Viridian Gate Online- Doom Forge

by J. A. Hunter

  Shift...

  They were eaten by a swirl of churning smoke, quickly replaced by a picture of Eitri busy at work at a forge, a heavy hammer in his hand slamming down against a flat ring of dull silver.

  Shift...

  Eitri sitting in a high-backed leather chair at the head of one of the banquet tables I’d seen in the Keep above not too long ago. The other seats were occupied by Isra and Nangkri’s brothers, though the Jade Lord himself was noticeably absent. “This is all such a mess,” Isra said, running a hand through her short-cropped hair. She looked so tired. Hair-fine wrinkles had taken up residence at the corners of her eyes and around her rosebud mouth. “He won’t listen to reason, Eitri. He’s half mad, and no one can get through—we’ve all tried. We need you. Everyone needs you. The whole of Eldgard needs you. You’re the only one he’s liable to give an ear to at this point.”

  Eitri grimaced and dropped his gaze, regarding a silver wine goblet in his hands. “I doubt he’d want to see me. Not after—”

  Shift...

  When the image resolved again, the sprawling banquet hall was gone, replaced by a brightly burning hearth tucked away in the heart of a rustic wooden cottage, the furniture simple but well made. This time only Isra and Eitri were present. Isra was older now, in her late forties or early fifties, silver streaks firmly worked into the strands of her raven hair, though she looked as fit and trim as she had all those years ago. She sat on a narrow hay-filled bed covered by a drab gray bedspread. As before, Eitri was unchanged.

  In her lap was a small bundle, wrapped with fine spider silk.

  All of the youthful optimism and spring I’d seen before was gone, eradicated by time and circumstances. Now she looked hard. Beaten down, true, but harder for it—not broken.

  “I don’t know what you would’ve had me do,” Eitri said as he paced the room, his heavy boots echoing off the creaking floorboards. “The other Aspects were already hounding me about my involvement.”

  “You could’ve saved him,” she said, her voice fierce with certainty. She pulled back the folds of the bundle in her lap. Clustered within was the Jade Lord’s set—crown, amulet, belt. “If you’d intervened with the Sky Maiden, things might’ve turned out differently. Better.”

  “And if he would’ve heeded your advice all of this might’ve been avoided. Perhaps I should’ve acted. But it would’ve brought down the wrath of every Northern Aspect upon my head. Even my father wouldn’t have been able to help me then. Believe me or not, but I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not allowed to intervene further. That the fate of your uncle was a matter of destiny. As it stands, I already have a fair amount of explaining to do. I’m set to meet with the Aspect Tribunal in an hour’s time. To explain my involvement in your war against the Empire.”

  She turned her head away, refusing to hold his gaze. “He never would’ve abandoned you, Eitri. No matter the cost. You may not have actually been a brother, but he certainly thought of you as one. He would’ve burned the world down for you.” She paused, balling her hands into tight fists. “It is best if you go now. I need to be alone. To think.” She fell quiet, her eyes heavy as she stared at the floor. “It is all falling apart with him gone.” She shook her head and grimaced. “And I don’t know how to put it back together. I don’t know that it can be put back together.”

  Eitri cleared his throat and pulled something from his bag. A curling horn of beaten brass covered in hair-fine inscriptions that spiraled from a white bone mouthpiece to a gently flared bell. “As I said, I need to go. But...” He faltered, running his hands tenderly along the length of the horn. “I made this for you, Isra. The Horn of the Ancients. With this, you can call him back from the grave, at least for a time. Him and all of the honored dead. It can’t make up for his loss, but perhaps it can light the path ahead. Perhaps he can give you the guidance I can’t.”

  Instead of responding, she lay down on the mattress and offered the demigod her back. “Go now,” she said, barely more than a whisper.

  Pain and hurt cascaded across Eitri’s face in waves. Gently, almost reverently, he set the horn down on a rough wooden dresser not far from where she lay. “I’ll be back once I’ve finished with the Tribunal. We can talk more about this then. Perhaps lay it to rest.”

  Shift...

