Nightmare Keep (Euphoria Online Book 2)

by Phil Tucker

  “Hey! Kreekit!” The three goblins leapt to their feet as I backed through the underbrush and out onto the ledge beside them. “There you guys are. You all right?”

  Kreekit wrinkled her face into an expression of righteous disgust. “No. No, no, no. Lookit! Shaman Lickit knows no shame!”

  A trickle of goblins were passing through the barbican and into the main gate. I wasn’t high enough to peer into the bailey floor, but it was clear from the line that extended into the woods close by that the whole tribe was on the move. “Lickit made a deal with the Beggars?”

  Dribbler sat with his legs over the edge and threw a pebble into the void. “Lickit make deal with anybody. He make deal as quick as he could.”

  Kreekit nodded. “Traitor! We all run, but he force us Green Liver to go in different direction. Not hide with him. Now I see why. He want take our place. Claim all meat. Get fatter.”

  “Huh. I guess I’m not surprised. It’s not like the Beggars would really care.” I crouched beside Dribbler and rubbed at my chin, peering into the castle. “Though, if they’re allied against us, it’ll make taking back the castle all the more difficult.”

  Dribbler looked up at me, eyes wide. “You going to take back castle? How?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But Falkon and Michaela are counting on me. I’m not going to leave them out to dry.”

  Barfo frowned. “You want keep them wet?”

  “No,” said Kreekit, thwapping him on the arm. “He means he take them home to dry. He good friend. Take friends out of spider tower and bring them home.”

  Dribbler scratched his cheek. “How he know they wet?”

  “Yeah,” said Barfo, turning to me. “Why you think they wet?”

  “Uh, just a guess. Not really important. But you said they’re in the spider tower?”

  “Yes,” said Kreekit solemnly. “I conduct very sacred, very important ritual earlier. Send spirit down to castle to take look-see. Very impressive ritual. Dangerous. But Kreekit also getting fatter.” She patted her little paunch. “Kreekit more dangerous!”

  “You can do that? Send your spirit places?”

  She nodded. “I go down to see what Lickit up to. He eating all our meat, and bring in two boar trolls to help guard.”

  “Boar trolls are scary,” Barfo told me.

  “Hairy, too,” said Dribbler. “Hey! Hairy rhyme with scary!”

  Kreekit thwapped Dribbler. “As I say. Lickit bring two scary hairy boar trolls to guard. At first, me think he guard meat! But no. He put both trolls outside spider tower. Why? That what I ask myself. So spirit Kreekit poke face through door and see Falkon and dead girl tied up in tower.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That’s really great information. And the Beggars? Were they around?”

  “No Beggars,” said Kreekit. “Me think they go into keep.”

  “So Lickit’s on guard duty, and he brought in two boar trolls. How’s a goblin like him control boar trolls?”

  Kreekit shrugged. “Lickit good shaman. Fatty-fat. And now he have lots of meat to give them. He use spirit magic and ogre beef to make boar trolls do what he say.”

  “Hairy scary boar trolls hard to kill,” said Dribbler. “They no stay dead.”

  Barfo half closed his eyes. “My big dream to cook boar troll steak. Because it heal as fast as you eat it. Endless feast of rich red meat! So tasty and chewy, best goblin treat!”

  “Oooh,” said Dribbler. “That be yum.”

  “Mm-hmm,” agreed Kreekit, and they all subsided into a meditative state.

  “Well, I’m going to try and get my friends out tonight,” I said. “Then we’ll come up with a plan to capture the castle. If you guys want, head up to Barry’s cave. I’ll come back there with my friends and we can all plan.”

  “Barry’s cave?” asked Dribbler. “What that?”

  “Oh. Right. It’s a goblin cave I found high in the mountains. About over that way. Can you follow my tracks back to it?”

  “I don’t know Barry,” said Barfo, looking in confusion at Dribbler and Kreekit.

  “Me neither,” said Dribbler.

  “Of course I know Barry,” said Kreekit. “Me know all goblins.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You know Barry?”

