The Jungle Tomb of the Ice Queen (The Flying Tooth Garden Book 1)

by M Harold Page

Torstag grinned. In the several weeks since he’d unlocked Necromancy, he’d learned the best way to deal with his horror was to take time to confront it. He still, however, had not yet managed to resist succumbing in the first place.

  Annoyingly, he’d also only managed to advance Necromancer, Repel Shade from 3/6th to 5/6th Grasp. It seemed that after the first few times, zombies without arms or teeth weren’t enough of a threat to jog his Dead Memories.

  However, he had developed the knack of keeping the prayers going while casting the spell at a safe distance. His Tempter might have been unimpressed, but he had most certainly impressed Brother Neutrality, who had brought out the skeletons early, especially for his new star pupil.

  Challenge = 4 (Skeletons) +2 (Dozen) = 6.

  As a level 0 Necromancer, he really was buggered, even without the horror.

  Another glance at Ingar.

  Torstag’s friend was stone faced, gazing straight ahead.

  I’m buggered.

  Torstag took a deep breath. “Ineffable Resurrectionist, who is mighty in Your Essence of Not Thereness…”

  The skeletons broke into a charge.

  Unlock Warrior, Disarm?

  Shut up.

  He put himself into it and mouthed, BEGONE.

  Form 3. Performing Necromancy at level 3.

  Using Repel Shade 5/6 cost 1 Potestas, 5 of 4 remaining.

  Result = 3 (Performance) +0 (Luck) -6 (Challenge) = -2.

  Effect = Failure.

  You have failed.

  “Shit!”

  A club hit him in the belly.

  He doubled over.

  Performing Warrior at Level 3.

  Result = 3 (Performance) -1 (Luck) -2 (Tactical Disadvantage) -4 (Your Neglected Defence) -2 (Challenge)= -6.

  Enemy Effect = 6 capped to 1. (Light clubs.)

  1 Vitality lost, 2 remaining.

  Loss overcomes Toughness 1.

  Condition “Stunned”. Form 0. No Feats possible.

  The skeleton that had hit him carried on past. The skeletons reached the chalk line, jostled against it.

  Torstag stumbled away, his stomach blazing with every step.

  Test of Will 2. Hindrance “Stunned” persists.

  He ignored the sensation and, forcing himself to focus, kept going.

  New Form 3, cost 1 Potestas, 4 of 4 Potestas remaining.

  Performing Warrior at level 4.

  Blast! Focus you idiot!

  Some of the skeletons turned away from the acolytes and advanced towards him.

  Manoeuvring.

  Result = 4 (Performance) -2 (“Stunned”) +2 (Retreating) +1 (Luck) -2 (Challenge) = 3.

  Effect = Successful Retreat.

  A club caught in his sleeve, tore it, but he found himself beyond the gauntlet and briefly out of reach of the skeletons.

  Unfortunately, they were now between him and safety. They rattled closer.

  Test of Will 2. Hindrance “Stunned” shaken off.

  Somehow he managed to restart the chant, “Ineffable Resurrectionist, who is mighty in Your Essence of Not Thereness…”

  Mentally, however, he was yelling, Necromancer! Necromancer!

  New Form 5, cost 1 Potestas 3 of 4 Potestas Remaining.

  Performing Necromancer at Level 5.

  The chamber’s ghosts became more solid, as did all the braided threads connecting the ghosts to the acolytes, and both ghosts and acolytes to the Catacombs.

  That would be him unless he was lucky. If only he’d managed to level up…

  “Oh!”

  He singled out a skeleton that was in the lead.

  Challenge = 4 (Skeleton) +0 (One) = 4.

  Repel Shade. “BEGONE!”

  Using Necromancy Cantrip, Repel Shade 5/6. Cost 1 Potestas. 2 of 4 Potestas remaining.

  Result = 5 (Performance) +1 (Luck) -4 (Challenge) = 2.

  Effect = Tentative Practical Response.

  The skeleton simply halted.

  The other skeletons simply flowed around it.

