Slightly terrified of his girlfriend yet again, Alexander walked with her down to the ruined building. The structure was broken and collapsed, but the altar remained intact. It still glowed slightly in the waning sunlight, pulsing in time with… what? Alexander was reminded of the node in Geb’s chamber. Did Io have some sort of heartbeat? Was it the flow of magic? Like blood being pumped by a giant heart?
They stayed near the altar, where the bodies of the fallen had been placed on two large pyres - one on either side of the altar. Folks talked quietly about the battle, about those that had fallen. There was laughter among the dwarven soldiers as they relived past battles or noteworthy tavern fights.
As Alexander spoke to his people, he noted a distinct sense of relief. The sort of giddiness one experiences after a threat long held over one’s head is lifted. The armies that they’d just faced and defeated had been a looming danger just a few miles away for weeks now, and the pressure had impacted his people more than he’d realized. Now that threat was all but eliminated, and his people were ready to get on with lives that felt like they’d been on hold.
As the sun neared the treetops, Alexander returned to the inner courtyard and opened the portal to Broken Mountain. King Thalgrin was just approaching the portal on his side, and raised a hand in greeting as he walked. A few moments later he and his guard passed through, to join Alexander, and the portal closed.
“Welcome to Elysia, King Thalgrin. It is an honor as always to have you here, even at such a sad occasion.” Alexander bowed his head slightly to the dwarven ruler.
“Thank ye, King Alexander. And let that be the last o’ the formality between us.” Thalgrin reached out a hand and clasped Alexander’s. “I hear’d ye had quite the battle here. And that some o’ the dwarves got killed by an undead dragon?”
Alexander explained in detail as the two of them, surrounded by Thalgrin’s guard, strode slowly back toward the ceremony site. Thalgrin nodded along and asked only a very few questions as Alexander spoke. When they halted on the drawbridge to finish their conversation out of earshot of the crowd, the dwarven king put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder.
“Ye had a damned good battle plan, son, and ye did all ye could to protect yer people, and mine. No army o’ mortals could stand against a dragon, a drow wizard, and a thousand demons. Especially not the few hundred ye had here. Ye did better than I could have done meself. I’m proud of ye.”
Alexander gave a nod and avoided eye contact with the king. He cleared his throat once, then again as the words stuck in his mouth. “Thank you.”
The two kings turned and approached the altar as their people gathered around. Thalgrin’s guard made sure there was a proper space around their king, and none of the crowd seemed to mind. Father Alric stepped in front of the altar and gave a short service. Thalgrin and Alexander stepped forward and took a knee in front of the stone. Each laid a hand on the altar and said a short prayer. When they rose, Alexander cast Wizard’s Fire on each of the pyres.
As the flames grew, the dwarves began their now familiar song of mourning. More than a hundred deep voices raised in salute of the fallen. The others hummed along or joined in if they knew the words.
The song ended as the fires burned low. Alexander nodded at Silverbeard, who began to usher people back to the keep for the wake. The two kings remained. Thalgrin dismissed his guard, then dismissed them a second time when they hesitated. Alexander smiled as the grumbling guards retreated across the moat to hover within sight of their king. He suddenly appreciated Taylor and Jenkins a bit more.
“Servin’ as a king be no easy job. The road is hard, and full o’ difficult choices. Every decision ye make will help some, and hurt others. There be no way around that, lad.”
Alexander resisted the urge to say “I didn’t ask to be king.” He had accepted the title and all the responsibility that went with it.
Instead he asked. “Do you ever get used to the consequences of those decisions?”
Thalgrin looked thoughtful. “Aye, ye might. Some have. Grow’d numb to the sorrows o’ their people. They call them tyrants.” He winked at Alexander and punched his shoulder lightly. “Ye didn’t choose this war. Yer lands were invaded. The choice to fight or not was taken from ye. The only choice ye had was where and when to fight. And ye did good in that choosin’”
“No, I didn’t choose war. But I caused it. I took on this ‘Dark One’ and made myself a target. Made all these people a target along with me.”
