by M. K. Gibson
The throwing darts melted away. With each step she took, the puddles of blood hissed as they evaporated from the heat she was generating.
Wren lunged in with his hammer, but the god-given weapon was turned away by Coldfyr. The dark magic contained within the weapon crackled and sparked when it came into contact with the hammer.
Anders reached out with her free hand and grabbed the ammalar by his armored shoulder pauldron and squeezed.
The armor squealed as her grip crushed it and the metal began to glow red. Wren screamed while Anders laughed. She tossed the smaller man aside like a child and continued her deliberate march toward me.
As she approached, Anders considered me. “You’re not going to even try and run?”
“No,” I said.
“Very brave and very stupid little man.”
“Smarter than you,” I said, trying to look as bored as I could.
“Somehow I doubt that. Goodbye, Shadow Master,” Anders said as she reached back with Coldfyr, aiming to bring the weapon down directly on the top of my skull.
Hawker leaped from an overturned table, his hands still bound in chains, and brought his battleaxe down right between Anders’s shoulder and bicep, severing her arm.
Anders and Hawker screamed, both from surprise and pain. Anders from losing her arm, Hawker from the gout of flame and burning blood that erupted from her stump of an arm.
During the confusion when Carina had opened the portals and killed the guards within the great hall, I had seen Hawker take advantage of the chaos and dispatch his guards, knocking them into the lava. The hero that he was, Hawker had retrieved his weapon and stalked the most dangerous target, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Hawker dropped the battleaxe and brought his hands to his face, where the fire-giant’s blood had burned his face like acid.
Anders stood in shock, looking down at her arm on the floor while still holding her weapon. Her mouth hung open, and for once, she had nothing to say. Carina used the opportunity to teach Anders a lesson in physics.
Anders was of giant descent, which meant she was incredibly large and strong. But Carina was of dwarven stock. And while dwarves are strong, they are not giant strong, even half-giant. But dwarves are far more dense. All that power packed into a smaller package means they are like tungsten. Heavy and nearly unbreakable. When that much power and density decided to focus a shit-load of anger into a small fist and throw a punch into a heavier, yet less dense target . . . well, let’s just say physics is a bitch.
General Anders’s eyes widened in another wave of shock and pain. Each of Carina’s punches was like a sledgehammer to the gut.
“You! Ruined! Everything!” Carina shouted each word with a haymaker punch into Anders’s sternum, breaking the bone of the giant. The temperature that Anders was emitting didn’t seem to register to the half-dwarf’s fist. Her skin seemed blackened along the knuckles, but the ginger pugilist showed no sign of pain.
“I had a good life until you came along! When you attacked the Elder River Village, the Guard had to move out fast. My elvish captain woke me, and saw me in my bed. Not only did he see a female, but seeing me in my tent in my small clothes, he realized I was a dwarf. He commanded me to be gone, because gods saw me as an abomination. I lost everything!”
Carina punched Anders so hard, the giantess stumbled backwards into Hawker, who was still reeling from the burns to his face. The two of them fell through the portal that remained open, the one from which Hawker had been held captive by the two guards by the open lava pit.
“Carina, stop!” Lydia called out. The thief went so far as to jump onto Carina’s back, but the stronger female simply shrugged the nuisance away.
“Everything I was was taken by you. And now, you threaten the only friends I’ve had since then. The only people who accept me for me!” Carina screamed, following Anders through the portal.
Carina, in a blind rage, did not see that Hawker too had tumbled through, and was once again back along the edge of the lava pit. She brought her burnt and bloody fist back once more, intending to finish the general once and for all.
Wren ran through the portal and grabbed Carina’s wrist, stopping her. The half mad half-dwarf spun and kicked Wren in the groin, launching him several feet. He hit the ground with a painful thump and teetered dangerously close to the edge of the molten rock.
Carina turned her attention back to Anders, but the brief pause in her attack was all the time the general needed. With her good arm, Anders delivered a powerful, well-placed, open-handed blow that struck Carina in the temple and bowled her over. Anders winced and shook her hand.
“You’re . . . good,” the giantess puffed. “You would have gone far in my regime. But you have chosen the wrong side.” Anders picked up her massive foot and aimed for the back of Carina’s neck.
Wren dove and shielded Carina with his own body. The general’s kick cracked several of his ribs along his back with a sickening pop. Wren screamed, but he refused to move.
“Stupid Wren. You could have fought by my side during the day and warmed my bed at night. Instead, you chose this . . . creature.”
“At . . . at least . . . she has . . . a proportional vagina,” Wren wheezed. I heard the bubbling sound in his voice. His lungs were filling up with blood.
“My vagina is perfect!” Anders screamed, bringing her foot up, ready to deliver her final blow to kill Wren and defend her apparently abnormal vagina.
Wren rolled over and whispered something I could not hear from where I stood, but it sounded like a prayer.
Anders’s foot came down and was met by a domed shield of intense magical energy. The shield shone a brilliant pure blue.
The ammalar had made his choice.
And his god approved.
