by Logan Petty
"I need to sit down."
"Not in here," Firbalg pointed out, "Unless ye like death by fire. Comes this way."
He led them to a door Kyra did not notice before. It blended into the wall and had no perceptible way to open from this side. Firbalg slid his dagger into the crack and fidgeted around, his tongue poking from his mouth until a click confirmed his success. He pried the door open and it slid to the left, revealing a long metal hallway. He grinned triumphantly.
"Welcome to the City's Underworks. We be's right at the bottom of the world now, lower even than the World Forge."
Kyra beamed hopefully, "So we can get to Sawain from here?"
Firbalg shrugged, "If we be's careful enough. From the looks of it, Malsivith gots the World Forge running again. It's about to gets very hot down here. Stick with old Firbalg and I'll gets ye safely to the real danger."
Chapter Sixteen:
Magina led her team of goblins through ghost infested streets, up to the tier of the city where Vaghn's concussive explosions still erupted, sending foes flying through the air. She shook her head as her own jets of flame evaporated a charging ghost squadron.
That idiot is going to get himself killed. Or worse, someone important.
The battle to retake Caer Teallagh raged around her. Many dwarves had been fitted with full battle gear and clashed with the seemingly endless waves of vampyr. The newly arrived ghost army wreaked havoc among their ranks as the dwarves’ steel passed harmlessly through their spectral forms. A few mages stayed on the battlefield, hurling bolts of lightning into the phantasmic formations, scattering them and giving the rebellion a fighting chance. Magina knew that they would need the Mythril Malsivith locked up if they wanted to win this battle.
She made her way to the wide stair case that wound itself up to the tier above. Bodies of dwarves and vampyr alike littered the ground. Dozens of the living vampyr rushed Magina and were met by a volley of arrows from the shadows. they dropped from the sky like leaves from a dead tree. She looked around to thank her saviors, but no one was there to be thanked. She remembered that the secretive Chandlers who traveled with Sawain had dedicated some of their numbers to the battle. She whispered a prayer of gratitude before continuing her charge.
Somehow, her path managed to cross before Vaghn's as he barreled through a wall of ghosts unfazed. His metallic laughter bounced off the stone around her, grating at her ears. She stood in his path, striking her most intimidating pose. The barreling behemoth skidded to a halt mere inches from her. He straightened up and spread his arms wide.
"Magina! You're still alive! That's wonderful! Have you and Maggy-II come to join in the fun?"
She huffed, "Join it? We started it! You're just riding my coattails, tin man!"
He put one fist on his waist and aimed the other at an oncoming group of ghosts. An explosive blast of flame erupted in their faces as they came within inches of him. He tutted over their screams.
"Now now, Maggy, there's no need for name calling. We're on the same side! We both want our city back and are fighting to see our people free!"
She nodded reluctantly, "Aye, though your methods are less than orthodox."
He tilted his head, then looked slowly around the city as every level echoed the sounds of battle, "Looks like my methods aren't much different from your own."
She sighed in exasperation, "Never mind all that. I need your help."
Vaghn stumbled backward dramatically as he blasted another cloud of vampyr that strayed too close, "Did I just hear you right? Did the famous Lady Magina the Second, Scion of Justice just ask me for help? Well, the gods are with me today!"
She growled as she pointed her flamethrower at him, "Don't get used to it, bolts for brains. I need your particular skill set for a smash and grab job. Are you interested, or would you rather keep blasting through endless waves of dead things until your glycerin runs out?"
Vaghn shrugged, "Both sound fun, but let's hear out this job of yours. What could possibly be more important right now than the glory of battle?"
Magina pointed up at the Royal armory, a massive metal fortress that sat on the edge of the tier above them, "The glory of victory, that's what. The Royal Armory is loaded full of enough Mythril weaponry to turn the tides of battle against these ghosts. Now, I could get in by myself, but it would take too long. With you and your thick outer shell, we could crash right through the front door! So what do you say? Shall we give the power back to the people?"
Steam shot from Vaghn's exhaust pipes as he flexed in excitement, "What are we waiting for? I'll rally the troops!"
