by C. M. Carney
From what he could see, they were walking down a wide corridor, lined with green flames that burned directly from the sconces set into the wall. He didn’t see any torches nor smell burning. This was magic.
He felt the brute carrying him tense up and then heard Dirge’s voice. “Easy.” Gryph could tell by the strain lingering under the surface of Dirge’s voice that he was far from calm. Then he saw why.
Spaced midway between two points of green light was a vertical alcove set back into the wall. Standing inside was an armored corpse, the skin of its face pulled tight across its teeth giving it a feral grin. It held a massive two-handed sword point faced down. The creature’s black eyes snapped open and watched as the party moved past, but otherwise it did not move a muscle.
Though Gryph couldn’t move his Analyze skill still worked just fine. He almost wished it hadn’t.
Dread Knight. Level 22 - H:350/S:420/M:0/SP:250
Dread Knights are powerful undead revenants. In life they were knights who served evil masters and were rewarded with an eternal half-life of the undead. They are powerful warrior priests who derive their spirit power from the masters who they worship as a god.
Strengths: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weakness: Unknown.
The undead creature was high level and formidable and as they drifted down the hallway, Gryph saw that it wasn’t alone. He saw four more on his side and assumed that the same number lay ensconced on the other side of the corridor.
This is a bad plan, Gryph thought.
They walked a few more feet before stopping. Gryph could not see why they had stopped, but the chill of evil crept into his bones. Dirge cleared his throat attempting to force courage into it.
“Let us pass. We are here at your master’s invite.”
The chill expanded and bit into Gryph’s cramped muscles, and he was certain that this his life would end, again. Then he heard Dirge exhale. A scrape of metal on stone followed as the sound of massive doors creaking on ancient hinges came to Gryph.
The party moved in, and Gryph saw the doors they passed through. They were 20 feet tall and emblazoned with scenes of death and battle. As they crossed the threshold, the creaking began again, and the doors sealed with a thud.
The brute carrying him shook in fear, but he walked forward on Dirge’s command. A few moments later, they stopped again and tossed Gryph to the ground.
An oily hiss crept over the party, and Gryph heard Dirge say, “Easy.” The brute mumbled an apology and propped Gryph up on his knees and pulled off the sack.
Gryph blinked a few times to the fog from his mind. As his eyes focused, a horror came into his field of vision. Sitting on a throne made of bone was a spectre of rancid fog and malevolent darkness. Glowing embers of green fire peered at him from behind a cowl of animated smoke. A gnarled hand that was neither bone nor flesh clasped emerged from the ever-flowing robe that the creature didn’t so much wear as exude.
Without meaning to Gryph’s Analyze skill jumped to the fore.
Barrow King - Level: 67 H:1,245/S:1,578/M:1,574/SP:0
The Barrow King is the disembodied soul of an ancient wizard. It is a Legendary Opponent whose skill with magic is near unparalleled
Strengths: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weakness: Unknown.
Fear dug deep into the core of Gryph’s being. He felt tendons seize and his blood turn cold. Bones felt as if they were splintering under the gaze and his muscles seized. His eyes could not focus on the foul creature as if it was phasing in and out of existence. With an incredible effort, Gryph forced himself to break eye contact. Instantly, the phantom pain brought on by the creature’s gaze abated.
The Barrow King leaned forward and a guttural grumbling flowed across the room. “Who are you?” said a voice of cracking stone and burning oil.
“Before we get to that,” Dirge said. “I believe you owe us payment.”
The spectre’s eyes snapped up to Dirge. To his credit, the rogue barely shivered, one foot easing back a bare millimeter. The Barrow King’ gaze bored into Dirge’s soul, but the man stood his ground.
It’s too bad he’s proven to be an enemy, Gryph thought, impressed with the traitorous man’s courage.
The Barrow King made the slightest motion, and two of the dread knights moved towards Gryph and Dirge. The two brutes tensed in uncertainty and fear, clutching weapons in suddenly slick hands.
Dirge never took his eyes off the Barrow King as he pulled a dagger from its sheath and spin it lightning quick. Gryph felt the tip bite into his neck. The point pulsed with each beat of his heart.
