by M. K. Gibson
“No,” Grimskull said, shaking his head. “Now is not the end of Grimskull.”
Oy . . . third person.
“Goodbye, Shadow Master.”
Grimskull snatched his left hand to the Amulet of the Ember Soul and raised his right hand towards me. At this range, there was nothing I could do but watch as the sickly iridescent green energy of the Curse of Unmaking washed over me.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Where I Confront a God and I’m Forced to Do the Unspeakable
Oh ye of little faith.
The Curse of Unmaking, as I said before, erases a person from the flow of life. The river of time that makes up the entirety of a realm’s existence.
I was not from that realm.
I was a god.
Sort of.
Visiting gods were not beholden to that realm’s flow. They were unique in that they could bend the flow’s will around them. So to me, The Curse of Unmaking was nothing more than a warm shower in green energy goo. It smelled of hand-sanitizer and pine.
“Impossible,” Grimskull whispered when he saw me standing there, not erased from existence.
I would have taken the time to explain that it was not impossible at all, that it was in fact logical if one knew the rules. But explaining everything would have greatly diminished how imposing I looked standing there, amid the swath of destruction the curse gouged out.
“If you are done, then it is time for you to surrender,” I said, brushing off nonexistent dust and debris from my clothing.
“Fool!” A female voice echoed through great hall. The massive doors to the hall slammed shut. The vaulted windows were darkened as shadowy clouds from nowhere rolled in. “You were instructed to not use the curse upon him.”
The voice was a throaty hiss and unmistakable. It resonated from nowhere and everywhere within the darkness of the hall. The air had dropped several degrees, and I was able to see my breath.
“Khasil, how are you?” I asked. “Here to witness my moment of triumph?”
Khasil manifested within the great hall’s balcony seating. She stood there in a deeply v-cut formal gown of black and green. Her ringlets of black hair were tied up in an intricate weave, accentuating her horns. The entire piece was held together by a net of emeralds and black diamonds. She now wore a two black eye patches with dark green leather cords to cover the wounds done to her two left eyes from Lydia’s deadly accuracy.
“Great mistress.” Grimskull lowered his head and dropped to one knee. “You grace me with your presence.”
“Stand up, worm,” Khasil hissed. “You were commanded to destroy him. Complete your task.”
“Great mistress, I tried. I used the most powerful spell I know. It was not enough.”
“Again, I name you fool. Powerful and dark from the Never Realm the Curse of Unmaking is, but useless against a god.”
“Of course,” Grimskull said, shaking his head. “Paige Blackwell tried to warn me of that. I could not believe that either one of them were gods.”
“Only technically,” Khasil said, glaring at me.
“I am standing right here, you know,” I addressed them both.
“Do not address the dark goddess,” Grimskull warned.
“Shut up, Marty,” Khasil and I said together.
“I will give you one last chance,” Khasil said to me. “Give me the Barrowbride and I will let you live.”
“How are your remaining eyes doing?” I asked in response. “Lydia’s knives sure are sharp, aren’t they?”
Khasil bent her knees and held out her arms like a feral animal and roared. Her scorpion tail stood erect and quivered.
“Rise, my avatar! You shall be my vessel. Destroy the Shadow Master. I bestow upon you the power of a god to kill a god!”
Baron Martin Viktor Grimskull began to swell and grow, nearly doubling in size. Small, insect-like legs sprouted from his body and along his trunk. Each stalk grew into thick armored legs and a second set of pincer claw-arms. His flesh turned a pale shade of green, and black chitinous scales began to form, overlapping one another down his arms.
The baron’s helmet did not grow with the rest of him; instead, it stretched and cracked, cutting into him. The mangled helm embedded itself into his bleeding skull, and what was left was a human-arachnid hybrid with the power of a god and only one mission—to kill me.
Grimskull tested his new body, scuttling from side to side before his new eyes set upon me. Instead of a mindless beast, there was an intelligent creature. He smiled.
