by Hugo Huesca
So he fought back. The only way he knew how.
Ed’s fall was silent. At some point he had dropped Eulogy. He felt a pang of guilt about that—hadn’t Vaines warned him not to lose his swords so much?
The Portal appeared without warning right below him, before his life had time to flash before his eyes. The world around the Dungeon Lord changed at a dizzying speed, and in the blink of an eye he was dropping like a rock right in front of the dragon’s spine, right above the mindbrood that was towering over Ryan.
There was no time to think, even to activate advanced reflexes. Years of training and constant fighting took over as Ed twisted his body to aim his feet toward the monster and extended his hand the way he had seen Vaines do. As if responding to his need, Eulogy appeared in his grip, still aflame from the effect of eldritch edge.
He fell straight on top of the creature, all his weight behind his sword. There was a bone-shaking impact and Eulogy exploded through the mindbrood’s chitin right below the back of his skull. The flaming tip came out the monster’s mouth with a hiss of burning flesh and jets of steam, and its body trembled, dead before it could realize what had happened. Ed could feel his Spirit attribute straining as Hogbus’ stubborn resilience tried to keep his internal organs from being crushed against one another. He bounced against mindbrood as the creature slipped off the vertebrae and fell like an insect that had just been bathed in pesticide. It brought Eulogy down with it as the burning sword charred the creature’s skull.
Ed’s cursewing caught a nearby iron rung and Ed swung toward the second mindbrood. The monster rushed at the spot where Ed’s swing would bring him, ready to turn him into mincemeat. Ed kicked off the vertebrae at the last second and was airborne again. His perspective changed as he fell onto another Portal to reappear in front of the mindbrood. The flight of the dragon changed slightly, causing Ed to be left behind, since the Portal was static compared to the Factory’s movement. He barely had time to be thankful Ryan hadn’t put him in the dragon’s way, because then he would’ve been flattened.
Another Portal, and this time Ryan nailed the positioning, because he appeared right above the remaining mindbrood, which was still looking angrily at the spot Ed had disappeared into. As his cursewing grabbed on to the mindbrood itself for purchase, the Dungeon Lord summoned Eulogy and struck downward. The hit bounced off the creature’s chitin. Even as an inch of flaming steel surged into the creature’s body, Ed knew it wasn’t a killing blow. The creature twisted violently, screeching in pain so loudly Ed’s ears rang. A claw slid across his breastplate and ripped off a chunk of mail underneath as Ed tried to tear the sword out and found it stuck.
The mindbrood twisted again, which almost threw Ed away. He pulled on his cursewing to regain his footing, and then the mindbrood managed to half-turn and the Dungeon Lord found himself staring at a huge, gaping mouth, which was large enough to engulf his head in its entirety.
Ed let go of his sword, extended a hand into the creature’s mouth as if offering it to the monster. Eulogy disappeared from the creature’s body just as its jaws were about to close on Ed’s arm, then the blade appeared vertically inside its mouth, forcing it wide open like a wedge and running three inches of burning steel straight into its skull.
Ed jumped off before the creature’s dying convulsions had a chance to rip him apart and used his cursewing to lock on to a nearby iron rung. This time, the dying mindbrood did not fall—its burning carcass remained stuck to the vertebrae, its dying eyes locked on Ed, hatefully, until the green fire reached them.
A faint, distant sensation of doom gripped Ed’s heart—as if someone were walking atop his grave—as he climbed down to check on Ryan. Objectivity, it seemed, had been mildly annoyed by Ed summoning Eulogy straight into his enemy’s bodies. Ed cursed inwardly. Objectivity could be such a killjoy.
“Are you OK?” he asked Ryan. The Planeshifter had no visible wounds, although the gore of the first mindbrood had rained on his face when Ed killed it.
“I don’t know,” Ryan said earnestly. “But you’re bleeding,” he pointed out.
Ed grimaced. The wound in his leg was deep and hurt like hell—definitely not something that spectral regeneration could take care of quickly. But the claws had to have missed the femoral artery, given that he was still alive. “Nice Portal placement,” he told Ryan. “How about we skip the rest of the trip? Just drop us right below the skull.”
