by C. M. Carney
“Xeg no want go back Bxrthygaal yet. Too many tourists during Cruciata. Too many Xeg.”
“Wait, there’s more than one of you?” Ovyrm asked, his normally even tone showing a hint of alarm.
Xeg whipped his beady-eyed head at the xydai. “Course it is Xeg city. Many Xeg. None as good as this Xeg,” Xeg said beating his chest proudly with a three-fingered fist.
Ovyrm looked at Wick. “Just how much do you know about this creature?”
“Enough,” Wick said with a casual wave of his hand that did nothing to hide his nervousness. He laid a small hand on Myrthendir’s steady arm and the tall elf’s gray eyes snapped to the diminutive gnome. “I know it may seem odd, but he is a friend,” Wick said looking Myrthendir straight in the eyes.
After a moment, the Prince Regent relaxed and lowered his staff. “He is your responsibility gnome, and you will pay for his ill actions.” He spun his staff and smacked the butt onto the stone with a snapping thud.
Wick walked up to Gryph, grinning like a fool and examined the scratches that crisscrossed Gryph’s face like some drug-induced attempt at modern art. “What, the hair wasn’t enough? Needed to improve your face as well?”
“Shut up,” Gryph muttered and cast Healing Light on himself and then on the Prince Regent. The spell had been a gift from Tifala after they’d escaped the Barrow, a partial thank you for saving Wick’s life. At this moment, Gryph would give serious consideration to giving the spell back if it meant he never had to deal with the obnoxious imp again.
Wick grinned again and Gryph extended his middle finger at the small, blue-haired man. The gnome grinned and returned the gesture. This somehow made Gryph feel better, and he shook his head with a small smile.
His health bar regained the small amount it had lost, and the tiny scratches disappeared leaving no trace they had ever been there. Not for the first time, Gryph was thankful for the incredible power of magic. On Earth those minor wounds would have taken days, even weeks to heal, and would have left a patchwork of small scars in their wake. He was sure that kind of disfigurement to the Prince Regent’s angelic face would have greatly shortened Wick’s lifespan.
Tifala calmed everyone down and the group turned their attention back to their purpose. The entrance to the ancient city was eerily quiet as the group walked forward, eyes darting back and forth, seeking hidden dangers. As they came closer their world was masked by shadows and the air grew cooler. Gryph saw Wick shiver and knew it was not due to the drop in temperature.
“We should all take the Elixir of Mastery. I suspect we will soon earn ample experience,” Myrthendir said, taking the thin vial of thick silvery liquid from his pouch.
“Agreed,” Gryph said and placed his hand into his satchel and called the potion to him.
“Remember to focus on the skill you want to be improved as you drink,” the elf lord said, paused for a moment and then downed his potion.
The others did the same. Gryph held the vial up to the light and multi-hued motes of light flickered and flowed inside the silvery mass. There were several skills that he thought would be best served by the potions ability to add a 50% bonus to skill leveling speed. He considered Air Magic, Staves/Spears and Analyze, but he’d taken quite a beating since entering the Realms and decided that his Light Armor skill was the one he wanted to level the quickest. He had no idea what bonus reaching Apprentice Tier in the skill would grant him, but after receiving Soul Bind when he’d reached Apprentice Tier in Soul Magic he was drooling at the potential.
Gryph focused on Light Armor, popped the cork and downed the liquid. It tasted, oddly enough, like a cinnamon roll and as it hit his stomach a surge of warmth and tendrils of possibility flowed through him. Yummy, he thought and then looked to see the others were ready.
Gryph sent 200 mana points into the reservoirs of his spear and then led the way into the chamber. A small change in air pressure caused his ears to pop as he crossed the threshold into a long, wide passageway that reminded Gryph of an aircraft hangar. He looked up towards the arched roof lost in shadows.
A pair of large statues that had weathered time much better than the giant stone sentinels outside stood guard on either side of the massive gallery. They were made of a variety of metals, twined with wire and bore gemstones for eyes. It surprised him to see that they were free of dust and seemed to bear a well-polished sheen. Some kinda spell? Gryph wondered, again amazed at the casual show of wealth. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to traverse this gallery during the height of the city’s power. A hundred feet ahead the shadowed forms of two more statues were set into their own alcoves in the wall. They looked to be of a similar design to the ones they’d just passed, but the shadows hid their features.
Once again, Myrthendir seemed to read his mind and the tall elf conjured a large ball of silver light at the tip of his staff. He held the staff above his head and the sphere hummed gently for a moment before zipping into the darkness of the ancient welcome hall. It traveled a dozen feet before it pulsed and fired two smaller globes towards each wall. The main sphere continued its journey, periodically firing other pairs. By the time the original sphere hit another set of huge doors, the entire chamber was illuminated. Gryph estimated the distance to be at least one thousand yards from the entrance to the far door.
Twenty feet inside the chamber a shining strip of gold nearly half a foot wide traversed the chamber from wall to wall. Gryph suspected it was an official border, between the Realms at large and this ancient city of a long dead people. He felt as if he were being watched. Apprehension built inside him as he stepped over the line.
