or visiting, were intimately familiar with it. Pierce would have been lost here, for though he'd been before, he'd never really learned the place. But his companions, and everyone else he saw, seemed to know exactly where they were going, and what switchbacks, alleys, tunnels and overpasses to use to get there. He was happy to follow along, though he did think it could be interesting to get lost here on purpose. There was no telling what stories or mysteries he might encounter off the beaten path.
Axebourne had indicated that the city garrison's officers had their headquarters near Grondell's heart, the Everlasting Temple itself, and this is where Gorgonbane was currently headed.
Near the Temple, visitors looked more refined, if not necessarily higher in class. Men and women both wore robes woven with patterns in the Temple's own color palette - reds, golds, silvers, and oranges. Everyone was fresh-faced, clean and washed, and looked well-fed. The streets here were also more organized, fanning out from the Temple in concentric circles that were connected with short byways. Between the rings of streets stood smaller temples, shrines, lush gardens, clean taverns, and various shops and apartments.
In the middle of it all squatted the Holy Temple of Everlasting Transcendence. It was taller than the buildings around it, but not the highest building Pierce had ever seen by far. Most of its mass came from its wideness, sprawled across the breadth and length of its grounds. Within that smallest circular street at the city's heart very little space was left unoccupied by the Temple. It was made of the same petrified wood as Grondell's outer walls, and its form consisted of short, narrow towers, square libraries, glass-roofed chapels, and long stretches of galleries, every element connected to its neighbors by claustrophobic hallways or tunnels through outcroppings of rock.
Another place to come get lost in.
Pierce considered again - he really might like to come here and study someday. The grandness of the place alone might hold him in a consistent enough state of awe and wonder to keep his mind on his schoolwork.
In the northeast quadrant of the second ring stood the city garrison's offices, and Axebourne boldly led his small team up long steps to their entrance. He stopped them there briefly.
"Alright. We're all going in together, mostly as a show of force. A little shock and awe will help us get their attention," he said. "But you," he pointed at Pierce, "and you," he pointed at Agrathor, "keep your mouths shut. No musings, ruminations, or tangents," he fixed his gaze on Pierce. "And no arguments or complaints," he gave Agrathor a stern look. "We need to present a unified front, or no one will believe even us, and they certainly won't listen to us."
The rest of Gorgonbane saluted. Pierce nodded, flinched slightly, then saluted as well.
"Good," said Axebourne. "Then come, let's go in."
He led the way through a pair of wooden double doors, and the group was immediately questioned by a clerk at a high desk in the lobby they entered.
"What can I help you with?"
The clerk was a polished-looking man in his forties, with bronze skin and short black hair. He wore a pair of oval spectacles that glowed green with enchantment. "We haven't called for any mercenaries this season." He looked dubious.
Axebourne strode up to the clerk's desk and clasped his arm in greeting. "Good day, young man," he said. Immediately the clerk's face softened a bit. "I need to speak with your garrison commander. My comrades and I have discovered intelligence regarding an attack on the city."
The clerk's dubious look returned, and he released Axebourne's arm. "Oh, well, we got one of those last week, so you'll pardon my skepticism. Little merc band running away from some of their rivals. They wanted us to shut the gates so their rivals would have no choice but to abandon the chase. Good try though." He lowered his eyes to some paperwork on the desktop.
"We are not mercenaries, sir," Axebourne said, just a slight hardness to his voice. The clerk looked back up. "Not today anyway. Nor do we have any rivals. I do so strive to remain tactful in these situations, so... Would you kindly glance at my comrades and tell me what you see?"
The clerk looked up, scanning Scythia in all her hard beauty, Ess buried in her magenta robes, Pierce, smiling, faceplate up. Then he saw Agrathor and gasped.
"Yes," Axebourne said, a teacher witnessing the spark of understanding in his student. "We are..." he said it as a leading question.
"G-Gorgonbane," said the clerk. "I never thought I'd... Yes sir, Mr... Axebourne? Sir. Or is it Mr. Cleaver? I'll go find the commander this instant. I do believe he's in from the barracks inspection."
The clerk fairly floated across the lobby and through a guarded double doors leading deeper into the building.
Axebourne smiled. "I harbor no addiction to fame, but I really do love it when they realize who they're talking to."
