Scourge of Souls: The Realms Book Four: (An Epic LitRPG Series)

by C. M. Carney

  Impressive, Gryph thought, but then cringed as Lex turned his jet of fire on the ooze fighting Vonn. The flames tore into the black creature and the ooze screeched. It forced Vonn to duck and roll as the flames curled around the ooze and lapped at him. Lex chortled madly and pushed more power into the flames. After a few more seconds a third ooze had fallen before him and soon after the flames sputtered out.

  Vonn gave Lex the stink eye before diving away from another of the ooze's sneak attacks. He swung his silver daggers in an arc, removing the ooze clone’s arm. He ducked and rolled, slicing and dicing at his new foe. Lex stood, hands still raised, shoulders moving up and down to the rhythm of crazy laughter.

  Gryph grabbed the Ordonian by the shoulder. “Lex, chill out.”

  Lex spun. “I must protect Gryph,” Lex roared up at his tall player, his face manic. “Ahhh.”

  Gryph slapped him hard across the face. “Relax man.” Lex cringed and shook his head trying to clear the madness.

  “Ahhh,” Lex screamed one last time before the sting on his cheek pushed through his fire blazing madness. “Woah,” he said, his entire demeanor calming.

  Gryph pointed at the rest of the mini oozes, several who were advancing on them. “Start attacking the enemies that are still alive you maniac.”

  He smiled up at his player. “Uh yeah, sorry about that. Man, apparently fire magic makes me crazy.”

  Ovrym backed his way up to them, his bleed metal saber the only slashing weapon in the party that damaged the ooze. “Because you have low wisdom and no self-control,” the xydai said to Lex.

  “Hey man, not cool insulting a dude.”

  “You mistake me. I am not insulting you, merely pointing out the dangers. Fire Magic is the closest sphere to chaos and requires a high wisdom score or the user risks madness. I suspect you have not put many points into Wisdom since arriving.”

  "Not as such," Lex said.

  “And you wanted to bring a fire mage along,” Gryph said, firing a dual casting of Water Blast at the nearest ooze lich. The water did no damage to the ooze, but the force of the blow knocked it off its feet.

  “Yeah, probably wanna rethink that strategy.” Lex smashed down with his Spirit powered maul finishing off the ooze clone.

  “Lex, help Vonn. Ovrym, you’re with me.”

  Lex rushed to his friend, launching a volley of Order Bolts towards the agile rogue. Just before impact they changed direction with precise motion and flashed around Vonn, impacting another ooze in the bulbous protrusion that doubled as its head.

  It exploded splashing ooze in a wide arc. Whatever sentience animated the creature still considered the head important because it bubbled and seethed for a few moments before reforming and standing again.

  This time Vonn was ready, and his silver blades flashed in graceful arcs, slicing through and burning away the ooze’s remaining health. It turned to ash and drifted down to the floor.

  Lex helped Vonn to his feet, ensuring that Vonn was okay. Gryph turned his attention to the odd couple of Errat and Tifala. Two piles of sooty remains lay near their feet, but four more of the oozes still attacked from beyond Errat’s shield, pummeling it mercilessly with thrown acid globs, tentacles and sharp-edged arms. The huge warborn’s shield collapsed and the ooze clones surged forward.

  For a moment Gryph was sure the tiny gnome Life Master would be swarmed, but Errat reached down and tossed her up onto his shoulders. If the rough treatment offended Tifala she did not show it as she sent dual castings of green Life Bolts down at the oozes.

  The oozes enveloped Errat’s lower half, and he grunted in pain as they slithered up his legs. Warborn possessed a resistance to many things, including a 50% resistance to acid damage. But Errat still felt the pain as his health dipped.

  Tifala, grabbed the back of the warborn’s neck and the green glow of life magic eased health back into him. With her other hand she generated one of her Life Blades, curving shards of pure life magic. She stabbed down at the closest ooze and it howled in rage and detached from Errat.

  Gryph tossed two more colloidal silver bombs at the downed creature. Gibbering mouths and an uncontrolled blossom of tentacles burst from the ooze as the last of its health faded, leaving another pile of sooty ash.