He paused as if waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. He inhaled deeply and took another step, then another. Each one easing the phantom feeling of eyes upon him. He looked back with a small smile. Matching grins creased the lips of his fellows, but then a low rumble built in the floor and flowed up Gryph’s legs.
Grins faded and eyes went wide. Of course, that was too simple, Gryph thought. The rumbles built, augmented by the creaking of metallic machinery in dire need of maintenance. Gryph saw metallic glints of motion ahead of him and heard Wick exclaim in surprise behind him.
Gryph spun towards his friend as the statue closest to Wick pulled itself from its alcove. It thundered forward on metallic feet and it raised an arm, palm up, at the gnome. Bursts of steam pulsed from its back as the plates of its body shifted with each step. A thunking, grinding, shifting sound rose as the now mobile statue’s arm split in half at the palm, creating a gap from which a nozzle protruded. A sound like a distant rush of wind built up and a deep orange glow built inside the tube pointed at Wick. He stood rigid as shock made him freeze.
“Wick move!” Gryph yelled and rushed towards the gnome. From the corner of his vision, Gryph saw at least three other metal automatons coming towards the group.
Fire erupted from the nozzle and snapped towards Wick like a grease laden serpent. It seemed alive the way only fire can as it surged towards the gnome. The danger of imminent immolation finally overpowered Wick’s shock and the gnome dove aside, just as the flames turned the spot he’d been standing into a charred stain.
The metal monster turned towards Wick again and a second flare built inside the nozzle. Gryph increased his speed knowing his friend would not regain his feet before the flames enveloped him. Fear bit into him as the glow reached terminal brightness and Wick covered his head with both hands. Both men knew it was a pathetic defense.
18
Gryph screamed, but then he heard a pop of air rushing into a vacuum and the bitter tang of sulfur reached his nostrils. A flash of red and black soot exploded around the automaton’s hand just as the flames erupted from the end of the tube.
Razor sharp-clawed hands and feet dug into the splayed metal fingers of the statue’s arms as the flames flowed around the crimson body of the tiny imp. Gryph’s mouth gaped open and then a loud cheer pushed from his throat. Drawn by the unexpected sound, Wick opened his eyes a
nd watched Xeg not only taking the full brunt of the flames but somehow absorbing them.
The scaled beast purred like a cat enjoying a good scratch from its human as the flames petered out. Then he laughed and crawled up the creature's arm. “Shiny for Xeg,” the imp said as he jumped from the massive construct’s arm and onto its head. Xeg clawed at the ruby eyes which now glowed with an internal light. Gryph wasn't certain, but the imp seemed to have gotten larger.
He rushed to Wick’s side and pulled the gnome to his feet. “Did you know he could do that?”
“Never seen anything like it,” Wick said, shock and elation battling in his voice. “Did he get bigger?” Neither man had any time to wonder as the chamber suddenly exploded with the buzz of mechanical whirring.
Gryph spun to see three more of the large metal monsters had extricated themselves from their alcoves and joined the fray. Tifala had already cast her super handy vine spell, and root thick brambles twined about the machine's legs and dragged it to its knees. The mechanical whirring came from a fast-moving blade that vibrated faster than Gryph’s eyes could follow. It's a damn Realms version of a Sawzall reciprocating saw.
The automaton brought the blade down onto the writhing vines and they parted like grass under a lawnmower. Tifala was not standing idly by, however, as she unleashed her spell Water Blast. The jet slammed into the metal creature with all the force of a firehose and it toppled backwards with a thunderous crash.
Gryph turned toward the others. Ovrym was slashing and weaving, his curved red blade leaving deep scratches on the automaton’s brass colored carapace, but doing little real damage. Myrthendir had conjured a glowing spiked mace head on the end of his staff and swung it with ease. The basketball-sized sphere crushed into the shoulder of the metal monstrosity with a crushing thunk. The monster’s arm went limp as a gush of clear golden oil erupted from the damaged joint.
This dude is a badass, Gryph thought.
Once again the Prince Regent showed an uncanny talent for knowing what Gryph was thinking, and the tall elf turned to him. “Return control of the Adventure Party to me,” the regal elf yelled. “I have a spell that will help.”
With a mental flick, Gryph did as asked and a moment later a prompt came to him.
You have returned control of the Adventure Party to Myrthendir.
Myrthendir has granted the Adventure Party the spell, Blazing Armor.
+20% to the effectiveness of all armor worn by the Adventure Party for 30 minutes.
+20% to Movement and Attack Speed for 30 minutes.
A luminous aura of light enveloped Gryph and twined its way around and through his armor. He felt more agile and quicker as he spun back to see Wick had regained his feet. The crimson glow of chthonic magic surrounded the gnome’s hands as he moved with heightened agility, avoiding the automaton’s attacks. Gryph knew the power the gnome’s Chthonic Bolt could unleash, but the gnome hesitated to fire for fear of hitting the imp who was spastically jumping about on the living statue’s head. It was almost comical watching the lumbering beast punch itself in the face repeatedly as it tried, yet failed, to crush the imp.
Gryph took a moment to Analyze their opponents.
