Oblivion's Peril

by M. H. Johnson

  And what Val saw in the room beyond absolutely took his breath away.

  35

  Val turned to Axel. “Are you serious? They actually made those things?”

  Axel winked. “It seems they did, boss. Lost in ruins for gods know how many centuries, a handful of Terran adventurers thought they had hit the jackpot. Just seeing it glide through the air when they showed it off for me was something else. They weren’t interested in selling, at least not then, but I was more than happy to give them tips on flying the thing and maintenance.”

  The man heaved his massive shoulders in a sigh. “They dared the ruins a second time. Only two survived.” Axel shook his head. “I should have known from their offhand comments they thought themselves through the worst of it. It’s like they didn’t even know the most important bit of lore about dwarven ruins. Saddest thing, seeing the pair of Terrans return with tears in their eyes, saying their friends had really died. It was like they had thought it all a game. Until their friends didn’t show up, wouldn’t reach out to them, no matter what they did. Like they had died in truth.”

  Val nodded. “I think I understand.”

  Axel frowned. “It’s like they thought their friends would somehow still be around, even after being butchered by the horrors in those lost dwarven cities filled with traps, automatons, and the gods know what else. Vengeance against the Dominion that had struck them low, extracting a price foolish Jordians pay to this day, daring to explore cities filled with treasure it kills us even trying to get to.” He shook his head. “Risks are so bad for most of us, we’re happy to leave it to you Terrans, who seem to get such a kick out of gambling with fate.”

  “I’m sorry for their loss. But I have to ask, what’s this secret they should have known? Just how deadly the ruins were?”

  Axel blinked. “You mean you don’t know? I was sure someone as savvy as you...”

  “Just spit it out, Axel.”

  Axel smirked. “It’s the same reason why no sane Jordian merc, no matter how skilled or desperate, would dare them. The ruins reset themselves. The traps, the automatons, everything. And unless you’re a Terran, the risks are far worse than just that.”

  Val stared at Axel for an endless moment, his heart roaring in his ears. “Are you serious? So this all really is a game?”

  Axel chuckled. "Now you're talking like your own kind." He shrugged. "No one's really sure why, or how. We all know how rich those ancient cities were in precious resources. Some suspect artificial intelligence is directing repairs, and ancient factories are generating new automatons as old ones are destroyed and salvaged. Others claim the dwarves, in all their multi-dimensional brilliance, somehow fused the potential of endless overlapping realms. Then something went horribly wrong. Instead of being reinforced beyond the ability of outsiders to invade or destroy, their ancient dead cities simply stretched to infinity, duplicating themselves even as the original dwarves were separated and dispersed over countless worlds. And now the abandoned ruins reset after any perceived invasion or incursion. Many scholars claim that that’s what led to the disappearance of the dwarves, not Dominion intervention at all.”

  Axel snorted at that. “Of course we all know that’s just apologist bullshit. Fact is, our Dominion ancestors were backstabbing savages more than happy to wipe out an entire civilization for the sake of securing their own territory. Hell, they were more than happy to wipe out a fair number of the original Jordian settlers for fear they were dwarven sympathizers and such.” The veteran mercenary sighed. “Savage times, those were. But the dwarves got their vengeance. You Terrans might be blessed with your ability to hop between worlds, but when a Jordian attempts to explore those ruins? Odds are against him ever coming back alive.”

  Val blinked. “So that’s why I never hear about massive Jordian adventuring parties. You all leave exploring ruins to the Terrans because the risks are too damn high.”

  “You got it, Boss. At least most of you can port back to your home world if something goes wrong, if you do it fast enough. But for a Jordian? If he gets caught in ruins about to reset themselves or whatever the hell it is that they do, poor fool’s as good as dead.”

  Val clenched his fists, suddenly terrified by the thought that his poor Ava had somehow been trapped back in suspension, now lost to him forever more. He closed his eyes, shaking with sudden fear, aware of Axel suddenly stepping back.

  “You okay there, boss?”

  No. No, that couldn’t be right!

