Omnibus Volume 1

by C. M. Carney

  The arachnid slowed as it reached the end of the tunnel, then it turned upwards revealing a thin vertical shaft. The arachnid extended one leg and inserted the tarsus at the end of its leg into a small groove. Gryph saw more of the grooves spaced up the vertical shaft and it took mere moments for the arachnid to climb to the next horizontal shaft. There it crept forward as silently as it was able and stuck its head into the chamber beyond.

  Gryph inhaled as the large circular room came into focus. Gryph’s borrowed viewpoint was from a small opening halfway up the wall and behind a raised dais. Somehow Gryph knew that the arachnids used this access point to scale the walls and ceiling of this room to clean and polish the glowing magical globe that hung at the top of the room’s concave ceiling thirty feet above the floor and provided the room’s light. The light from the globe glinted off a ring of blue white crystals set a dozen feet above the floor. On the far wall was a large set of doors sheathed in some kind of shining copper colored metal.

  Gryph took in the layout of the room in under a second, noting what looked like a manhole cover at the center of the room as he turned his attention to the raised dais a few feet from the room’s other door. A thin line of silver metal formed a near perfect half circle on the floor around the dais. It reminded Gryph of the silver barrier that had protected them from the behemoth black ooze back in the Barrow.

  Inside this protective circle stood five robed figures, their faces shrouded by malevolent masks of flowing silver. Four kept watch, while the fifth, a tall man with a bow at his back, held a metallic disk around eight inches in diameter over his head and chanted as if performing some mystical ceremony. The Seal of the Dwarven King, Gryph thought, recognizing the item they had stolen that from him.

  That has to be Barrendiel. Gryph thought staring at the tall man as he finished his chanting and inserted the seal into a slot on the console. Barrendiel pushed down, and the seal clicked into the circular slot in the console.

  A pair of thin trails of magical golden light flowed up the sides of the dais from the floor and flowed into the seal. The trails of light flowed over the metallic disk through grooves in the intricately carved disk.

  The seal expanded, separating into a series of puzzle piece sections that moved position and then snapped back into a disc. The light retreated down the column and on the far wall, above and to the right of the sealed doors, a rune flared to life with golden light. The grind and clunk of metal sliding against stone filled the room before silence hung heavy once more.

  Barrendiel turned the disk thirty degrees clockwise where an audible click announced it had done its work. He waited as surges of green light pulsed upwards from the dais and repeated the process by turning the seal forty-five degrees counterclockwise. A second rune glowed into existence on the far wall.

  Golden light for empyrean. Green for life. It’s a combination lock, Gryph realized. And if my guess is right, then he needs to cycle through all thirteen spheres of magic to unlock it. How does he know the sequence?

  “Can we get closer? We may need to memorize that combination” Gryph said to Errat in a whisper. Errat nodded, and the spider poked its head from the small crevice and eased a foreleg into the small grooved track above the opening. It waited and Gryph felt the distant nervous energy pulsing through the small automaton. It took another step and another and another.

  A flare of blue white lightning lashed out from one crystal embedded in the walls and pummeled into the spider. Gryph reacted as if struck and fell to the ground, squinting his eyes shut in pain. Hands were on him and he opened his eyes. Bits of light floated in his vision, but he saw Ovrym looking down on him through the haze. Errat seemed unaffected by the surge through the metal link, but his face grew sad at the loss of the automaton.

  “The Dwellers are up there,” Gryph said once the pain in his head had dimmed. “And they now know that something is watching them.”

  He described the layout of the room and the ceremony the head Dweller seemed to be performing. Myrthendir seemed to think it was a prayer to the arboleth as the Thalmiir were not great believers in ceremony. The elf lord claimed that the Thalmiir were great lovers of codes and mathematical puzzles. This bolstered Gryph’s own supposition that the dais was some kind of combination lock.

  “So they must enter the right combination to move forward?” Ovyrm asked.

  Myrthendir nodded. “My guess is that there are clues to the code inscribed on the seal itself. Somehow Barrendiel deciphered the clues.” He seemed bothered by the idea.

  “What is it?” Gryph asked. Myrthendir looked up at him, a sadness swimming behind his otherwise calm gaze.

  “He was my brother, in deed if not name. How could I have been so wrong about him?” Gryph gripped the man by the shoulder and understanding passed between the two men.

  “We need to stop them from completing the code,” Tifala said, a gentle nudge in a warm tone.

  “Don’t forget about the lightning bolts of death,” Wick said.

  “Yeah, don’t forget about that,” Gryph said glancing up at the metal hatch above his head.

  Wick scowled. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

  “That the silver circle in the floor is a safe zone?”

  “And that …” he nodded up at the metal hatch above them.

  “Is not in the safe zone.” Tifala finished.

  “Yeah, that,” Wick said through thin lips.

  Gryph looked at Errat, steeling himself for the request he needed to make. Most people think the burden of leadership lies in the responsibility of choice. But choosing is the easy part. Convincing others that the sacrifices endured for your choices are noble and right and, above all, necessary. That is the true burden and only remains so if the leader in question is deserving of the title.

