Dungeon Lord: Abominable Creatures (The Wraith's Haunt Book 3)

by Hugo Huesca

  A group of four drones appeared around the Dungeon Lord, dressed in white tunics. They began to drag him away with desperate speed.

  Rylan Silverblade stepped in front of the Dungeon Lord and disposed of the drones with quick strikes, then aimed its scimitars at Ed’s neck, who feebly threw a green flaming knife at the Rogue. It did nothing.

  “Was that all you had?” Ryan said, laughing.

  30

  Chapter Thirty

  The Last Raid

  Kes and Jarlen led the Monster Hunters up through the tower as fast as they could, securing as many nooks and crannies as possible without wasting too much time.

  Hurrying was dangerous, and Kes knew it made them vulnerable to a second ambush, but it was a risk they needed to take—the longer they remained in the tower, the bigger the chance that more Inquisitors, or the Heroes, would arrive to finish them off.

  Her legs burned with effort. The sword in her hand seemed as if it weighed twice as much as usual, and pearls of sweat added to the dampness of her hair.

  Only a little longer, she promised herself. She was getting too old for this.

  “Last floor,” Jarlen called happily. In front of them, a luxurious staircase wide enough to accommodate an army rose up to two huge slabs of mahogany—the doors to the Akathunian inner sanctum. There were signs that the Heroes had already been around, of course. The rug was torn and tattered. The walls were missing most of their engraved silver panels, with trophies and rare pelts strewn about the floor like common trash. “The smell of blood is heavy past those doors.”

  That was expected. “Get ready, everyone,” Kes said. If there were more Inquisitors past those doors, Kes’ group would have no other option but to fight, no matter how tired they were.

  “Allow me,” Jarlen said. “I demand first bite out of whatever lies behind.” Without waiting for Kes’ command, she turned into mist and flowed past one of the doors’ hinges and out of sight.

  Kes steadied herself as the Monster Hunters fanned out around the doors. She made sure her shield was in place and that her sword hadn’t grown dull during the fight with the Inquisitor. Then she nodded wordlessly at Kaga. The Monster Hunters pushed open the doors, and she advanced inside.

  The chamber was wedge-shaped, with huge open windows that gave a beautiful view of the city below. A myriad tiny fires spread through the black shadows of Undercity’s buildings, like orange stars in the night sky. The stone floor was littered with Akathunian bodies, their black tunics ripped and torn. A couple of explosions had gone off near the middle of the chamber, seemingly where Heroes had been too damaged to teleport away. One of those explosions had destroyed an anti-magic circle carved with silver in the stone. Jarlen stood above the remains, looking disappointed. She turned to face Kes.

  “Empty,” said the vampire. “Such a shame that no one’s home. My thirst is not yet quenched.”

  “You’ve drunk plenty of blood,” Kes told her, not even trying to hide her disgust.

  “I wasn’t speaking about blood,” Jarlen said, laughing. “Death’s in the air tonight, and I want to help spread it!”

  The shining white arrow came through the open window, whistling as it went and drawing a graceful arc that left behind a trail of vapor and magical residue. The arrow pierced Jarlen’s forehead right between her eyes, snapping her neck backward with the sheer force of the impact.

  “What—?” the vampire began, crossing her eyes in an attempt to look at the arrow’s shaft protruding from her face. She raised an annoyed hand to pull it out.

  Kes raised her shield just in time. The arrow, enhanced with smite and explosive arrow, went off an instant later in a burst of light, turning Jarlen’s head into tiny black chunks that rained all over the chamber. Behind Kes, the Monster Hunters jumped for cover behind the doors. The headless vampire body turned around, blindly, and then exploded in a shower of mist that flew out the nearest window, heading back to the Haunt—and her coffin.

  “If you want death, vampire, let me deliver it to you,” said Alvedhra as a griffin approached the window, a wide shadow against the black sky, wings brushing against the tower, the wind from every motion buffeting Kes. The creature roared, and the ground shook as it tried to claw its way inside, but it was simply too big to fit. Instead, Alvedhra jumped off of her mount with a practiced, carefree motion and rolled inside. She sprang to her feet, holding her bow at the ready with another explosive arrow.

