by TJ Reynolds
But to contend with so much orderless power floating free, could only lead to eventual destruction.
Rhona knew what she had to do though.
She’d been preparing for this moment for too long to let nerves throw her.
Beginning with Crystal Mind, Rhona soon envisioned the distinct pattern around her own core. Five sided, like the pillar itself, her Mandala had a floral shape, reminding her of a wild rose, the kind that used to grow near her father’s shack.
The five petals undulated slightly in the currents of golden ether spiraling within her.
What will it look like when it all turns green? she wondered absently, then gasped as the transformation began.
The faint lines that marked the limits of her mandala flared to life as her golden ether poured into the design. More complex than the simple if dense circle, the Mandala absorbed every ounce of loose ether in moments before sucking at her core for more energy.
That was when the pain kicked in.
Rhona breathed deeply, feeling her body fight back, trying to resist the change.
Do as you’ve told Kai, she said. Let go and trust yourself and the gods above.
It took a little longer than she wanted, the muscles in her legs and back writhing in pain as her core bucked against its transformation. But then she felt something give. She breathed easier as instead of pulling against the Mandala, her core poured itself out into the design.
More and more emerged, leaving her feeling empty until Rhona realized that the Mandala had replaced her core entirely.
The minute rivers of ether pulsed and circulated.
Her Mandala was complete.
Rhona’s core had transformed into the five petals of a simple wild rose.
She smiled slightly, and nearly opened her eyes again.
But the bounty of gold ether increased in speed and slowly turned green.
Emerald shards of light lanced through her body. More pain followed. Rhona clutched her hands together and rode the discomfort through. Until, that is, her Emerald Dream took her far away from the Sunken Keep.
The forest was alive this night.
Insects shook the air with their wings and legs, always seeking food and a chance to mate.
A cadre of frogs sang as well, their own species preoccupied with the same.
Strange, the tiger thought. To live so short a time, birthed only to die a handful of days later.
Pressing through the underbrush, the tiger moved on.
The smell was there again. Faint at first, a sign that the animal had either left the area, or that too much time had passed since it was here.
Sniffing the soil near a small pool, the tiger caught a stronger trail. Nostrils flaring with delight, the hungry cat stalked in a new direction. Food was always a priority. Food was everything, both pleasure and purpose.
This new beast smelled much like the small deer the tiger had caught two days before. That frail thing only offered two meals, its bones thin and weak.
Tiger hoped something more substantial might come along. It wanted to store up enough energy to travel. Many of its kind were driven out of this part of the jungle. The tiger was one of the last to remain, and the tall apes hunted it daily.
The scent trail led the great cat deeper into the jungle, past the waterfall and through the grove of trees belonging to the screeching monkeys.
Those beasts were silent now, as they should be.
The day belonged to such animals. The night though, the tiger wore its crown proudly.
A rumble shook the tiger’s belly, evidence of its growing hunger. Having had a meal so recently would normally give the tiger enough time to rest first. After taking the deer, however, the hunters had come for the tiger.
It had been forced to run half the night and seek shelter in the dense brush.
So much food energy wasted.
Then the trail ended.
All around a patch of thick ferns, the smell of a fat and healthy animal hung in the air. The tiger could smell the beast’s urine, its droppings too.
Yes, I will eat to night.
Stalking closer, the tall grass shrouding its movements, the tiger at last saw its prey.
The tiger would have smiled if it could. Its belly twisted in anticipation and saliva poured from its mouth. A fat boar snorted as it rooted through the ground looking for grubs or roots.
As sometimes happens, the wind shifted slightly, blowing the tiger’s scent toward its prey.
The pig turned, making a shrill but brief squeal.
Tiger expected the chase, and expected to lose that chase as well. Only stealth could guarantee food. Still, it bunched its muscles in anticipation, hoping the boar might stumble or make some other mistake.
But it didn’t move.
The boar’s legs trembled, its beady eyes fixed on the tiger’s intense gaze.
What a pleasure, the tiger thought as it emerged step by step from its hiding spot. The animal is terrified. Though we’ve never met near a stream or pond, this animal knows me.
Sure enough, the boar remained stuck in place, as if its hooves were buried in thick mud.
Only when the tiger was close enough to smell the beast’s breath did it react.
In a desperate panic, the pig leapt toward the ferns, bouncing on its deft hooves.
Tiger exploded, every muscle in its limbs rigid and demanding. In three quick strides, the tiger had its quarry.
Metallic blood, hot and plentiful, spilled into the tiger’s maw.
The boar struggled briefly. Then it was over, and the tiger had enough meat to last half a week of travel.
Rhona’s breath caught as she returned to her own body.
Gone was the fur coat, the lithe muscles and padded paws.
She was herself again, a simple young woman from Brintosh that once cared for nothing else but pleasing her father.
It took her but a few moments to understand the significance of her dream.
Every warrior who braved Emerald ascension was liable to experience a vision. Kai had been blessed, or cursed, by them early on. Having just witnessed her first, Rhona was wise enough to stay where she was and think hard about the content of her dream.