  “Yes.” She crossed her arms defiantly. “We best friends.”

  “Oh,” I said, and decided not to push it. “Well, I’ll meet you guys at his cave when we get back, then.”

  “Yes,” said Kreekit. “That sound like good plan as long as you no die.”

  “Here,” said Barfo, unslinging a small jar. “Take Barfo’s special soup.”

  “Thanks,” I said, pulling the cord over my head so that the jar was slung against my side. “Your soup’s the best. Wish me luck.”

  “Luck!” they all cried out in unison.

  I slipped back through the underbrush and made my way down to a cross-wise ridge that led me to the plateau on which the castle was erected. I moved furtively, keeping an eye on the battlements for lookouts, but other than the irregular goblin shadow marching along it I saw no cause for alarm.

  They had to be expecting my return. The question was: did they care? Were they complacent in their own superior strength? Did they even care enough about Falkon and Michaela to put up an efficient guard? Or had they thrown the duty to the Big Burpies and called it a day?

  I hunkered down and waited. The sun sank ever closer to the horizon, and just before it set altogether Brianna arrived, moving with impressive skill through the underbrush, rapier drawn and held down by her side.

  I could tell she was in a foul mood. Her mouth was a thin line and her gaze was more glare as she stood before me. “When you told me to meet you here at sunset I didn’t think that meant you’d avoid me all day.”

  “I’ve been scouting,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “Gathering information. I’ve learned which tower my friends are being held in and more about the forces I’ll be facing in there.”

  “You’ll be facing?” Her eyes narrowed. “We’ll be facing, you mean.”

  “Brianna, you’re still just level two. Trust me, I remember all too well how vulnerable that makes you. I can’t risk taking you into the castle.”

  “My equipment—”

  “Brianna. This is what my character class is designed for. I’ll be in and out of there before anybody knows what’s happened. Shared Darkness will allow me to bring Falkon and Michaela out of the castle, but how does it make sense for me to transport you inside just to bring you right back out? All the while risking you being attacked by some level thirty fighter?”

  “I’m not an idiot newb,” she said, voice acidic enough to etch metal. “I came here to help—”

  “And you have. More than you could know. You have my sincere thanks. Now please. Wait here for us. All right?”

  “Fine,” she said. “But if you die, it’ll be on your head for refusing my help.”

  “Yes,” I said, not even knowing how to make sense of that. “Fine. But I won’t. I’ll see you soon.” And before she could respond, I crept along the last of the ridge along the cliff face that dropped to the rear of the castle. When I was finally forced to stop, the ridge smoothing into the cliff face, I was still some thirty yards away from the castle itself and perched high above the ravine.

  Any regular attacking force would have been stymied, perhaps able to fire arrows at the parapets but otherwise left in the open and susceptible to counter-fire. I sank back into the shadows, activated Darkvision, and Double Stepped.

  The glory of the writhing darkness as it claimed me was oh so sweet. I fell into its embrace and emerged below the curtain wall. A quick glance showed my former perch high above and on the far side of the ravine. I grinned, exultant, and hurried along the base of the wall, pulling the hood of my stone cloak over my head as I went.


  There were three towers along the wall: Jeramy’s on the far side, the goblin tower close to the main gate, and the spider tower not far from where I ran. I restrained myself from casting anxious glances up at the battlements for fear a flash of my pale face would be noticed; instead, I focused on the dirt before me, bent double as I ran, till at last I was just outside the wall where the spider tower rose up.

  I sank into a crouch and paused. Let my pounding heart grow still. I had thirty-five mana points, more than I’d ever dreamed of. My friends were supposedly just on the far side of this wall. All I had to do was Shadow Step through, grab one, use Shared Darkness and pull them outside. Rinse, repeat, and then we would all flee for the mountains before anybody was any the wiser.

