Goddess Complete

by Michael Anderle

  “We need more magic,” Holly said to her sister, a truth that was difficult to remedy. All available mages were doing what they could, but some of the NPCs from the Mages’ School had nothing left. There was little left in their tanks, and they didn’t have the advantages of leveling like the others had.

  Even with the increased strength from the now-higher-level mages, they just barely held on.

  And their concentration slipped when they heard the dragon screech behind them.

  It came like a thunderclap, appearing as a darkened shadow above them all. Its great wings spread endlessly as it soared above them, breathing green flames toward the Sherikans.

  “Oh, no.” Molly sighed.

  They could all see the little figures atop the dragon, a tiny dark imp and a girl of darkness. Their smiles were broad, their purpose clear on their faces as the dragon wheeled, swooped back down, and took out a swath of warriors with its scaly claws.

  The rift began to close.

  “Focus!” Molly shouted, speaking to herself too at that moment. It might have been the hardest thing they’d done, to concentrate on holding the door open while the dragon dominated the battlefield behind them.

  Rangers shot their arrows. Several mages disobeyed commands and shot their magic into the air. There were a few hits, but nothing deadly enough to deal with the problem.

  Then came the cowladites.

  The arrival of the dragon had frozen them but they woke at the sound of Tag’kir’s voice.

  “Cowladites! Group up!”

  Of course, to those on the ground, it was nothing more than shrill caws, but the cowladites took to the sky, bunching up above the battlefield.

  They dodged out of the path of the dragon, waiting for the right moment. When they had all gathered, following Tag’kir’s instructions, they let loose, streaming in the dragon’s wake like a flock of hawks chasing a sparrow.

  Only this sparrow was a dragon.

  The dragon was fast, but thanks to their smaller stature, the cowladites were faster. They flew in the dragon’s slipstream, their caws mingled with its roars. Several cowladites caught up with the dragon’s wings and sank their claws into the leathery skin.

  Fukmos looked behind and gave a smug grin, then nodded to Myaris. Her eyes turned white as a black fog crept from her body and trailed along the dragon’s wings.

  The cowladites nearest the dragon felt the change take effect almost instantly. Their eyes darkened and they hovered in the air, blinking stupidly as the infection took hold. Within moments, they turned on their own kind and were locked in battle, only a few cowladites still able to follow the dragon.

  Tag’kir cursed in his native tongue. He cast his eyes over the battlefield, wondering what could be done. The infected cowladites were ruthless, hunting the others with unquenchable malice.

  On the ground, he could see the Sherikans working the field still, holding back the largest portion of the tide from the mages at the rift, but with the dragon now on the scene, what hope did they have? Unless they found a way to bring down the main two, they were done for.

  The city was doomed.

  Veronica felt the darkness as a physical force in her chest.

  She was thrown backward, away from the mausoleum door. The shadows coalesced a few feet from her, and floating several inches off the ground was Dryana.

  Her hair was dark over her face, her skin an ethereal blue. She stared at the assembled group blankly.

  “You’ve come to play with me?”

  Veronica got to her feet. “No. We’ve come to kill you.”

  Dryana cocked her head. “You cannot kill the dead. We are already not of this world. The most you can do is bow down and join me graciously.”

  “Never,” Heather shouted emotionally. “There’s always a way to win. With the power of the clerics, we have the gods on our side.” Her hand involuntarily gripped at the vial hanging around her neck.

  “Where are your gods now?” Dryana asked. Her voice was echo-y and hollow. Not of this world. “I have my people on my side. Where are yours?”

  She floated to the ground, bent, and touched her hands to the earth. The whole time she stared at Veronica unblinkingly.

  Blue flashes appeared around the cemetery. Ethereal figures floated from the ground, the dead joining them in their dozens.

  “Your guys don’t look so well,” Dana said, stepping forward and hurling a knife at the nearest ghost.

  The blade spun through the air, slipping straight through the ghost, and landed on the grass beyond.

