Star Druid

by Skyler Grant

  "We've equipment on the Catspaw to image the inside of locks. We might be able to figure out the correct mechanism to activate," Cleo said.

  "That will take time," Banok said. Unfortunately, his magic wasn't helping him. Some of the defenses likely were magical, given all the others had been, but the power coming off the sarcophagus was blinding him to everything else.

  "We don't need it. People spend so much money on the fancy locks and forget what actually holds a door shut. Two seals, Elven watersteel. Ten minutes with a torch and I can get you through both," Nyx said, moving to land lightly atop the sarcophagus.

  "That can't work, can it?" Cleo asked.

  "You know the arses that build things like this. Overthink the big things and miss the little," Banok said.

  "Even if traps aren't rigged to the seals, surely there would be one for lifting the lid?" Cleo asked.

  "You stand outside the room. Nyx cuts the seals and gets out. I lift the lid, get what we need, throw it out and you two move, fast as you can. I'll be behind you if I'm able," Banok said.

  "I'm tougher than you are," Nyx said.

  "But not as strong. How much does that lid weigh? I can get it off there, you can't. I might not be as durable, but I heal better and I'll have my wards up," Banok said.

  "We do it, I'm not leaving you," Cleo said.

  "You will. You said you'd listen to me about when it's time to cut and run. If it's in there, the amulet? When you have it hand? It is time. I don't make it out, you get it to the Druid Council. They might be pansy-ass wimps, but they know a lot," Banok said.

  Cleo nodded. "Fine. Nyx, do it."

  Nyx engaged her plasma torch and flew in. Banok suspected that her technology was more than just technology. To do the things Nyx did with weapons so small just wouldn't make sense with any standard power source. They were feeding off her fairy magic in some way.

  Cleo stepped out of the room, waiting at the foot of the passage.

  Sparks flew as the plasma torch began to cut into the sarcophagus.

  Banok drew his lifeforce from within. This was a major drain, but if ever there was a time it was now. Defense wards rippling into place around him, accelerated healing powered by lifeforce pulsing through his veins.

  Despite all the caution nothing happened as Nyx cut. When she was done the room was quiet and still.

  "Get out," Banok said.

  Nyx flew near and kicked him in the shoulder, "Don't die, idiot." She went off to join Cleo just outside the room.

  Banok waited a moment to take a deep breath, fingers curling beneath the lid of the sarcophagus. Then with a lifeforce-enhanced surge to his muscles he lifted it up and flung it against the far wall.

  Arya wasn't a skeleton. That was unexpected. The woman was in the same posture as depicted on the lid, and while he detected no hint of lifeforce, she was perfectly preserved. Pretty, blonde, smaller than one would expect for a woman renowned to be such a great warrior. And there upon her neck, a golden band that radiated magical power.

  Banok gasped as his wards were broken. Spears flew—whether they had been hidden in the walls or magically conjured he didn't know—and he was now impaled by three of them. Enchanted spearheads.

  They should have killed him instantly, and would have if not for the healing that he'd already set in place. It was keeping tissue working even with a punctured heart that no longer pumped, kept him moving with lungs quickly filling with blood.

  Banok grunted, blood frothing from his mouth as he reached down to grab the amulet and tear it from Arya's neck.

  The rush was dizzying, intoxicating. It was power, but it was so much more than that. There was something seductive to the touch of that energy, like a brush of silk against the skin or a whisper of a lover in one's ear.

  So much power. Banok didn't so much draw on it purposely—he was unable to resist it anyway, waves cascading in. Refilling his well with lifeforce to spare.

  It was tempting to hold onto the amulet. To keep it and never let it go.

  Straining against a spear he managed to pull his arm back and fling it in Cleo's direction. With a nimble maneuver she grabbed it, giving him a long look before turning and running.

  Cleo knew how to keep to a plan.

  With boosted strength Banok shifted, snapping the spears as he moved. It left fragments inside him, but he was already mending his flesh, forcing the shards out. Arya was splattered with blood—his. Even in this moment he felt a little guilty about that, but nothing was to be done.

