by James Hunter
Sadly, my Cyclone had dissipated, but my crew was holding their own.
Osmark was still hooking and jabbing—his buzz saw roaring, keeping the Elemental on its metaphorical heels—but he’d picked up two new passengers. Jay crouched on one massive shoulder, hurling a flurry of kicks and punches, while Cutter lurked on the other, launching smoky blades with uncanny precision. Amara stayed just out of range, shooting explosive arrows, which hit like mini bomb blasts, chipping away chunks of skull and doing significant damage. As for Ari, she continued her berserker attack, now glowing the color of fresh-spilled blood as she jabbed at the thing’s eye sockets.
For being the size of a Barbie doll, she was surprisingly impressive.
I glanced at the Mer-Queen, who was backing away from the fight instead of engaging. Interesting. What did she know that we didn’t? But I couldn’t worry about that, not now. Instead, I shook my head one more time and sprinted toward the creature, unleashing a barrage of Umbra Bolts as I ran. Streaks of shadowy purple power zipped through the air, slapping against the hammerhead skull, incrementally carving away more life. Down to 50% and making up ground by the second.
“Incoming,” Amara shouted.
The Elemental’s body quivered and vibrated as a dozen fat globs of water, each the size of a basketball, erupted from its torso, slowly circling around the Elemental like a host of tiny moons orbiting a watery planet. What the hell kind of attack was this? But then—before I even had a chance to really understand what I was seeing—the globs of water shot out like homing missiles.
They latched onto each of my teammates, wrapping around their faces like giant leeches. I planted my feet and raised my hammer as one of the water orbs cannonballed toward me, droplets of water spitting through the air. Four feet out, I struck, swinging for the fences, turning my hips and shoulders into the attack. I felt a quiver of vibration pass through the weapon and into my hands as my hammer landed … but my hammer just kept right on going, passing uselessly through as the blob of water smacked me in the face full force.
Water encompassed my head like a plastic bag, instantly cutting off my flow of oxygen. I pressed my lips closed, but tendrils of living water clawed at them and attempted to bore into my nostrils. Without thinking, I dropped my hammer, fingers frantically digging at the salty seawater. Useless. My fingers found nothing to grab hold of. Nothing to pull at. A combat notification popped up in front of me, the words hazy and hard to read through the churning water wrapped snugly around my head:
<<<>>>
Debuffs Added
Water-Logged: You have sustained Water-Logged damage! Movement rate reduced by 25%; duration, 2 minutes. 10 pts Physical Damage/sec; duration, 30 seconds.
Induced Suffocation: You are being suffocated. You suffer 10 pts of Stamina Damage each second until you can breathe once more; duration 1 minute 30 seconds! If your Stamina reaches 0, you will die.
Current estimated time of death: 1 minute 45 seconds.
<<<>>>
That was bad news.
The panic inside me kicked into overdrive, my heart pounding like a jackhammer as my lungs burned and my head ached. I glanced up and saw my HP and Stamina falling. At my current level, I could weather this storm, but what about the others? Osmark would probably be okay, and so would Amara and Jay, who both had classes that relied on Stamina. But Cutter and Ari? This could put them down for keeps. I calmed my thoughts, pushing the gibbering fear away, and triggered Shadow Stride, hoping to slip into the Shadowverse. Hoping to phase right through the elemental spell.
Another notice strobed in front of me:
<<<>>>
Shadow Stride failed! You’ve been snared by Water-Logged and are unable to Shadow Stride until your movement is restored.
<<<>>>
Yep, should’ve figured.
I reeled around drunkenly for a moment, panic rising up again.
No. There had to be a way. Had to.
A new thought skittered through my mind just as my Stamina dropped below 50%. Purify. There was no guarantee it would work, but it was still worth a shot. I lifted one hand and triggered the new ability, not entirely sure what to expect. Instead of the arctic cold power of Umbra, radiant heat bloomed inside my chest, racing through my body like a magma flow. The heat built and built—a searing pain like a branding iron shoved beneath my skin—then, when I felt on the verge of breaking down, the raw force erupted from my body in a wall of shimmering, opalescent light.