  Errat screamed as the remaining oozes inched their way up to his waist. Tifala could not risk stabbing the oozes with her life blades for fear of injuring Errat, so turned her attention to pouring healing energy into the massive warrior’s body.

  “I need help,” she yelled. “I’m out of mana potions and my pool is dropping quickly.”

  Gryph cycled through his available attack options and cursed himself for being unprepared for this unpredictable situation. The voice of the Colonel berated him. If Errat dies here, it is your fault. You have done nothing but react since the moment you arrived. It is time to stop reacting. Make the Realms bend to your will. You are a Ranger and a Caldwell. Behave like you are worthy of these names.

  Gryph didn’t know what he would do as he ran to Errat, he just knew he had to do something. Then an idea occurred to him. He cast Mind Shield, a spell that enabled his Wisdom, the attribute that measured mental fortitude and resilience, to borrow the stat line of his highest Attribute. Mentally bolstered he took a truly insane action.

  Gryph grabbed the warborn’s side just as the oozes flowed up and over the warborn’s waist. The ooze rippled over his hand his skin blistered and burned. He cringed in agony but refused to lose focus. “Keep healing him,” he grunted to Tifala through gritted teeth. The ooze moved up his arm and extended a tendril towards his face. He closed his eyes, prepping for pain.

  31

  Gryph wanted to howl as the ooze ate away the first layer of skin, but he pushed the desire down and forced himself to concentrate on his task. He directed mana into his Ring of Minor Air Shield and began to sculpt. Normally the ring would expand outwards in a perfect sphere, but Gryph had learned how to morph its shape to his needs while harvesting in the Deep Water.

  The manta ray shape he’d molded then was easy compared to what he attempted now, and that was with nothing else demanding his attention. Now he had to mold the field around Errat while ignoring the pain of his flesh being eaten from his body.

  He pushed the field along his arm, encasing his head and chest while also pushing the field up Errat’s torso and down the warborn’s legs. The sound of their screaming melded into a horrid symphony and he could not tell where his own ended and Errat’s began. He refused to let the pain slow him and after what seemed an eon, he’d crafted a tight-knit weave of mana around his and Errat’s body. The ooze reached his chin, and he sent a mental call to Tifala. “Move!” With his eyes closed he had to trust she heard and obeyed.

  It's now or never. The mana in the weave pulsed and throbbed with potential, desperate to explode from his control. The ooze flowed over his face and wrapped around his head and he sent the last of his mana surging into his breastplate.

  He activated the ring.

  A torrent of wind exploded from every pore, pushing outwards at hurricane force. Screams tore at his ears, but he was unsure whether they came from him, Errat or the oozes that were being torn apart by the force of the winds.

  At the same moment a pulse of warmth flowed over his entire body, pushing outwards, burning away what little ooze still clung to his skin as the Moon Flare ability of his breastplate activated. Through his gritted eyes he could see a flash of silver green light. The healing light of the breastplate eased the burning, and he cracked his eyes open as Errat collapsed to his knees. Tifala was there instantly and laid hands on them both.

  “I’m okay, tend to him,” he ordered.

  “Like hell you are.”

  Healing magic flowed through him, and despite the wondrous ease it brought him, he grabbed Tifala’s hand and pulled it from him. “Tend to Errat. That’s an order.”

  Tifala glared at him. “I am not part of your Adventure Party and not obligated to obey your commands.” Her
eyes were venomous, but she did as he asked.

  Gryph pulled a Major Health Potion from his satchel and downed it. Healing warmth flowed through him and the burning dimmed from an agonizing surge of needles to a dull throb. He looked at his hand and watched the incredible power of the Realms turn scarred, burned flesh back to healthy skin. That will never get old.

  Ovrym lifted him to his feet and nodded at him. “That was reckless and brave.”

  Gryph nodded and took a quick look around. Lex and Vonn had the last two oozes cornered and seemed to be holding their own. He rushed to Errat’s side. The ooze had made it to the warborn’s neck and burns sundered his once blemish free skin. His face looked like melted wax. Tifala took Errat’s head in her hands and closed her eyes.

  Errat grimaced through the pain. “Hello friend Gryph. Did we win?”

