by C. M. Carney
She sprawled safely, if painfully, to the ground. Gryph wasn’t so lucky as the full weight of his soul bound pet slammed him in the chest. He crashed to the ground again, and his eyes met those of the wolf. Its breath was ragged, and hot blood leaked from its side. With a shudder, the wolf died.
Gryph was pissed. He’d always been a dog guy, and while this wolf would happily have torn his throat out had it not been Soul Bound, he still felt the loss of the beast. After all, it had saved his life. Gryph stood in time to see the baalgrath’s fist flying towards him again. He dove and rolled aside, reaching out to snatch his spear from the ground as he came back to his feet.
Gryph thrust upwards with the spear, catching the baalgrath in the side. Black blood flowed from the wound, and the baalgrath swung again. Gryph Dodged, and the beast exposed his back, but Gryph lost his grip on his spear.
I need space. He climbed onto the beast’s back and activated Push Off. Gryph somersaulted head over heels and landed gracefully five feet away. The perk also pushed the baalgrath off balance long enough for Gryph to recover.
There was only one problem, his spear lay lost between the legs of the baalgrath. Gryph pumped mana into his bracers and tried to pull the spear to him, but the dumb creature had stepped on the spear as it stumbled back to its feet. It was momentarily disoriented, and Gryph chanced a look around.
Ovyrm was battling the phase panther and faring none too well. He sent a message to Tifala to go aid the warrior monk. He saw dozens of other corrupted beasts waiting just out of reach. What are they waiting for? Gryph wondered. Wick? Now would be a good time, he sent to the chthonic summoner.
Almost there, came the strained reply.
The baalgrath had recovered and turned towards Gryph, throwing its arms wide and roaring. Shit, Gryph thought as he stumbled backwards. He reached for the throwing knives but remembered their lack of effectiveness against the other baalgrath. His mind cycled through all of his new powers and he held his left arm up, palm out.
Mana surged down his arm like a swollen river after torrential rain, and a jet of water flew from his palm, smacking the bewildered beast in the face. It was the first time he’d cast Water Blast, and while it staggered the baalgrath, he suspected that was due more to surprise than actual damage. He knew the beast would soon recover, especially with its irritating ability to regenerate.
Suddenly the jet of water surged sideways, digging a furrow into the ground, and sending a sheet of muddy water onto the pack of nearby wolves. The water spun upwards and cascaded down drenching Gryph. He quickly cut the mana feed to his out-of-control spell, and added water logged to his list of fashion crimes.
The baalgrath rushed forward, but it slipped in the muck and flopped onto its back, buying Gryph the time to complain viciously. What the hell was that?
Ha, Xeg’s laugh came through their mental bond. Dumb silver head have magic twisted all back and forths.
What do you mean? Gryph asked.
What mean, what mean? You no have eyes? Big water splash turn and go … splooge … all over. Make silver hair look much more nicer. And very much funny.
I understand what happened, I was asking why? Gryph raged.
Oh, Xeg no know. Wait, Xeg might know, just no wanna tell. Xeg know much lotsa stuff.
I have seen something akin to the phenomena, Ovyrm sent, his even tone bringing a bit of calm to Gryph’s frayed nerves. In the Outer Realms, there are areas known as bleed zones, where magic runs amok, often with unpredictable results.
You think that is what happened here, Gryph sent. They are corrupted by the Bleed?
Doubtful, the xydai responded. I have never heard of a bleed zone on the surface of a world, but it seems that whatever force has corrupted these creatures also messes with magic’s normal behavior, and it seems to have … a sense of humor.
A desperate idea came to Gryph. Stand back, I’m going to try something here. He thrust his hand out, summoning more mana, and a mini tornado formed around his arm. As the spell Halo of Air left his hand, he sent a silent prayer to the universe. This better work, Gryph thought.
Halo of Air had saved his ass on many occasions. It provided a sphere of fresh air centered about one’s head. This would be the first time Gryph had ever cast it on anyone or anything, but himself. Usually, the spell would expel liquids, foreign gasses or anything else unwanted, and provide the user with breathable air. This time Gryph hoped for another outcome.