  Even so, Torstag grinned like an idiot.

  “Here it comes.”

  Repel Shade advances to 6/6.

  Repel Shade secured.

  1st Necromancy Feat secured. Necromancy advances to Level 1. 3 feats required to reach Level 2.

  Unlock a Necromancy feat.

  Just as when he surged, he found himself out of Time, looking at a tree drawn on parchment, only this one was entitled Necromancy and showed magicians doing…disturbing things.

  Little signposts with skulls on them showed that they were grouped into Cantrips and more powerful Rituals, which also needed the proficiency Ritual. There was also the Proficiency Charm, which seemed to be a way of preparing spells ahead of time, and Proficiency Enchant, which seemed to make magic items.

  And he had to pick a Feat, one that he was likely to use so he could secure it and level up.

  There was Channel Shade…he wasn’t going to use that. Ever.

  Repel Shade, however, gave him access to Manifest Shade and Command Shade.

  What does Manifest Shade do?

  Necromancy Cantrip Manifest Shade. Depending on the Success, this enables you to make a shade properly visible and present for conversation and weak physical interaction for a matter of minutes.

  That could be useful. Since, however, he was at the start of the tree Necromancy, he might as well leave the slot open and see what he needed.

  Leave it for now.

  And his Tempter dropped him back in the flow of Time.

  The skeletons were almost on him.

  Challenge = 4 (Skeletons) +2 (Dozen) = 6.

  Current Form 5. Performing Necromancer at level 6.

  Using Necromancy Cantrip, Repel Shade. Cost 1 Potestas. 1 of 4 Potestas remaining.

  Result = 6 (Performance) +0 (Luck) -6 (Challenge) = 0.

  Effect = Passive Response.

  The skeletons halted.

  Singing now, Torstag strode through the gaps. As he passed out of them, he sang out, “Thus Your Divine Manifest Potency is Vindicated.” He grinned at the silent audience. “I was chanting all the time, just not very loud. Praise Be to the Ineffable Resurrectionist!”

  Everybody echoed his cry.

  The ghosts, meanwhile, regarded him hungrily. His mouth went dry. The blood pulsed in his temples.

  Unlock Cantrip, Channel Shade Necromancy Feat?

  No! Shut up.

  One of the skeletons shuffled forward, then stopped at the white line.

  Chalk line, Enchanted with Cleric, Repel Shade.

  Something made him turn to look in the corner.

  Brother Neutrality was regarding him oddly. He smiled stiffly. “Enough for one evening I think.” He clapped his hands. “Line up, Acolytes.”

  He knows! realised Torstag. He saw.

  But why had the monk not immediately restrained him?

  He stumbled and realised he had kicked one of the discarded clubs.

  Unlock Warrior, Hurl?

  Suddenly the club was more than just a lump of wood. The well-worn grip seemed inviting to Torstag’s hand. For once his Tempter truly was tempting him.

  That was why Brother Neutrality was hesitating. Torstag could probably pretty much kill everybody in the room.

  “Shall I report to the Infirmary, Brother?” asked Torstag. He patted his bruised stomach.

  “What? Oh, of course. Off you go, Acolyte.”

  Torstag bobbed his head in obedience. A plan was already forming in his mind.

  He brushed past Ingar and whispered. “Midnight. Dormitory Roof.”

  Chapter 12: The Dark Tower

  Current Form 3. Performing Mountaineering at level 6. Cost 1 Potestas. 0 of 6 Remaining.

  Millicent reached the crest of the ramp.

  Jagged shapes loomed grey-black in the gathering gloom.

  She heaved herself up into the imperfect shelter of the mess of broken walls around the base of the ruined tower. The masonry blocked the horizontal rain, but funnelled th
e wind so it buffeted her as she scrambled deeper into the rubble.

  Result = 6 (Performance) +0 (Luck) -3 (Hampered by Long Skirts, Poor Visibility) -2 (Challenge) = 1.

  1 Vitality lost. 2 of 5 remaining.

  She felt her way through the shadows, the stone cold on her fingers.

