“Torroth! Torroth! Torroth! Torroth! Torroth! Torroth! Torroth! TORROTH!!!” he said, as fast as he could pick out a target. He watched as each ball of white hot flame flew towards a beast man and burned through its face or chest, killing them instantly. More than once, he stopped the creatures from killing one of the guild members and drastically improved the odds for his melee orientated friends. Still, for every dozen beast men killed, Tartum saw the broken or dying form of a guild member.
There was a momentary lull in the fighting, as the beast men regrouped; Tartum took the opportunity to search the battlefield for more of his friends. He saw Vaund and Buddy making their way towards some of the guild members that were seriously hurt but still moving. Buddy lead the way as Vaund followed him. When Buddy found a beast man that was still alive, he would pounce on it, without hesitation, and tear its throat out or claw at its face until he was satisfied it was dead. With Buddy to protect him, Vaund made it to the wounded members unmolested and Tartum saw him heal them. He was relieved by the sight and reached for more rose petals.
By the time the last beast man had fallen, he was down to just two rose petals. Scanning the area, Tartum surveyed the aftermath. There were hundreds of broken and bleeding bodies littering the fields and inside the gap where the main fighting had occurred. Vaund was still healing injured guild members but Tartum counted at least four bodies that were too far gone to be healed, even magically. Looking away from the bodies Tartum’s gaze fell upon the two towers that Calimsha had set on fire with her fireballs. One of them had already collapsed and was now a smoldering ruin on the ground. The other was still ablaze, it reminded him of a giant torch and something about it comforted him. Looking over to where the towers had been that he destroyed, he saw the wall they had been built near engulfed in bright green flames. Tartum knew if he didn’t put them out soon, the whole keep would soon be on fire and that would put his allies in danger. With a small amount of regret, Tartum gave the command and the flames winked out of existence. Even Calimsha’s fires were extinguished by his command and the tower that moments before was burning out of control now stood as a charred wreck that oddly suited his mood. His job done, he began to walk towards the gap in the wall to rejoin the main force inside the keep. He was halfway there when Rashlarr caught up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him in his tracks.
“Calimsha says to not lower your guard, the fight is won but the battle isn’t over. Lord Zahut is still inside the tower and only we can take him out.” Tartum was relieved to see Rashlarr was in control once again, he had forgotten that he was even there after the initial fireballs went off. Nodding to Rashlarr, Tartum made his way into the town with a bit more caution. A thought occurred to him after his friend’s warning. Reaching down into one of his pouches, Tartum scraped up some candle wax and placed in on his molar. Once he was satisfied it wasn’t going to slip down his throat, he continued on his way to reach the others.
When Tartum made it inside, he saw the town was in ruins. Most of the buildings had been burned to the ground or dismantled to be used for raw materials. The roads were scorched, and the few dozen survivors had huddled together near the gate and looked defeated. Tartum had never understood what it meant to be a lost soul, but after seeing the look on these people’s faces, he thought he had a pretty good idea. Tartum counted forty people in the group, he would be surprised if half of them survived the trip back to Saroth, and his heart sank at the thought.
As Tartum looked at the group of survivors, he noticed thaT none of them were men, and none of the boys were over the age of ten. Tartum walked over and asked them where their men were being held. None of them answered him at first, but after he asked again in a much harsher tone, one of the little girls pointed at the twisted tower in the middle of town. Tartum had been afraid they were going to tell him that. Something deep inside him had told him that already, and that same little voice was now telling him something he wasn’t ready to admit. Leaving the survivors, Tartum found Savall.
…
“Glad to see you made it, son. I owe you a hell of a debt for saving me with your little orbs. That was some fine shooting!” Savall was covered in blood and gore and breathing very hard. Tartum was worried he had been injured and was dying. Looking up, he saw Vaund heading towards them, and Tartum felt a wave of anxiety hit him. If Savall fell, who would lead the guild? He knew Soveliss was supposedly the next in line, but Tartum liked Savall a lot and didn’t want to take orders from a stranger that had done nothing for him. Tartum’s anxiety was dispelled the minute Vaund reached them and tried to heal Savall. He stopped Vaund in his tracks and waved him away.