  I restrained the urge to do so and instead drew my Void Blade. I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. What if there was a Beggar in there with them? First, I’d gather intel. I completed my Double Step to the wall top, right into the familiar corner by the tower door. The shadows boiled, then I was high above, crouched in the recess where the parapet met the tower. There was nobody close by, for which I gave thanks – I really didn’t want to kill any of the goblins. I listened intently, half closing my eyes. The raucous voices of a the Big Burpies arose from down below in the bailey. An occasional deep snort. Nothing else.

  Moving slowly, using as much stealth as I could summon, I drifted to the edge of the wall, passing before the closed tower door, and peered down into the bailey. Three large bonfires had been built, and around these the goblins danced, while Shaman Lickit sat on an impromptu throne over which the flensed wyvern skull had been hung by an excessively complex web of leather straps. Directly below me I could make out two massive hirsute forms, hunched over and lanky. The boar trolls. I scanned the castle for any sign of the Beggars.

  Nothing.

  I forced myself to watch for a couple more minutes. The Beggars would have chosen the goblin tower as their base of operations, given the inaccessibility of Jeramy’s tower and their placing their prisoners in this one. So I studied it carefully, and for a moment deliberated sneaking over to peer into the uppermost chamber.

  No. No sense in tempting fate.

  I withdrew slowly, careful to make no abrupt movements, and crept up to the spider tower door. It felt like ages since Falkon, Lotharia and I had paused here before mounting our assault against the spider dude within. I could still hear Lotharia’s words as she described the large rune Jeramy had supposedly carved on the tower wall, imbuing the stones with the strength of iron.

  The urge to sit down and cradle my head arose within me, but I brushed it aside and gritted my teeth. First I’d save Falkon and Michaela. Then we’d drive the Beggars out and depose Shaman Lickit. Then we’d enter the keep and rescue Lotharia. It was a daunting task list, but it all began with the next step.

  I opened the door a fraction and peered into the darkness below. The tower was still hollowed out, turning it into a tall empty throat, with the webbing that had once choked it pulled away to reveal the bare walls. Far down below I could make out Falkon and Michaela, tightly bound by thick coils of rope, both of them sitting awkwardly against the tower walls and conversing in low tones.

  Hesitant, I cast Detect Magic on the tower’s interior, and immediately the ropes that bound my friends glowed, along with a series of runes chalked in a band along the inside of the walls. That checked me. I’d not noticed them with my Darkvision. I tried to study their glow, divine something as to their purpose, but I knew next to nothing about magic.

  What to do? A trap? Most likely.

  “Falkon!” My hiss caused both of them to snap their heads up to stare at me. “Hey! This a trap?”

  “Chris! Yes!” Falkon immediately ducked his head and glanced at the door. When he spoke again, it was in a much quieter whisper. “We don’t know what it does, though.”

  Michaela shifted her weight, turning a little to be able to get a better look at me. “It’s some kind of summoning spell, but that’s all I’ve been able to figure out.”

  I bit my lower lip. What to do, what to do? This setup wasn’t going to change. There was no advantage to waiting for another day. Could I outrace a summoning spell?

  “I’m going to Shadow Step down and grab Michaela,” I whispered. “I’ll bring her out, then come back for you, Falkon. All right?”

  They exchanged a glance. Clearly it wasn’t ‘all right’, but it was better than being held in captivity.

  “Chris, try this instead,” whispered Michaela. “Appear next to the wall and immediately try to rub one of the runes out. If you tamper with the spell it might not work.”

  “What’s it written with?”

  “Chalk, I think.”

  Chalk. I could brush it with my arm, but that might take precious seconds. Better would be a bucket of water to throw against the wall. Even better would be a bucket of water to pour down the wall and wash the runes away without even activating them. “Hold on!”

  I ducked back out of the door and crept to the edge of the wall, peering down to take in the bailey once more. A bucket of water. Where amongst all that madness…? There. Nope, that was a bucket of what looked like wine, and it was right out in the open by the fire. Goblins were dunking their heads in it and scooping out bowls. Where else?

  Despite my Astute Observer, I couldn’t make out anything immediately handy. No perfectly placed rain barrel or the like just standing off in the corner by itself. My frustration mounted. The longer I waited, the higher my chances of being discovered.

