by Dante King
The vulture-creatures fell before the vicious onslaught. The pirates bathed their swords, maces, and axes in blood while their bodies ingested demonic energy. The monsters finally broke and scattered backward, leaving the nesting creatures alone.
A pirate yipped with glee and sprinted for a nesting mother, but Ralph gripped him by the throat and yanked him back.
“We leave the mothers,” Ralph commanded.
“Yes, Chief,” the pirate struggled to say.
Ralph tightened his grip a little around the man’s neck before tossing him to the ground.
“Don’t kill me,” the pirate pleaded from his knees. “The lust for essence overcame me.”
“I’m not going to kill you.” They were difficult words to say, and it was even more difficult not to take the head from the pirate’s shoulders. With Kerril in his mind, Ralph knew what was required to lead a band of brigands like these. Except he wasn’t quite ready to kill the man, and he was more valuable alive. Zagorath required bodies—the traps wouldn’t trigger themselves.
“Thank you, Chief,” the pirate said as he scrambled to his feet.
“Zagorath is close,” Ralph said as he ignored the traitor. “Our destiny awaits.”
He led the charge up the path, and the others raced up the skittering slate, leaving tiny avalanches of pebbles sliding into the abyss. For a moment, Ralph thought he saw a black, winged shadow hiss through the air, vanishing into the rocky outcrops. A last survivor of creatures they’d killed? An unfettered creature? Or just a bat, racing back to its cave, away from the carnage they’d bathed Shadow Crag in? It was unimportant - it hadn’t attacked them, and it wasn’t a threat. Not with the power they now wielded.
Ralph’s feet touched the zenith of the mountain, and he breathed in the sulfur-laden air.
“We’re here,” he said. “The gates are over there.”
The sun had long since died, drenching the band in silver moonlight. Ralph looked over the dungeon gates, and his breath caught with anticipation.
It looked different.
A simple, thorned archway had become something else entirely. It was now an enormous creature, peppered with ghastly thorns and layered with grinning skulls and jutting cheekbones. Ralph’s gut clenched as he recognized something familiar about them. The Scalpers. The dungeon had used their bones to decorate its entrance.
It was a reminder of their failure. Their failure to allow Ralph to lead. If they had simply taken him as their chief like the Sand Pirates had, then Alaxon would still be alive. His corpse wouldn’t have been swallowed up by Zagorath.
The pirates shifted, and Ralph turned to them. Their eyes glittered with a combination of essence, bloodthirst, and manic anticipation. But there was still cunning in their faces, still canniness that the Scalpers had lacked.
And Ralph would lead them to victory.
They’d slain the monsters of the mountain and laid waste to the defences of Zagorath. Now came the final battle. The men at Ralph’s back believed in him.
Ralph Fucking Kraus, the child who’d tried to hang himself.
Who’d believed that he was the Chosen One, because Alaxon had lied. Because he’d read it in the bottom of a bowl of stew. Because he was an old, decrepit man, trying and failing to live out his younger days through Ralph.
Yet maybe the stew had spoken correctly. The false-priest had echoed Mother’s words. And here stood the justification. Ralph, a mighty warlord and Chieftain of the Sand Pirates. Mere weeks it had taken to get here, and it was only the beginning.
“Zagorath will fall by my hand!” Ralph screamed, and he only then realized that he had said the words aloud.
The pirates didn’t care; instead, they roared their approval.
“Pirates of the Black Sands,” Ralph began. His voice was deep and resounding, with just a hint of a rasp from the earlier battle cry. “Zagorath awaits us. The last dungeon in the Infernal Realm. Littered with traps, swirling with minions, and more than capable of killing, maiming, torturing and consuming an unprepared adventurer.”
The others grinned, and Ralph spun one of his broadswords high, letting it catch the moonlight before his hand retrieved it from the air easily. It felt so light, so simple to use, such was the Infernal power flowing through his veins.
“But we are not unprepared,” he continued. “We have fed on the spawn of Lilith, and we have found her wanting. We have sought power unlimited, and the dull, disgusting, weak creatures of the Crag have strengthened us in limb, savagery, and mind.”