  The remains of the drystone tower rose before her. Close to, the stub was twice Millicent’s height. The entrance, however, was a narrow patch of darkness. If this wasn’t an actual broch, it came from a very similar tradition. She felt for the lintel.

  She would have to duck low to squeeze in there.

  Being down to zero potestas—whatever that really was—always made her feel lightheaded. It also meant that any attempt at mountaineering or shooting would be pretty much doomed until she rested.    Ideally, she should wait to recuperate. However, the top of a rain-swept pinnacle was not the ideal place for that.

  Millicent reached for her torch, but it felt dead in her hands even before she tried to switch it on. This time, there were no dancing sparks, but nor was there a beam of electrical illumination.

  That left candles, for which she would need shelter.

  Millicent hunkered down and pushed sideways into the pitch dark of the narrow doorway.

  Icy stone edges scraped her arms. The lintel bumped her head through her hat. She ducked yet lower, and finally emerged into what could once have been the lower storey of a round tower. Wind whistled through the ragged stones that framed the darkening sky. In the very centre of the floor, glowing white lines outlined the shape of a door.

  “W…what?” exclaimed Millicent, and realised she was stammering from the cold.

  The rain still pattered down inside the tower, but at least the walls sheltered her from the howling wind.

  She dropped to her haunches and felt in her bag for her all-weather matches.

  A quick strike and she had flickering light.

  The round floor was covered in bones and human skulls in varying stages of brown-whiteness. There were also shards of giant eggshells—clearly she had found the wyvern’s roost.

  Millicent felt a pang of guilt. No wonder the creatures had fought so hard to keep her from it.

  You are Self Hating.

  Test of Will 3. Issue “Crippling Guilt” avoided.

  Millicent shrugged mentally. She had other things to worry about…like the door.

  In the middle of the floor stood a studded wooden door, balanced for all the world like a giant domino piece propped on end.

  Millicent’s match burned out. She blinked in the dark. “Now I’m hallucinating.”

  She brought out a candle and used another match to light that. Now she could see properly.

  There was nothing she could use as fuel, unless she could get the bones burning.

  The door, however, was still there and most definitely real.

  She paced closer, crunching bones and eggshells as she trod.

  The candlelight revealed it to be not actually free standing. Rather, the door was sunk into a slab of rock shaped like a massive tombstone, leaving a finger’s-breadth of stone around it to act as a frame. There was no handle, no keyhole.

  Millicent walked around the slab, confirmed that the rear was entirely blank stone, and returned to inspect the front. She traced the crack around the edge of the wood.

  It was warm to the touch.

  She bent closer, inhaled balmy air with a whiff of exotic blooms.

  No wonder somebody had installed a sturdy door. Keeping out the cold wind was reason enough, even without the ferocious wyverns. Though all the skeletons suggested that the same somebody was using this portal as a way to get rid of unwanted people.

  Should she knock?

  1 of 6 Potestas restored.

  That meant roughly twenty minutes had passed. Millicent wasn’t getting any warmer. It did mean she had enough mental energy to make the climb back down onto the natural bridge. However, she’d still need to cross it and climb up again. She should wait at least another twenty minutes.

  Millicent put her ear to the wood and clamped a hand over the other ear to muffle the sound of the wind.

  Was that drumming she could hear?

  The wind picked up, screaming across to the open top of the tower. It brought with it heavier rain that splashed the walls, ran down her face like fingers of ice, and doused her candle.

  The chamber was pitch black now, except for the faint glow outlining the door, promising warmth and sunlight on the other side.

  She huddled down, and with numb fingers fumbled more bullets into the revolver’s cylinder.

  She shuddered. Her jaw spasmed. She clenched it.

  You are cold and wet. 1 Vitality lost. 1 of 5 remaining.

  Millicent rose up and hammered the butt of the revolver against the door.

  No response.

  She put her back to the wood, tried to feel whatever warmth it held flow into her.

  She shivered. Despite her clenched jaw, her teeth started to chatter.

  2 of 6 Potestas restored.