Grimskull shocked me even more when he spoke. “Arise!” he commanded. He raised his front legs and then slammed them down, releasing a ripple of power. The remnants of his dead personal guard rose up, controlled by the necromantic power that flowed through him.
Well, shit.
The first of the guards came at me, wildly slashing its sword. I leaped backwards and raised my hand, releasing a gout of flame so intense that it would melt steel like an acetylene torch.
Nothing happened.
I narrowed my eyes in contemplation, then looked up at Khasil, who smiled back at me.
Of course. My power would be useless against them while her power possessed Grimskull and by proxy, the guards. The only way to defeat them would be through martial skill, as the Old Accords demanded.
With enhanced speed and strength from my power, I turned aside from the guard’s attack and mentally activated the bracelet on my wrist. Nightfyr sprang into my hand. Catching the weapon in mid-turn, I shifted and brought the mace’s weight to bear against the guard’s helmeted skull, crushing it. One down and too many to go.
As fast and as strong as I could enhance myself, Grimskull and his minions could match it. I was talented, but I was not good enough to take on nineteen heavily armored zombies and a Scorpion King knock-off.
“Sir,” Sophia’s voice came into my ear.
“Busy,” I responded as I swung Nightfyr again, only to have it clang against the broad shield of the nearest undead guardsman. They were trying to surround me and wear me down. Grimskull reared up and down on his insect legs in anticipation.
“Sir! I’m afraid you have to do . . . the unspeakable.”
Ignoring Sophia for a moment, I released a blast of pressurized air from my fist just to push the attacking armored zombies back. I grabbed the shield from the first guard I downed just to have some kind of off-hand protection.
“I can’t!” I yelled. “You know I can’t!”
“Sir, would you rather be the live Shadow Master who abused the rules, or the dead one?”
Damn it. She was right. I had to swallow my pride and do the one and only thing I could do in this moment.
“Help,” I whispered.
Next to Khasil, Valliar appeared in the balcony. He was adorned in his usual white robes and crystalline armor. But this time he had a new adornment.
His smug smile.
Valliar held his hand to his ear. “What was that, Shadow Master? I could not quite hear that. Would you be so kind as to repeat it?”
“Please . . . help,” I grunted as I fought to fend off more and more of the guards.
“Now, was that so hard to say?”
“Yes.”
Beams of light burst through the windows, penetrating the gloom of Khasil’s presence, and the doors of the great hall burst open.
My allies, my salvation, rushed into the hall and ran headlong into combat. I was saved. All because I asked for . . . help.
Gods above and below, I’ll never live this down.
Chapter Fifty
Where I Receive Help, Say Goodbye to Bad Business Partners, and Pray
Hawker led the initial charge. His enchanted battleaxe cleaved through the nearest zombie guard’s shield and armor like a hot knife through butter. His weapon, like all their weapons, were gifts from Valliar. A gift from a god. So their power met Khasil’s on equal footing.
Following Hawker came Templar Wren and Carina. The duo fought in tandem, with his
shield blocking incoming attacks, while Carina’s battle staves knocked the guards to the ground. One swing of Wren’s hammer and the undead guards were no more.
Lydia and her Bastards stuck to the corners of the hall, providing assistance where needed by way of a well-timed throwing blade or a stab in the back. Last, the Lord Protector Talisarian’de and Zachariah entered the battle. Talisarian’de maneuvered his dual-bladed battle-staff with spinning, deadly precision, and Zachariah unleashed a combination of magical attacks and incredible swordsmanship.
In moments, the last of Grimskull’s raised guards were nothing more than pieces of dead flesh and broken armor.
Which left Grimskull himself. The monster opened and closed his clawed hands while a sliver of drool escaped his elongated jaws. Grimskull was smiling.
“Good,” Grimskull’s barely human voice formed. His new lower mandibles interfered with his speaking, causing a chattering, lisping sound. “I want the pleasure of tearing you apart myself.”
