Deadline

by Domino Finn

  I wiped my damp brow, darkening at the implications. Pagan gods were titans, less the wholesome-inner-spirit and more the grinding-of-flesh-and-bone kind. They were very present, very big, and supremely terrifying.

  "We have the kraken on our side, at least," I said. "Although it's small and limited, as far as titans go. Do we have any intel on how big Gigas is?"

  Izzy's nose wrinkled. "Is the name not enough of an indicator?"

  Theoderic splashed ahead lightly. "A giant among giants. Gigas be not a being in the common sense, but the land itself."

  I frowned. "Well that doesn't sound ominous or anything."

  "But what is he?" asked Izzy. "Where is he? What can he do and how do we stop him?"

  He smiled beneath the mask. "Her legends be feathery, her details light. Gigas is the All-Mother, the giver and taker of life."

  "I didn't see any of that in the books," muttered the pixie.

  "She be known not, even amongst our kin, yet remaineth everlastingly familiar. To appease Gigas, thou must appeal to her maternal nature."

  "Swell," I said. "We'll swap muffin recipes and disparage kids these days." I didn't hide my frustration. "Damn. I was kinda hoping having wildkins on our side would make this part easier."

  "If you seek to fight alongside us," snapped Cleric Vagram sharply as he converged on them, "you would do well not to needlessly blaspheme."

  I scrunched my face as we all trudged forward. "You're still on the no-bad-words thing? Can't you find a way to circumvent that part of your programming? You realize we're at war, surrounded by hundreds in the active military. Cursing comes with the territory."

  The cleric brushed blond curls from his face. "I do not circumvent my personal beliefs or my code for convenience." He said the last word with a sneer, as if being pragmatic was a compromise. I'd forgotten how tiring it was to travel with him. "I heard you were riding a dragon these days," he added snidely.

  I set my jaw. "Working on it."

  I eyed the troop of catechists hanging back and reminded myself that Vagram was the reasonable one. The mad bishop was among them somewhere, still recovering. As I considered them, I got the distinct impression that Vagram was likewise studying me.

  "What is it?"

  The cleric pressed his lips tight. "You hold the Squid's Tooth?"

  I focused ahead. "I do. And don't think you're gonna get your hands on it. I almost forgot how hungry the catechists were to recover relics, like the crown of the wild king and the dragonspear."

  "Those instances were"—Vagram took a steadying breath—"misguided."

  I arched an eyebrow and viewed him askance.

  "The devilry worked upon us freed our minds," he explained, "but it twisted them as well."

  "You're gonna blame that on Lucifer?"

  "It was out of character," he insisted. "Bishop Tannen grew power hungry instead of humble. I was merely following orders."

  "And now?"

  He glanced toward his men. "The bishop is our leader, and you have yet to prove yourself as much."

  "Yet here we march."

  "I'm not as concerned with now as I am with after the usurper is defeated."

  The insinuation angered me. I'd set aside my personal grudges for the greater good. He was the one who'd rewarded me with betrayal. But I didn't want to start the argument anew. What mattered was the catechists were on our side in this fight.

  "What do you want me to tell you?" I asked. "I meant everything I said about fighting for freedom."

  "And the soulstones? You really mean to destroy them?"

  I sighed and opened my quest menu, rotating the window toward Cleric Vagram.

  Remove Soulstones from Play

  Quest Type: Fepic

  Reward:

  The Eye of Orik, the Squid's Tooth, and the Crystal Core have the unwieldy power to dominate Haven. Collect and remove them from play.

  He scanned the text with a mix of satisfaction and relief. Maybe seeing it in text felt more official.

  "What does fepic mean?" he asked.

  "Oh, heheh..." I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. "I don't know. Must be a typo."

  He nodded uncertainly. "I see. And you've encountered no objections from them?" Wary eyes shot to the wildkins that currently outnumbered us. We let them wander ahead while the cleric and I spoke in whispers.

  "Relax. They're not the problem, they're part of the solution." I swiped to a subquest.

