by A. J. Markam
“There are seven of them.”
“So that wasn’t just a saying, that thing you said in the jungle about them freezing over?”
“No. This one is Astoroth, which is where Odeon drew all his power from.”
“Are you from here?”
“No,” she said grimly, “though I’ve spent some time here, unfortunately.”
I looked back at the grotesque menagerie of creatures and S&M-inspired carriages lining the drive of the plantation house. It would have been nice to grab one of the mounts to chase after Odeon, but I couldn’t – not until I reached Level 20 and got Apprentice Riding. That would definitely make the game a whole lot easier.
So for now we were stuck on foot, running after this asshole.
“Look, let’s just give up and go back,” I huffed and puffed as I ran. “We lost out on this one – there’s no way we can catch him.”
“Wrong,” Alaria said. “I know where he’s going, and I know who he’s going to see.”
“Where and who?”
“That city up ahead of is named Abaddon, and it’s ruled by a demon lord named Malfurik. He’s Odeon’s patron. I’m pretty sure my former master is running to him like a little bitch, scared of fighting his own battles.”
“He’s not going to fight us?” I asked incredulously.
“He was always one to let me do the dirty work. You can see from the way he turned tail and ran that he’s not exactly the bravest of souls.”
“I thought you said he was a powerful warlock!”
“He is. I expected him to summon demons to fight us, not turn tail and run.”
“Boss, I can’t do this,” Stig groaned as he staggered along behind us.
I looked back at him. It was still weird to see myself being followed by a dwarf instead of an imp. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s these clothes…”
“Just burn them up, then.”
“Really, boss?”
I could hear the hope in his voice.
“Go for it,” I said. “But give me your brooch first.’
Stig handed over the pin, which I slipped into my bag. Then he created a fireball and directed it upon himself. Within seconds his clothes were a mass of flames and began to slough off his gray body.
He sighed in relief, and stopped stumbling quite so much – although he still wove in a drunken diagonal pattern more often than he ran straight.
34
It took us well over an hour, but we finally made it to Abaddon.
On the outskirts of the city were a series of deep canyons carved out of the ground. They wound around in serpentine patterns, creating archipelagos of hilltops connected by iron suspension bridges.
At the bottom of the canyons were mines, where demons of all shapes and sizes were bound to each other in chain gangs as they clanged pickaxes against stones. There were imps, horned devils, satyrs, and about a thousand other varieties. It was the Hell version of the elemental water spirits toiling out in the plantation fields.
I was one aware of one very real fact: I was the only human around. I don’t know why, but it made me intensely uncomfortable.
In the center of the mines, the city of Abaddon was laid out like a glittering jewel. All the buildings were created from the same glowing, tigers-eye-like stone. The main building was a cathedral structure, with a towering front that reached up at least a thousand feet. Behind it were a series of slender, sinister-looking spires, giving the impression of a hellish porcupine with its quills rising up straight to the sky.
We reached the walls of the city and passed beneath the baleful eyes of dozens of guards. But rather than challenging us, they let us on through the city gates.
“Why aren’t they stopping us?” I whispered to Alaria.
“Why would they? As far as they know, we’re demon citizens here on a quest.”
“I’m not – I’m human.”
“But you’re with us.”
“That’s the only reason they’re letting me pass?”
“Of course. Otherwise you’d be thrown in the mines so quick it would make your head spin.”
That was unpleasant to hear.
“Where exactly are we going?”
Alaria pointed at the gigantic cathedral structure. “In there. Malfurik’s throne room. I’m pretty sure that’s where Odeon’s headed.”
“Are we going to have to fight Malfurik, too?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I don’t care about him – I just want Odeon dead.”
I thought about saying, Well then, I wish you had just gone ahead and killed him without monologuing back there in the plantation house, but I decided to keep that opinion to myself.
As we continued to race through the streets, it was vaguely unsettling how easy all this was. I had effectively gotten dumped into the middle of an enemy camp, and yet not a single one of them was making any sort of aggressive overtures towards me. I told myself that there were plenty of places in the game with neutral factions – orcs who didn’t necessarily want to kill or enslave humans, trolls who would leave you alone as long as you didn’t bother them, goblins who went about their daily business and wouldn’t attack unless provoked.
But I had always encountered small groups of those races – tiny villages, isolated outposts. I had never been in the middle of an entire freaking city where everybody looked like they belonged in the Book of Revelations, but were like, Nah, man, we’re good.
We reached the castle and stole our way inside. The giant tower was apparently for looks, because the main receiving hall was on the ground level, with giant steps leading up to the throne.
As we crept inside, we could hear Odeon’s unctuous voice echoing through the hall.
“I don’t think you understand – the succubus is dangerous.”
“Is that why you ran like a coward?” a deep, rumbling voice chortled, reverberating through the hall like thunder.
We took some stairs in the antechamber, ended up on a mezzanine, and peered over the side of the railing. Below us was a central dais with a throne made of blackened skulls and bones. The throne was either sculpted out of iron, or they took actual bones and poured molten metal over them, then let it cool down. Either way, it was extremely creepy and did nothing to dispel the Book of Revelations vibe.