That wall rippled out from me, washing over the land for fifteen meters in every direction. The water orb surrounding my head bubbled and disappeared, taking the debuff with it as sweet, delicious, life-giving oxygen filled my lungs. I gasped, gulping air greedily as I bent over and clutched my knees, steadying myself. I blinked a few rogue droplets from my eyelashes, grabbed my warhammer from the sands, and righted myself.
I was ecstatic to see that the Purify spell had eradicated all of the water blobs, though I realized that my Night Armor had also vanished in the process, dispelled by the powerful effects of the Purify spell. A small sacrifice, considering the benefit. Still, we were far from in the clear. The Elemental had moved inland, away from the water, but was still lingering above 40% Health.
Cutter picked himself up from the sands, and Amara was already back on the offense, launching arrows at the Elemental. Osmark, who seemed to be in fighting form, rumbled back into the action, Gatling gun screaming once more, this time homing in on the Elemental’s head. A brief flare of worry rolled through me—I didn’t see Ari anywhere. I searched the sands for some sign of the tiny Pixy. Nothing. I pushed the worry away since there was nothing I could do now, and the team needed me. Though the others were doing okay, poor Jay hung by one leg from the Elemental’s oversized pincer.
The monk had activated his steel-skin ability, which was probably the only reason he was still alive, but the Elemental seemed content with crushing his body into scrap metal. The oversized claw crunched down ever deeper as the creature jerked the monk through the air and smashed him face-first into the sand with a thud. Instead of letting go, the Elemental lifted him into the air again and slammed him down once more. The monk landed with bone-crushing force, each hit sapping a portion of his life.
He had seconds maybe.
I needed to end this now—or at least get that thing to focus on me—and maybe there was a way I could do it.
The Elemental jerked Jay into the air again, but before he could slam him down again, I triggered Shadow Stride and the world screeched to a halt. I paused, breathing deeply as I readjusted my grip and beelined toward the Water Elemental, the rough elements of a plan forming in my head. It was a terrible plan, and counterintuitive in the extreme, but at this point I didn’t have much to lose. I circled around the monster until I was at its back, then stashed my hammer, planted my feet, and thrust both hands forward.
I eyed my Spirit gauge.
Down below 1,200. Not perfect, but it would be enough for what I had in mind. Probably. I took one more deep breath—inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth—then stepped from the Shadowverse and unleashed a gout of Umbra Flame. The purple blaze, thick as a telephone pole, erupted from my palms and slammed into the creature’s water column of a lower body. As expected, its HP remained unaffected, but I grinned like a maniac as white steam billowed out, blasting me in the face.
The steam was far from pleasant, but I pushed on, knowing my plan might just work.
The creature howled, its sludgy voice ringing out as it tossed Jay away with a flick of its wrist and wheeled toward me. But I was already moving, darting left, Umbra Flame still pouring out, releasing ever more steam. The flame was doing absolutely nothing to damage the creature, but now that the Elemental was ashore, away from its source of water, I was hoping to evaporate the creature’s legs right out from underneath it. A giant watery tentacle careened my way, so I cut the flames and dove into a tight roll, coming up to one knee as I resumed my attack.
The cre
ature howled again, but this time it teetered drunkenly, its upper body swaying uncertainly as the fire boiled off the water holding it up. The Elemental spun again, this time lunging toward me, which proved to be a fatal mistake. I cut the flames short—and good thing too, since my Spirit gauge was damn close to hitting the bottom—and leapt right. The creature tried to correct but couldn’t. Instead its arms pinwheeled madly, and it crashed into the earth with a colossal thud that sent shivers racing through the ground and into my legs.
The Elemental mewled on the sand, its arms pumping and scrabbling, frantically trying to drag its colossal frame back into the waters.
But it was weak now, too weak.
The perfect chance to try out my other new ability: Divine Warrior. I activated the technique with a thought, my Stamina gauge taking a meaty hit as a wave of power surged through me. Strength filled my limbs, muscles straining against the fabric of my armor, heart racing as my blood raged inside my veins. Suddenly, I felt invincible. Indestructible. More than that, I felt angry at the whimpering creature crawling through the sand, angry at its weakness. Angry that it defied the laws of order.
All I wanted to do was grind that monster’s skull into bone dust.