“Aye, ye stood up to injustice and evil. How could ye!” Thalgrin gasped, placing his gauntleted hands on each cheek in mock surprise. The comical look made Alexander chuckle despite himself.
“If it’d make ye feel any better, I can tell ye that I’d have choose’d the same. As would Charles o’ Stormforge. Or Margaret o’ Antalia. Any good king worth the paper it takes to wipe his arse would have chosen just as ye did.”
Feeling slightly better, Alexander motioned for Thalgrin to walk with him back to his waiting guards. The two kings chatted amiably during the walk back to the keep. At last they crossed into the inner bailey, at which point Thalgrin stopped dead and stared with wide open eyes. Alexander looked up and tried not to laugh.
Drifting down from the sky was the god Hermes. And next to him was a tiny green goblin wearing nothing but a loincloth and a pair of fuzzy green slippers with wings. The moment they hit the ground, Fibble tore across the courtyard shouting “Thanks Hermsey!” He zoomed past the two kings, waving as he passed, and disappeared into the crowd.
Hermes looked to the kings. “Thalgrin, Alexander.” He greeted them. “Fibble’s off to show Sasha his new ‘boots.’ And before you ask, he designed them himself.” The young god grinned at the flabbergasted dwarven king.
Thalgrin muttered. “Every time I see that little goblin he’s nekkid and runnin somewhere.” To which Hermes laughed heartily.
“Fibble has become one of my chosen. I’ve given him a few skills that might come in handy. More for him than for you. I should warn you that no cookie within a mile of him will ever be safe again.” Hermes let out a self-satisfied chuckle before disappearing into the nether.
Thalgrin looked at Alexander. “Ye just have gods lollygaggin’ about yer place all the time, don’t ye.”
“Remember those choices you were talking about? They got me a lot of attention.” Alexander grimaced. Thalgrin just laughed.
“Better you than me, lad!” He thumped Alexander on the back and headed off toward the large stack of kegs visible near the Ogre II.
Alexander hung back, watching his people. Some were singing and dancing, others eating and talking. Over near the kegs, Fibble and his fuzzy green slippers were mounted atop Lugs’ shoulder once again. The big ogre appeared to doing some kind of archaic early-century robot dance, much to the delight of the crowd. After a few minutes of just soaking it all in, he was feeling somewhat decompressed.
With a shout of “Who has a drink for a thirsty elf?!” He strode toward the celebration.
Chapter 18
World at War
Fitz was sitting in a tavern wolfing down his third plate of eggs and bacon when Sophie appeared and joined him. She reached for a plate of pancakes and slid them in front of her despite the growl from the wizard. Pouring golden amber syrup over the stack, she said “I have confirmed it. Two of the king’s sons have disappeared in recent days. The first over a week ago. The second just three days past. Their bodyguards have disappeared with them. No sign of a struggle or evidence of what happened.”
Fitz swallowed a mouthful of bacon before answering. “I found two drow in the basement of this very tavern. One of them is confined in your room. The other did not survive the questioning. I have learned that this ‘Dark One’ plans to take the city and the throne. And that he is prepared for a frontal assault, but would prefer a back door into the palace. I believe he’s trying to force the princes to show him that door.”
Sophie nodded almost imperceptibly as she took a bit
e of syrupy goodness. “And what has the king said?”
Fitz grimaced, setting down his fork. “He believes they have been kidnapped for ransom, and has his treasurer collecting taxes owed across the city. He plans to buy his sons back. I have warned him, but he is not listening. I remember him being smarter.”
Sophie looked the wizard in the eye. “He’s a father, as well as a king. One who is holding out hope of saving his sons. He will need proof before he let’s go of that hope.”
“Which is why the drow in your room is still alive. Call the guards. Take him to the king. Let them question the drow themselves. King Arand must prepare to meet the threat that already crawls beneath his streets.” He paused and stabbed a pancake from Sophie’s plate. “These are really quite good. I must get the recipe before we leave.” He muttered to himself as Sophie walked to the tavern door and stuck her head out.