Ryan nodded. A Portal appeared in the air a few feet away from them and a second one in the spot Ed had told him to. Both Portals flew away. Ed blinked. “Damn it,” he said. It wasn’t the Portals that had moved, but the undead dragon flying away. He realized just how lucky he had been that Ryan had managed to catch him twice. If Ryan had miscalculated just a bit… “Let’s just climb there,” Ed said. Hopefully he wouldn’t bleed out before then.
Lord Steros barely managed to roll away in time to avoid being bisected by the mindbrood’s claws. He jumped to his feet and tried to poke the creature’s eye out with his sword, but instead the monster swatted at his blade and tore it out of his grasp as if it were a toy. Cursing loudly, Steros backed off until his back hit the wall. Around him the Museum wing was engulfed in the chaos of the desperate fight. From the corner of his eye he saw Inquisitor Gallio fending the other monster off by himself. In that second of distraction, Steros’ opponent charged at him, far faster than its size had suggested it could. Steros’ eyes widened as several rows of bile-dripping fangs came an inch from his face.
The monster flew back all of a sudden, and Steros saw Wright’s hulking undead servant, Rolim, pull on the mindbrood’s serrated tail to send the creature flying through the air and smash hard onto a group of wax statues. Xorander rushed in and launched three flame bolts at the stunned mindbrood, then Rolim charged in, and the undead grappled with the abomination, both tearing chunks out of the other with violent efficiency.
As Steros rushed to recover his blade, the Inquisitor ducked under the other mindbrood’s bite, then rolled forward next to the creature’s flank. The Inquisitor sprang to his feet at the same time he slashed with his longsword and severed one of the monster’s legs clean off. In the same movement, he stabbed his short sword up to the hilt into the creature’s side, hard enough that Steros could hear the crunch of the exoskeleton. Tangled gray viscera spilled out the wound, but the mindbrood’s roar was filled with more rage than agony, and it turned violently and swatted the Inquisitor away with its tail.
Macer, looking completely out of his element, rushed the mindbrood from behind. “Sneak attack!” he yelled, making his weapon glow purple. Before he could sink it into the monster’s back, its tail struck against his head like a cudgel. Macer’s eyes went blank, and, standing on its hind-legs like a man, the mindbrood turned to finish the Spymaster off.
“NO!” Xorander tried to hold the monster off with magic, but the creature broke through the summoned chains like they were nothing.
Steros finally found his sword. He rushed at the mindbrood, screaming, and slashed at its hind-legs. “Power strike!” The creature reacted faster than he’d expected, stepping away from the hit and pinning Steros to the floor with its remaining front leg. The Dungeon Lord screamed in agony as the monster effortlessly collapsed his breastplate and broke his ribs, likely without even realizing it had.
As the creature placed a claw over Steros’ jugular on his neck and began to press, the Inquisitor came out of nowhere, silent like a shadow, and drove three inches of golden steel into the creature’s eye.
Instead of dying like any sane living being, the monster forgot all about Steros and, blinded by rage and agony, attacked madly in the Inquisitor’s general direction, who, unarmed now, could do nothing but dodge as best he could. Steros rolled away, breathless, feeling like a sack full of glassware that had been smashed against a wall. He reached for his sword, grabbed it, then stabbed into the mindbrood’s exposed belly, where the exoskeleton was weakest. He twisted the steel around, and tried to rip it out,
but the monster pulled back so hard it took the sword with it, and yanked Steros along for the ride.
“I’m ready!” Steros yelled at the monstrosity, although deep down he knew he wasn’t. He tried to free his sword, and then his hands disappeared inside the mindbrood’s mouth.
He experienced no pain. Instead, feeling strangely calm, he looked at the two red stumps with the bit of bone poking out right below his elbows where his forearms had been. The edges of his vision went white, as if covered by gauze. He felt strangely disassociated from it all. As if it couldn’t be happening.
The mindbrood chewed, then came down to snack on the rest of him. Steros watched calmly, as if he were a spectator in a theater, while a bright burning lance struck with perfect precision into the creature’s open mouth, and its entire head collapsed in a burning heap. It fell backward, convulsing as its impossibly powerful regeneration tried to replace its lost brain. Steros wasn’t so sure it would fail to do so, if given enough time.
