Viridian Gate Online: Darkling Siege (The Viridian Gate Archives Book 7)

by James Hunter

  Finally, a challenge worthy of me, he sent, smug satisfaction radiating off him in waves.

  He broke into a sinuous gait, smashing into a wall of undead Alliance fighters, using his spike-covered head like an oversized mace. They fell on him with swords and axes, spears and halberds, but their weapons were far too weak to penetrate his formidable scales. The ghostly mages turned their vile magic on the Drake rampaging through their ranks like a rabid bull. The spells hit far harder than the warriors ever could, blasting through skin and carving out chunks of flesh, but Devil hardly cared. Rather, he seemed to thrive in the heat of the battle, ripping through torsos with his claws and biting off heads.

  Behind us, there was a pop and a squeal as the doors to the temple finally opened.

  “You brilliant bastard, you,” Cutter shouted, talking to himself, of course. “You really are the best thief in Eldgard. And now the best in Morsheim too.” He turned toward us, a lopsided smile stretching across his face. “We’re in.”

  While Devil and the apes fought back the horde of Hungry Ghosts, the rest of our crew raced inside the now open temple.

  The room was thirty feet across and largely empty—no columns or furniture, no statues or artwork—save for the containment circle of gold and precious gemstones inlaid directly into the floor at the center of the room. This was not some hastily drawn containment circle, either, but rather an intricate work of art created by the hands of a master crafter. Layers upon layers of scrivenings filled that circle, burning with necrotic light. Positioned in the very center of the summoning circle was an onyx cube, completely featureless and roughly the size of a portable generator. Suspended just above the cube was a slowly rotating emerald sphere the size of a baseball.

  “We need to get these doors shut!” Osmark yelled, darting around behind the right-hand door and throwing his weight against the wood, slowly forcing it closed. Sandra and Abby joined him while Jeff, Cutter, and I dealt with the opposite door, grunting as we nudged the heavy wood into motion. Outside, the Hungry Ghosts continued to come, but my minions sure made for one helluva distraction. Devil rampaged through their ranks, taking up a position in front of the entryway, blocking it off with his enormous frame.

  By the time the undead realized just what had happened, the doors slammed shut with a resounding clang, and it was the work of seconds to bolt the thick lock meant to secure the temple against outside invaders.

  “That should hold for a little while,” Osmark said, straightening and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Not as much as you’d think,” Jeff replied with a grimace. “Those things aren’t tough on their own, but they don’t understand the meaning of the word quit. They’ll just keep coming until they’re all either sent back to the halls of the dead or they manage to tear this place down around our heads.”

  “All the more reason to work quickly,” Sandra said, turning on her heel and marching toward the shield generator, her hips swaying as she moved.

  “Agreed,” Osmark replied with a dip of his chin. “Though I would very much like to know what happened out there, Jack.” He stole a sidelong glance at me. “How exactly did you managed to remove your Spectral Revenant status, I wonder?”

  “And why are Osmark and I still stuck as extras in a horror movie?” Abby added, staring at her bloodred hands with a scowl.

  “Purify,” I replied. “I was just trying to dispel the Revealing Light debuff. I had no idea it would work on the Spectral Revenant form.”

  “Sophia,” Abby growled, balling her hands into tight fists. “That sure seems like a piece of info she could’ve passed along to us before we headed into Skálaholt.”

  Osmark shook his head slowly. “The Overminds work in ways I still don’t fully understand,” he murmured, eyes distant. “Everything they do, they do for a reason. It’s all part of some elaborate game, though half the time I’m not sure if we’re playing checkers, chess, or solving a jigsaw puzzle.”

  An angry thud boomed against the door, drawing us out of the moment, reminding us of where we were and what we were up against.

  “We’re wasting time,” Abby said. “Let’s get this thing down while we can.”

  Ravenous Ghoul

  OSMARK, ABBY, AND I joined the rest of our party, who were all huddled around the generator, poking and prodding it and making no progress.

  “You should know how to stop it,” Sandra said, glaring at Jeff.