  And then Val sighed in relief, for once grateful to that mocking voice always at the edge of his perception, and whether it was the universe itself or his own psyche, its declarations had always mirrored reality.

  Val had rescued that ancient dwarven city. The quest had been completed, earning him two levels and a charisma boost. That one beautiful city and the girl he loved within it were safe. If he truly was a player on the board of destiny, then his moves had to matter.

  He took a deep calming breath, opened his eyes, and flashed a concerned-looking Axel a reassuring smile. “All good. Just had a bit of a headache. Too bad you guys don’t do aspirin here.”

  Ava was safe. He refused to believe otherwise. And, god forbid she was trapped in what amounted to a resetting dungeon, he would pull her, Arilius, and Astmar free. Hell, he’d pull the entire tribe free and have them live their lives safely under his banner. And he knew it would work, too. Just like the priceless dwarven armor he wore at that very moment, just like the artifact before him. Once something was pulled free of those ancient ruins, whether or not those cities reset, the treasures freed were as real as real could be.

  But the only way he could truly guarantee the safety of Ava and her clan, whether or not their city was humming along right as rain as he hoped, or he had to pull them free of nightmare a second time, he needed far more than a sliver of territory.

  If he was truly going to protect everyone he loved, human and dwarven both, he needed to control the board. Otherwise, if the wrong people found out about the dwarves, they were as good as dead.

  More than ever, he needed to claim the throne of Jordia, so no one could ever hurt those he loved again.

  With that resolve burning in his heart, he pushed away all lingering doubts and worry, knowing he could only control the present. And by controlling the present, he could master the future. And never had he been so excited for his immediate future as he was at that moment, just gazing at the wonder that took up the center of the room, leaving him breathless with awe. Like a sleeping tiger, it waited, brimming with coiled power.

  A pristine hover-blade made of Elementium alloy.

  Sleek and beautiful, it looked every bit as tough and sturdy as his Elementium armor. Val could only wonder at the exacting standards that had gone into its design and manufacture. Every inch of it spoke of screaming speed and power. Val hungered to get on that bike like he had no other vehicle since he was sixteen.

  Val squeezed his palms tight, smirking to himself, sensing from Axel’s bemused smile that he had already given himself away. “So what’s the catch?” he asked at last.

  Axel’s brow furrowed, smile losing its foothold on a mouth suddenly tight with concern. “Catch? What do you mean, catch?”

  “Well, a bike this beautiful to not be sold, at any price… there has to be a catch somewhere, right? I mean what collector of dwarven artifacts wouldn’t want to get their hands on this beauty? I’m surprised the surviving delvers didn’t keep it. Heck, I’m surprised it found its way into your hands, not some collector’s.”

  Axel swallowed, suddenly looking a bit discomfited, scratching his palm, the same one he had shaken Val’s hand with. Lips pressed tightly together, it seemed he had to force himself to speak. “Perhaps there had been a prospective buyer, but it seems the bike might have been a bit, well, too much for him.”

  Val quirked an eyebrow. “Really.”

  Axel sighed, chuckling ruefully. “I’m not going to pull one over on my employer, am I? Alright. The de
tails aren’t entirely clear, but the buyer was a man I’ve done business with myself, not so much into dwarven artifacts as bikes. He was going to give the bike a test run, but the minute he sat his rear on the seat and put his hands on the throttles...”

  “Yes?”

  Axel shrugged. “He sort of, well, died.”

  Val frowned. “That’s one of those minor details you really don’t want to leave out of your original pitch.”

  Axel waved those words aside. “Sure, but the original rider was a Terran just like yourself, and had no problems whatsoever!”

  “You’ve had me pegged as a Terran since you met me. Is it really that obvious?”

  The larger man grinned. “Trust me, kid, after a minute in your presence, no one would think you’re a run-of-the-mill Jordian. And the way you radiate potency and peril, having the coin to hire us on and the gall to think you can actually take on all comers in a bid for the throne? Terran adventurer makes the most sense. Though how the hell you're managing to oathbind us is beyond me.”

  Val smirked. “You don’t think I have a chance, do you.”