  The world exploded into a thousand fragments of light like a broken mirror, and for a time everything was clattering sound and flashing light and chaotic motion. This transition was far more violent than the last had been.

  When the world resolved again, we were back in the library, Eitri towering over the pedestal. He pulled a signet ring from his finger and pressed it into the plaster of the wall. “For those who find this record,” he said, voice heavy, stoic, worry lines etched into his unnaturally youthful face, “let it be known that I did my best. But my father was right.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t ready. The world of men is a cruel place. Cruel and complicated. I leave for the Aspect Tribunal, but I fear they have treachery in mind. Should anything happen to me... Well, my father will not handle it well. He’s a good man—as good as any god can be—but my loss. It will destroy him.

  “If he reacts poorly, he’ll need to be stopped. I’ve charged the Acolytes of the Shield and Hammer with containing him. There’s a ritual book buried deep in the forbidden library under the order’s main temple in Stone Reach. This ring”—he waved at the glimmer in the wall—“will open the way. Inside, you will find all that you need to locate the Doom Forge and the spells necessary to contain my father’s wrath. Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that, but one cannot be too prepared.” He took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. He closed the pages of the book and pressed his hand against the golden palm print on the cover.

  Violet light burst out in a cloud, kicking me in the chest like a mule and throwing me back and up. It felt... not quite like flying. More like falling in reverse.

  And then, just like that, I was back in the library. Eitri gone. The book closed, the glow faded.

  I shook my head, picked up the book—stowing it in my inventory—then beelined for the signet ring sunk into the wall. With a firm tug, I pulled it free, but before I had a chance to check out the stats or the flavor text, a frantic call caught my ear.

  “Jack! Where in the nine hells are you, eh?” Cutter yelled at the top of his lungs. “We’ve got ourselves a bit of a bloody problem here!”

  His words were followed in short order by an ear-splitting roar and incessant rumbling of the floors underfoot.

  Guardian Among the Leaves

  I WHEELED AROUND AND sprinted full speed down one of the narrow aisleways toward the thunderous racket, pulling my warhammer free. I skittered around corner after corner, following the clamor, and nearly ran headlong into Cutter, who was retreating from... well, something at the far end of a connecting hallway, though it was hard to pin down what exactly I was looking at. A tag briefly appeared above the beast: [The Paper Librarian].

  A tree was the notion my mind immediately jumped to, though it was a tree only in the loosest sense of the word.

  The towering monster crawled forward on a forest of root-like tentacles, which supported a gnarled trunk-like body, but one made entirely of book pages. Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of book pages all plastered together as though the whole creature were a papier-mâché doll brought to life by the mind of a lunatic. Huge mâché boughs sprouted from the top of the odd tree; skeletal fingers crowned each branch, while loose-leaf pages fluttered frantically like leaves.

  A pair of humanoid arms sprouted like cancerous growths from the tree trunk, each limb thicker than my thigh, each hand the size of a car tire with burning violet runes etched into the palm. In the very center of the trunk was a protruding knot, but instead of a lump of gnarled wood, there was the head of a goat. Goat-ish, anyway. More like a goat genetically spliced with a demon-shark. Its mouth was overflowing with rows upon rows of serrated teeth, and its curling horns gleamed obsidian and were as sharp as har
poons.

  “Holy crap!” I shouted, momentarily stunned. “What in the hell is that?”

  A blaze of fire, so bright I had to shield my eyes with one hand, erupted from another aisleway, flames splashing against the creature’s page-covered hide. A Health bar appeared above the monster. My jaw nearly hit the floor as I watched. The monster’s HP didn’t drop, not even a sliver, which seemed absolutely impossible. Abby was hands down one of the most powerful Firebrands in Eldgard, and that was a monster literally made out of paper. But the flames simply refused to touch the thing.

  “Come on.” Cutter grabbed my arm and hauled me back into the stacks, away from the encroaching creature.

  He dragged me all the way to the end of the aisle, hooked right, and slipped down another row before pausing. He pressed his back against a shelf of books, breathing hard, panting almost. He was absolutely covered with razor-thin wounds, blood liberally coating his armor.