  “Yes, we did. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Yes, I know. Mistress Tifala is a superb Life Master.” A most unexpected yawn crossed his face and his eyes fluttered closed. “I am … sleepy. I have never been sleepy.” His eyes fluttered shut, and he lost consciousness. Gryph’s eyes snapped up to Tifala, and she smiled.

  “I put him to sleep. It will help with the pain and make it easier for me to heal him. Go help the others.”

  Gryph nodded and rushed to help Lex and Vonn. They killed one of the two remaining ooze clones as Gryph reached them and were preparing to kill the last when something caught Gryph’s eyes.

  The other oozes appeared to be oily, molten tar, but this last one was different. Through the shimmering black sheen pinpricks of light appeared and disappeared, only to appear again. The ooze had retreated into a corner and was no longer attacking Lex or Vonn.

  “I’m telling you there is something different about this one,” Vonn said.

  “Doesn’t mean we shouldn't kill it,” Lex retorted powering up his maul.

  “Didn’t you have your fill of killing back in Harlan’s Watch?”

  “Dude, this is not the same thing at all. This is a T-1000 oil slick killing machine, and you want to spare it?”

  “This one is different. I think we should understand why before we kill it.”

  “Or maybe your bleeding heart will give it time to mutate into the T-X and kill us all. Sure that one was hotter, but we'll still end up dead.”

  “Do you ever listen to the gibberish that comes out of your mouth?”

  “Just cuz you ain’t cultured enough to get my references doesn’t mean it's gibberish.”

  Gryph ignored them, his eyes glued to the ooze as the shimmering of stars grew more vivid and increased in speed. Normally Gryph would agree with Lex, a thought he wasn’t fond of admitting, but Vonn was right. There was something odd happening here.

  A tingle like the burn of blood returning to one’s arm after you’d slept on it tickled the edge of his perception and closed his eyes. The sensation grew and tendrils of being teased the edges of his perception. Then that tingle became a single word.

  Help!

  Gryph jumped in surprise, but then sensing a consciousness, he relaxed and eased his mind open.

  I hear you, Gryph said.

  Help, came the voice again, but this time it was smaller, more distant, as if it feared something.

  Gryph’s eyes snapped open to see Lex raising his shining hammer over his head. He started to bring it down when Gryph grabbed the stocky Ordonian by the forearm. Despite appearances, Gryph was much stronger and easily arrested the blow. Lex’s eyes snapped up at him.

  “Dude, what the hell?”

  “Wait,” Gryph said and held out a hand, allaying any further complaints. He knelt and reached a tentative hand out. The ooze shimmered and shook as if it were having a seizure. The pinpricks of stars grew brighter and beams of silver light pierced through the black glop. They increased in speed and potency, forcing Gryph and the others to turn their gaze away.

  A distant keening noise rose and the smell of burning oil filled Gryph’s nostrils. A brilliant flash filled the room. It took several seconds for Gryph’s vision to clear, but when it did the black ooze was gone. In its place hung a sparkling crystalline matrix of shimmering silver energy.

  Gryph’s eyes went wide at the beauty of the shimmering pattern of energy, and Lex lowered his weapon and knelt next to Gryph. “What is it?”

  “A soul, or what's left of one anyway,” Gryph said, not sure how he knew the truth of his words.

  “Woah,” Lex said, his eyes wide, reflecting the glow of the soul remnant.

  Gryph closed his eyes again and activated Soul Bind, reaching out to touch the edge of the star filled lattice of soul stuff. The energy pulled back like a cat cornered by a rabid dog. It took a moment for Gryph to understand why and when realization hit him, he berated himself. It is afraid.

  Soul Bind was a battle of wills for the purpose of binding a creature or monster to your will. It was forcible servitude and using it on a sentient being was considered vile. He was not sure what this soul remnant was in life, but it had been sentient, and it feared his attempts to dominate it.

  This is the path that Ouzeriuo had taken and look where it had gotten him. This is the path of Morrigan, of Aluran. I will not become them.

  Gryph sent a pulse of apology through the connection and altered Soul Bind from domination to companionship. He paused, letting the remnant see he bore it no ill will. After several moments the terror in the link faded into something akin to careful optimism.