  Am I worthy? Gryph wondered and then the warborn named Errat turned to him with that quirky, too trusting smile.

  25

  The arachnid eased itself up millimeter by millimeter into the spherical chamber. It seemed tentative as if it somehow understood the threat it faced, the certain doom. It had long been a philosophical debate among artificers and crafters whether their creations were alive.

  Errat held no such doubts. He knew the mysterious animating force behind the small machines was as much a life as his own. He was unsure whether these others felt the same, but he trusted this player called Gryph, this man from another place. He could feel the man’s gravity in the aether. Pressing down like a heavyweight on a thick sheet, drawing things, powers and people into his orbit. Errat was now one of the man’s satellites.

  Errat sent reassurance and ease through the aether and the arachnid responded, pushing one then another of its eight legs up and into the room above. Its movement was glacially slow as it pulled itself over the lip of the service tunnel. Errat gifted Gryph with Automaton’s Bond again. Whatever pain Errat was about to feel, this man from another place would also experience. It was this shared experience, along with the Vow the man had made to Errat that had convinced the warborn.

  “I will help you rebuild your friends once this is all over,” Gryph had said. “This I Vow.”

  Gasps of alarm moved through the others at the words and Errat knew that Gryph had not understood the gravity of a Vow when he spoke the words, but Errat sensed that he would have abided by its tenets even without the magic that bound it to his soul.

  Gryph has made a Binding Vow to Errat.

  Vows are powerful promises made binding. They are enforced by the ancient magics of the Realms and will inflict severe penalties if the Vow is broken. Gryph has a month to help Errat rebuild all Thalmiir Arachnids that fall in the battle to help him defeat the Dwellers in the Dark.

  Difficulty: Moderate - Reward: Unknown - XP: Unknown - Penalty for Failure: Reputation Penalty

  The Vow did nothing to ease the guilt or pain of pushing his small friend into certain destruction, but he understood that many more of his friends, perhaps all of them, would die if they f
ailed. There was one thing Errat could do for his small friend as he pushed him further into the room, each second ticking closer to the end of its life. He could be there with it, feel what it felt. He hoped it would be of some comfort.

  Errat directed the spider to gaze around the room. Below, the five shrouded figures worked at their task, showing no concern for the twisted pile of wreckage that had once been one of Errat’s friends.

  Errat turned the automaton’s gaze towards the far wall where another two runes, one the purple-black of death magic and another the fresh peat brown of earth magic, glowed with urgency.

  As Errat watched, pulses of crimson chthonic energy flowed upwards like trails of blood and Barrendiel turned the seal to the left nearly ninety degrees. The circle of metal parted again and reformed, its pattern altered almost imperceptibly. Deep inside the far wall, a clang of metal thrummed, and another rune cast its glow into the room.

  “Five down, eight to go,” Gryph said in a low voice. “We have to do this now.”

  Errat looked at the man and saw the purpose and compassion in his eyes. A smile crept across the warborn’s face and he nodded. He closed his eyes again and extended his mind into the other dozen spiders waiting behind the first.

  “We are ready,” Errat said.

  ΡΡΡΡΡ

  “I know how hard this is for you my friend,” Gryph said, squeezing the warborn’s arm. The large construct smiled and Gryph felt a pang of sympathy thrum through his chest at the long and lonely life the warborn had lived. He smiled again and turned to the others.

  “You all know the plan. We cannot let the Dwellers open that door. It guards a weapon so dangerous that the Thalmiir buried their city instead of risking exposing the Realms. I do not know what Barrendiel and the Dwellers want with the weapon, but no good can come of it. They must not attain it and we will stop them, no matter what the cost or everything and everybody that we love is at risk.”

  He looked at each face and nods, grim smiles and determination came back to him. Tifala kissed Wick lightly on the forehead and a wave of warmth spread through Gryph’s heart. He looked down, realizing that he’d been caressing the stone on the Ring of Fellowship and smiled. Our shared purpose is stronger than any magical Vow. He was proud to call these people friends.

  A spike of psychic malevolence passed over Gryph and his hand snapped down to the satchel at his side. He sensed the weight, the alien presence of the arboleth eggs seething through the stasis field. Am I the true danger here? Gryph wondered. He looked up to see Myrthendir’s eyes not on him, but on the satchel under his hand.

  He locked eyes with the man and found the elf lord’s expression inscrutable. Is he thinking the same thing? Let's hope the soul bind is a strong as it seems. He brought the transmitted view from the arachnid back to the fore of his mind and stared at the tall leader of the Dwellers. Barrendiel has already broken the binding once. I must assume that he can do so again.

  Gryph hid his hand and moved his fingers in the intricate motions required to cast Telepathic Bond. Without looking at the xydai warrior monk Gryph sent a mental message. If Barrendiel gets his hands on me or the satchel, you must kill me.