  Then inspiration struck me. I crept across the length of the wall to the goblin tower, paused to take stock and then continued on to Jeramy’s tower. Nobody had noticed me. The huge rocks the wyvern had dislodged and blocked the tower entrance with lay in small chunks everywhere, turned to sandstone by Lotharia’s Imbue spell and then pulverized by the pommel of my sword. We’d rolled the barrels of pitch out of this top chamber, leaving it mostly empty, and into this room I snuck.

  There was no obvious means down into the body of the archmagus’ tower, but on a hunch I stopped before where the hidden steps had disgorged Lotharia and me the last time we’d visited, and whispered the passcode: “A whale of a time.”

  The ground shimmered, undulating like Texas blacktop in the height of summer, and then the steps to the room below appeared.

  My elation was only tempered by the knowledge of what I was about to face. I hurried down, then averted my gaze from the beautiful youth who was rising from an ornate chaise longue in the center of the summoning circle.

  “Ah, I see—”

  “Nope, not gonna chat, just passing through, no demon talky, no demon talky,” I said loudly and raced on down the steps to the room below.

  This was Jeramy’s bedchamber, complete with a full-sized portrait of him shirtless flexing inside a volcano. I slowed. Last time I’d been here he’d been flexing before a waterfall, his foot atop a grizzly’s head… huh. I hurried down to the ground floor, which was a combination library/study/lounge. My abrupt arrival caused the ambulatory flock of neon pink flamingoes to run away from me in agitation before collecting themselves on the far side of the room and turning scathing glares in my direction. The stunningly complex orrery revolved overhead, floating without support, and everywhere bookcases with their glass fronts gleamed in the light of a few carefully placed candles.

  “Worthington?” I searched for Jeramy’s robotic manservant. “You here?”

  “How may I be of assistance, Master Meadows?” said Worthington as he stepped into visibility. Bronze-skinned and with the sleek, retro-futuristic lines of an art deco design, he was a mixture of C-3PO and the robot from Metropolis.

  “Hi.” I took a moment to compose myself. “A large bucket of hot water, if you please. And if you could mix a strong detergent into it, I’d be much obliged.”

  “I must warn you that consuming such a
beverage will have deleterious effects on your health.”

  “Yes, I know. But these are grim times, Worthington.” I realized I was feeling a little manic. “Bucket, please?”

  “It is there, upon the bar,” he said, pointing to one side where the wet bar now sported a large champagne bucket, a mound of bubbles just visible over its gilt brim.

  “Not to be greedy, but could I perhaps have two?”

  A second bucket appeared beside the first.

  “You’re the best.” I hesitated. “Worthington, since last we spoke I’ve heard that it was the god of undeath himself who struck down your master. Does that sound right?”

  “Master Jeramy is currently meditating on the fourth floor,” said Worthington.

  “Right, right. The hidden dimensional room. That’s a long meditation.”

  “Mater Jeramy is a man of exceptional talents.”

  “Yeah. Do you know anything about the ward he placed upon the castle grounds?”

  “A powerful spell. He cast it under great duress, and its passing left me nauseous for weeks.”

  “I’ll bet. You sure you can’t get a message to Master Jeramy for me?”

  Worthington simply shook his head.

  “All right. Well, thanks for the champagne buckets.”

  “Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  “No – actually, sure. Can I have a double shot of espresso?”

  “But of course.” He turned, and then turned back with an espresso cup and saucer in hand. “Master Jeramy preferred the arabica bean, with a little extra crema on top. Sugar?”

  “No, thanks.” I took up the cup, relishing its warm, smooth sides, inhaled the heady scent of rich espresso, then knocked it back in one scalding gulp. “Ah! That’s good. Thank you.” I handed him the cup, then jogged over to the buckets and hefted them both. They weren’t as heavy as I’d expected, but then I recalled that I was now rocking strength fourteen. I wasn’t 1970s Arnold just yet, but I was a sight stronger than I was in real life.