The spell appeared as a slight shimmer around the baalgrath’s head, and for a moment the moronic creature seemed happy with the fresh smell. After a few moments however, the slow inrush of air built to hurricane force. The baalgrath squinted, and its mouth expanded like a dog hanging its head out of the window of a fast-moving car, all teeth and slobber.
As the air pressure increased, bits of dirt and twigs got sucked in, soon followed by rocks, clumps of grass and a small bird sucked from a nearby tree. The rush of air became so fierce that it tugged at Gryph, slowly drawing him towards the monstrosity.
Gryph started to panic, but then the spell reversed itself, expelling all the air inside the halo. The stupid creature took several seconds to process that its head was now surrounded by a vacuum and then, the beast began to suffocate.
It grasped feebly at its head, trying and failing to swat away the porous halo. It stumbled back and forth, smashing into trees and crumbling walls alike. Several times it punched itself fully in the face, desperate to dislodge the invisible grip of doom that had it.
Gryph watched as the vacuum sucked the air from the baalgrath’s lungs. Gryph smiled. I cannot believe this is working, he sent. Then the dark orange corruption leaked from the baalgrath’s eyes, nose and mouth and it crept up the inside of the invisible sphere like an infection. Gryph saw his magic blink and falter, and the spell failed completely. The baalgrath fell to its knees as it sucked in heavy gasps of air. After a moment it looked up, eyes filled not just with corrupted rage, but with awareness.
“NICE TRY,” the baalgrath said in an otherworldly voice, and it stood and smiled at Gryph with more keen intelligence than the beast could possibly possess. Laughter that sounded like the slow movement of tectonic plates rose in the woods, and a cold tingle of fear trickled down Gryph's back.
5
Gryph stumbled back in shock. Something that wasn’t the baalgrath had spoken to him, and it was none too pleased. The baalgrath smiled a wicked grin at Gryph and charged. Panic took hold of Gryph, and he thrust his hand out, mana filling his bracers. Behind the rumbling mack truck of the baalgrath his spear came to life and zipped to his hand. He stumbled to his feet just in time to raise the spear in a lame defensive posture. The baalgrath’s fist came crashing down upon Gryph’s upraised spear, and he barely kept his grip as it crushed him to his knees. It pushed down with much greater power than it had previously and Gryph knew his strength would soon fail him.
That’s when help arrived.
“AVERNERIUS!” Wick bellowed in the otherworldly timbre his voice possessed whenever he summoned the abyssal terror. A rift opened and hot, sulfurous winds flowed over him.
The baalgrath’s eyes widened in hatred, and the beast forgot all about Gryph as it bull rushed the demon. The baalgrath was a tough opponent, but the abyssal terror was a lieutenant in the armies of the chthonic realm and one of the deadliest beings Gryph had encountered since entering the Realms. The baalgrath’s meaty fist connected with the side of Avernerius’ face with a crack of bone, but the demon just grinned and swung its massive sword of flame and brimstone upwards, severing the trollkin’s arm at the elbow.
The possessed baalgrath howled in rage more than pain and brought its head crashing down into the demon’s face. The hell beast’s wide nose split, gushing hot black blood across both creatures. The demon stumbled backwards, and the baalgrath leapt.
Gryph gripped his spear and backed away from the battle of titans. He glanced towards his friends to see Tifala holding her hands above her head, a shimmering
golden shield protecting her and Ovyrm, who knelt by her side, blood dripping from several wounds.
The phase panther moved in and out of existence, trying to push through Tifala’s defensive protections, but having no luck. However, Gryph knew her mana had to be depleting at a staggering speed. It was only a matter of time before her shield failed. Gryph gave a quick glance to Wick, who still sheltered behind the wall he’d been casting behind. His face was ashen and covered in sweat. Gryph often failed to recognize how much summoning the abyssal terror cost his friend.
I’m fine. Help them, Wick sent.
Gryph nodded and turned back to his other friends. A plan formed in his mind. Tifala on my signal, drop your shield, Gryph sent. Panic shot through the link, but he sent her his plan, and she nodded approval. Gryph pumped all of his remaining mana into the storage batteries on his spear. He knew the resultant headache would be more crippling than the worst migraine, but he saw no other option. As his spear greedily drank in his arcane power, Gryph sprinted towards Tifala and Ovyrm.
