by Cebelius
She blinked, then shook her head and said, "I don't know. They left after they killed the Halfrekkr."
"The who?"
Focusing on him, she said, "Your greatest son."
Abram opened his mouth, then hesitated. He realized he'd been left with nothing to say. Nothing credible at any rate.
MY greatest son? Fuckin' seriously?
After a moment, he decided to brush it off. He'd never even seen this Halfrekkr, hadn't ever known about him, and he'd probably already killed some of his own kids.
Fuck it. Just a game. A TWISTED game.
"That's it? They showed up, waded through an ocean of hobgoblins, killed another hobgoblin, then just up and fucking left?"
"Well ... Halfrekkr did destroy the city of Torp a few years ago, and wiped out all of the towns and villages for miles around. He had plans to assault elfish lands next, but needed to recoup his forces before making a move. He was almost ready when the tiger man and his cadre invaded Svartheim. Maybe they were here for revenge?"
"Still doesn't make sense. A search and destroy like that would have involved making a clean sweep. They left monsters alive in here, including Mor. I don't think they took loot out with them either. What happened, exactly?"
Angie was still staring at him with an expression that made it clear she thought he was being too harsh, but he didn't care. This was something he needed to know. It would inform his objectives.
He met those blue-on-black eyes steadily, and after a moment she lowered them and her brow furrowed. She said, "They fought their way through Svartheim until they encountered the Halfrekkr. They did battle with him, and he almost defeated them, but was killed when he misused Tyrfing. The tiger man — his name was Yuri — took the sword and the Halfrekkr's armor, along with his head. They were too injured to continue though. The dragon proxy was dead, the wolf-thing too injured to be of use, and the minotress was unconscious from blood loss and exhaustion. They turned back."
"What about the gorgon?" Abram asked. "Did she ever say anything about me?"
"I wasn't watching them the whole time!" the bergsrå cried. "Please, I've told you what I know! They left, and if you don't help me the Mor will hunt me down!"
Abram rubbed at his face as he thought. Something she'd said clicked, and he glanced sharply back at her as he said, "Wait. What was the name of that sword again?"
"Tyrfing."
"The Tyrfing?" he asked, glancing at Angie, who was nodding at him. She said, "Tyrfing has been here for over a thousand years. It was placed here by Agasaya."
"Holy shit. I don't know who Agasaya is, but that's a legendary sword," Abram breathed, dropping his hood as he ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief. "It's right up there with Zulfiqar, Durandel ... Excalibur."
"It's a legendary cursed sword," Angie corrected. "It is the most dangerous blade on Celestine, to you in particular. The fact that it is gone is a great relief to me."
"Why to me specifically?" Abram asked, turning his full attention to her.
"It was made by the dwarves of old under the compulsion of a man, a human man. The sword can only be drawn by or near a template, and may not be sheathed until it has killed one such, or it will turn on its wielder. Nothing can stop it. It will cut through anything to reach Midgardian flesh."
"But ... why would they take Tyrfing then?" he asked. "If it can only be drawn in the presence of men ... it'd be useless without a man around."
"There is only one reason," Angie said. "To kill another man. A template. Someone like you."
Several things clicked into place as Abram considered this. One of the mainstays of a game like this was to show the player early on what they would be up against at the end. The storyline practically constructed itself. These adventurers were on a quest to kill someone like him. There were still some open questions, like why the gorgon had bothered to unshackle him, or who her master was, but inevitably they would return. And when they came back it would be with a weapon made to kill men.
Made to kill him.
"Heh. Heheheh," he chuckled, glancing up at the ceiling. "So that's the way it is."
Both Angie and the bergsrå were looking at him warily, but he didn't care.
Dark game indeed. I'm not supposed to be a hero. I'm supposed to be the villain. I'm the bad guy. I take over the dungeon, build up my power, create powerful monster offspring with Angrboda and others, and then these beastly adventurers are going to come after me. It's like this game was tailored around my strengths. I'm the evil overlord ... underlord ... well, more like underLING right now.
