Gordan of Riss and the Malformed Sprite (A Madcap Fantasy Adventure Book 1)

by Ryan Drake

  In moments, I’d spied numerous ornaments, wall hangings and other fine items that were just itching to go with me on my next little adventure. Unfortunately, I also spied numerous servants scurrying about. And a fair number of orc guards lining the walls as well.

  “S-s-stop,” said Thork. The orcs did so without a word. “You, p-p-page! Announce us!”

  The boy stared first at Thork, then at me with obvious confusion.

  “Tell our m-m-master that Th-th-thork Yurger has brought G-g-gordan of Riss to him.”

  I couldn’t suppress a small chuckle that he’d stuttered over his own name. I imagined the boy repeating it perfectly to Pingo.

  The boy understood. He scampered away, leaving us to wait.

  We waited.

  After a short time, I said, “Nice place.”

  We waited a little more.

  “I mean, it’s perhaps a little ostentatious for my tastes, but it’s light and airy. Lots of space. It would probably look even better if that cloud didn’t suck away so much light, am I right? Other than that, if you like the rich, extravagant look, then this is pretty good.” I said it even though every word I spoke hurt my lip.

  Thork Yurger didn’t even look my way. We waited some more.

  “Of course, it could do with a few couches. You know, so guests wouldn’t have to wait standing up. Oh, look! That’s just the thing,” I said, pretending to have only just noticed that there were several fine couches scattered about, apparently for that very purpose. “Do you think we could take a seat?”

  Thork Yurger said nothing. We continued to wait.

  “Because, I don’t know about you, but for me it’s already been a long day. I could really use a sit-down, you know, to rest for a bit. And while we’re at it, maybe a bowl of water and some towels would be nice. So I can freshen up a bit before I meet the great and powerful Pingo T’Ong.” Truth be told, I actually would have liked the opportunity to soak some of my hurts away. But I didn’t really expect it to happen.

  I was proved right by another round of silence from Thork.

  Finally, the page returned. “Master T’Ong will see you now,” he said.

  “Come,” said Thork Yurger, this time forgetting to stutter.

  My two orcs followed him closely. Not one of our little party gave any further thought to the page.

  Except for me. I grinned at him and said, “Thank you. And sorry, but it looks like I’ve left a few spots of blood on the floor. Perhaps you could clean it up before Pingo notices.”

  Then we were through the door and into Pingo’s cavern.

  I’ve already described it before, so it seems a little pointless to do so again. Suffice it to say that Pingo’s cavern looked much the same as it always had: a large open space lit with torches, the Fracture pulsing its last over to one side and a new, elaborate and glowing pentagram etched into the floor. Ok, so it looks like I did describe it again. In any event, aside from those things described (and a few scrolls lying about here and there), the cavern was pretty much empty except for Pingo T’Ong himself, who looked me up and down with an expression of mild distaste twisting his lips.

  I looked back and grinned. “You know, you’re really ugly,” I said.

  He reacted as if stung by a hornet. “How dare you?!” he demanded, then recovered himself. “You’re not so pretty yourself any more. What happened? Did you fall down on your way here?” he asked with a sneer. Before I could respond he’d turned to Thork Yurger. “Was there anyone else with him?”

  “Just a f-f-fairy,” said the diminutive assassin.

  I laughed. “He wouldn’t be happy to hear you call him that. He’s a pixie, not a fairy.”

  “What’s the difference?” Pingo asked dismissively. “And who cares? Anyway, Gordan of Riss. Do you know why you’re still alive?”

  I gave it some serious thought. “A combination of luck, having a useful skillset and just being plain hard to kill?”

  “No. Well, yes, probably. But that’s not what I meant. Do you know why Thork didn’t kill you?”

  I couldn’t help but grin. I’ve said it before; when my life was in danger, I tended to find some way to enjoy myself. “Incompetence?” I suggested.

  Pingo took a moment to glower at me. “Right again,” he said, this time sneering at Thork Yurger, who had the decency to squirm where he stood. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you know why I ordered Thork not to kill you? And why these fine orcs don’t rip you to pieces where you stand?”