He looked back, retracing the path of the fire spell to Vaines, lying in her cot, her only functional arm extended. She groaned, then her head went slack.
Steros realized he was bleeding out. It was the first time he had experienced something like it. He lacked the experience points for his body to have any chance at all to recover on its own. He accepted it, still prey to this strange coldness that had taken a hold of him. Many times, when he had been a child training with the hope to take up the Mantle and honor his House, he had wondered what his last words would be when the time came to join Murmur’s halls like all other Dungeon Lords before him. It all seemed unimportant now. He was thirsty.
Someone was dragging him backward by his underarms. Steros glanced up and saw the Inquisitor, face muddy with blood, gore, and dirt, and his features contorted into a mask of focus. “Time to get out of here,” the Inquisitor told him. There was a Portal right in front of the ruined elevator. Steros wondered curiously when it had appeared. On the other side of the room, Rolim was losing the fight against the remaining mindbrood. Steros noted that the undead’s brutal strength and resistance simply couldn’t compete with the monster’s regeneration. Every chunk of reanimated muscle the creature tore away slowed Rolim down.
In the distance, a man screamed an order and Rolim stood, calmly, while the mindbrood dug its claws into his belly. The undead warrior kicked the monster away and strolled toward Vaines’ cot, tossing the unconscious Dungeon Lady over his shoulder and carrying her like a child. Likely because he was in shock, Steros started to laugh at the sight.
“He’s in shock,” a person said above him, “and losing blood fast.” He realized they were past the Portal now—it closed just before the last mindbrood managed to jump through.
Steros tried to wave goodbye, then realized he had no hand to do so. He laughed until he passed out.
31
Chapter Thirty-One
Tillman's Will
As soon as Ed and Ryan reached the top of the spine, they forced open the grate door of the elevator and silently walked into a wide receiving room that would’ve shamed a king’s hall, if a pair of monsters hadn’t rampaged through it. Ed caught a glimpse of two collapsed statues whose fragments were sprayed across broken furniture and broken traps. There were smoking craters on the walls and floor, and he almost stepped atop the head of one of the statues. Ed looked at it. It resembled an angry humanoid boar. It blinked at him, weakly, and then its features went slack.
A gargoyle, Ed thought. Tillman had eschewed her mechanical defenses for something more traditional in the inner quarters. From the look of it, it hadn’t done her much good.
“What now?” Ryan asked him.
“Open a Portal to the Museum,” Ed told him. He eyed the huge set of stairs that undoubtedly led to Tillman’s office, deep into the dragon’s cranium. If Sephar or his mindbroods came down those stairs, things would get ugly.
“Is it just me,” Ryan panted as he strained to open the Portal up, “or is it getting really difficult to breathe?”
“It’s not just you,” Ed confirmed. He was about to say something else, but then the Portal opened up to reveal a hellish scene. “Shit!” Ed saw blood and broken displays. Steros lay in a pool of his own blood only a few feet away from the slumping, headless shape of one of Sephar’s brood. Farther away, Rolim fought against another, while Xorander hurried to help Macer. “Get in here!” Ed screamed. He tried to rush in to help, but because of his leg he could only manage a pitiful shamble.
The four rescue drones saw his wound and immediately forgot all about Vaines. Ed ignored them. He helped Xorander get Macer past the Portal while Ryan aided Gallio in carrying Steros. Ed saw the young swordsman’s stumps and filed away the image deep inside his mind, to be experienced later in his nightmares.
“Rolim, leave it,” he told the undead. Behind him, he could hear Ryan grunting in exhaustion in his effort to keep the Portal open. Never before had the Planeshifter showed any signs that sustaining a Portal taxed him. Either he was reaching his limit, or the elevation was doing a number on him. Possibly both.
Rolim listened to the command and left the mauled mindbrood to regenerate in peace. He deposited Vaines safely on the floor a second before the Portal closed behind them.