Thalmiir Goliath: Level 32 - H: 986/S:2500/M: 585/SP: 0
Thalmiir Goliaths are among the largest and deadliest of the Thalmiir constructs. These magically empowered automatons guarded Thalmiir cities, fortresses and treasure vaults. They are tireless protectors armed with blade and flame. While not intelligent in the standard sense, they will follow the simple commands of their masters. Given time a destroyed Thalmiir Goliath will regenerate and repair nearly any damage.
Strengths: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weaknesses: Unknown.
Gryph grumbled under his breath. He really needed to level his Analyze skill. His inability to know the Strengths, Immunities, and Weaknesses of his opponents was becoming truly irritating. Well, I guess we’ll just have to beat them up the old-fashioned way.
“These are Thalmiir automatons,” Myrthendir yelled above the din. “Their armor is incredibly tough. Aim for the joints and spaces between their armored plates. If you can get between them, their inner workings are susceptible to electrical damage.“
Gryph was thankful for the information, but couldn’t shake the coincidence that, yet again, Myrthendir had offered the advice just as the question had come into Gryph’s mind.
A quick look around told him that Ovyrm needed the most immediate help. The saber wielding warrior monk was likely the deadliest of all of them under most circumstances, but his sword was ill-equipped to battle the heavily armored goliaths. Gryph poured mana into his spear and rushed to aid the xydai, just as the metal titan brought the whirring blade down upon the adjudicator.
Ovyrm parried the attack and dove aside. A trickle of blood dripped down his sword arm where he’d been less successful on a previous parry and despite Myrthendir’s Boon, Gryph realized his friend wasn’t moving as quickly as normal.
“Ovyrm, down,” Gryph yelled as the goliath took aim with its flame cannon. Without hesitation the xydai threw himself aside, giving Gryph a clear line of attack. Gryph activated his Impale Perk and the spear’s own Penetrating Strike ability as he thrust his adamantine spear tip into the fiery orange nozzle.
The spear tip sunk in nearly a foot dealing incredible damage to the goliath’s arm. The automaton stumbled back as the torrent of magical fire tried to force itself past the lodged spear. The shaft vibrated in Gryph’s grasp as he struggled to hold on. Heat flared around the spear and up the shaft. Gryph grimaced in pain as the metal cooked his hands. His health bar flared and then a gout of flame pulsed from the nozzle and flowed over Gryph. He screamed in pain and his health dropped further. He pushed with all his strength and the spear lodged itself deeper inside the goliath’s arm. The flames winked out and Gryph’s health stopped dropping.
The metal of the creature’s arm turned orange and then red and then white-hot as the backdraft of fire built up inside the flamethrower’s housing. Then an explosion tossed Gryph backwards as whatever fuel powering the jet of flame exploded.
Shards of the white-hot metal bit into Gryph like the bite of dozens of fire ants and his health sunk further. His head smacked hard against the stone wall and his vision turned warbly. Through the haze of pain, a distant part of his mind suspected he had a concussion. He tried to stand but toppled to his knees with all the grace of a drunk man during an earthquake.
Suddenly Ovyrm was there forcing a red health potion down his throat. “Get up,” the xydai mumbled through the ringing in Gryph’s ears. As the potion did its work, Gryph realized that Ovyrm had been yelling. Ovyrm helped him to his feet and handed him his spear. Gryph gave him a goofy grin of thanks.
“That’s one way to do it,” the xydai said with a grin and then walked over to the crippled goliath. Its arm had burst apart from the force of the explosion and most of its chest plate was shorn off. It tried to bring its bladed arm up, but the servos that allowed the beast to move were too bent or melted.
Ovyrm grabbed the lame arm and held it at bay as he slid his sword into the exposed chest cavity towards a glowing red sphere. The sphere was made up of interlocking rings of bronze colored metal that spun around a central core.
Ovyrm pushed the blade between the rings, arresting their motion to a grinding halt and then shoved deeper into the crimson core. Gryph watched as blue mana flowed up the blade and into Ovyrm’s body. Bleed metal was an incredibly rare variety of elementum from the Outer Realms, found in comets, asteroids, and meteorites that had passed through a magical null zone known as the Bleed. Weapons and armor made from the fantastic metal absorbed magical energy. Gryph watched as the xydai recharged his mana pool like an Earthling would a car battery.
I have to get me one of those, Gryph thought and turned his attention back to the battle.
Myrthendir bore several shallow wounds, but he avoided a clumsy swing of the goliath’s bladed arm and smashed his energy mace into the mech
anical beast’s side with a crunch of metal. Despite the force behind the blow, he moved the weapon with ease. Gryph suspected the glowing sphere must have somehow added mass to the elf’s attacks while adding no real weight. The automaton’s flame-throwing arm hung limply at the creature’s side. It seemed to Gryph that the Prince Regent was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Gryph turned to the gnomes. Tifala’s battle wasn’t going quite as well. The vine spell had all but failed, and the goliath’s legs ripped apart the few remaining vines. At some point, she’d switched from Water Blast to Life Bolt, and blasts of golden light exploded across the bronze beast’s armor. She backed away slowly as the beast came forward two steps and fell back one with each blast.