He turned to face the mob of dwarves that fought the enemy around them, "Listen up! All able bodies with me and Lady Magina! We're going to break into the Armory and get our Mythril back! If yer keen on putting these dead folk to rest for good, then follow us to victory!"
The triumphant roar of the people gladdened Magina's heart. She smiled at Vaghn as he turned triumphantly to her. He always did have an uncanny knack for motivating others, despite his lack of common sense. She shrugged more to herself than to him and shifted her focus to the fight ahead.
"Anyone who can sling a spell, focus on keeping the ghosts occupied! Crieza, take your Gob Squad to the palace square and secure a parameter. Make sure no one from the inside can flank us. Everyone else, get ready to cut a straight line for the Armory! Once there, the fight will get really heated, so be ready! Alright, CHAAARGE!"
A storm of magic burst all around her as the spectral defenders dissipated, leaving an opening through the street. She and Vaghn led the army of dwarves and goblins into the fray as they blasted anything that strayed between them and their goal. A warning siren sounded in Magina's ear. The noise was Maggy-II telling her that the fuel cells had reached a critical level. She estimated that she had a few good bursts of flame left before her mech ran out of power. She sighed as she switched to her drill bit in favor of not abandoning Maggy-II.
Bolts of dark magic rained down on the advancing army as they mounted the stairs to the next level of the city. The screams of the dying forced Magina to hesitate, but a huge metal hand pushed her onward.
"Don't falter now, milady! Our troops need to know your fearlessness!"
Vaghn's irritating, yet accurate words spurred her on. Through grit teeth, she hastened forward, punching Maggy-II's spinning drill arm through any vampyr that tried to stop her. Adrenaline burned in her veins as she neared the gate of the Armory. She did not even feel the arrows that bit into her arm and hip as she drove Maggy-II straight into the ghostly phalanx that stood between her and her prize.
The defending ghosts resisted her push momentarily, but soon crumpled beneath the rain of blows from Vaghn. As the specters fled, the pair of charging generals slammed headlong into the silvery doors of the armory. She knew they would be nearly impossible to crack on her own. Their solid mythril bulk repelled most physical attacks, even from other mythril weaponry, and the magical wards prevented anyone from slipping in or dismantling them with spells. Fortunately for her, Lady Magina the First designed the spellwall, and she knew its formulae by heart. She also built a countermeasure for them in case she ever needed in for some reason. She thought of it as a secret key that could bypass all of the door's defenses.
Vaghn crashed headlong into the vault, steam rushing out of his pipes in a high pitched whistle as he landed blow after blow on the magical wards. His hands emanated light as hidden runes glowered along his arms. Each earth-shaking punch rattled against the flashing wall of magical energy. Runes similar to the ones on Vaghn appeared in a circle on the door. He smashed his fists into each one, shattering them on impact. As his fist crushed the last rune, the arcane wall shattered like glass. He and Magina moved as one through the shower of multi-colored sparks and began a fresh assault on the actual doors.
A symphony of explosions rippled around the attacking army, accompanied by the percussive rhythm of Vaghn and Magina's strikes against the mythril door. Their defenders launched vol
leys of magic at the army of reforming ghosts. Magina knew they could not hold out much longer. She roared in desperate fury as Maggy-II screamed warnings in her ears. Vaghn grunted with effort as his fists pummeled the sturdy doors. Punch by punch, the doors grew more dented. Finally, Magina and Vaghn felt the frame buckle beneath their attack. In one final push, the two poured all they had into a single, synchronized punch on the same spot.
The doors shuddered and fell inward with a loud crash. A blast of dust and wind rushed out, scattering the mass of Vampyr that plagued the defending army. Vaghn examined his glowering fists.
"Whew! Can't believe that actually worked! Aww but I ruined me paint job!"
Magina hastily unbuckled herself from Maggy-II as its shrill final warning whistled.
"Everyone get away from Maggy, NOW!"