Covered in the slick grime of ascension, and wanting nothing more than a bath, Rhona refused to leave her room until she fully understood.
No matter which way she turned it in her mind, though, the same truth emerged.
The tiger’s true strength didn’t lie in the power of fang or claw.
No, my true strength lies through the power of my own mind, she thought. The boar was controlled by its fear, so it lost its life. The tiger owned its strength, held its confidence in a tight grip. That is what I must do to defeat Hastings.
As Rhona stood up and asked for a fresh set of clothing from Ban, she tried to picture what the confrontation would be like.
She would be the one to fight Hastings. For some strange reason, that just felt right. Maybe it was because of the connection formed between them, or the cold hatred she’d seen dancing in his eyes. Regardless of the reason, Rhona decided then and there it was due time for the Brintoshi Colonel to die.
Stepping outside, Rhona found herself alone. Kai’s finished gaining Progression then. He must be meditating somewhere, she realized. Sweet Briga be with him.
With that prayer, she dismissed the young man. His fate, as dear to her as it was, didn’t rest in her hands. And if it did, only her strength as a monk would help them. For that, she needed to increase her reserves.
Spirit Surge was an ability that no enemy could stop.
Hastings, however, had mastered it himself.
If she meant to cross fists with him, she needed to have at least as much Progression as he.
“Ban!” she cried out loud once she’d replaced her soiled clothes. “I’m going to need a lot more minions to kill. I need a lot of Progression and as soon as humanly possible.”
41
Burning a Hole in Your Dungeon
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Ban
After the atrocity Ban made at the end of the second floor, he felt almost bad about extending his efforts down into the third.
Yet while his fleshy companions were consumed by their own training, the Earth Core made certain his every addition to the dungeon counted. This meant spending even more time on traps and outright tricks.
He felt the somewhat less honorable approach was justified as well.
Unlike Rhona and Kai, who hopefully would both ascend to Emerald, Ban’s Progression had fallen behind. Though he’d absorbed ether through the actions of his champion, the great spider queen herself had been killed by Kai.
Ban had also tried to bolster his advancement by converting as much of his material to raw Progression as he could.
In total, his efforts had pushed Ban to reach the respectable level of Golden 3.
He’d gained no novel powers. The limitations of his summoning power had increased though. His MCP now stood at a whopping 320 points. With that, he could summon the tiny army he hoped would stand up to Hastings and his men.
Ban had a strict layout for the battle at the bridge above as well as the first and second floor. Despite the intense battles he predicted, the total cost had only been half of his allowable points. At first, Ban had wanted to hold back more, but the yawning chasm around the bridge was too tactical a position to give up quickly.
Either way, when he placed the two hulking knightmares to either side of the stairwell on the third floor, he felt the 10 MCP each was justified.
Lacking Greg’s full size and potential, the minions were nonetheless his most powerful fighters. Giving each two war hammers and covering their bodies in steel, Ban figured they would make the transition between floors all the more painful for Hastings.
Ban threw in a few sneakier minions in the hopes that distraction might cause the knightmares’ efforts to become more detrimental.
So far, Ban felt certain his dungeon design would prove its worth. Only a real test could act as a final judge, but until that time, Ban was satisfied to move on.
Other than the surprise skirmish at the base of the steps, the third floor stood wide open.
He meant to extend the staircase from the third floor so that it skipped the fourth. The daldrim were brave creatures, but he doubted they could do more than die at the blades of the Brintoshi. Such a sacrifice would help their cause too little to bother with.
Without wasting much time on brainstorming, Ban dove into his inspired plan for the third floor. He’d recalled a story Yorick told him about the barbarous tradition of fighting arenas. Kaltan had embraced the practice for centuries, but in more recent years, the Brintoshi too had grown fond of arena fighting.
The layout for the floor was simple enough to devise.
Ban formed walls around a central pit, perhaps thirty feet wide and eighty feet long. The shape of the arena alone would force the invaders to push through Ban’s forces. He reinforced this concept by making the only exit funnel down to a span of five feet wide.
The exit as well as the passages leading to and from the arena he filled with traps, making whatever victory Hastings might find on this floor all the more bitter.
Then, Ban focused on the battle that would so soon rage here.
Numbers were an advantage that Ban didn’t have. Even when the invaders reached this point in his dungeon, after he hoped Hastings would be short dozens of his men, Ban’s minions would be outnumbered.
He placed pillars of stone to either side at the chamber’s middle. This gave cover for archers, and support for his front-line fighters. Ban placed a low wall, only three feet high, in the center of the room as well. This feature would act to bolster the shield wall he intended to form there.
Across the Brintoshi side of the room, Ban formed a half dozen footfalls and two spike pits. The smaller traps wouldn’t throw the room into chaos, but they would ensure the Brintoshi weren’t comfortable.