  “Are...” I faltered. “Are those giant paper cuts?” I asked, eyeing the wounds.

  “Observant of you,” he replied, pulling out a regen potion. “And yes. That bloody thing is someone’s endlessly cruel joke. Unfortunately, it’s also impossibly hard to kill. Hells, here I am talking about killing it. We’ve been throwing everything we have at it for the past five minutes, and we haven’t put a single dent in the blighted thing. And speaking of, where in the hells have you been anyway, eh? You picked a terrible moment to take a break.”

  “Long story,” I said, waving away the question. “I’ll tell you about it later, assuming we survive. The important thing is that I managed to get the book.”

  Another thunderous roar filled the air, followed by a bellow from Forge and the clang of steel. “I need backup over here, y’all!” the Risi hollered in his Texas twang.

  “Valkyrie is on her way!” Abby shouted, voice strained.

  I edged my way to the end of the row and peeked around the corner. Forge was in front of the beast, his glowing battle-axe blazing in the murky silver light from the wall sconces mounted to the bookcases at even intervals. His weapon slammed into one of the groping roots, and the blade clanged as though it’d struck solid iron instead of flimsy paper. An enormous fist lashed out, and the Risi jumped back, barely avoiding the strike. Nearby, Carl chanted for all he was worth, machine gunning buffs and Health Restores at Forge like they were bullets.

  Ari darted in, fluttering inches before the goat’s face, striking at its amber eyes with absolutely zero effect.

  A golden light bloomed like a bomb blast, shadows splashing against the shelves of books as Abby’s legendary mount, a Hoardling Drake, appeared on top of one of the bookcases. The red-and-gold Drake launched itself at the creature, jaws yawning wide. The Paper Librarian was having none of it, though. It swiveled with unnatural speed, raising a rune-covered palm, and blasted the incoming creature from the air with a whirlwind of violet-glowing book pages. Yes. It had weaponized paper, which explained all of Cutter’s odd wounds.

  “Okay,” I said, retreating back into the relative safety of the aisle. “We’ve got the book, and I know where the next clue is. So can we just get out of here? Finding out what loot this thing has is tempting, but we have what we came for, and it sure isn’t worth dying over.”

  “No such luck, friend.” Cutter shook his head. “The exit bloody well magicked itself closed when that thing popped out to play, and there’s no way to open it. Not even a lock for me to try to pick. Seems to be, the only way out is killing that gods-be-damned tree thing. Abby, she reasons this is the guardian of shadow and wrath that slumbers among the fallen leaves. The beastie from the poem.”

  Terrible horror washed over me as I remembered the next verse in the poem. “A cruel tormentor along the path,” I whispered. “A bane to all unworthy thieves.”

  Cutter shot me a finger gun. “That would be the one.” The shelf we were hiding behind rattled, books raining down on us as something heavy slammed into the other side. “Time to move,” Cutter said, darting toward the next connecting row. He dropped into a crouch, disappearing save for a faint blue outline surrounding his body, and stole across the open. I followed, but failed to use Stealth, which was a mistake I instantly paid for. A hurricane blast of swirling paper sandblasted me from my feet, razor-thin edges slicing at exposed skin.

  I slammed into a bookcase with one of the silver sconces sticking out.

  I let out a gasp of pain as metal jabbed into my spine a moment before my skull connected with the edge of a shelf. A host of stars exploded across my vision as I toppled to the ground. My HP was down by a sixth after one hit, and it felt like someone had just performed an Irish jig along the length of my spine. Only my heavy leather armor, reinforced with ring mail, had kept my back from snapping on impact. With a groan, I pushed myself up, glass crunching beneath me. With a wince, I looked up. The magic light-orb, formerly housed in the wall sconce above, now decorated the floor beneath me.

  “Move your arse, Jack!” Cutter called. He was perched on top of a bookcase, hurling shadowy daggers at the paper horror lurching toward me on a writhing bed of tentacles.