  Dana’s face dropped. “Damn. Thought that might work.”

  Ewan arched an eyebrow. “You did?”

  She shrugged.

  Dryana gave the faintest trace of a smile. “Okay, my pets. Let’s see how well you do against the living.”

  She reached toward them, and the ghosts obeyed. They went for the clerics, faces bending into hideous masks as they approached. Veronica drew her staff, unsure of what else to do. Heather poured a drop of god’s tears onto her thumb and licked it off, her mind instantly connecting with the memory of her and Gideon’s first meeting.

  Blue blurs swamped their vision. Veronica swung her staff in the ghosts’ direction and met no resistance. She felt something wash over her that reminded her of a cold shower, but when it faded, there was no liquid residue.

  No pain.

  No damage.

  “Huh?” Veronica turned around and saw the ghosts on the other side of the group. They were looking at their own hands questioningly as if wondering what the hell was going on.

  “They didn’t do any damage?”

  Ewan shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing,” Dana confirmed.

  “Well, what do you know?” A small grin crept onto Veronica’s face. “It seems you can’t actually hurt us, kid. Your ghosts can’t affect us, in the same way we can’t affect them.”

  “No,” Dryana said dryly. “But I can.”

  She screeched, a shrill sound that cut through the night air and hurt their ears, then she darted toward them, feet floating behind.

  Veronica’s eyes widened. She was caught off-guard. Dryana was on her, reaching out to grasp her, and—

  There was a blinding flash of light. Veronica looked down and saw the blade in Heather’s hand. Her whole body glowed in a faint display of power, eyes white and lost to something Veronica couldn’t see.

  “Wha…”

  Dryana let out a small, choked yelp. A trail of ethereal blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth.

  Heather’s voice echoed as if she were possessed. “May the power of Holistis guide the hand. May the power of Holistis…”

  Dryana’s eyes closed. The ghosts around them faded.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  They could see the rift shimmering in the distance, a hairline tear on the horizon of the otherwise bland and nondescript canyon they raced through.

  Gan’gor’s ears were pinned to his head. He had been a great guide, leading them back through the labyrinth of red rock, but they were pressed for time now.

  “Almost there,” Chloe breathed, trying to spur the others along as best she could. As much as she wanted to run at maximum speed, they were only as fast as their slowest runner.

  Even though Tag was giving it everything he had, there was much to be desired.

  They passed down slopes, sped along rocky cliffs, and darted through the rock underpasses. Occasionally the ground would shift, knocking them off-balance. A couple of times they had to grab a fellow party member to stop them from falling several hundred feet into the canyon below.

  “Do you know how many times you’ve said that?” Ben wheezed. “I’m starting to think…we’ll never…finish…”

  Chloe wasn’t listening. They were on the home stretch. Her heart sank as she saw the speed with which the rift was closing and the narrow space they’d need to pass through. She knew the odds weren’t in their favor, that the rift would close and lock them into
the Nether Realm. Where would she find another two hundred mages to open the door?

  She lowered her head, shouted encouragement to the others, and gunned it on the final stretch.

  Demetri’s eyes flickered from his mobile feed of Chloe and the KieraSlayers to Mia’s screen.

  Lines of code scrolled erratically past. Her eyes were pinned to the screen, trying to understand them. Plugged into the computer was Damien’s memory stick, retrieved after a nightmare few weeks of searching and scrambling for the code.

  “The code’s going nuts,” Mia mumbled. “The gods are enraged, working to full capacity in the system. I think it might be too late to do anything about this.”

  “Chloe’s almost there,” Demetri answered, not hearing Mia’s words. He rested his chin on his hand. “Man, I hope she makes it.”

  Mia opened another window and dragged it next to the window containing the code. She fiddled with the keys and input some lines of her own, finding a way to reverse the damage Damien had done and right what was there.

  They had discussed it at length each night as they searched, wondering if this would truly be the way to fix the game—to send the gods back to the stars and keep them out of the affairs of the mortals and give the world a break before the darkness could spread and potentially destroy the legacy of Obsidian and Praxis Ltd forever.