The monster lunged at us, snapping his pincers in wide arcs, forcing us to scatter. The only thing on our side was there were too many targets to focus on.
“Go for his legs!” Hawker shouted, swinging his battleaxe. Grimskull in turn scuttled aside and swiped a clawed arm, connecting with Hawker’s breastplate. The impact launched the young warrior across the great hall. Lydia was there immediately to assist him in her own special way.
“I think he can understand us, idiot.”
“Yeah, I figured that out,” Hawker groaned as Lydia helped him up.
“Move!” Lydia yelled.
Grimskull leaped through the air and crashed down to where the two of them had been only seconds before. The deadly stinger missed Lydia by a fraction of an inch as she shoved Hawker away, then rolled the opposite way herself.
Zachariah threw conjured balls of fire at his brother. “Hey little brother! I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any uglier. But this look suits you!”
“Graaah!” Grimskull roared as turned his attention on his older brother. Grimskull turned, then began to scuttle at full speed toward his brother, shrugging off the fireballs as mere annoyances. At the last moment before Grimskull struck, Wren blindsided the beast. With a war cry, Wren rammed his shield into the monster’s side with all his godly strength, knocking Grimskull to his side.
Talisarian’de took the opening, springing into the air, twirling his twin-bladed combat staff, and bringing the weapon down into Grimskull’s vulnerable underbelly. The weapon struck home, driving into the scaled flesh. Blackish blood sprayed like a geyser as the elf cheered his strike.
But wounded was far from dead.
Grimskull shifted, knocking the Lord Protector to the ground and into one of Grimskull’s outstretched claws. The monster gripped the elf’s throat so tightly that Talisarian’de’s eyes bulged and his face instantly turned red. Grimskull’s grip tightened and Talisarian’de released his battle staff and punched vainly against the heavily armored claw.
Carina, Wren, and Zachariah ran in and tried to help, but Grimskull flailed with his other appendages, keeping them at bay.
With no help able to make it in time, it was only a matter of moments later that the noble elf’s head rolled free, severed from its body.
The room fell silent as a creature who was over a thousand years old ceased existing. Blood pooled on the stone floor as we witnessed his last breath, perhaps his soul, escaping his rapidly cooling lips.
Talisarian’de, Lord Protector of the Whispering Woods, was dead.
So, hey, things weren’t all bad.
Before anyone could properly react, Grimskull scrambled onto his many legs. My allies moved back defensively, watching to see what the monster’s next move would be. Even I was amazed when he simply picked up the dead elf's head and tossed it into the air a couple of times like a baseball.
“Who’s next?”
“Me,” a new voice echoed over the sounds of battle.
Through the great hall strode a very confident and very powerful woman. She took her time walking in, ensuring all eyes were on her. After all, the last time she’d set foot in this castle, she was fleeing for her life. Now she returned as The Power of the West.
Countess Elsbeth Skullgrim had returned to Al’ Garrad, and she was reveling in it. The countess stood tall, proud and regal in her fur-trimmed black and silver armor. She wore a flowing cape made of a virgin griffon’s skin and feathers. Atop her head, the countess wore a skull headpiece similar to her ex-husband’s. Hers was more delicate and ornate, and her flowing blonde hair cascaded from under it.
“Oh Viktor, Viktor, Viktor,” Countess Skullgrim said, relishing the moment. “You look terrible. I love it.”
“You insufferable bitch! How dare you assault my home?!”
Countess Skullgrim’s smile was wide and proud. “Because I can . . . Marty.”
“Whore!” Grimskull hurled the severed head of Talisarian’de at his ex-wife with enough velocity to put a hole through the stone.
With a bored expression, Countess Skullgrim held out her right hand and stopped the dead elf’s head in mid-air. “Whore? I did not have relations with your brother for money. I did it because it was fun and he is so much more of a man than you. But I am bored with this. Your time has come to a close. And I am ever so grateful to be here as it does.”