  Rally the Errant Folk

  Quest Type: Fepic

  Reward:

  Various so-called wild races inhabit the land, pagan or otherwise. There is no greater army, given they can be rallied together.

  "No greater army," he said with a snort. The cleric was less relieved after reading this quest description. "I'm sure you've been told this before, but you trust too easily. They cannot be relied on."

  I closed the menu with a scoff. "And that's your problem. You mean to fight the world and impose your views with an iron—bronze—fist. You need to live and let live, man. It's what we're all here for."

  The easygoing pack of wildkins jerked their necks and halted their march. They crouched and sniffed the air, drawing spears and hatchets. Izzy turned in a circle and scanned the bog, eyes finally landing on the wild king.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  Theoderic took a few backward steps as a contingent of his guard enveloped him.

  Cleric Vagram showed his teeth, a bronze sword in each hand. "You were saying, Protector of Stronghold?"

  I scanned the outskirts. The stifling terrain muted my darkvision, but it wasn't as bad as the Maelstrom or Ashen Moor. I could barely make out small figures darting around us into defensive positions low to the ground.

  "Interlopers," called the scratchy voice of General Azzyrk. "What brings you to this holy place?"

  Shorehome's guide lamps diffused in the fog, enveloping the horizon in a sickly green glow. The Void cut through the ornery coastal waters, silently followed by the Waveskipper, Deepfisher, and Ugly Puss. Engagement was imminent.

  "They be waitin' fer us," snarled Errol, collapsing the spyglass back into his inventory.

  "Of course they are," said Brugo calmly. He stood on the deck of his ship, puffing his chest forward. "The gangs have a taste for power now. Just a nibble, and they're resolved to die for it."

  Avisa leaned into the forward handrail, fingers rapping the pommel of her saber. "I can accommodate their wishes."

  Aside from the green dock lamps, a front line of orange fires lit up along the coast. The archers would attempt to set their boats alight. The encroaching force pushed through the fog anyway.

  Errol examined the Void's new special with a sigh.

  [Sky Sail]

  Midnight-blue fittings for sailing the skies.

  While a flying ship would give them a steep advantage in battle, he reminded himself that razing his hometown was not their objective. They needed to get past the defensive front and take the city on foot. The crew waited expectantly as Shorehome's main dock came into view.

  Brugo's eyes widened. "My ballistas."

  "I believe the proper usage is ballistae," said Grug helpfully.

  The Papa worked his jaw and Grug made himself scarce.

  The heavy guns had been mounted along the dock to dissuade enemy ships from easily offloading. Between the firepower and the number of combatants on the dock, it was a hefty deterrent.

  Hadrian's loyalists led the charge. These were members of the Brothers in Black, Brugo's own faction, who had pledged to the Whisperer over the Papa. It was Hadrian's betrayal and subsequent capture that had spurred all the other gangs into rebellion. As the Void neared, the crew made out the telltale colors of the smaller criminal elements on the coastal boardwalk. As Brugo had surmised, they were here to fight for their scraps.

  "Line her up," ordered Errol. Grug turned the wheel to settle the Void on the same axis as the dock. It meant the rear ballistae would have their line of fire bloc
ked by the forward guns and defenders. Unfortunately, the subdocks branched out perpendicularly from the main, and those ballistae retained their firing lines.

  "No," Brugo said. "Steer into the kill zone. Draw their fire, fast and furious, and use the Void's special to phase safely through."

  "Can't do it," said Errol. "We already phased fer the day."

  "Then wait for midnight to approach."

  The captain shook his head. "We need t' save that special fer the real fight."

  "This is the real fight."

  "Condolences, Papa, but we can't take the chance." Errol glanced sidelong at Brugo, hoping he wouldn't pull rank. It was, technically, still his ship. "The Void can take some fire," he added.

  "Ready!" came the cries from the dock.

  The ballistae spun around frantically as the dark ships came into view. The flagship, in the lead, predictably garnered most of the attention. Its line of attack, also predictably, frustrated the defenders. It took them longer to get into place.

  "Aim!" they called.

  Admiral Errol Oates grinned.