Wren held his defensive magic, protecting himself and Carina from his foe. Anders ground her boot down, trying to crush them both. But with each strike, a wave of blue-white light flashed under Wren’s protective dome. And unless I missed my guess, the waves of energy were healing both Wren and Carina.
That clearly went unnoticed by the general, as her only mission was to try and grind them both into oblivion. But young Hawker had other ideas.
Hawker jumped up and looped the chains of his manacle around Anders’s throat and pulled her back hard. The giantess struggled and fought back, reaching back with her one good arm, trying to find the smaller man.
Hawker held her tight, refusing to let go, but Anders refused to succumb to being choked out. The general was a force of nature. Despite Lydia’s sleeping poison, broken bones, and missing an arm, she would not yield.
And Hawker knew it.
“General, I’m afraid I haven’t properly . . . introduced myself,” Hawker said through gritted teeth. “I am Kyle Hawker. The only survivor of the Elder River Village massacre. And while I wanted to destroy Grimskull for his actions, your death will bring my people the peace they need to move on in the afterlife.”
Summoning all his remaining strength, Hawker pulled as hard as he could.
And that was when both Kyle Hawker and General Anders fell into a lake of molten lava and disappeared below the fiery surface.
True to my word, I never moved from my spot.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Where I Sacrifice a Life to Save a Life
“Boss, that was incredible!” Sophia said in my ear.
“I know.”
“How did you do all that?”
“I didn’t. I just abused the rules.”
“Sir?” Sophia asked.
“I’ve had a little time to reflect. And what I came to realize was that most of the adventures this little band was having followed the normal hero pattern with captures and escapes and all the normal tropes.”
“Naturally, sir.”
“But there are the pivotal moments in the stories, moments where the heroes have to save the day. And my presence here disrupts the flow. It was what Khasil and Valliar were trying to say w
ithout saying it directly. I am not of this world, so I disrupt that flow, causing events to unfold in ways that are not the norm. Hawker was meant to stop Grimskull and I altered that part of the pattern. Wren and Carina were more than likely meant to be heroes, and Lydia was supposed to fall under the will of Khasil or else die. But by bringing them all together, I’ve created a new pattern. So if I wanted to win, I had to do absolutely nothing directly. I had to let the heroes do what they do best.”
“A big gamble, sir,” Sophia commented.
I shook my head. “Gambling is for idiots who do not have the foresight to rig the game, Sophia.”
“What of Hawker?”
“What of him?” I said. “He did his job.”
“Sir, if I may,” Sophia said, choosing her words, “he didn’t. If Hawker was meant to stop Grimskull, and you removed him from the pattern, it interrupted everything. When you put him back on that path, the pattern corrected itself. Now, he’s dead. Doesn’t his absence mean that the pattern will now . . . I don’t know . . . collapse?”
Hmm. She had a point. Sophia was a creature who had seen her share of heroes fail over the millennia. Mostly by her own actions. She really loved to screw over would-be heroes and thieves.
Regardless, that didn’t make her incorrect. The gods wove their pattern in with fluid strokes. If a problem arose, the pattern would flow around it like a river around a rock. But if a piece was missing, then the flow would cease, causing unexpected, and potentially horrid, consequences in random places.
I know, because it is what I do to them all the time. But now that I was riding that flow, involved in the pattern, the matter became personal. The very pattern could now turn on me. Well, continue to turn on me. Hmm . . . that could be bad.
But what could I do?
Oh.
Of course.
Valliar, you tricky bastard.
The god did not like me; that was clear. But he still wanted his plans seen through. He wanted tyranny, and thus villainy, to fall. While that grieved me, I too wanted it to happen. But on my terms.
So it appeared that in this, Valliar and I were allies.
Hence, his gift.
I crossed the bloody floor of the great hall, pausing only to pick up Coldfyr. The mace reduced in size to match my body type. With a mental command, the weapon reverted back to smoke, only to reform as a cold black bracelet around my wrist.
Nodding at the fit, I walked through the portal into the open lava pit. The cavern was similar to the one where we first entered the keep. Lydia, Wren, and Carina knelt by the lava pit. They openly wept at the loss of their companion.
It was annoying.
“Move,” I demanded.
“Jackson, what are you doing?” Carina asked.
“What I must. Go, fetch me the sleeping captain.”
“Why?” Lydia asked.
“If you wish Hawker to live, do not ask questions. Move.”
“You can . . . bring him back?” Lydia asked.
“Impossible. Even Vammar cannot bring back the dead,” Wren said.
I looked at the ammalar and let a small strand of my power touch his mind. Not to alter it, or bend it to my will, but to allow him an awareness of my capabilities.
“Do what he says,” Wren said, getting to his feet and moving back slightly, his body reacting with fear towards me.
Good.
Holding out my hand, I opened myself to my limited store of power, trying to use it as efficiently as possible. Reaching out with my senses, I searched the lava for a particular item. A homing beacon of sorts. One that could not be destroyed by the lava, nor any item under creation.
The gift from a god.
There.