  The merc shrugged. “I think you’re smart enough to listen to advice and cut your losses when you have to. A score of battle-mechs makes a mighty fine bargaining chip if we end up suing for consideration. You might just find yourself on the future Overlord’s council, and we in good standing.” He flashed a smile. “And since you paid us up front, you’ll get nothing but praise from us. Of course, we’re all Oathbound, but there’s no need for us to fight to the bitter end if our opponents offer concessions. That way, we all end this tournament a hell of a lot better off than we were before we met. Hell, worst case, if we end up having to leave system should things go sour… well, we’ll do it as mercs fighting under lawful contract and might actually get a chance to plead our case, thanks to you trusting us.”

  “I don’t think things will pan out on Jordia the way they have on other worlds,” Val warned. "I get the feeling things here are a bit more ruthless than you might be used to. Now, what happened to the pair of adventurers who were trying to sell that bike?”

  Axel frowned. “They… what is the term? ‘Parachuted’ out before Dominion forces could try them for involuntary manslaughter. No one’s seen hair or hide of them since, and frankly, they’d be better off never coming back. Damn shame, though. Lost their friends and the artifact they found.”

  Val nodded. “And somehow, you got a hold of it.”

  Axel smiled, gazing fondly at his prize. “Let’s just say that I have friends in all sorts of interesting places. No one wants death artifacts laying around, or the probing questions and whispered accusations that might make a certain succession far more complicated than it has to be. No. It was best for all that discreet parties extracted this beauty for the good of everyone, and here the bike’s been ever since.”

  Val flashed a grin. “Beautiful as sin, and you haven’t dared to put your butt on the seat, have you?”

  A self-deprecating chuckle. “You got it, lad. But the way I see it, a Terran adventurer daring the King’s Path, brimming with power sufficient to catalyze a Darklord’s blade and shield, just might have what it takes.”

  Val smirked. “And how much would it cost me to put my life on the line experimenting with your deadly toy?”

  Chagrin, frustration, and rue all flickered across the larger man’s features. “I was thinking perhaps, for a vehicle made of priceless Elementium alloy...”

  “That killed the last person who dared sit on it.”

  Axel swallowed. “Well, there is that, but when you consider how much valuable ore is trapped in that artifact alone...”

  “Ore no one can get to, locked in a near-indestructible composite matrix? And there is that death upon unexpected contact thing to consider as well.”

  Axel grimaced. “I was going to say five… no, call it two. Two million credits to be the proud owner of an exquisite, priceless, and perhaps only peripherally deadly dwarven artifact!”

  Val burst into sudden laughter. “You were just telling me how your modified bikes cost upwards of ten thousand credits. If I were to pay a full order of magnitude more for this potential deathtrap no one else has dared to buy, that would still be one hundred thousand credits!”

  Axel clenched his jaw. “One million. For a priceless dwarven hover-blade the whole racing circuit will envy!”

  Val frowned, rubbing his chin. “It is a beaut. I’ll say that much. How about 300,000? Triple my former offer. A nice expensive trophy piece, if nothing else.”

  Axel’s eyes flashed with sudden heat. “Double that, or get the hell out of my shop!”

  Val grinned, holding out his hand. “Done.”

  Axel blinked, surprise and reflex as much as anything else causing his hand to grip Val’s own as Val slipped six Elementium cubes into it.

  Congratulations! You have learned the Mercantile skill! This skill helps you judge the worth of goods via market knowledge and your target’s body language even as you make your own bluffs utterly convincing, no matter that you are lying through your teeth! Congratulations! You’ve managed to swindle your own employee out of a priceless dwarven artifact for the tiniest sliver of its true market value. You’re a natural at this! Mercantile is now Rank 2. Now go out and bleed some more suckers dry!

  Val grimaced and shook away the message, all his attention locked on the pristine dwarven hover-blade before him. He reverently approached the shimmering bronze gold artifact, hands lowering to caress the seat of the bike as if he were in a trance.

  Arcane Artificer skill check successful! Psion Artificer skill check successful! You intuitively understand the ebb and flow of Psionic and arcane power allowing this dwarven low-rider to effortlessly bend the laws of space and time. Why don’t you hop on? It’s dying to have you on board, Val!