  Banok limped towards the door, moving into a sprint halfway as torn muscles reknit themselves.

  Healing this quick wouldn't have normally been possible for him. Even a brief touch of the amulet had made so much possible.

  Almost to the doorway another spear caught him in the back, this time passing right through him and out his chest. A spray of blood and viscera erupting into the hall.

  This grievous wound healing almost as soon as it was suffered, Banok hurried onward, putting some distance between himself and the chamber. Past the door no more spears followed him, and he was clear of whatever defenses had been triggered.

  The floor rocked beneath his feet. There was no time to waste. With the amulet gone something was happening to this place. He fled.

  10

  Banok ran as the ground trembled, the magical light in the halls flickering. Cleo and Nyx were gone, both were faster than him and with a head start. At least with the bountiful lifeforce flowing through his system endurance was no issue. His legs felt like they could run forever.

  Up ahead in the distance he heard gunshots. When he finally reached the chamber of the elements there was still no sign of Cleo or Nyx, but indications of recent combat. The three robed corpses on the floor had moved. The robe of one was still smoldering. The skeletons were shifting and stirring, a thin layer of flesh growing on the bones.

  Necromancy. It was said that in the Fade the dead didn't always stay dead. Given what they'd seen when they'd arrived Banok had assumed that to be just rumor. Instead, it must have been the amulet, while it was still attached to Arya, its powers shielding this place from some of the effects of the Fade. With that connection broken, things were quickly changing.

  If these corpses were animate it meant the ones in the next level would be as well, and they were more plentiful and better armored.

  Banok headed for the stairs, hoping that his boosted endurance meant he was catching up with the others.

  More gunshots from ahead, louder.

  Banok could sense it now. The magic, undeath. The stairs ended just ahead.

  The room of the golden statues. Cleo and Nyx were backed into a corner, a wave of bodies blocking them from the steps leading further up. Nyx was using her torch as a flamethrower, billowing blue flame holding the undead back. Cleo snapped off a shot at one of the undead, but it caught on the armor, the magical round deflecting away.

  These undead were already looking more filled-in than the ones below. The more time that had passed, the more the Fade affected them, and the stronger they were becoming.

  Banok channeled lifeforce into a bolt of flame, cradling into his palm for an instant before hurling it into the back of one of the undead soldiers.

  It melted through the armor, finding the flesh beneath. Undead didn't like fire of any sort, and magical fire was especially potent. It screamed, blue flame erupting from the rents in its armor before it collapsed flailing to the ground.

  Banok readied his staff and landed a spinning blow to the head of one of the undead that came surging towards him.

  "About time you got here. We thought you'd decided to take one of your stupid little naps," Nyx said.

  "I'm almost out of those bullets," Cleo said.

  They'd been well spent, but even with these and the bolt of fire Banok had thrown there were still five undead on their feet. Positioning themselves with seeming intelligence, keeping the passage upward blocked.

  Time was working to the undead's advant
age. The longer this fight went on, the stronger they'd become. Banok knew that between healing himself from several life-threatening spear wounds, summoning enhanced strength and a lot of endurance, and conjuring that fire dart, even the surge of energy the amulet had given him must start to run out.

  Getting the amulet back from Cleo would give him the power to win this fight, but he was reluctant. Magic was never free, and power like that could quickly become addictive.

  Banok gave a surge of power to his muscles and with a lunging sweep of his staff he caught the knees of one of the undead from behind, sending it crashing hard to the stone floor.

  Nyx flew in, pouring her flamethrower over the fallen figure. It might not be magical fire, but it was good enough. Rattling howls came from the undead.

  "I'm going to open you a way. Get through and then get them off me," Banok said.

  "Will do," Cleo said.

  Banok spun his staff around him as he approached the stairs. The last surges of the lifeforce from the amulet were enhancing his strength and flowing into his staff to boost its properties.