I sensed the little black obsidian candleholder given to me by Valliar. The lava began to bubble and then ripple. Swirling red and black, the lake of fire bent to my will as I used my power to bring the candleholder, and its bearer, up from the liquid hell.
“Gods above and below,” Wren gasped.
The charred body of Kyle Hawker floated there in midair, turning slowly as the remains of the lava dripped from him. Considering his time in the lava pit, his body was surprisingly well preserved. The gift of Valliar had kept most of his body intact.
But it was not enough to save his life.
Not directly, anyway.
Through my power, I could sense what was the soul of Hawker now stored within the very volcanic rock-shaped candleholder in his pouch, protecting it. It was fitting that the little holder of light was deemed a gift by the god to hold the light of life.
But his soul could not return to its body. Not in that condition. So I had to give a life to save a life. And since I owned none of my companions, I instead turned to the one life I did own.
Captain Steve Cooke’s.
Carina returned with the drugged captain slung over her shoulders. With my other hand, I reached out and sent a wave of my power into Cooke. His body jerked and then rose into the air. Carina jumped back, afraid.
Then I made the conscious decision to end Steve’s life.
His body began to burn and wither while Hawker’s body began to regenerate in waves of golden energy. The charred skin was now turning back to light brown. His armor was again filling back out. In moments, my servant-turned-traitor was a burnt husk of blackened meat.
Kyle Hawker of the Elder River Village took a sweet, deep breath of life.
I released Hawker while dropping the corpse of the late Captain Cooke into the lava. His remains sizzled and disappeared.
“What . . . what happened?” Hawker said. “Am I . . . alive?”
In response, Wren, Lydia and Hawker hugged their friend and ally. Their reunion was joyous. They had accomplished a great feat together. And I did not want to ruin their happiness. I’m a villain, not an asshole.
Besides, it was best not to tell them the only reason I brought Hawker back was because I didn’t want the rules of the realm to turn on me before I could finish my mission and get back to my own realm.
I looked at my phone. Down to 22% power. The large power drain was necessary. Power used to keep me alive and safe was always worth it.
I walked back through the portal into the great hall, surveying the damage. The stone floor was one large puddle of blood. The walls and what was left of the furniture was practically coated in it.
I turned to look at the magical table. It was beyond amazing that when Anders smashed it, the one portal we needed to kill her stayed open. In fact, it was downright improbable bordering on impossible. The whole thing stank of lazy and contrived writing. And I am not just referring to fantasy novels and most JJ Abrams movies. This was . . . divine intervention.
For just a brief moment, out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw Valliar there. The phantom image of the god smirked, mimed tipping a cap, and then was gone.
“I think I’m starting to like you,” I said aloud.
“Jackson, who are you talking to?”
“Apparently myself,” I said to Hawker. I turned to look at the young man. “Welcome back.”
“I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. Don’t ruin the perfectly awkward moment with words.”
Hawker reached out and hugged me.
Gross.
But I hugged the young warrior back.
I’d most likely have to kill him later anyway. Best to let him still consider me a friend.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Where I Check on the Recently Deceased and Deal with Steve
I released the hug and regarded him with as earnest a smile as I could muster. Then, Hawker looked at me with an odd curiosity.
“Who’s Steve?”
“Excuse me?”
“Steve? I keep hearing a voice. He says his name is Steve and he wants to talk to you?”
“Oh, that. May I?” I reached into Hawker’s pouch and held the small obsidian candleholder.
“Alianna’s candleholder?”
“It was what held your life while I healed your body. But there were some . . . side effects. Please, go sit and rest. I will take care of it.”
“But the holder,” Hawker said. “It’s all I have left of her.”
“No,” I said shaking my head. “You have all you need of her inside you.”
I turned and walked through the portal, back into the volcanic chamber. As I passed the rest of my allies, I paused.
“Look after him; he is hearing things.”
“Thank you,” Carina said, while Lydia and Wren nodded in agreement.
“You are welcome,” I said. “I will be there in a moment. There is something I have to do. In the meantime, Carina, please look over the table and see if you can make it work again. There is a portal I need to be opened.”
“You got it.”
I walked to the edge of the lava pit. Once I was alone, I held the candleholder in my hands.
“How’s it going in there, Steve?”
“God, I hate you,” I felt Steve say from within the obsidian.
“It’s mutual,” I said. “But this is fitting. For your betrayal, you deserve a prison.”
“You left me here to rot.”
“No, I gave you a job and you betrayed me. Now be quiet. I am waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Shh.”
I set Steve the Candleholder down in the ground and stared into the lava. I waited for the inevitable cliché.
The blackened and burned yet living General Anders burst forth from the lava.
Dumping a fire-giant, even a half-breed, into hot lava? My companions were idiots.
General Anders swiped a large hand towards me. I stepped aside easily. Her bloody and burned clawed hand gripped the edge of the pit and she began to pull herself free. The molten rock dripped from her as she hauled herself, inch by inch, out of the lava.
“Sorry. I’ve watched far too many movies to think the enemy was dead without checking.”