  “Thanks,” Kes said. “She was getting on my nerves.” She readied her stance and planted her feet firmly on the ground.

  Alvedhra grinned. “Any time.” Then loosed her arrow at Kes.

  The silhouette of the Rogue loomed above Ed like the angel of death itself, twin scimitars glowing purple and readying an eviscerate.

  Move! Do something! The part of his mind that was not yet consumed by the numbing agony spreading out from his chest screamed warnings at the rest of him. Plans flashed through his head at a dizzying pace. There had to be some way to get out of this. A way to survive. There was always one. It couldn’t end like this. Maybe he could use improved reflexes and cauterize the wound with eldritch edge? But no, he couldn’t even speak, much less cast a spell. His head spun, and his vision went white, and every time he tried to breathe he choked on some liquid pooling in his throat.

  It was his blood, he realized numbly. He was drowning in his own blood.

  He hadn’t even seen Ryan coming.

  One second he’d been atop Gloriosa, so close to victory he could taste it, the thrill of battle beating in his temples. And the next…

  He could feel his awareness evaporating into a white canvas. His pulse was the only sound that reached his ears, and it was a rhythm that grew quieter by the beat.

  Idly, he wondered how many experience points he was about to award Ryan. The Rogue readied a strike, and then a shadow passed over Ed as Gloriosa crashed against Rylan Silverblade in a storm of mandibles, steel, and horns. The both rolled away from Ed’s view.

  He felt a pang of gratitude for the Spider Queen. There was no way she would win that fight. But thanks to her sacrifice he could die in peace without annoyances. His mind wandered to his Haunt, and his friends, wherever they were—if they were even still alive.

  If only I had done more, he thought wearily. In the end, he’d gone the way of the Summoned Hero. Both of them had tried to stand above the whims of fate, and reality itself had swatted them away like flies.

  Three figures approached him and stood a few feet away. He recognized his own Wizard, and Lisa’s Cleric, and Mark’s Fighter between them, shield at the ready. The Dungeon Lord attempted a laugh, but all it came from his throat was a wet, gurgling sound. At least they still had the presence of mind to keep their guard up, even with him in this state. It made him proud—that’s what he would have done in their place.

  As the Cleric prepared a spell, his former Wizard stepped forward, his golem hands already performing the motions of an enhanced fireball.

  How fitting, was what he would’ve said if he had been able to. Killed by my own character. At least, even if I failed at everything I set myself up to do, Murmur will still find this entertaining.

  He gritted his teeth and summoned strength out of a body that had none left. Then, pushing through agony, he managed to sit and stare straight at the Wizard’s blank face, wondering what the person behind the character was seeing. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was going out on his own terms. He spat blood. “Let’s get on with it,” he mumbled. “I don’t have all day.”

  The Wizard launched his fireball. Ed was surrounded by blinding white light.

  Lavy rushed for the door, shaking off Alder’s attempts at holding her. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. She jumped past the disappearing drones, over her dish precariously resting against a wall, and down the stairs as fast as she could.

  The scene outside in the plaza awoke a cold in her stronger than anything she’d ever felt until now. She saw, in
terrible clarity—slowly, as if through improved reflexes—how the couple remaining Heroes fought against the desperate Haga’Anashi and what few hell chickens remained, mad in their attempt to finish off the fallen Dungeon Lord.

  Ed’s body was partially covered by his own cape, which was soaked in blood, as if he were already wearing his funerary mantle. He wasn’t moving. Next to him, a Rogue fought against Gloriosa. The Queen was missing three legs, her horn was split, and half her gray guts were strewn across the plaza, but she was refusing to give ground. The Rogue’s scimitars were slick with blue ichor.

  It can’t be, Lavy thought. This can’t be happening. We were winning!

  She tried to rush toward Ed and drag him to safety, but a pair of arms crossed around her from behind and pulled her back inside the tower instead. “NO!” she bellowed. “Alder, he needs us, let me go!”

  “You’re out of spells,” Alder said. The Bard’s face was so pale it was almost gray, and his voice was small and hollow. “If you go out there, you’ll die. Do you think that’s what Ed wants? For you to die senselessly?”