“This isn’t my blood, son.” He said to Vaund with a wink and a smile. “I’m just getting too old for this fighting shit. Give me a moment to rest and some water to rinse off with, and I’ll be fine.” He said. Tartum looked him over and realized he wasn’t just boasting. He didn’t have a scratch on him. Looking over at the others, he saw not all had fared as well as his Boss.
Soveliss was bleeding from dozens of small cuts and had bruises all over his face. His armor was pierced and dented in numerous spots. Tartum wondered how he was going to get out of his armor after the battle was over as disfigured as it was. Ecker was holding a bloody shirt to a wound on his head. He seemed to have staunched the bleeding but only just. The shirt he held to his head was slowly dripping blood down his arm. If it bothered him at all he gave no sign. He was cheerfully telling anyone who would listen about how many beast men he drove into the ground like nails with his mace. Tartum overheard him tell a few of the women that he had even saved the lives of Soveliss and Savall.
Elizabeth found him as he watched Ecker brag and they shared an embrace. She wasn’t injured and Tartum was glad for it. He didn’t even want to think what he would do if she had been hurt, or worse, by these twisted creatures. He saw that Rashlarr and Jeth were uninjured as well, although Jeth claimed he and Nebin killed the enemy commander and that they were heroes. Tartum debated using his last two rose petals on them but decided against it for the moment. They weren’t worth the spell components. When some of the wounded men told him to shut up, or they’d shut him up, Tartum couldn’t help but to laugh. He watched with grim satisfaction as Jeth and Nebin hermited themselves up in the shell of a building. He hoped they never came out.
While he was watching them sulk, a woman’s cry for help caught his attention. Looking towards the gap in the wall, he saw Liddia. She was carrying Eida in her arms and there was a lot of blood. Liddia had been shot in the chest, and the shaft of the bolt still stuck out of her left breast. She was also bleeding profusely from her right leg where it looked like she had been stabbed multiple times. She began to wobble as her eyes rolled back into her head. Elizabeth screamed and raced to her side. Tartum and a few of the others ran to assist her but none of them made it in time to catch her. She fell, face first, into the rubble and was motionless, Eida fell from her arms and bounced before halting amidst some debris from the shattered wall.
“VAUND!” Tartum cried and saw his words weren’t required as Buddy and Vaund went running past him and knelt beside Liddia’s inert form. He checked her pulse and yanked the bolt out of her chest. Placing his hands above her breasts, he began casting his spell. Tartum watched as the wounds on her leg stopped bleeding and began to heal until only a slight scar marked the spot. He watched as the color returned to her face and her breathing became even. Vaund looked her over once more then had Elizabeth and a few of the uninjured men bring her over to where the survivors were so she could rest. After they took Liddia away Vaund switched his attention to Eida, as he moved her head so he could better assess her wounds Tartum saw him start and close his eyes. Running his hand down her face he stood and moved to help others.
Tartum was confused by his friend’s behavior and rushed over to Eida’s side. He saw why Vaund hadn’t attempted to heal her. Most of her face was gone; it looked like something had hit her in the back of the head and p
assed through her face taking much of the meat with it. He also counted eight crossbow bolts sticking out of her chest and neck. Tartum recalled seeing a corpse that looked like her below the wall, just before Elizabeth and the kids she was trying to save came under fire from a group of beast men. Tartum assumed she must have been trying to climb the wall when the beast men saw her and unloaded their weapons into her. The hole where her face used to be seemed big for a crossbow bolt, but he had no time to think such disturbing thoughts. Respectfully, he folded her arms over her chest and left to find Rashlarr. It was time to finish this ugliness; Tartum didn’t feel his job was over yet.
Rashlarr was talking with the remaining cell leaders as Tartum walked up to them. “…and he’ll be inside waiting for us.” He caught the end of whatever it was Rashlarr was telling them.