Ed took stock of the situation. The mindbrood was still a threat—it could climb up to the skull just like they had. But Steros was bleeding out. He ordered his drones to stem Steros’ hemorrhage however they could.
“We need to cauterize the wound,” Gallio said. “Your sword, Wright. The flame spell.”
Ryan made a small noise. “You cannot mean—”
Cursing under his breath, Ed brought Eulogy out. “Eldritch edge!” He was glad to see the flames come once more—he had been sure he was out of spells. It sure as hell felt that way. He followed Gallio’s instructions and burned Steros’ stumps, hoping it would save his life. It was probably a mercy that the young Dungeon Lord was unconscious.
The rescue drones couldn’t do much. They were out of potions, out of time, and in the middle of enemy-infested territory. Ed began to feel like they had embarked on a suicide mission. He watched, horrified, as Xorander tried to slap Macer awake, but the man failed to respond.
Ed stumbled backward. The lack of breathable air was getting to him. He wondered what would happen if the dragon managed to fly out of whatever enchantment the Dark used to contain the Netherworld’s atmosphere. Probably something deadly. At least it would get rid of the mindbrood’s infestation. He realized, then, that that might be Tillman’s plan.
He crossed his fingers, hoping the damn things couldn’t survive in a vacuum.
“Keep moving.” Vaines’ rasping voice called to him. “Stop worrying about the wounded.” The Dungeon Lady’s lips hadn’t moved. She remained still, like an unfinished statue. Her words seemed as if they arrived straight into his head, although everyone else turned her way, indicating they’d heard her too. “Take whoever can move with you and the rest will cover your back.”
Whoever could still move meant Gallio, Rolim, and Ryan. Xorander was out of spells, so she wouldn’t be much use. Ed grimaced. If he left Vaines and Xorander to defend Macer and Steros, they would die without a doubt. He thumbed the last dungeon message rune he had left. Although these people were at best allies of convenience, and even possible enemies in the future, their lives were still his responsibility today. No matter how much Vaines insisted, he couldn’t bring himself to think like her. Instead, he compromised. “Xorander, the necklace Steros is wearing serves as a beacon for an extraction team,” he told the young Dungeon Lady. “Hold on as long as you can; hopefully they’ll be able to get you out. I’ll tell them how to find you, but you may have to jump.” He doubted Shrukew’s crew could fly as high as the Standard Factory.
“Jump?” Xorander said, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t Vaines’ Planeshifter just Portal us back home?”
Ryan winced as if struck. “I’ve no idea where we are,” he told her. “Connecting short
distances inside the Factory is not a problem. I think I could get us back to the camp… but after that?” He shrugged. “I doubt I would be able to move, much less make another Portal.”
“Unacceptable,” Vaines said. “Planeshifter, you’re staying with Lord Wright until he wins, or he dies. That’s an order.”
To Ed’s dismay, Ryan didn’t have the spirit left to protest. He merely slumped his shoulders and said quietly, “Whatever. I know I’m going to die here anyway.”
“You’ll have to trust me,” Ed told Xorander. There were no other options left.
He turned to Lavy’s creation. “Rolim, stay and protect the wounded,” he told the undead. “Gallio, Ryan, you’re with me.”
Gallio checked his weapon, then grimaced at the movement, which made Ed suspect that the Inquisitor was trying to hide just how wounded he was. “I’m fine,” Gallio told Ed, and strolled toward the stairs with barely a hint of pain.
Ed caught up to him, jaw clenched. Every step he took was like having his leg torn open all over again. They probably made for a pitiful sight, the Dungeon Lord and the Inquisitor, side by side, barely able to stand.
“Sephar is going to piss his pants when he sees what he’s up against,” Gallio told Ed.
The Dungeon Lord barked a laugh. He hadn’t known Gallio had a sense of humor. “Distract him with one of your speeches and I’ll bleed into his eyes. This fight is in the bag.”
They walked up the stairs for a while. Soon enough they couldn’t see or hear Xorander and the wounded below. Ryan followed sullenly behind them, pale and resigned to his fate. Ed was aware of the Planeshifter at all times because of his ragged breathing.
“Hang in there,” Ed told Ryan. One way or the other, it would all be over soon.