She did not get far before the mech exploded. Vaghn caught her up into his arms and sheltered her against the blast. Fire washed around them and shrapnel pinged off of Vaghn. The blast killed a few dwarves who moved too slowly and knocked several others onto their faces. As the smoke settled, Magina struggled out of Vaghn's arms and back to the ground. She stared at the crater where her beloved machine once stood. A still-hot metal hand landed softly on her shoulder.
"I-I'm awful sorry, Maggy. I know that 'mech meant the world to ya."
She shrugged the titan's hand off as she spun around, her voice grim, "No time to mourn her now. We're into the Armory. Time to turn this fight around."
The dwarves rushed inside as more attackers pursued. Crieza’s squadron responded to the enemy with a volley of dwarven fire that pushed them back. The inside of the armory was breath-taking. Pale turquoise light filtered down from above, glinting off of row upon row of all sorts of weapons and armor, all made of the dwarves' silvery metal. The raiders quickly grabbed up anything they could use to repel their assailants. Magina took a shining spear from a nearby rack just as a ghostly orc flew at her in an undying rage. She twisted around and drove it into his chest. The impact felt like she had impaled a corporeal orc. The phantom gasped in surprise as it evaporated, the mist fading away instead of hovering in a cloud that would usually reform minutes later. She smiled as several of her allies carried out equally successful attacks.
"That's it! We have the blighters now! Everyone, push back!"
As she had hoped, the battle quickly turned in their favor. A shower of mythril arrows soared through the air, piercing clean through ghost and vampyr alike. The goblins scurried about, helping the dwarven warriors into their plate mail. Soon, a freshly equipped army poured out of the Armory, shredding through the enemy ranks like reapers through a field of wheat. The raw fury of the people of Caer Teallagh stained the hearts of the interlopers.
Magina smiled at Vaghn, "Not bad, tin man. You did well. Care to return to the glory of battle?"
Vaghn's attention had fixated on something else. Magina followed his gaze to the grand palace of Caer Teallagh. The Citadel of Kings. She guessed what was on his mind as he spoke, confirming her suspicions.
"Say, Maggy. What are the odds we might be able to crash into old Malsivith's lair and see if he's home? I'd really like a crack at mister Older-than-Old."
She sighed and thought a moment before shrugging, "Well, I was going to leave him for the real heroes, but I don't see the harm in letting you have a crack at him."
Vaghn let off some steam in excitement as he pounded his fists together, making them ring like a pair of gongs, "What are we waiting for? Let's take him together!"
She looked around the armory a moment as she pulled the arrows out of her and reached for a healing potion, "Alright, but let me slip into something more comfortable."
Minutes later, Magina strolled out of the Armory, dressed in a gleaming suit of chain mail and armed with a crossbow and the spear she used earlier. Vaghn nodded in approval.
"Radiant as the day we first met, milady."
She tried to hide her blush by striding past him, "Let's pay a visit to the palace, tin man."
"Stop calling me that," he grumbled dejectedly as he followed her.
As they reached the doors of the palace, Magina snapped her fingers at Vaghn, "Ring the bell, would you, my dear?"
Vaghn chuckled as he stepped up, massaging his fist, "You called me dear."
The palace door shuddered at his knock and flew open. As they stepped into the dark foyer, they both gasped in surprise at what they found. Dozens of vampyr and three trolls lay scattered about the place, their corpses still smoldering. Eight figures dressed in shrouded cloaks and hoods stood around the bodies, finishing of the remaining defenders. Another person strode up to meet the two intruders. His armor was similar to Sawain's. Magina recognized him.
"I know you. You're that elven boy the Swerdbrekker marked as a traitor."
Banthan gestured around the room with a blood stained hand. "Do I look like a turncoat to you? If you're looking for Malsivith, he's not here."
Vaghn stomped up to the elf, clenching his fists, "What do you mean he's not here? And where's that other elf friend of yers?"
Banthan's eyes flashed with fire a moment. He hesitated before his focus flicked from Magina back to Vaghn.
"Never mind that. I saw the stunt you two just pulled. You two have quite the synergy."