  Gargantuan tentacles curled around the forward ballista. Loyalist cries cut short as the kraken smashed them. The heavy gun buckled and the entire platform sagged into the sea.

  "The kraken! Fire!"

  Ballistae swiveled as the sea monster disappeared beneath them. The loyalists went frantically quiet until the kraken emerged along another length of dock. Appendages ripped through wood and men alike. The heavy guns that managed to fire did negligible damage to the titan.

  "Close!" ordered Errol. "Come about!"

  The Void altered its trajectory and sped past the ruined head of the main dock. The flagship turned and aligned its starboard side with a subdock full of defenders.

  "Fire!"

  BABOOM, BOOM. BABOOM, BOOM.

  Cannonballs plowed through the defending force, scattering loyalists into the water and destroying their ballista.

  Avisa's saber slid from its sheath, pointed skyward, and fell forward. "Charge!"

  Pirates leapt over the gunwale and landed on the dock, raiders in their own town. They pressed forward as other sections of the dock were similarly taken by the support ships. Fire arrows plugged the Void's hull, but they were too little, too late compared to the outgoing onslaught. As the kraken moved for the coast and pulled itself onto the boardwalk, the criminal gangs scattered.

  "Remember!" growled Brugo. "No pillaging, only killing. I'm gonna need my town back." A pair of axes flashed into his hands. He zeroed in on a contingent of loyalists and jumped to the dock to give chase.

  2050 Dino Crisis

  Vague shapes moved in the darkness, smaller ones giving way to a larger mass. What I first thought was an ogre cleared up on approach, and I really wished it hadn't. I'd seen this giant lizard before. The reptilian beast was lumbering and smelly. It was purple with green stripes and loped with a zigzag to accommodate a fat belly. Leather reins secured a bit inside a wide mouth brimming with tiny serrated teeth. The mount made an unsettling swallowing sound as it neared.

  In the saddle sat the goblin general himself. Azzyrk, for his part, was no less imposing. Although his race was short in stature, he appeared fierce beyond his size. His features were stern and striking, even among goblins. A long curled nose, earlobes that drooped down to points, and sharp ridges on his brow. He wore bright-red war paint and had thick bone piercings in his cheeks.

  "The Protector of the white city," he said mockingly. "Have you abandoned your charge?" He turned the lizard in a loop and addressed his men. "Or is he here to exterminate our people?"

  Sniggers rang out around us, dissonant and hoarse. The mirthful chorus grew till its volume was overwhelming. We were surrounded by more pagans than we could see. With the wildkins and catechists combined, we were two-hundred strong. If the entire horde was here they had us grossly outnumbered, on their terrain no less.

  I slyly coordinated on captain chat while calling out to the general.

  "You're right to presume I'm here on behalf of Stronghold," I said loudly for all to hear, "but I'm here for all of Haven as well. I'm here to ask for your help."

  Azzyrk's grating chuckle sounded like a grindstone. "We know why you're here, Protector. Do you take our witches for cowards who would hide after being captured and hanged in your human cities?"

  They knew. Word from the boggarts had outpaced us. The goblins knew and still met us with hard faces. I went with what had seemed to convince Vagram and the witches before him.

  "We're on a quest to destroy the soulstones and free the titans."

  The general's toothy smile remained hostile. "Pagan scouts report that Orik, the Mighty One, the Leveler of Cities, is already free. In fact, he's on his way to join us."

  Damn, word really traveled fast.

  Pagans, as a whole, weren't a unified organization. By all measures they were an afterthought by the devs. A loose faction of baddies to provide fodder for valiant adventurers, their grouping was one of convenience and category. Rather than subscribe to any one way of life and leader, they were splintered into roving bands and tribes. General Azzyrk was a chieftain of sorts—he just happened to be the one with the largest tribe. His horde was a shadow of its former self, but his power was still respected and feared. Speaking with him face-to-face, I was beginning to understand his awful charisma firsthand.

  I took a measured breath and spoke. "Orik is one of three—"

  "And they are three of nine," he crowed.