  The remnant pulsed and twisted, opening itself to him and Gryph eased his own soul around it, like a parent holding a child woken by a nightmare. The remnant hesitated for the merest of moments before tendrils of pure soul stuff flowed towards the silver white nexus at the center of Gryph’s own soul.

  32

  There was no fear in Gryph as the soul remnant wrapped itself around him. Instead he felt complete, at home, shrouded in pure goodness. His soul wept in joy as the memories of what the remnant once was filled him.

  He soared high over the canopy of the jungle, drifting on the warm currents of air. In the distance the sparkling shimmer of the ocean called him. He spun, relishing the air rushing through the multi-hued feathers of his wings.

  His wings beat harder and he torpedoed into the water snagging a fish in his jaws. He pushed his way back to the surface and took to the air again; the water glistening off his silver platinum scales like a cascade of diamonds.

  What are we? Gryph asked.

  We are coatl, the remnant returned. What remains of coatl.

  A deep sadness pushed into Gryph. The coatl were once magnificent creatures, wiser and more knowledgeable than nearly all other sentient beings. They were among the first children of the Source and were as ancient as any race in all the Realms. Coatl had once been numerous, but the Realms are ever changing, and their kind had long ago grown few in numbers.

  What happened to you?

  Ouzeriuo, still human in form if not spirit, stood on the shore of the sandy paradise, the coatl’s home. His dark robes clung to him like whiffs of oily smoke as he raised his staff above his head.

  The one who called himself Ouzeriuo came to our island. He was vile, unclean and my siblings fled from him. But I let my curiosity tempt me. I could not understand how this powerful mage had fallen so far from the light of the Source. In my arrogance, in my ignorance, I wanted to help him, to offer him redemption.

  He was not interested, Gryph sent with surety. He had tasted the vile bitterness of the revenant’s soul and his gut roiled with fearful anticipation.

  Ouzeriuo smashed the butt of his staff down onto an outcrop of rock. Tendrils of pure black menace exploded from the jewel atop his staff, racing upwards faster than the coatl could fly. They twined around the coatl and dragged it from the sky. The majestic being crashed into the ground, snapping a wing on impact.

  No, he longed only for power, for knowledge. Fear and rage drove him and gave him the power to capture me.

  Gryph’s perspective shifted and
the hairs on his neck rose as he recognized his surroundings. He was in Ouzeriuo’s laboratory, sealed in a massive cage, one reinforced by the mana draining power of bleed metal. He felt weak, wretched as if something had drained all goodness from the world.

  I saw the depths of his depravity and understood the true nature of evil.

  A terrified scream flowed over him, pummeling him with the pain of an innocent being tortured. He lifted his head, exhausted by the effort and saw two men torturing a boy. Men corrupted by their hunger for power.

  Simon, Gryph sent. Ouzeriuo flayed the boy’s skin back. Why are they doing this? Gryph wanted nothing more than to pull away from the horror, but he was not in control of this memory, and knew the coatl was braver than he.

  They are stealing his knowledge of Soul Magic. Simon was a Prodigy, an individual born with a fully developed skill. Soul Magic has always been rare and powerful. Simon may have been the only being on all of Korynn who possessed the skill, but he was too young to understand or tame the power inside him. These foul men wanted it for themselves, so they tore the boy apart to get it.

  Simon shuddered and died, and a wave of shame flowed over Gryph at the relief it provided him from the screams and the horror. A single tear flowed from his serpentine eye and fell to the bottom of the cage with a tinkling. He glanced down. A small shimmering jewel, one of many scattered across the bottom of the cage, glistened back at him.

  They are Tears of the Coatl. A powerful resource derived from my kind’s witness to pain and fear. They are both wondrous and horrifying.

  A cry of ravenous joy brought Gryph’s attention back to Simon as Ouzeriuo pulled a spectral copy of Simon’s body from the boy's corpse. This was Simon’s soul. For a moment the soul held the boy’s shape and then Ouzeriuo clutched his hand and the form diminished and shrunk as if under tremendous pressure.

  Ouzeriuo opened his hand, revealing a flickering mote of shimmering soul energy. He grinned and brought the mote to his mouth. Gryph gasped in horror as Ouzeriuo swallowed Simon’s soul and shook like a man in the throes of ecstasy.