  “Me?” he sputtered. “Why the hell am I supposed to know? Does it look like this thing comes with an instruction manual?” He stood, squaring up with the Huntress. “I got you all here. That was my job. I expected you guys would know how to deactivate this thing. Maybe start pulling your weight a little, huh?”

  “Gods, I can’t believe I am being the voice of reason,” Cutter said, peering up at the two from where he was taking a knee, “but how’s about both of you pull your heads out of your arses and start doing something constructive, eh? I got through the doors, and those undead blokes out there”—he hooked a thumb toward the blockaded entryway—“have their fair share of thieves as well. We’re working on a time crunch.”

  A rattling boom hit the doors again, driving his point home.

  “Fine,” Jeff said, raising his palms in surrender. “Fine.”

  Sandra just rolled her eyes, but finally turned her attention back to the machine.

  I headed closer and dropped down onto my haunches, more closely examining the containment circle and the strange box with its floating orb. There were no sigils on the generator itself, and sadly I didn’t spot a giant red self-destruct button waiting for some plucky hero to press. With a frown, I traced my fingers over the gems and golden symbols carved into the floor. The seven primary runes mirrored the markings on the outside of the pagoda and the ones I’d found in the temple in Idruz. But those symbols were just the beginning, the jumping-off points. The scrivenings piled into the containment circle and worked around those larger runes were so complex I didn’t even know where to start.

  A third boom rattled the door. Louder this time, the wood groaning from the impact.

  “Holy shit. Did they find a battering ram?” Jeff mumbled under his breath, stealing a furtive look at the doors.

  No one answered, but it was obvious we were running out of time. Fast. I knew in my gut that the key to deactivating the generator lay in the runes and not the box itself, but I had no clue how to fit the key into the lock. I’d been spending more and more time with Betty Howard, our Arcane Scrivener, but this work was probably even beyond what she was capable of producing. Suddenly, I was sad we’d left Vlad behind—he’d have had some sort of solution. Melt it with acid. Nuke it with an atomic bomb. Something.

  Osmark stood, pulled out his pistol, and fired a shot into the free-floating orb. It pinged harmlessly away, leaving the generator unaffected.

  “Had to try,” he said with a shrug, stowing the repeater.

  A fourth boom landed, the strikes coming more quickly now, followed by a pained roar from Devil. Just what was happening out there, anyway?

  “Let me try something,” I said, standing and absently adjusting my gear. My countdown timer had just lapsed on Purify, and though I thought this was a long shot, it had worked before.

  I triggered Purify again, summoning another opalescent wave of Divine Energy. I crossed my fingers, hoping the spell would be enough get the job done. The wall of energy filled the pagoda’s interior with dazzling light, but the generator continued humming softly away, unaffected by the spell. Though whether it was because the generator was immune to Purify or because the spell had failed, I couldn’t say. Fortunately, this time Osmark transitioned back, shedding his frightening Spectral Revenant form.

  A definite win, though Abby groaned in frustration.

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly with a shrug.

  “Not your fault,” she said. Despite the words, she sagged forward, deflated. “So, I’m still stuck as a Revenant, and none of us have
any idea how to deactivate this damned thing. What the hell do we do now?” She sounded bleak. “Try to retreat maybe?”

  “No,” Osmark replied, his voice like steel. “Even with the Necropolis in our hands, we need to capture Skálaholt, otherwise the Darklings will continue to respawn indefinitely, launching attacks from the safety of the dome and whittling away our forces until Thanatos can finish his work corrupting the dungeons of Eldgard.” His jaw tightened. “I’ve seen that scenario play out, and it ends up with us dead. Thanatos won’t face us unless he has no other options, so if we have any hope of beating him, we need to take everything. Leave him with nowhere to run and no options other than direct conflict.”

  Trouble comes, Devil sent, his voice pained inside my head.

  A thunderous boom landed for a fifth time, and the doors exploded inward with the force of a bomb blast.

  On the other side of the entryway stood a hulking monstrosity, fifteen feet tall and eight feet wide—a terrible golem, fashioned from the mangled souls of Hungry Ghosts. It had the rough shape of a person, but a person cobbled together from bits and pieces of a hundred other men and women. Wretched faces protruded from its arms and chest, and its enormous fists were formed from an army of other fists and fingers. It had one enormous hand wrapped entirely around Devil’s head, and with a squeeze it crushed the Drake’s skull, banishing him back to the Shadowverse before shambling into the temple.