  I nodded. The legends told of nine great cities built on the backs of nine terrible titans. Haven's beta test in the Midlands only accounted for a third of that—I was speaking practically while the mob's viewpoint was steeped in lore. I ignored the correction and pushed on.

  "We still need to contend with the kraken and Gigas."

  Azzyrk turned to his people and guffawed. "No one contends with gods. We are puny to the Mighty One. He shall roam the wild and level the land, as it was meant. And you will tremble before him."

  "Many humans will die!" chirped a goblin from the background.

  "Many cities will fall!" cackled another.

  Azzyrk grinned hungrily. "Maybe it's time for the wild to reclaim the land."

  Theoderic stepped past me and stood unfazed before Azzyrk and lizard alike, the stag on the wild king's chest brandished without fear. "Forsooth, 'tis the very same—call it the wind, call it the wild—that beckons us to action."

  Azzyrk, who'd thus far done an admirable job of ignoring the wildkin contingent, settled yellow eyes on the self-outcast ruler. "And what would your highness know of the call of the wild? You've done no favors for your kith."

  "Alack, our purposes have crossed not. I favor my kin, I do. A home, they possesseth, ripe with sanctity and warmth. If isolation be the will of the people, there was no better way to serve."

  The general grimaced as he worked through Theoderic's poetic diction. "Yeah, well, my feud isn't with your kind. The wildkins are friends of the pagans, brothers in blood if not in battle. Don't forget you left us high and dry."

  "Shalt thou return the favor?"

  The general's features hardened. The skin around his eyes pinched in agitation. "The goblin horde never runs from a fight. From anyone. You'd best take your kind back over the Lake of Dreams and let us finish our business with the humans."

  A throaty rumble escaped the warden of the Blackwood. The goblins on the outskirts chittered and shuffled. Even Azzyrk's prehistoric lizard sidestepped from the sound.

  The pittering chuckle of the wild king followed. "I blame not that enmity yours, yet thou meanst to battle an enemy false. A purple plague is upon the land, budding and ravenous."

  A few goblins turned to Izzy. The lavender pixie crossed her arms. "Not me!" Theoderic smiled.

  Azzyrk grunted. "We know of the Violet Order. They stay out of the Godsbog. They skirt or cross the Lake of Dreams, or patrol the mountains." The general fixed a glare on Cleric Vagram. "Same as you and your priests
agreed."

  Color me surprised. There'd been previous contact between the catechists and the goblins despite their ideologies being polar opposites and in direct defiance of each other.

  On one hand, it made sense for Vagram. He was stern and powerful and a tactical leader. His hundred priests had been on the run, hiding from Oakengard patrols and at times engaging in guerrilla warfare with Black Hats. In an odd concession to practicality, Cleric Vagram decided not to add goblins to his list of active enemies.

  Yet the same rationale little applied to the horde. General Azzyrk was helping Hadrian, likely being used and possibly unaware. His assault on Stronghold had coincided with the spymaster's escape. Why then would the horde not descend on the catechists? Why ask the Violet Order to stay out of the Godsbog?

  "You're afraid of them," I announced, suddenly appreciating Azzyrk's shrewdness.

  He raised an eyebrow. "What's that you're going on about?"

  "The Violet Order. You've asked them to keep their distance."

  He grunted sharply. Dismissively. "The Godsbog is holy ground. Our kind has always resented crusader breaches into it."

  I shook my head. "This is more than that. You know what Hadrian's capable of. You've been fighting for him, alongside him, but you're not his lapdog. You have the fate of your own people to worry about."

  He lifted his chin. "The same can be said about all leaders."

  Our eyes met for a second. My face softened slightly. "It can. That's why the boggart witches listened to reason. That's why Cleric Vagram and the wild king stand beside each other. Why the crusaders march with the Black Hats, and Papa Brugo retakes Shorehome in our name. Even Haven's developers, and Christian Everett the creator, side with us. We're all leaders seeking the betterment of our people."

  While I was proud of the point, the general absorbed the speech with a casual sneer. "You speak of the creator, the so-called White King and his saints who cast us as adversaries to the world. We're just evil pagans to you." The goblin leaned to the side and spat into the murk.