Not to mention there was another giant, gilt-edged mirror behind the throne. I guess these assholes were into mirror magic, too.
But even worse than all that was the creature sitting on the throne.
He was a massive demon with red skin like Alaria – but whereas she was the epitome of femininity, this guy was a caricature of brute masculinity. He had biceps the size of watermelons and a chest as big around as an oak tree. He must’ve stood at least 15 feet tall, and the only thing he wore were chainmail pants, metal boots, and spiked bracers. His face was very much like a satyr’s, with goat-like horns, a devilish beard, and glowing yellow eyes. His facial features alone would’ve been attractive, except that they were so infused with cruelty and viciousness that it was hard to look at him without thinking Total sociopath.
“There were two of them,” Odeon explained patiently. “She has a new master, who apparently is aiding her in wiping out her previous masters.”
“And how do you know this?” Malfurik asked.
“I got word of the death of Jastoth, a former warlock masquerading as a priest of Chalastia.”
Malfurik grunted in discontent. Apparently he wasn’t a fan.
Odeon continued. “I knew that Jastoth was her master after me. When I heard that a succubus had killed him, I assumed the worst and hired an assassin to go after her.”
“Apparently the assassin failed.”
“Unfortunately, yes. She showed up at my ball just an hour ago, with the intent of seducing me away from the crowd and then killing me.”
The giant demon lord guffawed. “There’s a sort of poetic justice in you being led to your death by your prick, since it rules everything else you do.”
Odeon gave a pained smile – like how you would smile at somebody you despised, but whose good graces you depended on.
“Yes, well, dwelling on the past does nothing to help me in the present. Will you give me a team of your finest mercenaries? She’s probably already inside your kingdom right now, tracking me down, plotting to kill me.”
“Why don’t you use your warlock powers and summon some of my cousins to do your bidding?” the demon lord sneered.
If I hadn’t known any better, I would have assumed he was trolling Odeon.
The old white-haired man smiled tightly. “You know I gave up my practices years ago. I prefer not to use coercion now.”
“Really? I think the water elementals on your plantation would argue otherwise.”
So Malfurik was trolling him.
Odeon tensed. “Will you help me or not?”
“Perhaps I should just turn her over to you, white slaver,” the demon lord said, his voice deadly. “My kind have suffered enough at your hands. Maybe it is time for you to get a taste of your own medicine.”
Odeon blanched. “We’ve had a beneficial working relationship for years now – ”
“And yet you have grown old and fat and complacent, a gentleman farmer with nothing to your name other than a pretty house and a thousand slaves,” Malfurik sneered. “Our deal was made with the expectation that you would provide me a flow of riches from your world. You have not kept up your end of the bargain.”
Odeon forced a smile. “I didn’t know you felt this way. I will be more than happy to recompense you in any way you wish – I just need the girl dead first.”
“Or maybe,” Alaria said as she stood up from the mezzanine where we hid, “you should just hand him over to me.”
What the hell?!
“What are you doing?!” I hissed.
“We’re not in combat,” she whispered. “You said I could do anything I want – so I am.”
“We’re going to have to revisit that subject!” I seethed.
All the guards down in the main throne room immediately brandished their spears and swords. I guess none of them considered Alaria a real threat, because nobody made a move to storm the mezzanine.
Malfurik gazed up at her, and an unpleasant smile spread across his face.
Odeon, on the other hand, looked like he was about to shit his pants. He tried to bolt, but the nearest guards seized him and pulled him back, pinning his arms behind him.
“You said she was a great beauty, Odeon,” Malfurik chuckled, “but I thought you prone to exaggeration. Now I see it was one of the few times you ever understated anything. Come down here, my darling – I would have a closer look at you.”
I looked up at Alaria. “Is this a good idea?”
“Too late now,” she whispered, then stepped up onto the railing, jumped off, and glided down on outstretched bat wings.
“Stig,” I whispered.
No answer.
I looked behind me. My imp was nowhere to be seen.
“Stig!” I whispered harshly.
Stig crawled out of the shadows on his hands and knees, then collapsed on the ground with his face on the floor.
“Yeah, boss?” he answered drunkenly.
“Dammit, Stig – no more wine for you,” I ordered angrily. “Hang back in case I need you later, got it?”
“Got it, boss,” he mumbled into the floor.
I shook my head and peered down at the drama unfolding below.
Alaria walked straight over to Odeon, though she spoke to the demon lord on the throne. “Give him to me. I’ll take the worm off your hands.”
Malfurik looked her up and down in a way that made my blood boil and my skin crawl at the same time. Then he laughed. “I’m sure you would, but he is somewhat amusing to me. It would be like asking to slaughter one of my pets.”
“What do you want in exchange for him?” she asked.
“You.”
Alaria gazed at him coolly. “I’m not for sale. Nor are my affections.”
“That isn’t what Odeon told me,” Malfurik leered.