They looked up at Tartum as he joined them and nodded. Ecker, who had been healed by Vaund and was now completely healthy, gave Tartum a massive bear hug that crushed the wind out of him. Putting him down, he smiled warmly, “That was some tremendous spell casting, Jade Mage! Most outstanding! When you blew up that wall and gave us a way in, you saved the bacon of me and most of my boys; and from what Savall tells me, that was your shooting that saved me in that final push! By the Gods, Jade Mage, I swear as long as I’m around you will drink for free! Huzzah!” Ecker told him. He gave Tartum another massive hug and left him leaning on his staff gasping for breath.
“Fine lad you have here, Savall! Let me know if he ever tires of the first cell! Me and my boys could use a caster like that!” Ecker said, good-naturedly, but the undertone in his voice let Tartum know he meant it. Tartum thought it was as good of a compliment as any. Just as long he didn’t hug him again, he didn’t think he could survive another one. The man was as strong as an ox!
Savall was smiling; his armor had done its job well and with the exception of being caked in gore, Savall was in perfect health. “Yes, yes. That’s enough now, settle. We’ve done well so far, but we’re not finished, and unfortunately that kritchet piece of shit has holed up inside his tower.” Savall told them, as he nodded towards the modified town hall building. The smoke was still billowing out of it, but Tartum couldn’t hear any more screaming coming from inside. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“Lord Zahut is a powerful caster; so we can’t just rush in, or his spells will rip us to shreds. Yet, we can’t wait for him to come out because he might be able to escape. The mission will be considered a failure if we don’t bring back proof he’s dead.” Savall took an ominous tone as he looked at Tartum. “Rashlarr has advised us to send in only other casters to deal with him, and we agree. Tartum, you Rashlarr, and two others if they still live, are going into the tower to finish the mission. Do you understand, son? You’re going into the liger’s den to kill the alpha male inside.” Savall said, the seriousness in his voice sent ice down Tartum’s spine. He nodded his understanding not trusting himself to speak.
“We will stay out here and use our remaining members to evacuate the survivors and try to ensure Zahut doesn’t escape. Do not be mistaken, once you enter his tower you’ll be completely on your own, none of us will go in to rescue you. This is the most dangerous mission I’ve given you, son, but I wouldn’t be sending you if I didn’t think you could pull it off. Go make your preparations, and meet up with Rashlarr when you’re ready.” Savall finished his explanation and then left to handle the details of the evacuation.
Tartum looked around at the carnage before him. He looked at the hundreds of dead beast men, the handful of dead allies, the comradery that came from one man saving another’s life; as awful as the beginning of the day had been, Tartum began to feel better about the situation. He couldn’t do anything about the evil that had already been done before he got here, but by the Gods he could punish the son of a bitch responsible for it. Taking one more look at the defeated faces on the survivors, Tartum tightened his grip on his staff and walked over to where Rashlarr was waiting with two young boys in bloodstained robes.
One of the boys was missing his right ear and had a bandage wrapped around his head that had staunched the bleeding. He looked terrified, and Tartum wondered what kept him from running away. The other boy looked very pale but seemed to be trying his best to remain brave. He gave Tartum a defiant look when he caught him looking his way, and Tartum smiled. He guessed the boys were no older than fifteen years old and wondered if he would have been any braver at their age. Rashlarr glanced at him.
“Are you prepared, Jade Mage?” he asked.
“As much as I’m going to be. Come on, Rashlarr, let’s finished what we started.”hHe replied, as he began walking towards the tower.
…
As Tartum walked inside the tower, he was hit by an odor so repugnant he thought someone had punched him in the face. The inside of the building reeked of death and decaying meat. The smell threatened to overwhelm him but Tartum forced himself to focus on why he was here. He had no time for weakness or the luxury of being disgusted. He hardened his emotions and opened himself to the magic so that he was ready for anything.