  Everything was a gamble. Everything was a risk. Mia went over the calculations in her head again and again in the hours-long discussions with her team as they worked toward a solution.

  Would this be it? Was it all over?

  Mia hovered her mouse over the Execute button and took a deep breath.

  Holly was about to give up hope, one ear cocked and tuned to the sounds of the dragon, when she saw something materialize through the rift.

  The shadow of a person. It melted through the portal and appeared on their side, a white knight clad in sleek, pristine armor.

  Several fighters around the rift pointed their weapons at her.

  “Who goes there!”

  “The person who’s about to save all your—” beep!

  Holly laughed. Although she had never seen Chloe in that armor, she’d know that snark anywhere. A moment later, after three more figures appeared, Holly and Molly cut off their magic and ran over to Chloe, wrapping her in their arms.

  The other mages pulled their power and directed it instead at the orcs and infected.

  Behind them, a pulse of power shot from the rift. Without the magic to hold it open, the tear closed behind them. It clapped shut, shimmering for a few seconds before collapsing and disappearing entirely. Where it had been was now nothing more than a scorch mark on the ground.

  Fighters from both sides of the battle were thrown to the ground from the force of it.

  “Oof! That’s one way to make an entrance,” Tag commented.

  Ben chuckled beside him. “Make your jokes while you can. This is about to get a whole lot tougher.”

  “You’re telling me,” Chloe said, arching her neck to look at the dragon hovering in the air above them.

  Each wingbeat was like thunder. The air rippled beneath them. Fukmos’ face was blank, impossible to read.

  “Where is KieraFreya?” His words were commanding. Loud, with a hint of something Chloe couldn’t quite pick up…

  Fear?

  “Back where she belongs,” Chloe said, rising to her feet. “The quest is complete. It’s over, Fukmos.”

  Fukmos contemplated this. “And yet she saw no need to join you in the final throes of battle?” He cackled. “Dear, poor girl. She always was a hard one to judge. Easy to manipulate, though. You really think she cares about the rest of you? That she will step in and save the day? She cares only for her own selfish desires, which was what made her so much fun to toy with. A few slick words in her ears, and she genuinely believed I would be offering the world to her on a plate.”

  “What did you do? What did you promise?” Chloe shouted, tired of his games.

  “What everyone with an ego and the power to dominate wants…ultimate power. The seat her mummy and daddy sat on, all to herself.”

  Chloe’s anger boiled inside her. All this destruction, all this pain and darkness, because an imp wanted to dethrone the highest of the gods using their daughter as his weapon.

  Without thought, she allowed her hands to pulse with power. She summoned Deic Light and shot it in Fukmos’ direction.

  But he was prepared. The dragon ascended and flew in a wide circle, avoiding the beam of light until Chloe felt her mana drain.

  “Sweet girl,” Fukmos crowed. “You really thought you had a shot, didn’t you? Well, let’s see how you feel as we kick this into higher gear!”

  His voice went up toward the end. At his command, Myaris’ eyes glowed. The orcs and infected drove back into battle, attacking everyone and everything nearby. The sounds of the battle magnified as the war waged from wall to wall in the city and out into the fields.

  Color exploded behind her. The mages were on the attack again. Arrows rained through the sky. Swords and hammers hit shields. Wargs growled and sprinted around the field. Somewhere in the distance, Chloe was sure she could see a giant, snarling brown bear, the Wrangler appearing for a final battle at the world’s end.

  “No,” she said under her breath.

  She flicked up her menu and found the steed she was looking for. A few seconds later, Sir Wingsalot appeared and scooped her onto his back, and they took to the air.

  Wind rushed past her face. The dragon was huge, its wings spreading beyond her vision. Fukmos looked back and saw Chloe giving chase. Myaris’ eyes turned white and the infected cowladites obeyed her command, switching direction and heading straight for Chloe.