“Guards! We’ve captured a drow! Help me deliver him to the king!” she shouted for all the citizens on the street and in the tavern to hear. Fitz smiled to himself. That girl was nothing if not effective.
*****
Prince Elrid of Damerion watched from the floor as his personal bodyguard and friend Bain lost another finger. The prince strained against his bonds, the pain in his limbs forgotten as he tried to reach the man responsible.
“Stop! He can not tell you what he does not know!” Elrid screamed for the twentieth time. The drow who held Bain atop the table had been slicing his skin and cutting off parts of the man for hours. After each cut they would apply a white-hot blade to the wound to prevent their victim from bleeding to death. Bain had held out for an hour or more, gritting his teeth and silently taking the abuse. Finally he had screamed, and Elrid’s heart broke. Bain was broken now. The man had long since stopped screaming. His tongue had been sliced in half lengthwise, his teeth broken or pulled, and his throat gone ragged. Now, with the removal of his seventh finger, Elrid’s bodyguard simply emitted a pained gurgling noise. He didn’t even try to struggle.
Elrid hoped the man had retreated into memories of better days. Hunting, or chasing maidens through the palace gardens. He prayed that his friend felt no more pain.
The man sitting upon the throne spoke in his raspy voice “I do not believe you, young prince. I think he knows of the route I seek. As do you. And if he dies before giving me the information I desire, you will take his place. You think the beatings you’ve received up till now were painful? That was just a bit of tenderizing!”
He stood up, the black leather of his armor creaking as he moved. Stepping down from the throne he kicked the prince in the teeth as he passed on his way to the table. He leaned over Bain’s prone body, putting his face inches from the mangled and bloody mess that used to be Bain’s face. He looked into the one remaining eye.
“I know you can hear me, bodyguard. Spare your charge, your prince. Spare him the pain you have so valiantly endured. Tell me what I wish to know.”
Bain didn’t respond other than to blink away some blood that had run into his eye. The dark man continued. “I will give you a quick death. And the same for your prince. You know neither of you will leave here alive. The best you can hope for is an escape from the pain.” He leaned closer and whispered “I give you my word. A quick death for both of you. Just tell me now!”
Bain took a ragged breath, the two halves of his split tongue dragging against the jagged edges of broken teeth. His back arched and the drow holding him down tightened their grips on his arms and legs. With a lunge of his head, he spat a fat glob of blood and tissue into the dark man’s face. A good bit of it entered his mouth as he was about to speak.
The man stumbled backward, cursing and spitting to clear his mouth. He wiped his face frantically, the leather gloves simply smearing the blood around. “Aaargh! You… you!” In an instant the man had a dagger in hand. He plunged it deeply into his prisoner’s remaining good eye. Bain smiled as he died.
Visibly shaking with rage, the dark man turned to face Elrid. “You shall not manage such an escape. His pain shall seem a light kiss compared to your suffering!” He stalked toward the prince, then paused. Taking two deep breaths, he slid the still bloody blade back into a sheath on his belt. “But not today. I will leave you to think, young prince. Think about the discussion to come in the morning. Remember how your bodyguard screamed. How will you look with no fingers or toes? Consider all of this while you starve in your cell tonight.”
The man waved at the drow standing over Elrid. They began to kick and punch at him as he struggled to his feet. The ropes around his wrists, elbows, knees and ankles made it difficult. He suspected his left arm was broken, but he could no longer feel the pain. Shuffling his feet, he followed the drow like a dog on a leash.
*****
Removing his headgear, Matt looked out the window of the condemned house he was squatting in. He’d chosen this place for the view. Through the window he saw the mountain on which Olympus sat. He could see the top of the tower from his chair. “I’m coming for you, Richard, and Alexander, too. Your security can’t help you. I got out, and I can get back in.”
He reached down and opened a cooler next to his chair. Extracting a beer from the icy cold water, he popped the cap off the bottle and took a deep pull. “Ahhh! I’m going to miss this.”