  He fell upon the undead blocking the path, and they in turn fell upon him. Whatever intelligence was animating these things, they made no attempts to use the weapons they'd died with, and instead they were attempting to tear him apart with their bare hands. Given their strength, it was possible.

  It wasn't a fight that favored Banok. Where his staff met undead flesh he could hurt them, but most of the bodies were still covered in armor. Of course, his strength was a help, but they were strong as well. In a battle of attrition the undead would win. There were more of them and their individual tolerance for punishment was higher.

  But winning wasn't Banok's goal—it was just to get them on the ground. When an opportunity came to sweep the legs he took it, even if it meant taking a hit himself.

  After a rapid flurry of exchanged blows he was fairly sure they'd broken two of his ribs, his left arm, and given him a minor concussion. The arm was the only one he rushed lifeforce to fix right now. Lose hold of his staff and he would be dead.

  A solid blow to his head sent Banok crashing to the floor. At least the low angle allowed him to drive the staff hard at one of the last undead still standing, up through a rent in armor, resulting in a brilliant green flare of light as it found flesh. It went down.

  Cleo took off at a run, leaping over him. Nyx flew along behind her, bursts of her flame thrower catching Banok as well as the undead.

  Robes aflame he rolled to put them out, the undead arms grasping for him.

  Cleo knelt a safe distance away, using the stance to steady her shots as she fired off the few remaining rounds she had. Each shot found their mark, striking the grasping hands and keeping them away from Banok.

  With a final surge of strength he wedged his staff against one of the undead, using it as a brace as he lifted himself to his feet. Not to waste that last surge he drove the staff down into the helmeted skull, shattering the visor and engulfing the head in green flame.

  Then he was beyond them, limping, the world already starting to become a blur. This had all been a bit much and those reserves were finally gone.

  Cleo was there, one arm slipping around his waist and helping to support him as they made their way forward.

  Nothing else intercepted them on their way back to the surface, although the trembles were growing worse.

  As they left the tomb the ocean was showing tall waves, the roar almost deafening as they crashed against the shore. The island was smaller than when they arrived, one of the shuttles already gone. Swept out to sea.

  Cleo helped him up the hatch and sealed it as soon as they were aboard, Nyx zipping past to the cockpit. Waves buffeted the shuttle, almost toppling it over as Nyx engaged the engines and they lifted from the surface.

  "Another close one," Banok wheezed, the words hard to get out as a spasm of violent coughing overtook him.

  "You don't look good, Banok. You need this thing?" Cleo said, dangling the amulet in her gloved hand.

  He wanted it. Oh how he wanted it. If it were death or taking another dose of the amulet's power, he'd choose life, but he didn't think he was there. Not yet.

  "Once we get clear of the Fade I'll sleep," Banok said with a grunt. "Get us to the Druid Council."

  "You sure that's the right play? They don't like you. There is my family instead? Or the Elves?" Cleo asked.

  "You don't want that trouble coming to your family’s door. And if the Druids are wimps, Elves are wimps with massive sticks up their asses," Banok said, struggling to stay awake as a wave of dizziness overcame him.

  "I don't trust either of them. I trust you," Cleo said.

  It was flattering. Banok could also agree—he didn't trust the Druids, not really. If it came to trusting someone to do what was necessary he'd trust Cleo over the whole Order. But it wasn't just about the willingness to make the hard choices, it was a matter of knowledge and power.

  For all that Cleo seemed to know everything, she really didn't. The Druids had been involved in sealing the amulet away before, and that meant they'd known why it had to be done. They'd know what to do again.

  "Druids," Banok said, as the world spun again. This time he couldn't fight it anymore, sleep overcoming him.

  11

  "Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP," Nyx said, kicking violently at one of Banok's ears.

  Given how his head was ringing she must have been at it for awhile. Again, not enough time for sleep. Although his wounds had healed, so a few days must have passed.

  No, wait, the ringing wasn't in his head at all. The shipboard alarms were wailing.