He smiled a grim smile.
But only right now. I can do this.
Turning his attention back to the bergsrå, he said, "You should come with us. We'll keep you safe from the Mor. When I'm done, she won't be a threat to anyone anymore."
"There's no way, with just the three of us, to get to her," she replied. "She still has over a hundred hobs, and at least that many goblins. They're all up there, waiting for you."
Abram frowned. The math wasn't exactly hard, and it didn't favor him. Even with Angie providing him with cover, he'd run out of mana long before he managed to kill all their opponents, and that was presuming they weren't just immediately killed themselves in a hail of crossbow bolts.
"I'm open to suggestions," he said at length.
"We should go to the dwarves," the bergsrå said. "I did not want to surrender my home, but better their rule than the Mor's. At least the dwarves will probably let me stay, if only as an artisan."
Abram lifted an eyebrow as he looked at Angie. Her lips pursed and she said, "They'll want the treasures of Svartheim in return, not to mention control of this place."
"Are there any other ways to get this done?" Abram asked, glancing back to ...
"Hey, what's your name anyway?"
"Sif."
"Sif, when you say you have the ability to shape the mountain, what does that actually mean?" he asked.
"I can mold the stone of the mountain into whatever shape I desire," she said.
"Can't we just use that ability to seal the hobs on that floor and let them starve to death?" Abram asked.
She shook her head and said, "I have to be in contact with the stone I'm shaping. I can seal them in, but they'll be able to tunnel free and I won't be able to stop them forever. The floor they're on has enough food to last a year even if they couldn't escape. They had me build this place to withstand a siege. All their stores are housed in metal, which is impervious to my ability."
"Of course it is. Why would they leave me an easy way out," Abram muttered sourly. "Okay, so where are these dwarves, and how many of them are there?"
Angie answered him.
"They're a week's travel through Sub-Cel. The outpost is small, relatively speaking. Somewhere between five hundred and a thousand dwarves live there. They maintain a section of the dwarven roads that pass through this part of the world.
"Isolated?"
"More like remote. The Kaldebrekka mountain range has mineral deposits, but most of them are exposed by the Scar and under the control of ... well, were under the control of Torp. Now that the city is dead, I suppose those resources are contestable. In any case, the dwarves were defeated when they tried to lay claim to this range centuries ago, and the outpost is little more than an engineering center, built to allow them to maintain their roads under the sufferance of Torp's rulers."
"Would they even have the manpower necessary to help us?" Abram asked.
"They'll have at least two hundred warriors on hand for patrols and defense," Angie said. "It should be more than enough to force and win a confrontation with the hobs."
Sif immediately jumped in and said, "While I can't keep them from escaping, I can seal them in long enough to ensure they don't escape before we can get there and back. The round trip should take no more than two weeks."
Abram nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "So I suppose we have to go all the way back out of Svartheim and down to Angie's lai
r to proceed?"
"Oh no. I know of a secret passage that will get us to the Great Stair, which will take us directly down into Subterranean Celestine. It connects to the Solarium as well, which is where the hobs keep their treasures, but there is a spiderweb of metal around that room that keeps me from tunneling in on my own. They forced my ... predecessor, to help them set the web in place."
"Well, I suppose we'll have to go ask for help then," Abram said thoughtfully. "I've no intention of giving up control of Svartheim though. When this is all said and done, I'm going to be the top dog here."
"Free us from the Mor, and I'll serve you willingly," the pale-skinned woman promised.
Nodding, Abram said, "Good enough for now. Let's go. Show us this 'Great Stair.'"
9
The Great Stair
As Abram followed along behind Angie and the new addition to their party, he was forced to concede that having a bergsrå definitely had its uses. At least, this bergsrå.