Along both walls, Ban also placed murder holes. The slits were less than two inches wide, but would provide a sneaky place to attack from for more archers. Considering that he’d essentially carved out the center of the third floor for his arena, placing a connecting tunnel that ran around the outside of the arena was easy.
He only placed four of the nymph archers, two to either side. Considering how hard it would be to detect the creatures let alone kill them, Ban felt the MCP expenditure to be worthwhile.
And overall, archers had become a major tactical advantage for Ban.
Rhona had returned with a broken heart and poor manners. But she’d also handed over a gift that Tela had left with her.
The Hintari longbows astounded Ban. He hadn’t expected his efforts to compete with the efficiency of modern weaponry. But after a nymph archer fired a single test shot, Ban had to suppress a feeling of shame.
He reminded himself that the bow was designed over hundreds of years, perfected time and again by countless bowyers.
Inspired by the addition to his arsenal, Ban had returned to his amalgamation screen and reforged his Slippery Nymph minion until it only consumed 5 MCP. Smaller than ever, and possessing almost zero defensive capabilities, the creatures remained effective archers nonetheless. In fact, their suction cup feet had proven to be quite… versatile.
Only two more archers were summoned at the back of the arena. They would be protected by the front-line fighters. Ban formed two foot platforms for the archers to stand on, and erected a stone wall in front of them. This left only their chests and heads exposed.
All that was left was to design a team of minions that would cut out the heart of their enemy’s forces.
Ban started with a front of two knightmares and two daldrim to either side. Each of the six front-liners were placed in head to toe full plate armor. Mobility was of less concern, and both minion types possessed incredible amounts of strength and stamina.
Tucked behind the stone pillars to either side, Ban summoned two shield boar. They would stay out of all fighting until the Brintoshi attempted to force a flanking maneuver in the narrow room. Essentially, if they did so, the boar would flank their attempt, forcing them into the teeth of the squadron of Ban’s infantry.
Behind the six front-line fighters, Ban summoned six more of the heavy dalgard.
With a total of ten dalgard and four knightmares on this floor, Ban was already at 120 MCP. He would quickly run out of points if he wasn’t careful. The four archers brought the total up to 140 MCP.
The purpose of such a splurge of his resources was to cause a road block, that, while in place, would ensure as many Brintoshi died as possible.
What precisely would do the killing had worried Ban for a time. Fill the room with ether bats, massive rats, and viscous fire slimes, and he could be confident more of his foes would fall. Even these minions though, would add up and reduce his MCP too quickly.
Ban spent almost too long examining the new designs he’d gleaned from the graveyard. Discarding minion designs left and right, Ban moved down the list to more and more minuscule creatures.
What he landed on brought a current of malicious joy into Ban’s core.
Adding vents at the tops of the ceiling to either side of the arena, Ban added the finishing touches to his killing field.
The eerie cry of a war horn cut through Ban’s focus like a hot knife.
By the gods above! Are they here already?
Ban had long since absorbed the pack of gargat minions whose sole purpose was to fly about and create an ominous atmosphere. Saving his MCP, Ban had absorbed the beasties, leaving only a single creature on the rooftop.
He inhabited the body now, taking to the air and flapping higher and higher.
Soon, he had a gargat’s-eye view of their sky-high canyon.
As always, the Zargan Mountains appeared cold and domineering. A stiff breeze pushed the tufts of grass of the glade about in fits.
The host of armored Brintoshi soldiers, though, made the greatest impression of all.
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Each soldier sat horseback, the Vermillion Guard in all its splendor.
Ban and the others had hoped for more time. But Rhona had been waylaid by Tela’s terrified flight, and Hastings commanded a unit of cavalry. He’d chosen not to delay, apparently, and even now shouted orders at his men.
The soldiers dismounted, formed ranks, and began marching toward the base of the bridge that led into Ban’s tower.
Panic flooded his mind for an instant before discipline and desperation took control. You are almost done with setup and construction, Bancroft. From the looks of it, time is almost out.
With renewed purpose and a lot of hustle, Ban spent the rest of his MCP and finalized his preparations. There’d be no second chances this day. They would either stand victorious at the end, or Hastings would rule over this small part of Hintar, a king in his own right.
Good luck trying to do that, Ban warned the tiny figure in silver plate below. Elite Commander and destroyer of Earth Cores you might be, Hastings, this keep won’t be so quick and easy to crack open.
A full twenty minutes elapsed while Ban watched the troops form up and approach the bridge. Hastings seemed well aware that as soon as any of them stepped foot on the bridge, there would be no turning back.
So, the Colonel took his time.
And the Vermillion Guard was such a disciplined and orderly unit.
Five columns of horses, over forty ranks deep, had been staked in the grassy meadow. Confirming his count, Ban added up the soldiers and found the total sum to be two hundred and thirteen.
It isn’t so many, he tried to convince himself, but the thought felt shallow.
Knowing full well he would have no second chances, Ban ran back through his defenses. He checked each trap individually, made sure every minion was in place and ready. Every single point of his MCP pool was spent.
He only hoped it would be enough.