  It was Kael’s death all over again, Lavy realized. She and Alder would see the dungeon collapse around themselves, they’d have to run away once more—the only survivors—as their friends and family died around them and their screams pierced her ears as she ran. They would chase her like specters, the wailing of the dying drilling into her soul until, suddenly, they were cut short—and then the silence would be even worse…

  How could she have thought this time around would be any different? How could she have been so proud… so stupid? This was the only way it could end for people like her. Ed was about to die in front of her, even though this time she was far more powerful than the scared little Witch with a single spell she’d been when Kael had fallen, yet it still wasn’t enough!

  “I can’t do it,” she whispered. “I can’t do it all over again.”

  As the Rogue and the Queen fought, the other three nearby Heroes calmly strolled toward the fallen Dungeon Lord, not a single one of Ed’s minions in position to stop them.

  “We must,” Alder said. “For the Haunt’s sake! Its history cannot end tonight, no matter what, I won’t let it—I’m not done with it yet!”

  Without Ed’s magic allowing her to connect her Jamming Towers to Ivalis’ ley lines, though, Lavy knew perfectly well that the Heroes would never stop coming. Alder’s strength of character showed her just how much the Bard had grown since Kael’s fall. Perhaps he and Kes would be able to save part of the Haunt. Perhaps they may even be able to keep the dungeon going for a while, even without a minionship pact or drones. Maybe with Lavy’s help they would hold it together a little longer before the horned spiders got hungry.

  But she’d never be able to restart her research, and the very thought was like dying herself.

  The Heroes reached the Dungeon Lord. The Cleric cast her spell, a buff of some kind, and the Wizard aimed a finger at Ed. The dwarven Fighter raised his shield and closed in.

  The fireball shook Lavy to the core.

  Ryan smiled as the Spider Queen fell at his feet, at about the same time the new kid, Omar, unleashed his spell, the dust of the fireball engulfing the surrounding plaza. On a normal day, that would’ve pissed him the hell off—he had wanted to deliver the killing blow to the Dungeon Lord—but Ryan was in a good mood.

  Whatever joke Eddy had tried to play on him, it had backfired. Ryan had put a stop to that shit real quick. Even better, he now knew that Eddy had somehow found a job at Pantheon. Well, first thing in the morning Ryan was going to pull some strings. Pantheon better be ready to for a full-blown police investigation.

  Now, where were the experience points for almost soloing a Boss on his own?

  Something strange out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Omar’s health bar had vanished. Ryan did a double-take, making sure it wasn’t a mistake.

  “Wait, what?” Omar asked, confused, over the mic. “Mark, why would you do that?”

  The dust hiding Ryan’s top-down view of the battle cleared to reveal a badly wounded dwarf Fighter standing with the molten remains of his tower shield hefted right in front of the spot where Omar’s Wizard had been. The Wizard was nowhere to be seen—either teleported or vaporized by the explosion.

  “Sorry, new guy,” Mark said, sounding like he wasn’t sorry at all. “Ed’s got seniority.”

  A chill ran through Ryan’s spine, too confused to be angry. At first. Then he realized what spell Lisa’s Cleric had used. Confusion quickly turned into anger. “What the fuck have you done, you assholes? What the fuck are you thinking—?”

  “Well, you’d know if you had ever played with friends—people who actually like you, that is—at some point in your life, Boss,” Lisa said. There was some strange kind of tension in her voice that Ryan had never heard before. He realized she was holding back laughter. She’d rarely laughed at all when he was around, and never like this—just pure genuine fun. It sounded to him like nails on a chalkboard. “See, for gamers all over the world, when your team leader switches sides, you switch sides too—no questions asked and screw the consequences.”

  Ryan punched his desk, making his keyboard jump and sending his cup of coffee smashing into the floorboard—he didn’t care. “You motherfucker—”

  The bitch laughed again, and both she and Mark cut communications with Ryan and Omar. A second later, they had left the party.

  And, behind Rylan Silverblade, still covered in his own blood, the Dungeon Lord stood up.