Gryph crossed the space between them in seconds, and as he got close, he sent NOW through the link. Tifala’s shield dropped, and the phase panther mewed in excitement as it phased towards its prey. It popped out of this realm, and a moment later returned directly over its prey.
The look of shock and pain in the panther’s eyes almost made Gryph guilty, almost. It had phased back into reality with Gryph’s spear inside its body, and as it materialized Gryph had forced all the stored mana into a Penetrating Strike. It earned him a Critical Strike, and the phase panther shuddered and died, its body fading away in a gray mist and faded back to whatever realm it called home.
Gryph’s eyes snapped back to the battle between the baalgrath and the abyssal terror. He expected the demon would slay the baalgrath quickly, but the corrupted beast was holding its own. Was the corruption making it tougher, or was it the alien presence possessing the beast’s small mind somehow empowering the monster?
The baalgrath moved with purpose, pummeling Avernerius mercilessly with its remaining fist. One blow knocked the hell spawn back. The baalgrath howled and leap at the demon, but Avernerius whipped his hand out and caught the baalgrath by the throat. The demon squeezed, and bones crunched. Avernerius started to chant in its infernal language and pulled the baalgrath close.
Gryph recoiled from the putridity of the hell speak, and his mind twisted. Then, blessedly, the words stopped, and a corona of flame erupted from the demon's hand roasting the corrupted monster’s head and neck.
The baalgrath grinned and opened its mouth, not in pain, but as if it were preparing to feed. A tendril of glowing magma orange energy exploded from the baalgrath’s mouth and snapped down Avernerius’ throat. Unearthly laughter chortled from the baalgrath’s throat as the orange energy flowed through Avernerius. A moment later the baalgrath’s head exploded in a halo of gore and bone.
A low chuckle rose, somewhere at the edge of Gryph's hearing. It flowed over him and disappeared as the baalgrath died. The now headless corpse slithered to the ground, and the demon fell to one knee. An odd silence fell over the woods. Tifala was helping Ovyrm to his feet as Wick walked up next to Gryph.
“What are they waiting for?” the gnome whispered.
Gryph gazed towards the woods where dozens of corrupted beasts waited, staring and snarling at them. “I don’t know, but we better be ready.” Avernerius stood and the same stone crushing laughter that had come from the baalgrath chortled from its teeth lined maw.
It was clear the demon’s mind was no longer its own. Now something else possessed it, something older, something far more dangerous. It held the demonic sword of flame and ash over its head and slashed it down, pointing it right at Gryph.
“You are mine, little godling.”
Dozens upon dozens of wolves, bears, stags and other forest beasts, driven mad by the corruption, stampeded towards the group. Gryph launched himself towards the corrupted demon. He pumped what little mana he had left into his spear and looked for an opening. He knew he was about to die, but maybe, just maybe he’d be able to take the demon with him.
The demon swung its sword and Gryph raised his spear, a pathetic shield against the otherworldly destruction about to come crashing down on him.
Suddenly, from behind and above them, several dozen flashes of brilliant emerald light exploded downwards. Each perfectly aimed flash found a target, and a cacophonous boom filled the forest as the missiles exploded simultaneously. Arcane energy tore limbs from running bodies, shredded chests and torsos, and ruptured skulls. The first wave of attacking beasts fell, most dead on impact, while those unlucky enough to survive whimpered in agony.
A powerful and commanding voice yelled “Move forward and draw.” All around Gryph dozens of tall, regal El’Edryn, clad in dark green leather armor flowing with intricate scrolling of leaves and vines, landed. Each hit the ground silently and drew an arrow from a quiver at their back. As one, the elves nocked their arrows and mana flowed down the arrow shafts, coalescing at the tip. A hum rose along with the bright green light.
Avernerius stumbled back to its feet, the bright magma orange of corrupted rage pulsing in its eyes. It opened its mouth, ready to cast another spell, but the commander of the El’Edryn spoke first.
“Loose.”
The twang of several dozen bows merged into one, and another volley of the devastating missiles flew towards the abyssal terror. The impact made Gryph’s teeth ache, and the flash blinded him. He fell to his knees in shock and confusion. When his vision cleared, he saw Avernerius. The demon’s body was smoking from a dozen ragged, smoking holes. As Gryph watched, the abyssal terror choked his last breath and his body imploded into a red and black singularity.
