“Herbicide?”
Oh! Now that he thought about it, he did have some herbicide. In fact, it was ultra-strength magical herbicide that had originally been developed to fight off villainous, man-eating tree-folk several centuries ago after a marauding band of the carnivorous plants had decided to turn several elven villages into dinner. He’d bought it after almost getting eaten by Mr Sparkles, Avraniel’s giant man-eating rose. However, he’d never gotten a chance to use it since Mr Sparkles had apparently taken a liking to him, which meant he was no longer on the menu. Avraniel had also told him in no uncertain terms what she would do it him if he even thought about using the herbicide on one of her plants. Since Gerald enjoyed living, he hadn’t just put the herbicide away. He’d all but erased the very memory of it from his mind since he was fairly confident that what Avraniel had suggested would be enough to kill him several thousand times over.
“I do!” Gerald cried. “What should I do with it?”
“Get ready to use it.” Old Man’s magic stirred ominously. It was like being surrounded by a hurricane of blades. “This entire thing is one giant plant. Whenever he creates more branches or vines, they always grow out of the existing branches and vines.”
“So everything is connected.” Gerald gasped. “Which means that if I use the herbicide on the central trunk…”
“This entire thing will probably die.” Old Man readied his weapon again as their opponent appeared on a branch above them. More branches lanced toward them, along with a horde of vines that threatened to either trip them over or bind them in place. The rats leapt forward to intercept the attack, but the sheer volume of vegetation forced the rodents back. One of the demolition rats that had come along hurled a device into the surging tide of vegetation, and a large explosion bought them a moment or two to plan their next step. “Have the rats take you to the central trunk. I will keep him occupied.”
“Okay.” Gerald gulped. “Good luck.”
The bureaucrat bit back a scream as Matisse wrapped some wire around him and then shoved him off the branch. The sudden rush of movement had his stomach doing flip-flops before he tumbled onto another branch. Before he could even think of getting to his feet, another rat sent him sailing through the air again, courtesy of more wires, followed by another rat and another. Dimly, he was aware of Old Man renewing his attack as the swordsman and the half-elf traded blows at a thunderous pace. Chunks of wood the size of small trees tumbled past, and the air ripped and tore as Old Man’s magic warped space to add range and cutting power to each of his strikes. Matisse landed on Gerald’s shoulder, and a quick burst of healing magic gave Gerald the strength to stagger to his feet. Healing magic and defensive magic – Matisse was a handy rat to have around.
“Ugh…” Gerald tried not to throw up. “Please, tell me we’re in position. I don’t think I can take much more.” Matisse squeaked his reply. “Oh, thanks the gods.” Gerald looked around. They were right next to the central trunk. “Okay. Time to use the herbicide.” The space beside him shimmered, and a huge, needle-like device appeared. “If I remember correctly, the instruction manual said I had to stab this into the tree I want to kill and then pour the herbicide into it.” He hefted the device and brought it down hard. However, the sharpened tip only managed to sink about a quarter of an inch into the thick wood. “Uh oh. That is not good.”
Matisse and the other rats threw their paws up in exasperation.
“Yes, I know it didn’t go deep enough.” Gerald dug through his magic for a mallet. “Can you hold the device in place?” The rats used some wire to hold the device in place, and Gerald began to hammer away at it with the mallet. Little by little, it sank deeper into the wood. “Come on… just a little bit more…”
Matisse leapt onto Gerald’s head, and a glowing barrier flared to life above them. A massive branch that had been honed to a razor’s edge slammed into it, and a sound like breaking glass rang out. The makeshift barrier shuddered, and cracks began to spread across it. The ninja rat gave a growl of exertion, and the barrier’s glow brightened as it somehow managed to hold firm. However, only a moment later, a second branch joined the first in trying to smash through the barrier.
“What are you doing?” the half-elf thundered. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll kill you before you get the chance to –”
Reality shuddered, and the branches disintegrated. Old Man hurtled through the air and landed on top of the barrier. For a split-second, Gerald caught a glimpse of the older man’s eyes. There was no trace of his usual levity or warmth. Instead, they were as cold as ice.