  “Well, no. Not really. But then, I’ve never really understood why you wanted me dead anyway. Did I cause you trouble at some time? Did I sleep with your wife, or steal something from you? I don’t remember seeing you before, and you’re definitely ugly enough to remember. But that doesn’t really mean anything—”

  “No! It isn’t what you’ve done—”

  “Then what?” I figured that if he could interrupt me, he wouldn’t mind if I returned the favor. In that, I was wrong.

  “Look, would you stop doing that?” His face was turning bright red, and let me tell you, it wasn’t a good look.

  “Doing what?” I asked innocently.

  “Interrupting me! Distracting me! I’ve got something to say, and I want to say it!”

  “Ok then. Please say it. Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Right,” he began, but I didn’t let him get any further.

  “I mean, it would be rude of me to … sorry.”

  “Thork, will you please teach this irritating person some manners?”

  Thork Yurger turned to me with venom in his eyes and rammed the butt of his crossbow into my stomach as hard as he could. The force of his blow was enough to move that uncomfortable feeling from my chest into the back of my throat. And it hurt a lot. For a moment, all my thoughts were blotted out by pain. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and brought my legs up to my chest, allowing the orcs to take all of my weight. And eventually the pain faded to a dull throb. Just at that moment, I really did miss my armor.

  “Thank you. Now, what I have to tell you is this: I could have had Thork kill you, but I did not. Why? Because I have another use for you. Buried in these mountains is a creature the like of which no-one living has seen, and few are even aware of. You will witness the raising of this creature, and in so doing you will witness the birth of a God, and bow down before it!”

  During his little speech, I’d recovered enough that I could again take some of my own weight on my feet. I swallowed, but that uncomfortable sensation didn’t shift. “So you’re summoning something?” I managed. “I guess that’s what the pentagram is for. But don’t you need sacrifices? You know, beautiful virgin girls, an alter and suchlike, and a knife with which to cut out their hearts? Isn’t that how this sort of thing works?” It took a fair amount of effort to keep my tone so light.

  Pingo sneered. “That’s one way of doing it. But I’ve got a better way. See this?” He showed me the amulet he wore on his wrist. “It’s a conduit for power, and it has many uses. One of those is to drain the life force of those around me.” He seemed not to notice Thork Yurger fidget at his words. “So you see, to you it appears I don’t have any sacrifices. But in reality, you are my sacrifice. My servants are my sacrifices. Even the people of Brelor are my sacrifices! I can take the life force of anyone I choose and funnel it into my summoning! And when I’m done, you’ll be nothing but an empty husk, obedient to my every whim. And I’ll use the life force you’ve surrendered to fully control my creature!”

  Oh.

  “Um, M-m-master?” said Thork Yurger.

  “What is it now?” Pingo demanded.

  “The amulet … it isn’t g-g-going to d-d-drain my life force, is it?”

  “What? Oh. No, of course not.”

  The way he said it made me snigger once more, but poor old Thork Yurger seemed to accept him at his word.

  Even as I was sniggering though, I was also starting to despair. You see, ever si
nce I’d entered the cavern, I’d been planning my escape. It wasn’t by chance that I’d let Thork take me here; this was, after all, exactly where I’d wanted to go. I could even see the Fracture quite clearly, although its feeble pulses didn’t bode well for its long-term continued existence. I’d been thinking of bashing the two orcs in the nuts (it’s amazing how useful a tail can be), smashing Thork Yurger over the head with the metal still attached to my wrists, head-butting Pingo and doing all I could to escape with the Fracture tucked safely under my arms. But from what Pingo T’Ong was saying, that wouldn’t be enough. I wouldn’t be safe until Pingo was stopped once and for all. Actually, no-one would be safe. And stopping Pingo might have been a difficult task for me to accomplish all by myself, especially given my current state of ill-health.