She could seal doorways by rimming them with stone. She had intimate knowledge of all the passageways and secrets of Svartheim. Even more useful than that, she had an innate ability to shift her perception to anywhere within her mountain. She could essentially spy for them.
Just because she could listen in didn't mean her subjects were saying anything interesting, and it was very quickly apparent that having her sit there and listen to the hobs grumble about nothing much wasn't the best use of her time, or theirs. She couldn't pay attention in both places at once, and after spot checking the Mor and confirming their ambush preparations were still in place, Abram followed her as she went about sealing the hobs and their goblin kin into their chosen redoubt.
Another benefit to having Sif in their group was that as long as she was focused, it was virtually impossible for them to be surprised. A quick moment was enough for her to confirm that — aside from one small group of goblins that appeared to be in the middle of a squabble of some kind on the floor below theirs — the Mor had concentrated all her remaining forces in the rooms that guarded the hobgoblin breeding chambers.
"How many goblins are on the lower floor?" Abram asked.
Sif's eyes lifted as she focused elsewhere, then lowered to him again as she said, "Six. Two of them seem to have had enough of the Mor, and the other four are chasing those two around."
"How do you know why they're fighting?" Angie asked.
"I know the two being chased. One of them is the female that Mor beat for the right to ... well, take him," Sif said, her eyes flicking to Abram. "She used to lead the goblins. Not nice by any stretch of the imagination. As far as I'm concerned, goblins killing each other isn't going to cost me any sleep no matter what the reason."
Abram nodded, but his thoughts were racing. A timed event? An opportunity somehow? It seemed too much of a coincidence to pass up either way.
Worst comes to worst, I kill a few goblins, something I'm always up for.
"Let's go see if we can save those two," he said as he glanced at the display of his map in the upper right of his vision. "The stairway down to the level they're on is behind us."
"You realize they aren't any more your allies than the Mor, right?" Sif called after him as he strode away down the hallway in the opposite direction.
"Not at the moment," he said. "But a former lead contender might be a decent replacement for the Mor."
Angie caught and passed him in the next moment, and while she didn't gainsay his decision, she did murmur, "Remember what I said about gratitude and goblins, Abram."
He shrugged. "Yeah yeah. If the opportunity doesn't bear out, we'll just kill them all. Four less for the Mor and maybe six less for the world at large. Win-win no matter how we slice it."
Sif turned and trailed after them after a long moment's hesitation, as Abram had known she would. She had no one else to protect her and nowhere else to go. Whether she liked it or not she was stuck with him, and knew it.
As they descended the stair she said, "They're heading toward us. If we wait at the intersection ahead of us we'll intercept them in about ... a minute?"
"Cross-corridor or main?" Abram asked as he moved rapidly down the hall.
"They're coming down the main corridor," Sif answered.
"We'll set up in the cross-corridor then. Wait for the two being chased to pass and I'll drop a rune, then we'll see what's going on before we decide what to do. Sif, can you raise a wall that will keep the two we want from just escaping past us?"
"I can do that."
He glanced back to see her press a hand to the wall next to her, and a sheet of wafer-thin stone began to slide out of the rock. He watched, almost mesmerized, as it flowed across the corridor. It wasn't exceptionally fast, but did move at about a foot every five seconds, though it was very thin.
As long as it LOOKS like a solid wall, it'll do the job, he thought as he turned away again and took up his position with Angie across from him as they flanked the four-way intersection. They could hear the goblins coming now, along with the screams and cries of pursuers making threats and vile promises.
He wanted to look, but it sounded like the goblins were already too close. They'd see him if he peeked the corner and he needed the element of surprise if he wanted to catch the two he was after rather than simply killing them.
Seconds later, two goblins rushed past, and Abram spread a hand toward the ceiling of the corridor they'd just come through as he said, "Tentacular rune."
Angie glanced up at the rune, then shuddered and leaned away from that side of the hall. Abram pulled down his cowl and stepped out into plain sight. He glanced toward the goblins only about thirty feet down the hall and smiled at them, then turned and walked after the two fleeing goblins as though he had not a care in the world.