“There’s no need for that,” Dirge said with an eerie calm. “We can both get what we want and part as friends.” The Barrow King snapped its head in an almost insectile manner, a sure sign of anger. “Or as temporary chums who never have to see each other again.”
Another deep rumble emanated from the very stone of the throne room. Gryph looked around as much as he was able without skewering himself. The room was massive. Along the sides were balconies that Gryph imagined at one time, when the Barrow King had still been living, had held supplicants and underlings. Now, Gryph just hoped that the ancient stone held and did not come crashing down on him.
Gryph felt the tip of the knife push harder against his jugular and his gaze snapped back to the Barrow King. The rail thin creature’s shoulders moved up and down as if the Barrow King were breathing to calm itself. But Gryph knew, this creature had not taken a breath in millennia. What kind of terrible will kept this creature alive?
After a few tense moments the Barrow King waved his hand in an idle backwards motion at an intricately carved stone archway to his right. A point of light came into being in the center of the arch, a singularity of all and nothing. It pulsed, and then expanded filling the archway.
Gryph’s heart both leapt and sank at the vision through the portal. It was a verdant valley. Sun streamed down through the branches of dappled trees, and he could hear the singsong of birds. Gryph had not realized just how detached from nature and life he had felt since arriving in the Realms. If the place beyond the singularity was real, then perhaps the Realms held some good after all.
Dirge yanked Gryph’s head back, adjusting his blade again. “Now call of your goons and you’ll have what you want.”
The Barrow King stood, a flowing motion more serpentine than mammalian. As he flowed upwards, Gryph realized just how tall the creature was. It topped seven feet, and it flexed its shoulders backwards expanding before their eyes. It took a step forward on heavy booted feet, which had until a moment ago, not existed.
“Eh, eh,” Dirge warned, and Gryph felt the knife pierce his skin. Blood flowed in a rivulet down Gryph’s neck.
The Barrow King paused and sniffed. A keening noise, akin to the desperate hungry cry of a bird rose from inside the Barrow King’s ever flowing shawl. Gryph sensed a craving like a junky smelling his next fix cooking.
Tense moments passed and after a glacial age the Barrow King waved his hand again. The dread knights backed away, clearing a path for Dirge and his buddies to move towards the portal.
Dirge dragged Gryph to his feet and slowly moved towards the shimmering gateway. With each small step he repositioned himself, always keeping Gryph between him and the Barrow King. The two brutes took up flanking positions, weapons at the ready, eyes on the dread knights.
Gryph flexed his fingers, working feeling back into them. Now or never, he thought.
Now, came a mental reply.
Chaos erupted.
42
Back in the cave where Wick had recovered from the black ooze, Gryph laid out his plan. According to Ovrym, Dirge was the leader of the Gray Company, a group of mercenaries, thieves and killers. Ovyrm had taken up with them while searching for his onetime mentor, Zyrrin.
“Zyrrin was searching for a Godhead. He had found an ancient text that suggested one existed on Korynn, left unclaimed. I didn’t believe it. Godheads were mere legends. And coming to Korynn violated th
e Accords. The Outer Realms may not interfere with this Realm. So, by joining him I sealed my fate.”
The xydai fell silent. Both Gryph and Wick gave him time.
“Without him…I,” Ovyrm hesitated again. “I should have stopped him. But he'd become obsessed, and the quest drove him mad.” Emotion surged into Ovyrm. “In his madness he suspected me. Claimed that I would take the Godhead from him. Even then I didn’t believe he would do it. Even then I thought there was hope. But he was too far gone. We battled, and he defeated me. He could have killed me, but he left me wounded, dying. A farmer woman found me, and she nursed me back to health. Me, a demon from the old tales. It was then that I realized what I had to do, no matter what the cost. If this woman could risk her life for a stranger, then I must do the same for the man who raised me. I tracked him to a city a few days ride from here and learned that he had gone to the mountains to the west. Legend told of an ancient city, long abandoned by the Thalmiir, the High Dwarves. It was said to contain a great treasure, an ancient weapon.”
“The Godhead?” Gryph asked.