Gryph stumbled to his feet as the cadre of elves moved past him and drew their bows again. There was no time to wonder who these newcomers were, as the next wave of corrupted beasts rushed from the woods. The elves loosed another volley of arrows, but unlike the first, these were not glowing with imbued energy. Still, they were devastatingly effective and a dozen of the beasts fell to the earth. Then the rest of the corrupted animals were on them.
Gryph ducked and spun his spear as the slathering jaws of a wolf snapped at his neck. The blade punched through the beast’s neck and Gryph spun again, yanking the weapon free. He ended up back to back with one elf as a pack of wolves surrounded them. Gryph thrust forward, stabbing a wolf through the eye. It spasmed and fell, and one of its fellows leapt over the corpse. Gryph yanked his spear backwards, but the next wolf landed on the shaft of his spear, its weight tearing the weapon from his grasp.
In a smooth motion, Gryph pulled his Ordonian Ice Dagger from its sheath, ducked and stabbed upwards. He only had a few points of mana left and he held them in reserve, hoping his thrust was true. The dagger impaled the wolf in the neck, barely stalling the beast’s snapping jaw from closing on his neck. Gryph could smell the corruption oozing from the beast as the stench of week-old meat flowed from the beast’s mouth. Gryph forced himself not to gag as he twisted the dagger before yanking it free. The wolf collapsed unmoving, and Gryph backed up, returning to his defensive position at the elf’s back. Another wolf yelped in pain as the elf leapt forward, sword flashing through the air with an audible hiss.
The other wolves stood back, warily eyeing Gryph and his spike of mystical ice. He felt naked with the small weapon and his eyes snapped to his spear, just out of reach behind the three remaining wolves. He took a second to gaze at his flaring mana bar, the blue light mocking him. It would be several more seconds before he could cast even the most rudimentary of spells.
Another wolf lunged, and he swung the dagger in a tight arc, catching the animal on the foreleg. It yelped and hobbled backwards as one of its fellows took its spot. Behind him, more arrows loosed and flashes of light and explosions presaged further squeals of pain. The elf at Gryph's back grunted and fell to one knee. A quick look back showed Gryph the man had blocked a wolf’s bite with his
bracer armored forearm, with only partial success. Blood flowed down the man’s arm and dripped off his hand.
Shit, Gryph thought. This is about to get bad. Gryph forced his mana into his bracers, and with a flick of his wrist, he summoned his spear to him with a mental tug. The magnificent weapon flew to his outstretched hand, and he spun and twirled, slicing and stabbing.
Several more wolves fell to his whirlwind of death, and then, finally, there were no more. Gryph stumbled, exhausted and covered in blood and ichor. He snapped the spear tip back into its housing in the base of the spear and leaned on the shaft as he extended a hand to the elf that had fought at his back. The man stared at him for several moments before reluctantly accepting the aid. An eerie quiet had overtaken the clearing and Gryph looked up. A dozen nocked bows pointed in his direction.
“Drop your weapon demon lover,” said a tall elf with eyes of silver. Gryph saw the determination and forcefulness in the El’Edryn commander’s gaze and eased his spear to the ground. He raised his hands above his head and scowled as the full force of a mana headache punched him full in the brain.
“Any of you guys have any Advil?” Gryph asked with a grin. He barely saw the flash of movement as the El’Edryn commander lashed out with the butt of his spear, cracking Gryph in the temple. He fell to the ground and lost consciousness.
6
Gryph floated on his back in a calm ocean. The slow up and down of the swells eased his body and his mind. He felt calm, at peace. Then, the horrid stench of smelling salts assaulted his nose and brought him back to the world, head pounding from within and without.
His eyes opened, and he saw one of the green-clad El’Edryn standing over him. The elf capped the vial of smelling salts and extended a hand to Gryph. He grabbed it and the surprisingly strong elf yanked him to his feet. Gryph nodded in thanks and dug a thumb into his temple. The sun had dipped further towards the horizon and Gryph wondered how long he’d been unconscious.