“Aye! Aye!” they all screamed. “
Ralph’s men, so recently won from Kerril. All brimming with power, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. The elf would pay for his arrogance, his words, and the death of Alaxon. Once Ralph bathed his blades in the blood of that accursed elf, the trollish minion, and whatever else teemed in the underground lair. Zagorath would become his eternal playground, the means of his ascension.
But maybe that was thinking too small? Maybe there was more than this lone dungeon at the top of Shadow Crag?
Ralph looked upon each of his men, the magic from his ring igniting a fire in their souls. He knew then that anything he commanded would be enacted without question.
“When we’ve had our fill of Zagorath,” he said, “there will be more bounty. Deep within the Infernal Realm, lies Lilith’s Temple of Darkness. It shall be ours!”
The roar that came from the pirates was unlike any from before. It was bestial—almost demonic—and carried across the mountain. These men were filled with Infernal Essence, and they would not stop until they acquired more. Their bodies would become bloated with the substance, to the point where they couldn’t ingest another drop.
And Ralph would lead them.
Victory was his.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I heard Puck’s raspy cry from the entrance of the dungeon and grinned at Abby before pulling Von Dominus back inside of my jewel. The omnipresent senses of Zagorath widened before me, and my consciousness flowed over the new but familiar corners of my lair.
“Status report,” I ordered the imp.
“Nine Sand Pirates. Heavily armed and carrying the supplies for a long journey.”
Excitement flooded my jewel and mixed with the lingering pleasure of my new champion. I forced myself to relax, just a little. This was exactly what I’d been preparing for. I couldn’t fuck it up just because I wanted more of their gear and their essence. As Abby had said, I’d already learned so much, and I couldn’t afford to be complacent.
“Who leads them?” I asked.
“The boy from before. He carries new weapons and radiates enough Infernal Essence and Soul Essence to power six soul forges.” Puck swung into one of the vents, and a flicker of appreciation slipped from his consciousness at the space. “Something’s happened to him. But I’m sure you’ll feel it when he arrives.” The imp paused, and suddenly his voice turned sly. “I see we have a new champion in our midst. She’s quite the pretty little creature, isn’t she?”
Halfway through clothing herself, Abby shot a glare up at the ceiling, where Puck was concealed among the Storm Sprites and demonic Hellbats. “I think I liked you better when you sounded like an ugly little infant on wings, Imp.”
“Ensure you don’t tear your clothes on those jagged little words,” Puck snarked back, “else you’ll have to fight the adventurers bared to the world. Or do you enjoy the feeling of being free?”
Bertha’s voice cut through the edged conversation. “More details, Puck, less sarcasm.”
“As you wish, Master Troll. These are not simple bandits, my lord, but powerful adventurers. They’ve slain the varidus and seek to use the essence to conquer your dungeon. They carry a variety of weapons. Five wield crossbows and a mix of straight and jagged swords. Two possess spears, one swings an enormous hammer—undoubtedly to compensate for a lack of virulence in other areas. Another has a battleaxe, and the last carries two broadswords and a familiar weapon.”
&nbs
p; “Familiar weapon?” I asked.
“Gavin’s mace.”
“Ralph,” I muttered from my jewel.
“Indeed. He mentioned something about taking Lilith’s Temple of Darkness for himself.”
Damn, something really had changed Ralph. For better or worse, it didn’t matter. Everything was going according to plan—he’d left, and come back with adventurers by his side. And these sounded a damn sight more impressive and powerful than the last pack who’d graced my halls with their innards. I checked myself from getting too confident. One step at a time.
Finally dressed, Abby turned to look back at my jewel. “What’s your plan?”
“Bertha, return to the First Floor, take your place by the dais. You stand with Abby. Together, you are the last line of defence in protecting Zagorath.”
“Your voice lacks confidence, Master,” Bertha commented, scooping up her halberd and racing down the obsidian steps. “May I ask why?”