  Another twenty minutes and she’d be ready to mountaineer her way back onto the mainland. The problem was that she was losing Vitality. She would be unconscious and then dead before she reached the other portal.

  “Bugger.”

  She brought out matches, dropped the packet, felt for it in the dark amongst the bones, finally relit her candle and took a really close look at the door. Judging from the lumps of fallen masonry in front of it, it had to open inwards.

  Which side was the hinge?

  The human remains gave no clue; they seemed scattered evenly. If they’d been propelled through the portal, then they had arrived alive.

  She stooped and made out the remains of rope binding wristbones.

  “B…bloody marvellous!”

  Whoever lived on the other side of that door had been using the portal for murders or—more likely—executions.

  “Come on young lady, focus!”

  The door had to be locked from the other side. It would probable be constructed to be opened with the right hand, meaning any mechanism would be on her left as she faced it. Needless to say it would be at comfortable hand height.

  With numb fingers, Millicent took a piece of chalk from her bag and tried to mark the door. The wood was too damp to hold the chalk. Instead, she scrawled a shaky X on the stone frame next to her target. Then she set the candle on a skull, stood back and drew her revolver from her bag.

  The shots were appalling loud in the confined space. She put six bullets into the door where she hoped the lock would be. They didn’t go through.

  She reloaded—paused to enjoy the warm barrel against her hands—then, standing a little closer, pulled back the hammer for another try.

  The door swung inward, blasting Millicent with daylight. Somewhere a crowd roared.

  She squinted into the glare.

  Framed in the doorway stood what could only be a naked barbarian.

  Chapter 13: A Lethal Practice

  “Let me go let me go!” yelled the beggar. The purse of coins Trophimus had given him jingled as he zigzagged between the trees. This was the perfect spot for tactical training. The trunks were thick enough to provide cover, but devoid of low branches that might limit visibility and turn the thing into a stealth exercise.

  The beggar halted and addressed Trophimus. “I really don’t like this.”

  “Look out, behind arsehole!” barked Cerdic.

  The beggar turned in time to skip clear of a shield rush from Axe Girl’s trio.

  “Why did you warn him?” asked the Kid. “We were about to win!”

  Axe Girl answered for Cerdic. “This is training, boy. Not about winning.”

  Trophimus frowned into his visor. She sounded just a little out of breath. Perhaps bringing her out of retirement had been a bad idea.

  The beggar meanwhile was running off to the left, but this put him in the path of the Blade Bitches. The trio of almost identical blond women—Trop
himus had long ago given up trying to treat one as the leader—were perfectly spaced, tempting the beggar to slip between them and get clubbed.

  The beggar sensibly veered away.

  Trophimus moved sideways to track him, taking his time.

  Cerdic, meanwhile, was in slightly lighter armour of just a mailcoat and open-faced helmet. He jogged out to the left, pacing the beggar.

  Now Rufus and his trio swept in.

  The beggar spun away.

  Cerdic cast his net.

  The beggar dodged, tripped then rolled to his feet. He ran straight into Axe Girl’s trio.

  The Kid swung his club, caught the beggar in the belly.

  The beggar doubled over, dropped his purse. The coins scattered. He scrambled for them.

  The Kid strode in and raised the club.

  “Stop!” yelled Cerdic and Trophimus in unison.

  The club came down with a crack.

  Blood splashed the ground.

  “You fucking idiot!” shouted Cerdic,

  Trophimus raised his visor. “What did you think you were doing?”

  “I got him! I got him!” said the Kid. “We won!”

  Axe Girl tore off the kid’s helmet. It clanged on the ground. She cuffed him around the ear. “This is training, boy,” she said.

  Dekan dropped to one knee and examined the beggar. “Dead.”

  “Fuck,” said Cerdic.

  The Kid rubbed his ear, “It’s just a beggar.”

  “Yeah,” said Cerdic, “but where are we going to find another one?”

  The others had gathered in.

  “Oh well,” said one of the Blade Bitches, pulling off her helmet. “I guess we’re done training for the evening.”