  A momentary pulse of shock came back to Gryph before it quieted and then Ovyrm’s strong voice filled his mind. I swear it.

  Gryph got a wry chuckle at the relief he felt at a promise to murder him, but then the Realms was an odd place. He opened his Skills Sheet and cycled over to his Air Magic perk tree. Like a man prepping for a serious bout of buyer’s regret he put his last Perk Point into Resistance. The perk granted him a 25% resistance to air magic spells, which just so includes the lightning bolts fired with such deadly accuracy by the ring of blue crystal guarding the room above.

  Gryph had wanted to kick himself in the ass when he realized that he should have saved his Boon I perk for just this kind of occasion. He’d said as much to Tifala who had smiled and taken his head in her hands, once again gifting him with a magical spell.

  You have learned the spell Auriel’s Perk Share

  Sphere: Life Magic - Tier: Base.

  Allows the caster to transform one of their skill perks into a shareable perk. When cast all members of the Adventure Party will receive the benefits of the perk for the duration of the spell.

  Mana Cost: 40 x Number of Adventure Party Members x Tier of Perk. Casting Time: Instantaneous. Duration: 10 minutes +1 per level of Life Magic mastery.

  Cooldown: 2 hours

  Myrthendir had agreed to cede temporary control of the Fellowship to Gryph, but there had been some debate on who to include as Gryph was limited to five, including himself. The choice was made simpler after they learned that both Errat and Myrthendir had resistance to certain offensive magic.

  The Prince Regent possessed an amulet that gave him 25% resistance to all forms of offensive magic and all warborn had a 50% resistance to all forms of magic. The idea sent a chill of fear into Gryph’s spine as he considered what facing an army of warborn would be like. Death. A very quick death.

  The elf lord invited the warborn into an Adventure Party of two as Gryph extended his party invite to the others. Then he cast Auriel’s Perk.

  You have cast the Air Magic spell Auriel’s Perk Share

  As the leader of an Adventure Party, you can provide Auriel’s Perk to the those under your command for 40 mana per person.

  You have shared your perk Air Resistance 25% with Wick, Tifala, Ovyrm, and Xeg.

  Fellowship bonus had increased this percentage to 50% to all but Xeg.

  Total Mana Cost: 200

  Duration: 13 minutes (10+ 1 per level of Air Magic Mastery.)

  Do you wish to provide cast? YES?/NO?

  Gryph closed out his screens. The 50% resistance was amazing but Gryph had an additional bonus of 20% to all spheres of magic as long as he held his spear. Let’s hope it is enough.

  With the preparations in hand, Gryph nodded to Errat.

  26

  A flurry of motion erupted from the small service opening as a dozen arachnids exited in a mass of metallic legs and shimmering blue shields. Arcs of blue lightning exploded from the crystals. Ten of the spiders disappeared in spark laden explosions, their shields no match for the powerful bolts of electrical rage.

  “Now!” Gryph yelled and counted the passing seconds. Several dozen more arachnids emerged from hiding and formed a defensive wall in front of the metal cap that reminded Gryph of a manhole cover. Their blue shields flashed to life as Errat heaved upwards on the cover and climbed into the room. Before the others could follow another volley of lightning lashed out from above.

  “Shit,” Gryph grumbled. “Their cooldown is only three seconds.”

  The bolts shredded through another five of the spiders before Ovyrm climbed the ladder. Five more had their shields flash and fail before Wick emerged, but the automatons destruction had bought them another three seconds.

  Errat aimed his arbalest at the crystal that had just turned one of his eight-legged friends into a greasy spot and pulled the trigger. A twang announced the release, and the bolt thundered upwards trailing a thin length of rope behind it. The bolt punched into the blue crystal and Errat let the arbalest fall to his hip, held fast by a leather cord attached to his pants. He gripped the rope with both hands and his massive muscles strained. More cracks appeared along the crystal’s surface as he pulled.

  Ovyrm drew his bow and aimed upwards. A shimmer of purple distortion flowed around the tip of his arrow for a second before he released. The arrow flew true and hit the crystal with a thunderous boom. Thin cracks appeared in the crystal’s surface, but another surge of blue-white energy pulsed from deep inside. “It’s still active,” Ovyrm yelled.

  Wick held both hands out and sent a dual casting of his Chthonic Bolts screaming up at the same lightning crystal. The crimson energy punched into the crystal just as the lighting pulsed from it. The crystal exploded and its last bolt lost all cohesion, splaying electrical devastation in a wide arc along the wall
s. One stream even lashed across the protected area knocking one of the hooded figures from its feet.

  Myrthendir, Tifala, with Xeg perched on her shoulder, and Gryph all climbed free before the next volley of lightning came cascading down upon them. As soon as Tifala’s shoulders poked through the opening the imp ported away leaving a cloud of sulfurous stink to envelop Gryph’s face. He grimaced at the rotten egg stench but ignored it as his arms grew rigid with earth energy.