He knew the pursuit didn't have ranged weapons, or they'd have been used to bring down their quarry. He could hear their surprised shouts turn into cries of, "The template! Get him!"
The screams erupted seconds later, but were short-lived and Abram didn't bother looking back. His focus was on the two goblins now brought to bay by the unexpected wall.
He looked them over curiously. He was interested to note that the obvious female was also the larger of the two, by what he estimated to be about six inches. The female was also the only one of the two wearing anything that could even remotely be considered serviceable clothing, consisting of a dirty tabard belted at the waist by a length of frayed rope. The male was entirely naked, and both were bleeding. The male looked like he'd come out on the wrong side of a brawl, while the female had several cuts along her arms and a gash above her left eye that was either from running into a wall or a thrown rock — Abram couldn't decide which was more likely. Her nose was long, standing at least a full two inches out from her face, and her ears were somewhere between six and eight inches long, drooping toward their tips. There were several ragged tears in both ears, though they looked old, as though earrings or studs had been ripped out. She did have a ring of some sort piercing her left nostril, but Abram had no idea of the quality of the metal. Her eyes were large and their irises were either glowing silver or reflecting whatever it was that let Abram see in the pitch-black.
"Which one of you is in charge?" Abram asked.
"I am," the female said, making an effort to stand up straight, though she winced as she did so.
Abram nodded and sent his drain lightning coursing into the male. He died with a choking cry and as his corpse lay twitching on the ground next to her, Abram flicked an idle finger from the goblin to himself and back again as he asked, "And which one of us is in charge?"
His impression of goblin intelligence went up just a little when she immediately said, "You are."
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Mix."
He quirked a brow and glanced back at Sif, who nodded confirmation. Neither she nor Angie were looking on the little female with any favor or sympathy and Abram glanced back at her.
"I've been told you fought for
the right to breed with me, and lost."
"She cheats!" the goblin cried.
"There were rules?"
Her mouth was already open to speak, but she hesitated, then shut it and shrugged. Sif chuckled darkly.
"What you want?" Mix asked, her eyes flickering between the three towering figures before her. Abram estimated if she stood up straight, she'd cap out at around four feet. Most of the goblins he'd seen had been male, and most of them hadn't been taller than three-and-a-half feet, but since this was only the second female he'd seen he had no basis to compare her to. His memories of the Mor as a goblin were fleeting and fractured.
"Mostly to kill goblins, but I may make an exception for you, if you're useful," Abram said. "Are you useful?"
She surprised him again when, after a moment's thought, she lowered her head and said, "No."
He glanced at Sif in time to see her eyebrows go up at the answer, and his impression seemed confirmed by the bergsrå's interest.
"Why are you not useful?" Abram asked, though he lifted his hand, fingers toward her in a gesture she had to know, given he'd just killed her companion. All he had to do was drop the middle pair, and she would be a twitching corpse.
"Mor lives. Gobs not follow Mix anymore. Follow Mor," she said, sounding surly rather than afraid. "I only good for breeding."
Sif said, "If you are good for breeding, why not offer that?"
Abram did a slow turn, looking at Sif with an incredulous expression on his face, but Mix said immediately, "He not want. Hates gobs for how we use him."
"What is going on?" Angie asked.
"Haven't you been listening?" Abram asked.
"Of course, but the only one I can understand is you," she replied. "Sif and the goblin are speaking whatever garbage it is they speak."
Oh really?
Abram tilted his head as he thought about that, then put it on the mental back burner as he glanced at Sif and said, "She's smart and observant."
"Much as I hate to admit it, goblins aren't necessarily stupid, just uneducated and short-lived," Sif said. "They don't read. As far as I know they don't even have their own written language, and tribes typically aren't around long enough to develop culture or a history. They're very much creatures that live in the present. Even their language only has one tense."