Ovyrm eyed Gryph. “Zyrrin thought it to be true. He was lost, but no fool.”
Ovyrm explained how he had met up with the Gray Company, convinced them of the wealth to be had. En route they had become seduced by the Barrow.
“We fought and died, and the Barrow King came for us. Then after several days, the attacks just stopped.”
“Dirge?” Wick asked.
Ovyrm nodded. “He’d somehow made a parlay. None of us asked questions, not even me.”
“It turned out that the parlay came with a cost. Dirge had broken the Code of Brotherhood by offering members of the Gray Company as a sacrifice. Every three months, he’d select a member he felt was a rival to his power or otherwise expendable and would take them on patrol. Invariably, the group would return with one less member and the Barrow King would leave us be for a time.”
“I suppose I didn’t want to know how he had done it. The men who he sacrificed are on my conscious as much as Dirge’s, yet I did nothing.” Ovyrm said. “Until Dirge decided it was my turn.”
“Dirge has a strong mind and could shield his intentions. But his two cohorts did not,” Ovyrm said. “Byrrck, the uglier of the two couldn’t stop thinking about what he could kill once he had his hands on my saber. That’s how I knew, I felt his thoughts. I would have killed them all but Dirge sensed my intent and I only just escaped. I left him with a parting gift, though.”
“The scar?” Gryph asked.
Ovyrm nodded and a thin smile curled his lips. “We will use his own nature against him.”
It had taken some convincing, but Xeg had finally agreed to the plan. The imp disappeared in a puff of sulfur and flame. Ovyrm made an antidote to the paralytic that Dirge favored. Then they waited. When the time came, they downed the antidote, suited up and opened the secret door.
The Gray Company was waiting.
*****
Wick stumbled from the tent where Dirge and Gryph were getting chummy. Feigning anger at Gryph was easy for Wick. Despite the logic of the plan, fear bit at Wick’s soul. He turned the fear to anger and feigned drunkenness. After his last confrontation with Gryph, he’d climbed up to the old guard spot and snuggled under the blankets. To all peering eyes, he was fast asleep. He waited an agonizing hour before peering out from his hiding spot.
Down below, he could see the back of the hooded guard keeping watch over the well they'd tossed Ovyrm down. His eyes scanned the rest of the cavern. From his perch, Wick could see the entire village. Nobody was looking his way. He had played the role of angry drunk perfectly.
Wick eased himself over the edge and dropped to the ground. He skirted by several tents with stealth born of his small size. Snores and grunts popped here and there, but he encountered no one.
Soon he slithered up behind the lone guard. Ovrym had not known if this man was part of Dirge’s group of traitors or not, so he had insisted that Wick keep him alive. The same poison Dirge favored coated the tip of Wick’s blade. He snuck up behind the man and like a cobra striking from the shadows nicked the man’s exposed hand.
“What the…” was all he managed, before the poison took did its work and the man slumped. Wick tossed a rope into the well. A moment later, Ovyrm eased himself over the lip of the well and landed as silently as a mouse next to Wick.
They bound and gagged the man and eased him down into the well, making sure to hide his features. Then Ovyrm took his place and Wick hid.
Soon, Dirge and his minions emerged from Gryph’s tent with a man-sized sack. Two arrows sailed up to Wick’s onetime hiding spot, slaying the pile of rags. Then the traitor came over to the well. Ovyrm tensed but kept his cool as Dirge looked into the well.
“Goodbye, old friend,” Dirge said in a low voice. He nodded to his cohort, who sunk two arrows into the bound form at the bottom of the well. For a moment, Ovyrm felt a pang of guilt, but then realized if Dirge was so casual about murder, then the guard Ovyrm was masquerading as was part of Dirge’s crew. Perhaps this was justice.
Dirge and his crew moved out.
“It’s time,” Ovyrm said. Wick emerged from the shadows. They stopped at the cage that held Xeg and Wick nodded. The small demon grinned a mouthful of needle sharp teeth and disappeared in a puff of rancid smoke. They dipped into Sneak and followed the three traitors.