  [Greater Ravenous Ghoul]

  More Hungry Ghosts streamed in around the twisted behemoth, howling as they beelined for us.

  “I’ve got big and ugly,” I yelled. “Everyone else fan out! Hold the line. Cutter, see what you can do about the generator!”

  I charged the creature, raising my left hand, palm up, and blasting a series of Umbra Bolts at the colossal beast. They splashed across its malformed body, taking tiny nibbles of its HP, but failing to do any substantial damage. In seconds I was in range, my warhammer swinging around from the side as I ducked in low. I triggered my familiar cocktail of powers—Savage Blow, Crush Armor, Champion’s Strike, and Black Caress—the blunt face of my hammer sinking into green flesh. Thin wisps of energy flowed along the hammer and into my arm as Black Caress siphoned off a portion of the creature’s Health.

  A titanic fist smashed toward me, and I dived to the right, rolling back to my feet, then jettisoning a gout of flame into the creature’s trunk. The faces of the dead contorted as they let out silent screams, but the golem kept right on coming.

  Night Cyclone was still on cooldown, but that wasn’t my only trick.

  “Sandra, I need arrow fire and grenades.” I swiveled, ducking below a swinging fist, and conjured a Shadow-Warp Portal that Sandra launched a veritable arsenal into. The second portal I opened directly above the creature’s head, and crossbow bolts and corrosive grenades raining down on it. The creature squealed in anguish, its HP taking a decent hit. I was confident we could kill this thing in time, but the problem was there were more and more of the lesser Hungry Ghosts pouring in around the creature, slowly flooding the temple’s interior and pushing us back against the wall.

  The arrows had worked okay, but I needed more concentrated power.

  “Cutter!” I shouted, sidestepping left and avoiding a ponderous kick that would’ve caved in my ribs. “Shadow-Warp Portal! Get ready to jump!” I triggered the spell again, this time stretching the mini black hole to its maximum dimensions—six feet by six feet. Big enough to accommodate a full-grown man.

  Without even hesitating, Cutter spun and leaped, curling into a tight ball as he passed through into the void space between the worlds. As with Sandra, I opened the portal ten feet above the shambling golem of the dead. The thief fell in a blur, both blades out, the tips facing down. He drove the daggers home, hilt deep, and the creature’s HP plunged. It roared, arms and legs thrashing about blindly. In the chaos and commotion, a wayward fist coldcocked me in the chest with the force of a Mack truck, flipping me back and toward the shield generator.

  I landed in a heap, head spinning, but looked up just in time to see the Ravenous Ghoul topple, crushing several lesser spirits beneath its colossal weight.

  It should’ve been a win, but instead a chill raced through my body. Without the towering creature to block my view, I could see just how screwed we were. It felt like we were finally starting to put a dent into the Hungry Ghosts, but there were still a hundred or more fighting tooth and nail just to get inside the temple. And I had no doubt they would get in. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

  Despair threatened to crush me, but I fought it back—I couldn’t afford to waver. Not now.

  If the forces of Eldgard were going to take Skálaholt, we needed to pull down the Arcane Barrier, end of story. And that meant deactivating the generator in front of me. We also needed to do it fast, since I doubted we would be able to hold even for another five minutes. But maybe that would be enough. Maybe not enough to save ourselves from the vengeful spirits with their Malware blades, but maybe enough to let the Alliance get a foothold inside Skálaholt. It was a bleak prospect, but it had to be enough.

  It was possible there was a way. But this plan was a double-edged sword, as likely to damn us as save us.

  I only thought about it for a moment before steeling my resolve and pulling out the Arcane Dampener Vlad had reconstructed for me.

  The Weaponeer always said it was better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. Boy, was he right on the money.