Some part of my mind screamed that the anger was the Blood Rage effect, but I didn’t care. Not even a little.
I pulled my hammer in a single fluid motion and moved, raising it high overhead then driving it down into the hammerhead skull with every ounce of strength I could muster. I triggered Black Caress, Savage Blow, and Crush Armor as the blow landed. Critical Hit. Bone chips exploded away like shrapnel as a thick crack spread across the hammerhead skull. In a single blow, its HP dropped by half—20% left to go. The Elemental’s glowing eyes flashed in a combination of fear and panic, but it was still alive, still fighting to reach the shoreline.
I snarled and raised the hammer again, driving it home once more, crushing one of the hammerhead’s eye sockets with a sickening crunch. Its HP dipped once more, down to 8%. Before I could raise the hammer a third time and strike the killing blow, the creature’s eyes flickered, faltered, and died, its body finally going slack. Ari emerged from the uncrushed eye socket a second later. She was covered head to toe in some sort of goopy gray matter—ectoplasm, I thought—but she beamed triumphantly as she raised her sword and let out a primal howl of victory.
As I watched her, feeling a glimmer of awe for this fierce little creature, the violent energy churning inside me evaporated. Gone as quickly as it had come. Sapping away the furious anger burning in the pit of my stomach only moments before. “What class are you?” I mumbled as I swayed on my feet, suddenly exhausted to my core, and disoriented to boot. The Battle Fatigue debuff flashed in explanation:
<<<>>>
Debuff Added
Battle Fatigue: 25% reduced movement rate, confusion and disorientation, Attack damage -15%, Stamina Regeneration reduced by 20%; duration, 30 seconds.
<<<>>>
I waved the combat notice away and shook my head, even though I knew that wouldn’t help a damned thing.
“Well,” she said, planting her free hand on her hip, “officially I’m an Illusionist, all Pixies are, but as an esquire in the Court of Order I earned a secondary class. Battle Dancer.” She grinned, wiping the gore from her blade. “The Pixy equivalent of a Berserker.”
“Pixy Berserker,” I mumbled, trying to reconcile the terms in my cloudy head. “Nice,” I finally said, offering her a pained smile along with my fist. “Bump it,” I said with a nod.
The Pixy glowed like the sun, her joy palpable, and tapped her tiny closed fist against my own.
“Hate to cut your celebration short,” Cutter said, “but we might have another problem.”
What now? I turned to find the Mer-Queen clutching Amara tight against her body. She held her scimitar against the Huntress’s throat, her eyes shining with warning, her lips pulled back in a snarl.
“No one move,” the Mer-Queen snapped, gripping Amara tighter as she pressed the blade down, just hard enough to draw a line of deep red. “Not a single step until I get answers. First, this Elemental shows up”—she dipped her head toward the dead creature splayed out in the sands—“and then you outsiders arrive. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Don’t be dense, madam,” Osmark replied, his voice as sharp and cutting as a surgeon’s scalpel. He seemed to be handling the Battle Fatigue debuff far better than me. “If we are your enemies, why would we go through the trouble of dispatching that creature”—he waved a hand at the dead monster—“and at great personal cost, no less?”
“How do I know this isn’t some ploy, hmm?” Sapphira hissed back, stealing glances at each of us in turn. “Perhaps Vox sent this creature to assault me, then sent you to slay it and win my trust.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Perhaps he is hoping I will disclose my secrets to my new saviors. He is devious enough to do just such a thing.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Osmark said.
“So says the mysterious stranger piloting the Brand-Forged Goliath.”
“The shell,” Ari mumbled in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear.
“We’re here to help,” I said, slipping a hand into my belt pouch and slowly removing the blue seashell the mayor had given us. “Sophia sent us. We’re here to fix this. All of it.” I adjusted my hand so she could see the shell clutched between my fingers. “Mayor Nirug gave us this after we helped fortify the Vale. And this little one here is Arlette Glitterfleck. She’s a resident of the Vale and can vouch for us.”