  Amara cartwheeled into view, touched down on top of a bookcase opposite to Cutter, and launched a hail of corrosive-tipped arrows, which were as ineffective as everything else. Seriously. How was this thing so damned sturdy? Cutter’s blades were bouncing off without shaving off a single Health point, and Amara might as well have been firing rubber bands for all the good it did. The goat-headed horror roared as it surged forward, lashing out with one of its tire-sized hands.

  I scrambled to my feet and threw myself into a sharp roll, avoiding the blow by inches. I came up to my feet and swung my warhammer with every ounce of strength I could muster, activating Black Caress as the weapon connected with the creature’s thick wrist. Violet energy flared on contact, but the rush of energy that usually accompanied the skill was strangely absent, probably because Black Caress converted a portion of damage into life... except I hadn’t inflicted any damage despite the hellishly powerful swing.

  A tentacle struck like a cobra; I narrowly sidestepped the attack, but the creature had effectively backed me into a corner. Escape wasn’t an option, especially since Shadow Stride was completely unavailable to me. The creature drove a balled fist toward me like a piston. I conjured Dark Shield at the last moment, deflecting the blow just enough to save my skull. The creature’s fist sank into a bookcase with the force of a wrecking ball, sending dust, wood chips, and books raining down as the shelf imploded from the attack.

  Holy crap, was this thing strong.

  But something new caught my attention. This little corner of the library was now incredibly murky thanks to the broken light crunching beneath my boots. And in that gloomy dark, swirling lines of blue script had appeared across the monster’s hand, running and zigzagging up its arm in elaborate, interweaving patterns. It was luminescent writing, though in a cursive so thick and dense I couldn’t even begin to make it out. The looping scrawl continued up to the trunk but faded to near-invisible thanks to some ambient light from a connecting row of books.

  A snippet of the odd poem came to my mind. In shadow and in light, weakness revealed in darkest night.

  A snarl erupted as a huge beast of gold and red shot out from the connecting hallway, slamming into the tree and driving it into a nearby shelf, which leaned alarmingly to the side—trying to decide if it would topple. Abby’s Drake clawed at the paper beast with wickedly hooked talons, terrible jaws latching onto swaying branches. Ari appeared a second later, glowing like a fallen star as she fired a burst of light in a riot of colors directly into the creature’s hideous goat face.

  “We don’t have all day,” she chirped at me, her voice amplified by her illusionary magic to carry over the din.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  I steeled myself and bolted forward, leaping over the host of tentacle roots. One of the flailing limbs caught my bootheel, but I turned the fall into a quick roll that brought me back to my
feet unscathed. I sprinted away as fast as my legs would carry me, sorely missing the use of my Shadow Stride ability as I rounded a corner. Abby and Forge were hustling toward me, and both looked worse for the wear. Frazzled, dirty, and bleeding.

  “Shit, it’s good to see you, Jack!” Abby hollered, screeching to a halt. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

  “Later,” I shot back. “But I think I know what we need to do. The lights. We need to take out every light in this whole place, and you need to recall your Drake. Now.”

  “You want us to submerge the library into absolute darkness while an indestructible killing machine is hunting us down?” she asked with skepticism as thick as molasses.

  “Call it a hunch,” I said with a frantic nod.

  “Gah! Fine,” she replied, throwing up her hands. “I hope you’re right. Forge, go buy us some time. Jack, you go that way.” She waved toward another row of books, positioned across a short hall. “I’ll head back the way I came.” Without another word she dashed away, beelining for a glowing orb at the far end of the row.

  I spun and followed suit. “Cutter,” I called out as I bolted past the thief, currently busy leaping across the top of the bookshelves, dodging waving branches while hurling a barrage of smoky blades. “The lights. Take out the lights. We need this place black. Pass the word.”

  “A little busy, friend,” he grunted, cartwheeling into a fleet-footed back handspring on a beam of wood I wouldn’t want to try to walk across. “But I’ll do what I can.” He unleashed another wave of conjured blades with a flick of one wrist, then leapt into the air and disappeared in a puff of inky smoke. I heard the smash of glass a moment later, and a section of the library slipped into darkness. I dropped my head and kept right on running. One of the pearly orbs was dead ahead.