Alaria glared at the old man but kept speaking to the demon lord. “Slavery isn’t exactly a fair trade, now is it? Give him to me as a gift. I’m sure we can work something out. You said that you wanted enrichment – ”
“Where is your master, little succubus?” Malfurik asked.
“I left him back in the real world.”
“Excellent! Then he won’t be able to stop me from doing this.”
The demon lord raised his hand, and suddenly a blast of black energy slammed into Alaria and sent her screaming to her knees.
Oh shit. I could see Alaria’s hit points dropping rapidly.
What the hell is he going to –
All of a sudden, I knew exactly what he was going to do.
Oh no.
He got her to within 5% of her hit points, then stood up from the throne and strode over to her. He produced a glowing blade from out of nowhere – literally conjured it from a mist of darkness and shadow – and then walked up to her and slid the tip underneath her collar.
“I think you shall have a new master, little one,” the demon lord rumbled. “And it shall be – ”
“NO!” I yelled as I hit the bastard with a blast of Darkfire.
Malfurik roared and turned around to look at me.
My Darkfire danced along his red skin like sunspots on the surface of a star – but then just as quickly disappeared.
Oh shit.
I hadn’t checked his stats before I attacked him, so I hadn’t known how many hit points he had.
I checked now.
Level 120.
1,000,000 hit points.
Shit.
This was going to be a bloodbath. It was like a puppy going up against a Sherman tank. Not to mention the two dozen guards he had around him, who I’m sure were at least 100K apiece.
Screw it, I thought, and immediately hit Alaria with Self-Sacrifice, raising her hit points.
If I was going to go out, I was going to go out fighting.
Then I could get resurrected and figure out a way to build an army. Maybe some old friends I’d quested with for years could help me do a raid on the palace and kill this asshole.
What I didn’t count on was that Malfurik didn’t necessarily want to kill me.
He had a range of non-destructive powers – including something called Shadow Lock.
Malfurik flung a bolt of red energy that slammed into me and knocked me onto my back.
My ivory rod disconnected from my shoulder strap and rolled across the floor in Stig’s direction.
Red letters appeared in the center of my field of vision:
Shadow Locked.
Stunned.
A counter started down from 10, and I watched the seconds pass with mounting dread. I was unable to move and unable to cast any spells.
“Stig!” I whispered harshly.
In answer, I heard a drunken snore.
The one thing I could move was my head. I craned my neck back – and saw my imp lying on the ground, his ass up in the air, his hands folded dreamily under his head, a pool of slobber gathering on the floor beneath them.
Then it got worse.
Red energy surrounded me, lifted me to a standing position, and floated me down through the air to the throne room dais.
I saw Alaria’s terrified expression as she watched me approach Malfurik’s outstretched hand.
The spell lock was almost finished, though – and then it hit zero.
I immediately cast Terrify on Malfurik. It would be fun to see the asshole turn and run like a little bitch –
Except the words Target Immune appeared midair.
Shit.
Fine, Unholy Quartet then.
Four imps burst up from the ground in a square around Malfurik. But just as they were about to cast fireballs at him, the throne room guards speared them through their backs.
My imps disappeared in a burst of flame as
their hit points dropped to zero.
Uh oh…
I tried casting Soul Suck on him. It worked for a few seconds, until he Shadow Locked me again.
Malfurik brought me down to eye level with him – which meant I was still eight feet off the floor.
“So you are her new master?” the demon lord grinned. “You are a fool, boy – do you know that?”
“Go ahead and kill me, asshole,” I said, just waiting for the new ten-second counter to hit zero.
“No,” the demon lord said thoughtfully, “I don’t think so. I know your kind. Warlocks like you are not bound by the normal human rules of death. If I kill you, you’ll just come back to bother me again, like some unnatural pest.”
Shit.
I had never run across an NPC who understood the mechanics of respawning – but this bastard certainly did. He was right – and both he and I knew it, unfortunately.
“No,” the demon grinned. “I think you will serve far better as a slave in my mines.”
He waved his hand, and searing pain erupted in both my wrists and my neck. It was like molten lava had touched my skin.
I screamed and waited for my hit points to drop to zero and blackness to engulf me – but instead, my Health didn’t budge at all.
What did happen, though, was glowing bands of metal snaked around my wrists and cooled into solid bracers. From the pain around my neck, I assumed the exact same thing was happening there, too.
“Now I can let you go,” the demon lord chortled.
He released the red field around me, and I crumpled into a pile on the floor.
Bastard –
I held up my hands and prepared to fire a Darkbolt –
But nothing happened.
What the hell?!
I looked at my action bar.
Every single one of my spellcasting abilities was greyed out. The bright colors had been replaced with ghostly greys and whites – just like back in the wizard’s tower.
The only difference was my weakness in the tower had been limited to a specific location. I left the tower and I was back to normal.
My current predicament was tied to my manacles and collar – which meant my powerlessness was permanent until I removed them.
Ohhhhh shit…
“Take him to the mines,” the demon lord ordered.