“I am your opponent,” Old Man said as he launched himself up at the half-elf.
The enemy mage vanished into a nearby branch, but Old Man was undaunted. A slash pulverised dozens of yards of wood before a thrust left a hole more than ten feet wide in the middle of the branch above him. The half-elf reappeared, blood pouring from his left sleeve as his arm hung limply at his side.
“How?” The half-elf tried to raise his arm, but the limb refused to move.
“You’ve used your magic to move through your wood more than a dozen times now. It was only a matter of time before I figured out how it worked.” Old Man’s brows furrowed. “You have impressive reflexes. That strike should have killed you, but you were able to sense it and evade the worst of it even while moving through your wood.” His next words were for Gerald. “Are you almost done?”
Gerald brought the mallet down one last time and then nodded in satisfaction. “I think so!”
“Then do it.”
With the needle-like device finally in place, Gerald summoned a large container of the herbicide and poured it into the device. The noxious purple fluid rushed down the needle and into the trunk. The results were quick and impressive. The area around the needle immediately blackened and withered, and the rot spread swiftly through the central trunk and then out along the branches. Gerald wiped some sweat off his brow. No wonder it had taken a special order using his bureaucratic privileges to get this herbicide. The damage it could do to crops or regular vegetation was too horrific to even contemplate.
“What did you do?” the half-elf hissed. The rot had reached the branch he was standing on. His magic surged, but the rot continued to spread. He staggered to one side and clutched at his head. “You –”
Old Man blurred into motion and reappeared above the half-elf. There was a flash of light, and Gerald felt the shockwave of Old Man’s attack rumble past. At the very last moment, the half-elf managed to curl some of the dying remnants of the tree around his body as a shield. Old Man’s attack hit with all the force of an avalanche. It pulped a vast section of the rotting tree and hurled the half-elf and his makeshift shield down through the withered vegetation like a meteor.
“We should get down.” Old Man landed beside Gerald. “I doubt this tree will stand much longer.” The tree had already been badly damaged by Avraniel’s attack. With the extra damage from the herbicide and Old Man’s technique, it was a miracle it was still upright.
Beneath them, the tree gave an ominous creak as the trunk began to splinter apart. “I think that’s a good idea.”
Old Man used his magic to take them back down. The colossal tree broke apart only moments later, and its rotting remains tumbled down on everything like thick, pulpy rain. Gerald heard a cry of outrage from outside the building before a torrent of flame devastated the remains of the tree. Clearly, Avraniel was not happy about the rotting wood raining down on everything. Gerald couldn’t blame her. He’d gotten some of it in his hair, and it smelled awful and felt even worse. More than a little queasy – it was like having putrid sludge in his hair – he summoned a bucket of water, leaned over, and had the rats empty it over his head. Feeling a lot colder but far cleaner, he turned to Old Man. Thanks to either incredible luck or incredible skill, the swordsman had managed to avoid getting dirty.
“I don’t see the half-elf anywhere. Is he dead, or did he escape?”
Old Man pointed. There wa
s a crater in the floor more than a dozen yards away. The half-elf lay in the middle of it. The wood he’d used as an impromptu shield had been reduced to kindling, and the sheer quantity of blood around him made it difficult to believe he could possibly have survived.
“He’s dead.” The swordsman bowed his head in respect. “But he was a worthy opponent, for all that he served an unworthy master.” The rats mirrored his gestured, and Old Man grinned at Gerald. “You did well – except for the screaming. I think my ears are still ringing.”
“Oh… yeah. That.” Gerald winced and scratched the back of his head. “To be honest, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Well, you certainly distracted him for a few moments, and you did manage to get Avraniel’s attention.” Old Man strode down the corridor. The floors above them had been completely ruined by the giant tree, but the floors beneath them had most likely escaped intact. “We need to keep moving. The archives should be below us.” His lips curved up into a small smile when no guards appeared to block their path. “It seems as though the guards have abandoned their posts, not that I blame them.”