"The variety of reactions all within the same vein is truly astounding," said Scythia.
The clerk returned after a few minutes, holding the doors open and waiting.
"Commander Thorne will see you. He says his office is too small, so I'm taking you out to the courtyard," said the clerk. He led the way, and Gorgonbane followed.
The courtyard was simple but tastefully adorned with a pebbled path around its perimeter, a short-cropped lawn within, and a single fountain of sculpted petrified wood that wasn't currently running. Wooden benches were placed intermittently along the path, and Thorne stood near one of these.
The commander was about Axebourne's age, scars on his dark face calling back to times of war. He'd shaved his head bald, and his skin had the pallor of someone afflicted with bloodwaste. Awful disease, that, Pierce thought. His grandfather had perished of it.
"Hail, Gorgonbane," he greeted. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
When they had come close enough, they each clasped his arm in turn.
"To Kash and his infernal minions," Agrathor muttered. Axebourne gave him a look.
"We have learned of ill intentions toward the city," said Axebourne. "Would that we could greet you with better news, but it seems that the Underlord has developed the means, and the desire, to bring an attack force to bear on Overland. As we understand it, Grondell is to be his initial target."
"Well, that's not good," said Commander Thorne. "Are you sure? How can you know? Kash has never been one to announce his plans to us Overlanders."
"Pierce Gemwaster was prisoner of the painreapers for a time," Scythia said, and the Commander's eyes widened. "They were foolish enough to speak of Kash's plans in his presence, and to allow his escape from the Testadel."
"Gemwaster?" Pierce asked. It sounded better than Boonswadled, but...
"Well I saw you blow through five of them fighting that Monstrosity," she said. "I assume there were at least another five before that. Some might consider firing the gauntlet into thin air a waste."
Pierce shrugged in acceptance. "Still, it's not very brutal," he said.
Axebourne cleared his throat.
"Sorry," said Scythia.
"Sorry," said Pierce.
"And how did he escape?" Thorne was not dubious, but genuinely curious.
"A forgemaster let me out, Commander," Pierce said.
Thorne looked to Axebourne, who nodded in assent. Pierce was to be believed.
"Why would a forgemaster do that?" Thorne asked.
"Because I could have killed him, but I spared his life," Pierce said. "I didn't really go down to the Underlands to kill anyone in particular. I just wanted to bring back something special." He patted the pommel of his sword as he said this.
Commander Thorne shook his head slowly. "I hear you, and I want to believe you." Agrathor began to growl. "You're heroes! I should believe you. But it's just all so out of the ordinary." He looked closely at Pierce. "Do you have proof?"
"Show him the bone-melter," said Scythia. "Let its light shine bright."
Pierce drew the sword obediently, and its intense blue light shone starkly against all the other colors of the world. "This is what I brought back," he said. Agrathor backed away uneasily.
"It's a bone melter?" Thorne asked, bending close to study the thing, not daring to touch it.
Pierce nodded. "They call it that, but it pretty much cuts anything like butter, in my experience."
Thorne caught Pierce's eyes. "Can I see it?" he asked.
"Sure," said Pierce. "Got a bone?"
Commander Thorne called out to a guard on the other side of the courtyard, ordering him to send for a bone. The guard looked puzzled, but obeyed.
A runner returned with a hog's spine, handing it over to the Commander. Pierce looked at him in question, but Thorne just shrugged.
They lay the spine on the wooden bench, and Pierce applied his sword to it, melting the bone with the faintest bit of contact. Agrathor looked away, tapping a bony finger against his armor nervously.
"Alright, well, get the picture?" Pierce said, pulling the sword off of the bone before it had fully melted. He wanted to spare poor Agrathor the discomfort.
"You're not going to finish?" Thorne asked. It was an awesome thing to see. Clearly he wanted to witness the whole process.
Pierce didn't answer him. "Sorry about that, Agrathor. It's over."
The skeleton man turned back around, and his flame eyes rounded and dimmed. He didn't say anything, but Pierce sensed his relief.
"So," Axebourne said, addressing Thorne, "the kid shows up in Nux, kills a Monstrosity by himself, shows us the forgemaster's tool, and it's enchanted with a color hardly anyone's ever seen. You believe he was in the Underlands yet?"