The tower was dark; the only light came from the little rays of sunlight that seeped through the cracks in the walls and ceiling. The humidity inside the building was intense and made breathing difficult. It felt like someone was holding a wet sock over his nose and mouth. The floors and walls were covered in a soft, fleshy, mass that oozed and dripped a slimy substance. It made Tartum feel like he was inside the stomach of a large beast about to be digested. The environment was doing nothing to calm his nerves, and the boy missing an ear had tears pouring down his face. Tartum had enough of the gloom and held his staff over his head.
“Light!” he said and his staff vanquished the darkness from the room. Tartum regretted doing it the minute he saw what the gloom had been hiding. There were altars in the four corners of the room. Each altar was on a symbol that looked like a sideways number eight with tiny glyphs written around them in a perfect circle. The design reminded Tartum of his enchantment spells. The altars were wet with blood and gore, but it was what was in the middle of the room that threatened to shatter his resolve and reduce him to a quivering, weeping, coward. Piled five feet high, in the middle of what was once a meeting place for the towns people were the dismembered bodies of the missing men and adolescent boys of Rebirth. The two young casters retched where they stood, and Tartum couldn’t blame them. Even Rashlarr looked slightly paler than usual, although he was fighting it.
There was another, larger altar, which had something on it that was covered by a large black sheet that spilled over the edges. It was further in the room on top of what was once used as a stage for speakers to address the people in the meeting hall. On the stage surrounding the altar was an elaborate alchemy lab that was bubbling and smoking from various different exhausts and beakers. It was an almost comical sight inside this fleshy tomb of horrors. Movement from under the sheet drew their attention.
Tartum advanced cautiously towards the stage. Looking over at Rashlarr, he saw that he had pulled out a copper rod, and Tartum shook his head. He didn’t think the kritchet would be hiding under a sheet in the middle of the building like a child hiding from the boogeyman. Rashlarr didn’t seem to share Tartum’s logic, but he returned the copper rod to his pouch and motioned for the young mages to flank him just in case. Tartum climbed the few stairs that led up to the stage without making a sound. The movement under the sheet had become more intense and now that Tartum was close he could hear what he thought was a man trying to scream through a gag. Reaching for the sheet, Tartum gripped it by its corner and yanked it away from altar.
Staring up at him with eyes wild with fear was a large man with a shaved head and glyphs written all over his body. He was naked, save for a pair of ragged shorts covered in soot. Judging by the man’s facial hair, he had been here for a while. Tartum leaned in close before speaking to him.
“Shhhhh! Shhhhh!! Listen to me! Listen! I’m not going to hurt y
ou! I’m going to get you out of here, but you need to be quiet. We don’t know where the kritchet is and I can’t help you if you can’t get control of yourself. Do you understand?” Tartum whispered as quietly as he could into the man’s ear. The man stopped making noise and nodded to let him know he understood. Tartum unsheathed his knife and began to cut the man’s bonds. He cut away the gag first, and as he pulled it away, the man gasped and tried to speak. Tartum put his hand over his mouth and gave him the fiercest look he could muster.
“What part of shut up don’t you understand?!?” he hissed. Tears began to form in the man’s eyes, and Tartum was disgusted. He cut away the rest of his bonds and thanked the Gods that he was silent. Helping him to his feet, Tartum motioned for the one eared boy to join them. He passed the bewildered man over to the young caster and assessed the boy. He was barely holding it together, his face was streaked with tears, and he was shaking bodily. Tartum didn’t trust him to hang on to the stick he was using as a staff, let alone trust him to use any kind of magic in the coming fight.
“Take him, and yourself, out of here. Keep him safe. Don’t come back, you’re useless.” he told him. Tartum saw that his words had crushed the boy, but he didn’t care. He probably just saved his life, as pathetic as it was going to be from now on. He hoped to never see him again.
Tartum walked over to Rashlarr as the one eared boy made his way out of the tower with the man he rescued. He pointed to the remaining boy and sent him to keep watch for anything trying to sneak up on them, once he was sure the boy couldn’t hear them, Tartum whispered to Rashlarr. “What is this place?” he asked.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 2 Page 9