  Sir Wingsalot ducked and wove, narrowly avoiding attacks from their powerful limbs. He rose straight into the air in an effort to move beyond their grasp and soared just under the clouds.

  Chloe’s heart fell. The battlefield was a mess. With the rift now closed, the enemy forces were focused solely on destruction. She could see the Sherikans churning up the field, but even their numbers were reducing rapidly as wargs played whack-a-mole and dragged them from their hiding places.

  A cowladite tore past Chloe, almost knocking her off the terror-daxil. With gritted teeth, she twisted Sir Wingsalot into a dive, corkscrewing at a rapid pace toward the ground. They found Fukmos and his dragon and chased them.

  They closed the gap within seconds, the drop taking him by surprise. Chloe leaped off Sir Wingsalot and landed in just in front of Fukmos, facing his way.

  “We need to stop meeting like this.” She grinned.

  “Agreed,” he growled, banking the dragon sharply to the left. “Myaris.”

  Chloe held on with both hands, clutching the spines on the dragon’s neck. Myaris leaned forward, eyes glowing white. Shadows snaked from her fingertips along the body of the beast toward Chloe.

  Chloe felt a surge of panic and quickly channeled what little mana she had remaining into her hands. The palms glowed white as she concentrated Deic Light on the shadows, hoping it would have some effect.

  It did not.

  The shadows worked around the light and found Chloe’s armor. The dragon bucked, clearly pained by the light that had burned its flesh. Chloe closed her eyes, preparing for the infection to take hold, preparing to lose herself in its evil power.

  She waited a moment longer, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes and scanned her menu, looking for any updates. The shadows seemed to have just…dissipated.

  There was no information on her stats, no boon granted. When she looked at her items, however, she saw a small nugget of information she had missed when donning her new armor.

  Resistant to poisons and disease. This armor will cleanse the wearer of any ailments that might attempt to take them while journeying through…

  Bingo…Chloe smirked. Okay, KF. It’s time to end this.

  Chloe’s smile faded when she remembered she was finally alone. There
wasn’t going to be a sarcastic response to her internal thoughts.

  “What’s the matter? No bodyguard to give you strength?” Fukmos cackled. Behind him, Myaris stared at her hands in disbelief.

  Chloe drew her sword. If she stretched with her swing, she’d cut Fukmos across the stomach. If she aimed higher, she would get his neck. Would that be enough to bring him down? Could gods be brought down by physical violence?

  Only one way to find out…

  Chloe drew her sword back and stared directly into Fukmos’ eyes as she swung in his direction, hopping forward slightly to close the gap. The sword sang as it sliced through the air. Fukmos’ face dropped as he brought up a hand to block the blow. The blade cut through his arm and knocked him off-balance.

  “Stupid girl!” Fukmos cried as he began to topple sideways. Myaris did nothing but giggle as he began to slip. She clapped her hands.

  “Ooo, fun, fun!”

  But Fukmos wasn’t done. As he slipped, he grabbed Chloe’s leg and yanked her off-balance too. The weight of the imp, combined with the sudden swooping turn of the dragon, sent them both tumbling toward the ground.

  He clawed his way to her, tugging her toward him with his one good arm. His teeth were like needles, hatred on his face. “After all that you’ve put me through, you think I’m going to let you win, girl? You haven’t even seen what I’m capable of yet.”

  Fukmos released Chloe’s leg and snapped his fingers. The grin was broad on his face as they fell the final distance and landed on the Sherikan-tilled ground in a cloud of dust.

  Chloe coughed and held her ribs, the wind knocked out of her. Her strength bar flashed a warning, dangerously close to zero thanks to the tumble.

  She sat up, the sensation strangely reminiscent of her initial fall through the cave where she had found KieraFreya’s first piece of armor. Only this time, there were no gods around to save her.

  She noticed then that all had fallen quiet around her, only Fukmos’ sharp cackling breaking the silence as he emerged before her through the dust cloud.