“Oh, we’ll kill them. We’ll kill them all, unless, like before, they’re of use to us.” I chuckled, and then cast my consciousness over the Hellbats, now cohabiting with the Storm Sprites above the antechamber. “But caution is the word of the day. Puck, you’re running interference. Give these adventurers the warmest of welcomes Zagorath has to offer.”
“I see I’m the dispensable one.” Puck’s wings shifted as he swung out of the vent, hung from the ledge, and surveyed the antechamber with glittering red eyes. “Why not have the troll fight them first? Or the disciple of Ciryli?”
If I’d been in elf form, I’d have rolled my eyes at his comment. “You’re mobile, fast, and blend in with the Hellbats. I need you to make sure that when they’re bleeding, it hurts. And, you can avoid my traps in the antechamber. Neither Bertha or Abby can manage that while fighting.”
They probably could, but it was clear the imp needed an ego-boost.
“Your will is my command,” Puck said in a satisfied tone while his mind adopted a cunning edge.
My consciousness constricted and slid away from my ability to channel essence—the first adventurer had stepped on my entrance’s top stair. He was a tempest of Infernal and Soul Essence that roared through him like a maelstrom of fury, death, and bitter hatred. There was a new scar racing over his jawline, but it was undoubtedly Ralph.
He was a changed man. Something had happened to him in the mere days between his last visit. His jaw was set, and a dangerous glitter shone in his eyes as he descended the steps. His clothing, too, had changed. No longer did he wear simple leather armor. No, this was shining black leather, glistening with metal studs, and far more difficult to puncture than the simple fare the Scalpers had worn. Fresh, still-drying blood was splattered over his scuffed leather armor. Puck hadn’t been kidding—he’d been killing the varidus, gaining their essence, and making himself much more powerful than before.
Two swords glittered in Ralph’s hands, and as my consciousness swam over them, I recognized the sigils. They were Swiftness and Might, but much more powerful versions. Gavin’s club was fastened to his back, a poor weapon compared to the twin two-handed swords he wielded. Did he know how to use them like that? It would take years of practice, but he seemed to carry them with confidence.
I’d certainly get the chance to test that confidence. Goddamn, I was excited.
The others moved in behind him as I studied them, stored details, and banking the information in my gem’s shining fractals, deep in the bowels of Zagorath. Bertha’s savage grin slid over her face as she waited beside my jewel. She might not have been able to see our visitors, but my excitement was infectious. Abby shifted a little nervously, and lightning threads sparked over her body. The Storm Elemental’s full power was buried inside her body, but I doubted it would take long to surface after the pirates attacked.
The Hellbats readied themselves to explode from their vents, and the Storm Sprites crackled with electricity. The pirates inched their way down the stairs, their eyes sweeping over my new decorations on the walls. They didn’t flinch at the grinning skulls mocking them, nor did they need light to illuminate their paths. The sigils glowing on their weapons was more than enough to guide them.
Their weapons were ripe for the taking, straight and serrated blades forged from Obsidian Alloy. Puck had been uncharacteristically helpful in describing their gear—everything was a direct reflection of what he’d said. When the stairwell grew darker as they descended, the pair behind Ralph removed their chest armor, and their tattoos shone with essence, filling their bodies with delicious power.
My consciousness roamed over their forms as I dissected them, and I realized another difference from the Scalpers. This band wasn’t motivated by simple spoils. No, they were here for power, for the Infernal Essence that my dungeon had to offer.
Ralph stepped out onto the central floor of the antechamber.
“Is it time to begin the celebrations?” Puck’s voice entered my mind.
“Not yet,” I asked. “We want to give them a bit of a warm up. There’s no point scaring them off right away.”
“Oh, I suppose I can wait a little while,” Puck said, disappointment clear in his tone.
“There’s a blade trap in the centre,” Ralph warned his men, gesturing at the place where the trap trigger had been only a few days ago. “Stay to the the walls.”
Kid had learned from his mistakes.
So had I.
I grinned as two pirates entered the edge of the wide Paralysis Ring. Lightning exploded from the floor and raced into their muscles.