  Pingo turned back to me. “And do you know what the best part of it all is?” he asked. “There is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it! Everything has already been done. I need only read a few more lines from a scroll and the summoning will begin. And if you manage somehow to escape, even that wouldn’t help you. I can drain your life force whether you stand right in front of me or if you are a hundred miles away.”

  I tried to maintain my sense of optimism. “You’re forgetting something,” I said, smiling brightly even though I didn’t feel like it.

  “And what would that be?”

  “My pixie friend, Max. Do you really think he would have just run off and left me?” I knew full well that he would have, but the question piqued Pingo’s interest. “Well, he wouldn’t. When he left, he wasn’t running away. He was going for help. My friends should be here right … about … now!”

  I looked expectantly at the door. Pingo looked expectantly at the door. Even Thork Yurger and the orcs looked expectantly at the door.

  Nothing happened.

  “Wait for it….” I said.

  Nothing continued to happen.

  After a while, everyone’s gazes reverted back to me and I sagged a little in the grip of the orcs. “I was so sure,” I muttered.

  “Well, you were wrong. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to get on with the summoning.”

  “What if I do mind?”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Pingo snarled. It looked like he’d reached the limit of his patience. “I’m going to do it anyway!”

  With that, he moved over to his intricate pentagram, picked up one of the pieces of parchment and began to read.

  Three things happened immediately. The first was that the amulet on Pingo’s wrist started to glow a cheery red. The second was that the pentagram, which had until then been glowing mostly green with a flash of yellow thrown in for variation, changed color to match the red of Pingo’s amulet.

  The third thing was that I suddenly felt a surprising weariness, as if I’d been ill for a month. It was most unsettling, but before I could do anything about it a fourth thing happened that was more disturbing still: the whole cavern vibrated to the sound of a long, painful moan.

  I hadn’t moaned. Neither had Pingo, or Thork, or the orcs. So where had the moan come from?

  I didn’t care to find out. I started to struggle in the grasp of the orcs, but I was so weak I could barely move them.

  The moan came again, louder this time. Alarmingly, a bulge started to appear in the previously smooth floor of the cavern, right in the middle of the glowing pentagram.

  Pingo T’Ong started to laugh. “It’s working!” he cried. “Yes! Yes! It’s coming through!”

  For a third time the moan came, loud enough to rattle the stalactites and shake the cavern floor. The bulge in the pentagram floor stretched and grew, until it was the height of a man and more. It changed color from cold gray nothingness to a sick sort of green, and developed a crude shape. A head formed, with black holes where its eyes would have been if it had been human. Arms developed on its side, pulling themselves away from the main body. The arms were thick and formless, without defined hands or anything, really. It was as if a large lump of clay was coming to life in the middle of the pentagram.

  And it was huge. It hadn’t stopped growing and now towered above everything else in the cavern.

  Pingo continued to laugh.

  I’d had about as much of this as I could stand, I thought. It was my life force Pingo was directing into the clay monster, after all. I struggled as hard as my unsettling lassitude would allow. But even with their eyes fixed on the growing horror in the pentagram, the orcs didn’t budge.

  Luckily, the growing horror in the pentagram was taking altogether too much of their attention. Thork Yurger wasn’t looking my way either, although his crossbow was still pointed mostly in my direction. And Pingo was too busy laughing at his own success to notice anything I happened to do.

  Which all added up to me being able to swipe a large, nasty-looking knife that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a butchery from the orc on the left with my wonderfully useful and dexterous tail.

  Doing all I could to marshal my remaining strength, I used that knife brutally, bringing it down in an arc that severed the right-hand orc’s arm at the elbow and carved a big chunk of flesh out of his side. He bellowed his rage and pain and fell sideways. As quickly as I could, I moved so that the other orc was between me and Thork Yurger. In this, I was both luckier and unluckier than I should have been. Luckier because Thork did indeed have the focus to fire. He missed me but hit the orc in the throat.

  Unluckier because the orc gurgled and sank quickly to his knees, leaving me with nowhere else to hide.

  Fortunately, Thork Yurger was busying himself with trying to reload his crossbow.