Vaghn crossed his arms, "Nice for someone else to notice. Hey, stop avoiding my question."
Banthan's gaze flicked back to Magina, " And I’m guessing Vaghn wasn’t born his ugly. Another one of your experiments?"
"EX-PERI-MENTS?!" Vaghn yelled.
Magina chuckled, "Yes and no. The tin man does belong to me. Long story short, I built his shell, but I'm married to his soul."
Banthan smirked, "Touching. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to tell me all about it while we head down to Malsivith. He has much to answer for and I think it’s time we hold him accountable."
Chapter Seventeen:
Spectral chains wound tightly around Sawain's body, binding him to one of Turin's Standing Stones. Naralei lay on the stone altar in the center of the formation, her hands crossed against her barely rising chest. She would have looked peaceful if the circumstances were different. Malsivith strode between Sawain and Naralei, his smirk stirring the embers of rage in the young hero’s heart.
"Comfortable, Swerdbrekker? No? Good. You behave yourself, now. I can't afford to turn you into a ghost just yet. I need you alive to complete the Ritual of Reforging. Now, you sit still and I'll be right with you. That's a good lad. Oh, Jatharr,"
The Vampyr Lord beckoned to the halfling traitor, who reluctantly shuffled forward, avoiding eye contact with Sawain. Malsivith placed a bony finger on Sawain's chest.
"Keep an eye on this one, won't you?"
Jatharr nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground.
"Jatharr..." Malsivith's jovial tone darkened. "I said keep an eye on him. Do not disobey me if you want me to keep my end of the bargain."
The halfling sighed and slowly looked up at Sawain, who glared hatefully at him. He finally found his voice.
"I trusted you. Of all my allies, I trusted you the most."
Jatharr's eyes watered as he turned away. Malsivith appeared before him in a flash. His cold, bony hand wrenched Jatharr's head back and forced him to look in Sawain's direction. He giggled cruelly as he squeezed the halfling's chin.
"Take your eyes off him again and I'll put you on the altar."
He let go and watched the halfling a moment. Satisfied that he had complete control, he floated over to a large array of machines where the Forgemaster stood behind a console, twisting knobs and flipping switches.
"I trust your preparations are nearly complete, my friend?"
Galvas winced as he pulled a large lever, "Don't call me that."
Malsivith giggled and clapped his hands as he bounced around the dwarf, "Oooh, I seemed to have struck a nerve! How very delightful. You know, Forgemaster, I like you. I might keep you when this is all over. If not as a friend, then as a p
et. Your choice, of course. I'd never force you to do anything."
The dwarf snorted in disbelief. Malsivith lilted in a singsong voice as he waltzed away, his coat tail spinning through the air.
"Everyone is given a choice, dear Forgemaster! Aerabis! Where is the artifact?"
The troll patted a large crate made of mythril, "Right here, boss. The thing's a tough one to crack."
Malsivith patted his lackey's head sympathetically, "That's what the ritual is for, louse-brain. Once the vault is open, we can repair the shards within and I will be very much unstoppable. Oh what great fortune! By sun's rising, I shall have all I could ever want! The Swerdbrekker, Tharixos, then the world! My collection will be complete! And then, I can forge the perfect life form! And with my undying race at my command, not even the gods will stand in my way!"
He erupted into a fit of high pitched laughter as Sawain heard someone whisper in his ear.
"Don't moves master. We be's here to set you free. Where is Giltglim?"
Sawain whispered under his breath, "Aerabis."
Jatharr squinted at Sawain, but kept silent. The Swerdbrekker let his eyes follow Malsivith around the room as he grabbed a ghostly woman and twirled her through the air.
"Oh, I simply cannot wait any longer! Forgemaster, get this contraption of yours moving, will you?"
The dwarf nodded hesitantly, "As you wish, but it takes time for the reactor coils to heat up. And the Containment rings are misaligned. I still have to calibrate the--"
Malsivith apparated in front of the Forgemaster and pinched his lips together with a finger and a thumb, "Talk, talk, talk, is that all you dwarves ever do? GET IT DONE!"