Ovyrm had no idea how Dirge had parlayed with the Barrow King, but the way to the depths of the Barrow was clear of enemies. No wyrmynn rushed them from hidden corridors. The dead stayed dead. So far, both sides were keeping the bargain. When Gryph suggested this plan, Ovyrm thought it had a slim chance at success. While he still had his doubts, he now believed they at least had a fighting chance.
They kept to the shadows and always a turn or two behind Dirge and his cronies. Eventually, they came to the massive door that marked the entrance to the Barrow’s inner sanctum. They stopped.
“You realize that this entire plan relies on a demon of the chthonic realm, right?” Wick said.
“That’s why Gryph called it a Hail Mary. I do not know what kind of god this Mary is, but if she helps us get through this, I’ll make whatever sacrifice she desires.”
Wick nodded, and then they waited. Seconds felt like hours but, soon, their patience was rewarded.
“Pssst. Stupid ugly things. Look up. Xeg here.”
Ovyrm and Wick looked down the corridor where Xeg’s head hung upside down, dangling through a small square hatch.
“Thank you, Mary,” Wick said as the two men rushed to the hatch, careful not to disturb the undead sentinels in their receded alcoves. Ovyrm boosted Wick. Wick held his hand down, but the warrior monk just nodded no and jumped into the small crawlspace.
Wick nodded in appreciation and closed the hatch again. They moved down the thin shaft scattering a few rats, spiders, and things with hundreds of legs. Soon, they came to a grate that overlooked a balcony. Below they could hear Dirge and something much, much worse.
Ovyrm closed his eyes and his fingers moved as if unbidden by the conscious mind. The four points that held the grate to the wall parted, and the grate fell forward. Wick grabbed the grating with his right hand before it could fall to the ground.
The weight of the grate pulled at Wick’s fingers. Gnomes weren’t known for their strength, and he panicked. Ovyrm’s eyes snapped open, and a hand lashed put to grab the grate before the heavy iron could smash to the ground.
Wick breathed a heavy, silent breath and Ovrym gave him a sideways glance of apology. They eased the grate against the wall and clambered out. Ovyrm pulled his bow from his back. Wick admired the intricate scrollwork that ran up and down the fine weapon. The buzz of potential inside its taut length was palpable.
Wick pulled on his Maker Goggles and prepped himself. A wet squelching crunch caused both men to snap their eyes down to Xeg. The tiny demon had a fat spider clasped in its hands and was tearing off its legs. Each leg pulled free with a wet tear and then s
tuffed into the demon’s mouth. Then came the unpleasant crunch.
Xeg was in a world of his own, thoroughly enjoying his disgusting treat. Wick nudged the imp with his knee, and Xeg nearly cried out in irritation before scowling up at Wick. Wick gave the universal ‘shut the hell up’ look and for once Xeg seemed abashed. As if making up for the faux pa the imp offered Wick a leg.
Wick shook his head in disgust, earning a silent chuckle from Ovyrm. Xeg shrugged and tossed the half-chomped spider aside. The poor creature pulled itself away on half legs. Xeg saw the spider slime on its hands and grimaced before looking from Wick to its hands and back to Wick. Realizing what was about to happen, Wick reached out to stop the imp, but he was too late, and a mélange of spider guts joined the other muck staining his clothes.
Wick felt the urge to punch the imp, but knew they still needed its help to save Tifala. He could not see her, but Xeg had told them she was in a cage somewhere against the wall below the balcony on which they now stood. He could feel her through their bond and forced his will into the ring at his throat. I’m coming my love, he thought.
Ovyrm cast another spell and Wick felt other minds inside his own. It wasn't like he was sharing one mind, but more like these other voices were hovering right out of his perception. He heard a calm voice in his head.
Xeg, once we attack you go free Tifala and get her to safety, Ovyrm said inside Wick’s head.
Xeg will save pretty lady, tall demon eyes. Wick’s mind recoiled at the oily slipperiness of Xeg’s mind. The imp was most assuredly not of this realm.
Wick felt a schematic of the room pop into his mind, and he knew Ovyrm’s plan. They would hide on opposite ends of the balcony and would take out the dread knights closest to Gryph, giving him the time to get free.