  The surrounding lifeforce readings came pouring into him. If they were in orbit around Ellesadril he should feel the Grove even from orbit, but there was nothing.

  "I'm awake, you crazy fairy," Banok said, massaging his head, "Why aren't we where we're supposed to be?"

  Nyx abandoned her kicking, taking to the air with her wings twitching in agitation.

  "Cleo got one of her feelings. Thought they'd be looking for us heading that way. Brought us to Rockholm first. Figured those jerks who attacked you were probably on the good guy's side and might still be here," Nyx said.

  In retrospect they probably were. They'd tried to stop them from ever getting to the tomb, from disarming the last of the defenses.

  "And?" Banok asked.

  "Long story really, really, quick. Rockholm got invaded, lots of people are dead, we're shot to pieces and the whole asteroid is about to fall into the sun, okay?" Nyx said.

  That was a lot. That was really a lot.

  "I need to stop going to sleep," Banok said.

  Nyx flew in to kick him in the ear again, hard. "I always say that! I keep saying that! I can fix the ship, but Cleo is out there hurt and the bad guys have the amulet, and I can't do it all alone."

  Cleo was out there hurt.

  Banok tapped his well. The disorientation and the aches of his body faded, the last remnants of the wounds disappearing.

  That alone was a week of future life, and it sounded like he might be burning a lot more if things were as bad as Nyx said.

  "Can we fly?" Banok asked.

  "They fired salvos at the docks. Half the hangar kind of collapsed and the other half sort of exploded. We were in the exploding half," Nyx said.

  "Can we fly?" Banok repeated, louder.

  "No, but if I stop having to explain everything to you I can get us there. Half an hour. And it's only about thirty-three minutes until we pass the point of no return for falling into the sun," Nyx said.

  That wasn't much time.

  "Where is Cleo?" Banok asked.

  "She was in the Galleria when the shooting started," Nyx said.

  Every moment he delayed Nyx was a moment she wasn't working on getting the ship ready to fly.

  "That's all I need to know," Banok said, getting out of bed. His armor and robes were mended and he quickly slipped into both and grabbed his staff.

 
It was foolish to just charge in without any idea who was attacking Rockholm. He could ask Nyx, but she had been aboard the ship the whole time, and again he needed to not distract her further.

  Banok hit his comm. Calla hated using them, but that didn't mean she didn't have one. If anyone would still be alive it would be the immortal.

  "Banok, about time you woke up," Calla answered.

  Banok made his way to the airlock and, boosting his lungs just in case, opened the outer hatch. It was good he did. There was still atmosphere, they hadn't vented to space, but the air was incredibly toxic from the burning fuel. Billowing clouds of black smoke obscured everything.

  Another week of his life burned away to keep his lungs working as he made his way through the thick smoke.

  "Calla? You want a life off this rock, we're offering. You'll need to get to the docks. I'm going after Cleo. You know what I'm walking into?" Banok asked.

  "Orcs. And no, I'm drained, I can't move. The falling into the sun is my doing. I've got the amulet, I can't let them have it," Calla said.

  Banok broke through the smoke. Bodies. Lots of bodies. Blood smeared the floor, the walls. People had died, and died violently.

  Why did Calla have the amulet? Because Banok trusted her, of course, and when Banok was unconscious and out of commission, and the Druid Council wasn't an option, Cleo must have done the best she could, giving it to Calla.

  "I could get to you," Banok said.

  "Could. Could save me, claim this amulet. Wouldn't mind that, I've lived a very long time and I'm really not ready to die," Calla said.

  Calla's shop was in the old quarter, and that was almost on the other side of the asteroid from the Galleria. Half an hour, it wasn't enough time. Not to get to both her and Cleo.

  "Cleo is in the Galleria," Banok said. He knew how grim his tone was, and that Calla would understand.

  "Probably for the best, druid. For the best this thing burns. They won't have it from me, not while I still draw breath," Calla said.