  Will check failed! Having been charmed multiple times by beautiful Jordians (including Ava and Julia) who would claim you as their own, your enticement resistance has temporarily gone down 10%! (It would have gone down 30% but you actually managed to behave last night.) Yet destiny itself glows with the grace of the noble hero rescuing so many damsels from dire peril. So very many damsels, Val. What are the chances they’ll all actually get along? Now you know why girls aren’t laughing in your face. Your charisma has been permanently increased by 1!

  True Artificer skill check Successful! You intuitively sense the price this bike demands of those who ride it, just like you are now! 50 Mana reserved to catalyze bike and keep yourself alive while doing it, 100 Psion reserved to fully utilize power and shields! Further, you now understand the ebb and flow of electromana energies cascading through the beast under your thighs so well you have no doubt you could repair it, should near-indestructible Elementium alloys collapse and fold when you inevitably wipe out! Well done, Val.

  But Val had already tuned out the bemused voice echoing inside his head, right hand gently squeezing the throttle that seemed to purr at his touch. Despite the lack of wheels, his dwarven hover-blade felt eerily similar to his friend’s old Harley. He met the surprised gazes of more than one Mech pilot with a smile as he purred his way past, earning whistles and slow claps as he coasted out the front door, flashing a brilliant smile as Axel whooped right behind him, hopping onto his own hover-blade, now levitating two feet above the exotic pavement, keeping pace with Val.

  “Hot damn. You got it to work, and you’re still alive, boy! You’re something else. I almost don’t mind how well you hustled me, boss. Now let's see you put that bike through its paces!”

  Val laughed, high on adrenaline and wonder, flashing Axel a beaming smile and passing him fourteen Elementium cubes the startled pilot near stumbled off his bike catching. “Consider that a down payment. Now get me more bloody pilots! I’m off to test this baby out.”

  With a final wave Val squeezed the throttle, his bike reacting so fluidly it was almost an extension of his body as its soft hum intensified before tearing through the air so fast and sud
den that a whooping Val had to jerk into an abrupt turn, laughing at the terrified looks of the few veli drivers gazing at him in awe as he put up the bike’s shields with a quick surge of his will, flashing a madcap grin and twisting the throttle yet again to roar down the impossibly straight road. Not a veli in sight ahead of him, and within seconds the buildings were flashing by at blinding speed and Val felt more alive than he had since he had last dueled for his life against a Highlord, just hours ago.

  Congratulations! Blade Riding has been successfully quantized! You can now ride all hover-blades, bikes, and motorcycles at Rank 2 proficiency!

  True Artificer skill check successful! You have successfully modified your low-rider so you alone, or those who you designate, can activate it. No accidental deaths of friends or loved ones for you!

  When Val eased his hover-blade to a stop in back of his hotel, the sun had only begun to rise, and the streets were still mostly empty. And the things he had done with that bike left him whooping for joy, his mind racing even as he slipped off his bike and headed for the hotel, so excited it was surprisingly difficult to slip into Shadowmind in time to dodge past the bored-looking staff and ease up the stairs to the third floor.

  It was worth the discipline when he slipped inside their room, shadows and the faintest breeze disturbing not a single hair on the sleeping girls’ heads. Val smiled to see Sasha and Lisa curled up on a divan remarkably like a leather upholstered Earth counterpart before slipping into the room he had shared with the girl that, yes, had somehow ended up claiming a tiny piece of his heart already. He didn’t know what was in store for them, maybe he had just been the hero she had needed, and friendship was a prize he would gladly take. But he couldn’t deny that her brilliant smile and bubbly laughter somehow synced perfectly with Angelica's ruthlessness and fierce devotion, Julia's intensity and tender adoration. And Ava was precious gold underlying the brilliant silver cage his heart was now trapped in. Ever patient, ever understanding, he somehow sensed she’d forgive his primal hungers as he danced upon the face of Jordia in all peril and glory―knowing that in the quiet depths below, he was hers alone. And he knew he would be with her again soon.