  Dying was surprisingly painless, considering the hole in his chest. Hell, he didn’t even feel the wound anymore. Maybe the fireball had vaporized him.

  “Perhaps I’m a wraith now,” Ed wondered aloud, as he stood up, shaking his head to clear it. He didn’t feel undead.

  In fact, he felt pretty damn alive.

  His Wizard had disappeared. In its place stood Mark’s Fighter, a bit worse for the wear, with his shield gone and his armor blackened by the explosion. Lisa’s Cleric was next to the dwarf, throwing small healing spells his way.

  Slowly, Ed realized what had happened. “You kept your daily restoration saved the entire time?” he asked the Cleric. “Damn, Lisa. You always were one hell of a healer.” With one trembling finger, he touched the naked flesh of his chest where the scimitar had punctured through his armor. There was no wound, only a white scar. That was the power of a high-level healing spell.

  The Heroes stood immobile in front of him. They were probably having one very interesting—if short—conversation with Ryan through their mics back on Earth. Even Rylan Silverblade didn’t move from his spot atop Gloriosa’s corpse. At the sight of the fallen spider, who had brought precious seconds for him with her life, Ed could feel his heart racing in his chest, pumping recently regenerated blood through his veins. Gloriosa had fought against the Haunt during Clovis’ rebellion. Ed had no idea what had compelled her to save him, and now he’d never now.

  His sword was laying only a few steps away, almost as if waiting for him. He picked it up, and then turned to the Cleric and the Fighter. “What do you say, you two?” he asked them, grinning with bloody teeth as his Evil Eye flared bright. “One last raid, for old times’ sake?”

  Rylan Silverblade darted toward Ed, Rogue-fast. The Dungeon Lord rose to meet him. Mark and Lisa’s Heroes charged alongside him.

  “Eldritch edge!”

  The explosive arrow bounced off Kes’ shield and clattered on the floor. Kes stepped over it, as fast as she could, desperately hoping she’d remembered the explosive arrow talent description correctly and that it wasn’t about to blow her legs off. She had to reach Alvedhra before she reloaded—at this distance, Kes’ shield wouldn’t save her forever.

  The Ranger-turned-Inquisitor rolled away from a volley of darts that the kaftar shot her way. Kaga and his men streamed into the chamber, screaming bloody murder.

  “Multi-shot!” Alvedhra darted behind an overturned table and shot four arrows a
t the kaftar. Most jumped out of the way, but one hooted in agony when the arrow pierced his shoulder.

  Kes kicked the table away and struck the Ranger’s bow with her sword, splitting it in two. Alvedhra stepped away, dropped the remains of her weapon, and drew a short sword.

  Kaga and Yumiya were on her then, feinting with their scimitars like predatory wolves, slowly guiding the Inquisitor against the far wall. Kes followed. A part of her wanted to tell the kaftar to stand down. This was a matter between her and Al, after all. The Monster Hunters had no business interrupting something Kes had to do on her own.

  She opened her mouth to give the order.

  Boot, did you lose your brains along with your goddamn wings? You’re fighting a battle, not playing a role in Alder’s stories. I swear on all the gods, said Ria’s voice in her head, if you don’t keep your damn mouth shut, I’ll come back from the dead as a wraith and fuck you up.

  The thing about Kes’ relationship with the voice of her old sergeant was that, although she was perfectly aware that Ria was only a figment of her imagination, she also didn’t doubt even for a second that Ria would make good on her threat, somehow.

  Sorry, Sarge. Just a moment of insanity, she told the voice in her head. I’ve been through a lot of stress over the last few hours.

  Well, Ria said, let’s not make a habit out of it.

  Kes kept the pressure on the Inquisitor, using her shield and precise stabs with her sword to keep Alvedhra from counterattacking the kaftar. The Inquisitor snarled, perfectly aware of Kes’ intentions, but also unable to do anything about it.

  “What did you think was going to happen, Al?” Kes screamed over the clash of metal striking metal. “We outnumber you seven to one!” Sure, one of the Monster Hunters was down with an arrow in his shoulder, but Alvedhra wasn’t in any position to count.