“Elsbeth, I am glad you were able to make it,” I said, greeting the countess.
“Jackson,” Countess Skullgrim greeted me, ignoring the giant monster in the room. “I just had to come. I could not believe it when Zachariah told me that you were here. You really let that trick you?” Countess Skullgrim thumbed her well-manicured finger at the monstrous form of Grimskull.
“It is a long story,” I said, dodging an armored chunk of twice-dead guardsman. Grimskull was now picking up anything in reach and hurling it at us. The dead guard’s severed torso sprayed all manner of blood and entrails along the wall of the great hall.
“Oh, that will never come out. Once blood is in the stone, it stays there. My slaves are still scrubbing blood from my last public beheading.”
“So business is good then?” I asked. Talking shop was always important when dealing with clients, past and future. You have to do it, really. It’s the mark of good business.
“Really? Now?!” Hawker yelled as he dodged another inbound corpse missile. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we are in the middle of something!”
“Right, of course,” I said. “Countess, how is your power from the Never Realm these days?”
“I am doing rather well. Thank you again for brokering the deal.”
“You are welcome. And your amulet?”
“Not in a secret dungeon, if that is what you are asking, Jackson. Only a fool would do such a thing.”
“It was a brilliant plan!” Grimskull roared as he moved towards us.
I grabbed Countess Skullgrim’s wrist and pulled her away before her ex-husband could impale us with his stinger.
“Thank you,” the countess said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because dear Viktor here is brimming with the power of Khasil.”
“That scaled bitch?” the countess asked.
I almost winced. Poor Countess Skullgrim, like the rest of the mortals here, was unaware that Khasil and Valliar were present. She no doubt heard the comment and would remember that.
“Viktor was dumb enough to throw in with her?”
“Apparently,” I confirmed. “My power can match him, but not beat him. Not in this realm. It’s a god thing. Therefore, we need to cheat. The Never Realm touches all planes of reality and its power should be enough to repel Khasil’s influence and return him to normal.”
“Well, won’t that be grand. But . . . ” The countess paused, considering the ramifications. “That level of power will have a fairly large toll. The cost to me will be great. What’s in it for me?”
I actually stopped dodging to regard the arrogant witch. “What’s in it for you
? I made you. You owe me.”
“And now, I no longer need you. Yet you need me. So what are you offering, Shadow Master?”
In my line of work, the only way to succeed is to have an enormous threshold for stupidity. But there are several things I cannot abide. For one, people who wear fashion scarves. Unless you are a foreign correspondent for a major news network, then you just look like a douchebag.
And for another, professional discourtesy.
And Elsbeth was being very discourteous. So when Grimskull lunged for us, I grabbed the back of Elsbeth’s cape and pulled hard. I yanked her backwards while propelling myself forwards. As the old adage says, when being chased by a bear, you only have to be faster than the person ahead of you. I rolled away from Grimskull’s attack, while poor Countess Skullgrim was left behind in shock as her ex-husband got his claws into her.
Within seconds, the countess was nothing more than a puddle of wet goo in a very expensive cloak.
In gratitude, Grimskull turned his attention to me. The monster smiled and lunged.
Lydia tackled me from behind, knocking me out of Grimskull’s destructive path. The monster slammed against the wall, missing us both by only a hair.
Lydia rolled with the momentum, came to her feet, and grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt.
“Move!”
Instead of responding, I just listened and ran as Zachariah once again tried attacking Grimskull with bolts of magic.
“You killed her!” Lydia yelled as we ran across the hall.
“No,” I countered. “Grimskull killed her.”
“You pulled her back!”
“I had my reasons.”
“Which were?” Lydia asked.
“She tried to extort me.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine then,” Lydia conceded. As a thieves’ guild leader, she understood the bad business practice of extortion. “Bitch had it coming.”
“Indeed,” I agreed. “Besides, her usefulness had run its course.”
“That’s funny,” Lydia laughed. But her voice didn’t carry any humor.