Gerald didn’t blame them either. If the half-elf couldn’t stop them, then what hope did regular guards have? “Hopefully, we don’t run into anyone else power – oh!” He covered his mouth with his hands, and Old Man gave him a wry smile.
“What’s that saying again, Gerald?” Old Man’s eyes crinkled. “Don’t tempt fate.”
“I’ll try not to.” Gerald shuddered. “My luck is bad enough as it is.”
They followed some stairs down to another set of corridors, and Old Man frowned. “The magical defences in this area are not only intact but they are also stronger than the ones above us. Attempting to teleport or otherwise manipulate space in here would be unwise.” He rubbed his chin. “It makes me wonder if Lord Tarrick has any enemies capable of teleportation. The defences here are oddly specific – and far more powerful than you would expect.”
“I’m not sure. We could ask Timmy about it later.” From the way Old Man said it, Gerald assumed that attempting to teleport or manipulate space would result in them all dying horribly. “But at least there’s no guards, right?”
Old Man chuckled. “That’s true. But why are there no guards? I have a hard time believing we scared all of them off by defeating the half-elf. There should still be at least a few men determined to fulfil their duties.” His gaze sharpened, his eyes studying their surroundings intently. “I’ve encountered situations like this before. This area may not have guards because it doesn’t need them. It is likely full of traps. I could simply destroy the corridor, so we could pass through it unharmed, but this building is almost certainly designed with certain fail-safes in place.”
“Fail-safes?” Gerald didn’t like the sound of that.
“It would not surprise me if destroying or severely damaging anything in this area would result in the building exploding or something else similarly unpleasant.”
“Oh.” Gerald looked heavenward. There was that luck of his again. It would have been far too easy if they could just walk down the corridor in peace. He wished he could have gone with Timmy, Katie, and Spot. Bandits were still scary, but they were a lot easier to deal with than a building full of traps that might explode if they did something wrong. Unfortunately, he was the only one with the skills required to find and store critical documents from the archives. “So what do we do?”
“We need to get through this corridor, and we don’t have the time to disable all of the traps.” Old Man examined the corridor again. It looked innocuous enough – marble floors, plaster walls, and a high ceiling – but Gerald wasn’t an expert in trap detection. Dealing with traps was something Timmy and the rats were better at. “Do exactly what I do and step exactly where I step. Pay very close attention and be careful at all times.” Old Man waved one of the rats forward. If Gerald remembered correctly, the mahogany-furred rat was an expert in detecting and disarming traps. “You’re with me.”
Gerald sighed. He hated traps. Several weeks ago, he’d made the mistake of participating in one of Timmy and Katie’s brainstorming sessions regarding the castle’s defences. The things he’d learned about traps had given him nightmares ever since. The things traps could do, the way traps could be concealed, and even the sheer number of traps that could be crammed into a seemingly innocent corridor all terrified him. If this place had been built by someone whose mind was even half as creative as either Timmy or Katie, then they were about to have a very unpleasant time. “I guess we haven’t got a choice. Let’s go.”
Gerald was the furthest thing in the world from an expert in detecting and disarming traps, so he paid extremely close attention as Old Man and the rat studied the corridor. It seemed innocuous enough, but appearances could be deceiving, especially in places like this. Crime lords weren’t exactly known for their excellent workplace safety practices. He could feel Old Man’s magic at work, but he wasn’t sure what the swordsman was doing. He had just said that teleporting or trying to warp space would be a bad idea. Then again, Old Man’s magic wasn’t only the ability to manipulate space. Mages and scholars had long speculated that space and time were closely connected, and it wasn’t unheard of for mages who could manipulate one to be able to manipulate the other too, albeit far more weakly. Old Man had hinted at it several times in the past, so it was entirely possible that Old Man could manipulate time. Perhaps he could do it too subtly for Gerald to notice, or maybe he’d never had to use that aspect of his magic before. After all, when was the last time Gerald had seen Old Man fight with all of his strength?