Sapphira squinted further—an act that seemed borderline impossible—as she stared at the shell, then our Pixy guide. She didn’t release Amara, but some of the tension seemed to drain out of her shoulders, and the blade eased back just a hair. “You have my attention, outsider. Explain yourself. Tell me everything—but be warned, if I think you’re lying to me I will not hesitate to remove this woman’s head. Not for a second. So, unless you wish to see her body decorating these sands alongside that Elemental, be honest. True.”
Osmark opened his mouth, but I silenced him with an upraised hand and a sharp glare.
I was the Champion of Order, and this was my mission, not his, so for now at least, he would just have to cool his heels and play second fiddle. He bristled, folding his arms and sniffing in disapproval, but nodded his consent. Slowly, I told her about where we were from and how we’d ended up in the Realm of Order. How Sophia had rudely plucked us from New Viridia in Eldgard and dropped us here. How we’d fought off a small legion of Rabbit Thralls, only to be saved by Arlette and shepherded into the Vale.
When I finally finished offering the Mer-Queen our story, she dismissed the conjured sword with a twirl of her hand and pushed Amara away, then settled down into the sands. Suddenly, with the threat gone, she wilted, deflating and aging ten years. She was tired, I realized. Weak. She reached up and ran a hand through her mussed blue hair, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, I suppose thanks are in order, then. You have intervened at a most opportune moment, though I fear you may be too late to help me.”
“And why is that?” Amara asked as she traced her fingers along her throat, examining the place the Mer-Queen’s sword had been moments before.
“Because I’m dying,” the woman replied, offering us a condescending grin. “This may have escaped your notice, but I am a mermaid.” She waved at her fish tail. “The land is anathema to me. I can survive here for a time, but I need the embrace of the sea.”
“Not sure if you’re bloody daft or what,” Cutter said, “but the water is right there.” He frowned and waved a hand at the shoreline. “Maybe five feet away. Might be you could just hop back in. Take a little dip, and there you are. Right as rain.”
The mermaid scowled at him and rolled her eyes. “The water’s right there, you say. Why that must have escaped my notice, you moronic land-buffoon.” She cocked her head. “The problem is, I can’t go back into the water. Vox has invaded the Drowned Temple, my seat o
f power, and erected one of those damned Necrotic Pillars. It’s already enthralled my court and my champion. If I go back into the waters for any extended period of time, I too will become susceptible to the pillar’s influence. Which is why that creature was here—to escort me into the ranks of Vox-Malum’s army.”
“No offense,” I said, “but why are you so important? If he already has your temple and your court, why would he need you?”
“Vanity?” she said with a shrug, lips pulled back into a sneer. “Or pettiness. He and I have something of a storied history, darling.”
An easy excuse, but something in her eyes, in her posture, told me she was lying. Or at least omitting something.
“If you want us to help, I need to know the full story. Be honest. True,” I said, throwing her words back in her face.
She didn’t speak for a moment, her gaze shifting from me to Osmark. “Gah. You impossible land creatures. Fine. Fine. He’s robbed me of the source of my power—the Scrimshaw Trident.” She flashed her empty hands. “As you can see, I’m oh for two. It’s a powerful weapon which will amplify his powers many times over. With it, he can control the seas themselves. But as the rightful queen of the sea, I must willingly give it up. A thing I would never do …” She trailed off. Paused. “Unless I wasn’t of right mind.”
I shared a brief look with Osmark. The Artificer nodded, just a dip of his chin. I believe it. “Okay, so you can’t go into the waters to get this trident of yours or destroy the pillar,” I said. “But I’d bet dollars to doughnuts we can. So, let us. This is why Sophia sent us. To help. Just tell us what you need.”
The Mer-Queen’s eyes shifted back into focus, a renewed hope burning there like a hot ember. “You would venture into the Drowned Temple for me?” she asked.
“We’re not standing here because of the view,” Osmark replied, absently tapping his fingers on his leg.
The Mer-Queen grinned, her teeth brilliantly white and perfectly straight. “Well, in that case, goodmen, let us discuss business. But a word of warning—this will be no easy task. The passageway leading to the Drowned Temple will be a crucible unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and even should you survive, you will be forced to contend against my champion, who has been enthralled to the will of Vox-Malum.” She faltered, her smile fading, face suddenly grim. “No one has ever beaten my champion.