  My hands trembled, fingers slick with blood, as I activated the runic markings inscribed on the face of the weapon. This was a terrible idea. But it was also the only thing I could think to do. I raised the staff and drove it down with all the force I could muster, smashing it into the temple floor. A spiderweb of cracks spread across the floor, and surprisingly, the staff easily penetrated deep into the marble, sticking straight up like a lightning rod. With trepidation coursing through me and a muttered prayer on my lips, I pressed the final activation rune.

  Hopefully, I wasn’t killing us all.

  An enormous dome immediately bubbled up, spreading outward at an alarming rate, enveloping the entire interior of the temple. Everywhere that dome touched, magic simply failed. I let out a sigh of relief as the shield generator sputtered and died, the runes powering it fading like the light of a dying candle. But the magic-murdering dome kept right on spreading, swelling out and out and out. It washed over my friends, all desperately fighting to hold the entryway. As soon as it did, their magic failed right along with everything else. I watched with bated breath, hoping against hope that the Hungry Ghosts were also some sort of conjured beings that would dissipate beneath the consuming power of the Arcane Dampener.

  My stomach dropped. Lurched back into my throat. No such luck.

  “Holy shit!” Abby called out. “The shield is down! It’s down!”

  “Yeah, but so is my fucking magic!” Jeff swore, swinging his axe in a looping arc.

  This was an impossible fight. Even at our full levels, without our magic, we were crippled. But if we could just hold the generator for long enough, there was a slim chance that reinforcements could find us. Quickly, I glanced out the door, eagerly watching the horizon.

  Accipiters were already blazing in, and mounted units followed in close order.

  Maybe we could do this.

  If we just held a little longer. Minutes even.

  “Rally around the generator,” Osmark barked as though reading my thoughts in real time. “We have to hold. Back-to-back. Like before.”

  My teammates dropped back in a hasty retreat, pursued by Hungry Ghosts who struck with deadly black weapons, opening up shallow gashes and punching into exposed limbs. Back-to-back we fought once more, all six of us in a ring, the Arcane Dampener and the defunct shield generator in the center of our impromptu formation.

  The Hungry Ghosts gave us no quarter, flowing into the space and throwing themselves against us from every angle. I pulled my scythe blade out, equipp
ing it in my off hand, hacking while I swung with my hammer. With the Arcane Dampener in place, I had no spells to rely on, so dual wielding seemed like the thing to do. Bodies fell and heads rolled. My world became the rhythmic motion of weapons rising and falling in time with the beat of my thundering heart. For minutes we held, eyes trained on the door, bodies piling up around us.

  The boom of siege weapons firing in the distance rattled the air, and explosions of golden light marred the sky as the Darklings pushed back against our raiders.

  My Stamina bar flashed red, and I delivered each strike a little more slowly than the one before it. My lungs burned like the inside of a furnace, my legs trembled from the effort of just holding myself upright, and my arms felt like lead weights fastened to the sides of my body. A curved falchion flashed, and I narrowly turned aside the blade before it cut me down the middle, but I was too slow to deflect an incoming arrow with my scythe-bladed short sword. It parted my armor and punched into my side, penetrating my lung.

  <<<>>>

  Debuffs Added

  Punctured Lung: You have suffered a punctured lung; Stamina regeneration reduced by 15%; duration, 5 minutes.

  Internal Bleeding: You have sustained internal bleeding: 3 HP/sec; duration, 1 minute.

  <<<>>>

  I wheezed, gasping for air, blood dribbling from my lips as my HP dwindled.

  Still we fought on, a desperate last stand, while we watched war blimps and Alliance Accipiters draw nearer, our siege weapons cutting the Darklings from the sky.

  Before us, undead Wodes and Imperials came, fighting alongside Risi with missing arms and Dwarves trailing intestine across the temple floor. Their blows came faster and faster, or perhaps I was just responding slower and slower. Attack, slash, deflect, reset. I parried a battle-axe, batting the weapon to the side, but I needed room to maneuver, and I just didn’t have it. An Accipiter thief, wielding a lightning-quick rapier, feinted left, and I fell for it, trying to get my warhammer into place to deflect the attack, only to find his blade slashing a bright line of fire across my face. He came again with a lunge, and I tried to sidestep the blow, but my foot landed in a pool of slick gore and went out from beneath me.