Old Man could cut through most of their opponents as easily as paper, and even against the half-elf, he’d never seemed truly threatened. In fact, Gerald had a feeling Old Man could have ended the fight sooner if he hadn’t been so worried about protecting him or destroying the archives with one of his bigger attacks. The swordsman’s magic was extremely powerful, but he seldom used it because of how good he was with a blade. But Old Man was not the sort of person to neglect his magic, and he’d lived a very long time. After a brief moment of consideration followed by a quick conversation with the rat on his shoulder, Old Man nodded firmly and began to step from one marble tile to the next. Gerald squawked in alarm and then hastened to follow in his footsteps.
“Careful,” Old Man warned. “Do not fall too far behind me, and do not step anywhere except where I have stepped.” He glanced back. “I mean it, Gerald. Be careful.”
“Right.” Careful. Gerald could do that. It was basically how he preferred to live his life.
Old Man continued to weave his way down the corridor, and Gerald did his best to follow him. A misplaced step had him scrambling for cover as the rats used their wires to yank him forward. The marble tile he’d stepped on fell away to reveal a pit full of spikes before several holes open up in the wall beside him to unleash a hail of poison darts. Matisse blocked the projectiles with one of his barriers, and Gerald promptly fell to his knees in relief – which activated yet another trap. The ceiling opened up, and a huge boulder tumbled down.
“Ah!” Gerald hurled himself at Old Man. He crashed into the swordsman, but the older man somehow managed to keep his balance and maintain his position as the boulder smashed through dozens of marble tiles to reveal the gaping abyss below. No. That wasn’t quite right. There were things far below them – things with teeth.
“Gerald.” Old Man raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps you could get off me and do try to be more careful.” His lips twitched. “Although I can’t say I’m surprised. You do have a knack for finding trouble.”
“Uh… right.” Slowly, carefully, Gerald climbed off Old Man’s back. It was a little cramped on the marble tile with the two of them there plus the rats, but the last thing he wanted to do was to set off more traps. It would be just his luck if this place had a copy of the acid rain trap Katie had come up with. Her cackling as she’d described how acid would rain down from the ceiling and melt everything ha
d been truly disturbing. Timmy, though, had simply ruffled her hair and congratulated her for coming up with a suitable fiendish trap before suggesting they add a few good, old-fashioned spike pits to spice things up.
“Still,” Old Man murmured with a grin. “I wonder if we should tell Timmy and the Little Miss about some of these traps. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone hide a boulder in the ceiling in at least three decades, and having the entire corridor built over a pit full of…” Old Man peered down into the abyss. “Crocodiles is an interesting choice although our two necromancer friends would likely insist on using zombie crocodiles or perhaps composite zombies built around crocodiles like zombie crocodile-cobras or something of that nature.”
Gerald nodded slowly. It would be just like Katie and Timmy to make zombie crocodiles even scarier by giving them cobra venom. Knowing them, they might even give them wings too because what could be better than flying zombie crocodiles with cobra venom? “Do you think this is the last corridor with traps?”
Old Man stepped onto the next tile. “What did I say about tempting fate, Gerald?” He chuckled. “In my experience, anyone willing to build this many traps is bound to have even more of them ready and waiting.”
After finally making it past the corridor – Gerald had a close encounter with a device that fired venomous spiders at him – they reached another corridor… that was full of giant, swinging blades that were enchanted against magic and heavy enough to make stopping them practically impossible.
“Who builds something like this?” Gerald wailed. He jabbed one finger at the blades. “It makes no sense! How could someone even get past this? At least with the booby-trapped tiles, you’d be fine if you memorised the path, but this is crazy! I mean… think of how much it would cost. They could have just hired more guards or built a sturdier building or something – anything – except this!”
Two Necromancers, a Dwarf Kingdom, and a Sky City Page 6