Setting down the beer, he checked over his head gear carefully. It was a nearly ancient set, left over from the early days of Europa’s development. The devs at that time had discarded it and those like it in favor of better prototypes. Seshat, his mother, had been allowed to bring them home for her kids to play with. Matt and his father had found them in the attic years later, when they had begun to sketch out their plan. The gear could be modified so that Odin would not detect the brain’s signal wave when Matt logged on. It had taken them several years to find the tech capable of making that modification. Howard had promised the kid a million dollars if he could pull it off and keep his mouth shut. The kid had been more than willing. He modified four of the headsets, then showed Matt how to maintain the gear and replace parts as needed. When he demanded payment, Matt had slit his throat and stuffed the body into a steel barrel.
Gazing again out the window, Matt took another swig. He would have to leave this house soon. He was stealing power from the building next door, and soon someone would notice. It didn’t matter though. He had other locations as backups. None with this view, though. He would miss this view.
“Sit tight, Greystones. I have plans for you. But just like the poor prince, you’ll have to sit and worry for a while. Wonder what I’m gonna do next, and when. When I’m done ruining your game and your company, then I’ll come for you. And you’ll die slowly, like my mom.”
*****
Dr. Feelgood called out as she exited the elevator at Richard’s office level. “Richard? Are you awake?”
Sitting at his desk, he waved her in. “I was just watching Alexander and the rest of our people. Fibble just ran himself into a wall so fast it knocked him out. Lugs is drunk and thinks the little fella is dead. He’s bawling like he just lost a puppy.” Richard grinned at her.
She shook her head and took a seat in front of the desk. She slid a file folder across for him to look at. “I’ve just come from Jules’ room. We’ve run the test three times. Her sync percentage is as high as Alexander’s.”
Richard tensed. He knew what the good doctor was going to say, and he wasn’t prepared to hear it. “That’s only one of the metrics that’s important here.”
“That is correct. But her body has healed at a rapid pace inside the pod. She’s been in there for months. All her vitals are normal. Her muscle reactions are normal. Reflexes are a bit slow, but getting better. Even her pupils are reacting normally, Richard. It’s time. We need to try and bring her out. To be sure that we CAN bring her out.”
“And if we can’t?” His voice was quiet. There was a legitimate fear that Jules’ consciousness had no need or desire to return to the normal operation of her body. That it woul
d only recognize the game world as real. That meant that unhooking her, bringing her out of immersion might cause complications from dissociative disorder to coma, or even death.
The doctor stood and leaned over the desk to put a hand atop one of his. “If her mind doesn’t reassociate with her body… if she doesn’t wake up… she may very well answer our other question. It may be that her consciousness simply remains in the game and refuses to leave. We need to do everything in our power to make sure that doesn’t happen. You know what that means.”
Richard sighed deeply. “We need to get Alexander to prep her. Which means I need to explain to him all the potential problems.” He looked up at his longtime friend. “Let’s let him have tonight. The celebration, some time with Jules. I’ll pull him out and speak to him tomorrow.”
End Book Four
Acknowledgements
As always, I must thank my family for their encouragement, patience, and untiring service as alpha readers. Several friends, readers, and family members found their way into this book as characters. My apologies to you all. You know who you are. Except Bobby and Jake, who deserved what they got. And thank you to my friends and guildies who gave me ideas and feedback to help me improve the final product.
Thank you to the guys at 3TierEditing for pointing out the thousand little mistakes I made. And much appreciation to Richard Sashigane for the amazing cover art and formatting. You can always find my books, art, and random interesting things at my website: www.davewillmarth.com or on twitter @davewillmarth (Yeah, I know. Twitter. I tweet now).
Or find the Dark Elf books on Amazon here https://www.amazon.com/Land-Undying-Dark-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/B07BSJJRS2/
Please check out my Greystone Guild facebook page for information on upcoming books https://www.facebook.com/greystone.guild.7
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