“Trap!” Ralph yelled, and the pirates who’d managed to miss my Paralysis Ring leaped to the walls while the two remained stunned.
Electricity rippled over the floor, activating my Bladed-Fan all on its own. The cleaving blades erupted from my Hellbat statue, fanning out as they had before, and the sharp slivers struck two stunned adventurers.
One managed to twist away somehow, but the blade scraped across his ribs, ripping open his armor and spilling the first drops of blood on my antechamber floor. The second’s spasming arm caught the blade mid-flight, and it wedged into the bones of his upper arm, and he howled in pain through gritted teeth.
Not as effective as I’d been hoping for, but a good combo. Abby had been everything I’d needed, and more.
The other adventurers moved in, the Paralysis Ring now glowing a bright blue and easy to maneuver around. They were careful not to step on the pulsating circle of Storm Essence as they reached inside and grabbed their comrades. Residual lightning pulsed along the injured pirates’ bodies, and their rescuers received a shock for their efforts.
“Fuck!” a pirate yelped as he stepped back.
“Wait,” Ralph said as he raised a hand. He watched the injured pair for a few seconds, and the lightning eventually vanished from their bodies. “Now.”
Hauling their friends out, they pulled them back and laid them against the walls, away from the Paralysis Ring. An older pirate with a patchwork of facial scars reached into a belt pouch and removed a potion. As he administered the healing tonic, I reached out and unleashed my minions.
Hellbats and Sprites spiraled from the ceiling in a storm of gnashing teeth, hellish screeching, and beating wings. They hurtled toward the scent of blood like homing missiles. The injured pirates were quickly healing, and my minions were prevented from executing easy prey when Ralph lunged forward. The rest of the pirates folded around the injured men, and Ralph’s swords hissed through the air and effortlessly carved into a Hellbat’s wings. The minion tumbled to the ground, and Ralph crushed its skull with a powerful stomp that produced a boom through my antechamber. Infernal Essence flooded into his tattoo as he attacked another creature.
Ralph was looking out for his fellow adventurers this time, not using them as meat shields. Simple avarice wasn’t doing the trick—they were committed to keeping each other alive. My jewel boiled with fury, and I invested the emotion in my minions. They attacked with greater ferocity, but the pirates met
them with equal fervor.
The Storm Sprites moved with greater speed than the Hellbats, and they zipped past swords and curled under swinging axes. The pirates attempted to use crossbows to take them down, but the sprites knocked aside the weapons so it was impossible to aim. The Storm minions didn’t have offensive capabilities, and it took all of them to disable a single adventurer. They latched onto a man with a crossbow and blasted him with lightning. He yelped as his muscles spasmed, and two Hellbats rocketed toward him after sensing the easy kill. The vampiric creatures seized his face and neck, but he snatched a bolt and rammed it through a bat’s abdomen and then crushed the other in both hands.
Even unarmed, these pirates were far more powerful than the Scalpers. Their veins pumped with essence and gave them superhuman strength. It would take a whole lot more than a few Hellbats and Storm Sprites to take them down.
Wielding a massive warhammer, the mountain of a man crushed a Hellbat. The sigil on the weapon’s handle burned brightly before an energy pulse covered my bats and sprites. The enchantment caused my minions to be overcome with primal fear, and they attempted to flee.
Damned sigils.
I wanted that hammer.
The pirates swapped their weapons for crossbows, and two more bats fell from the air. Even the bat who was drinking a crossbowman dry detached and fled with the other, but it was cleaved in half before it could get to the vents.
I reached back out to the minds of my minions and calmed them. These troublesome pirates were too focused, too professional, and too fucking powerful to hit with easy tactics.
It was time for some real chaos.
“Puck, get in there,” I sent my command.
“Master, it would be my pleasure,” he chuckled wryly.
Chapter Thirty
My newly-formed Shade swept out of his hiding place on the ceiling, a mass of black wings, lean muscles, and razor-sharp claws. Shadow tendrils creeped around him like a cloak of black mist as his wingbeats struck at the air.