  I grinned. “Remember when you lit the fire under me back in Brelor?” I asked him. He looked at me but didn’t answer. “Remember what I said then? I said I’d kill you. Well, guess what? The time has come.”

  Then Thork Yurger did something unexpected. He threw the crossbow at my head and ran. “You’ll have to c-c-catch me first!” he said.

  I wrenched myself out of the way and caught only a glancing blow on my shoulder. Then, with virtually no energy left at all, I started to stalk him.

  The moan repeated again, as loud as could be.

  Oh, I thought. That’s right. There was something a little more important going on here than just getting back at Thork Yurger. For just a brief moment, I turned my attention to the monster still growing in the middle of the cavern and Pingo T’Ong laughing beside it.

  It was a moment too long. When I turned back, I saw that Thork Yurger had ignored his crossbow and instead taken one of the weapons from the orc he’d shot. The weapon he’d chosen was a throwing ax that appeared to be just about small enough for him to use, and one look at his stance (and his grin) told me that he knew a thing or two about its use.

  In my current state, I doubted that I would be able to dodge quickly enough should his aim be true.

  “You were s-s-saying?” said Thork. He stepped closer to me and drew back his arm.

  The uncomfortable lump in my chest made it difficult to focus, and the weakness I felt made it uncertain that my body would do as I wished. Nevertheless, I prepared myself to move.

  I heard a small sound and Thork Yurger started forward. This was it, I thought. But instead of throwing the ax, the diminutive assassin looked at me with a vaguely perplexed expression and collapsed forward onto the floor.

  There was a crossbow bolt sticking out of the centre of his back.

  It had been fired from his own crossbow, the one I’d given to Gabby ages ago. She still pointed it his way from the door. Somewhere along the way she’d picked up a bolt.

  “Gabby!” I yelled, all exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

  “Don’t call me that,” she said. But she was smiling.

  “You!” Pingo T’Ong shouted over yet another ear-shattering moan. “You can’t be here! Why are you here?” He’d stopped laughing. He was staring at Gabby with real terror instead. But before I could figure out what his
problem was and how I might turn it into my advantage, he clutched at his amulet and made the pentagram pulse even more brightly.

  I instantly felt weak enough that I could barely keep my feet.

  “Kill her!” Pingo yelled. “Kill them both!”

  My mind must have been as sluggish as everything else. I spent a few precious moments wondering who he was talking to. Then Gabby yelled, “Gordan!” at the same time as the creature moaned once more, and I knew.

  The monster was no longer bound by the pentagram. Twice my height and hugely massive, it loomed over me and started to swing an enormous limb my way.

  I had no doubt that if it hit, I was dead. So I did the only thing I could. I dropped to the floor and rolled out of its away.

  Then, slowly, I struggled back to my feet.

  It was impossible, I thought. The thing Pingo had conjured was huge. It lumbered towards me as if it was unstoppable, and all I could think of was that I had to get away. But I had no energy at all. Pingo was draining it and feeding it to this monster. If he kept it up, I was surely dead….

  “Gabby! Get his amulet!

  “I said don’t call me that!”

  The monster lumbered closer. Then Max was there, buzzing around its head like a fly around a pile of manure. Max had no weapons that I knew of and no more pixie dust (which was a shame, because I would have paid good coin to see how the monster would have handled floating about inside the cavern). Nevertheless, he called to me, “I’ll keep ’im busy while you get yerself outta ’is way!”

  Of course, the creature ignored him entirely. Nevertheless, the sight of Max doing his best gave me enough of a lift that I could totter a little further.

  Then something happened. I didn’t see it, but I could feel it. One moment I had no more energy than a 90 year old man on his deathbed, and the next I started to feel alive again. I shot a glance over at Pingo and there was Gabby, standing triumphantly with the amulet in her hand.

  I don’t know how she’d done it, but she hadn’t killed Pingo. He was still very much alive. But all the fight had gone out of him. He looked like nothing more than an ugly, middle-aged man who was frightened for his very life.